We’re talking future meltdown material

Photo by Bermix Studio on Unsplash

Dear Professor,

I understand this must be a busy time for you with all the grading in more than one course and submitting final grades by the deadline. Speaking of grades, your student and I are both concerned that you haven’t yet graded me.

Again, we empathize this is a hectic time for all, what with pandemic, vaccine rollout, collegial pay cuts, uncertainty of futures in academia — but I must insist that I be graded for the sanity of your promising student.

You see, not only am I the final assignment in this Core…


When a hardboiled egg is the in vogue accessory

Image: Everett Collection

Fashion Critic: Excuse me, sir? Are you staying at this hotel?

Columbo: Beg your pardon, miss?

Fashion Critic: Are you staying at this hotel?

Columbo: Me? Oh no, no. My wife would have my head if I stayed at a place like this. Too expensive.

Fashion Critic: Then you must be waiting for someone?

Columbo: Oh, I’m sorry. No, nothing like that. To be honest, my name’s Columbo and I’m a Lieutenant with LAPD. There’s been a homicide down the street. I don’t mean to startle you. I just came in hear to clear my head. It’s such a lovely…


SATIRE

Try M&M’s and by that I mean motivation and motion

Photo by Kam Idris on Unsplash

Hey there, it’s me, your couch. I think it’s time you and I had a chat.

Personally, I feel you need a kick in the butt to get off me. This past year, you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time on me. In fact, you’ve spent the most time on me than you ever have in your entire life.

I know you’re no longer working remotely and you’re going back into the office, but that doesn’t mean you have to continue wasting your hours plopping your plump patootie on my soft, welcoming cushions. Weeknights and weekends can include other activities…


SATIRE

Think of it as a “get-a-stay”

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Let’s face it. You need a vacation from your staycation. But you’re going about it all wrong. We all know you don’t want to risk traveling yet, so stay in with style!

For starters, try luxuriating in front of your kitchen sink. The sun filters through the window just beyond the faucet. It blinds you as you wash endless dishes in these endless days of subpar meals you cooked on Sunday. Next, bask in the tranquility of your half bath. The room’s so small that sound can’t travel. So get in your ohms while on the pot.

Take in the…


HUMOR

Seriously, he doesn’t even care about this case

Photo by Nayeli Rosales on Unsplash

Me, my dog Scooby-Doo, and the gang receive a call from realtor Maxine Sellers to spend the night in the Pemberley Mansion. Ms. Sellers says someone or something has been scaring her and interested buyers during mansion tours. She wants us to get to the bottom of it.

With keys in hand we all jump in the van, after Scoobs finishes his Purina, and head towards an all-night investigation. Turns out, bringing Scoobs along isn’t a great idea. Here’s why:

1. The mansion looks eerie, but inside Ms. Sellers has staged it with modern furnishings. …


HUMOR

New business, same eccentric

Image: Paramount Pictures

Yes, hello? Willy’s Tax Preparation Office. Uh-huh. Oh, I see. Well, I’m sorry to say we don’t schedule appointments over the phone. Everything is done on the website.

No, I’m sorry. If you don’t have a computer, you can always go to the library and use theirs. I know it’s a pandemic, but a library is better than a cry-brary. And no, there’s no chocolates here. Good day.

***

Client: I thought we’d get an extended filing date?

Willy Wonka: No, I’m sorry. The IRS only does that during an outbreak. …


Let’s take a closer look

Photo by Phil Hearing on Unsplash

At 5:30 AM the figure emerges from their porch across the street. Shoulders slouch, head is drawn forward, eyes are unfocused. What should be an easy walk down paved entranceway smacks of crucible. The figure wobbles towards the rolled morning paper that’s sat soggy near the driveway for six days straight. One leg drags a tad late in its stride.

The paper is picked up by the plastic string wrapped around it. Gutter water splashes from sodden pages onto the quester’s bathrobe, who scarcely notices or cares and slowly, somnolently turns back towards the final hurdle: the return trip up…


Photo by Mollie Sivaram on Unsplash

I’m about to finally watch this movie I’d been meaning to put on for five years now. Bought it, just never got around to it. Amazing how easy it is to do for half a decade. How do I know this? Amazon remembers the exact purchase date, a stark reminder of my myriad minor failings.

It’s the perfect timing for this viewing. It’s fresh on my mind, and I’m taking it out of the case. Yes, believe it or not I have a DVD player. I’m actually off the couch for once. This is monumental. Here we go.

Why does…


  1. All the vaccines

Stay here, quarantine

I’ll take one prick

That shot, no sick

Holidays, I know

Can’t leave, cannot go

Watching, streaming

Enjoying Schitt’s Creek

2. I took her out, it was a frigid night

I poured some salt, all over that black ice

I tried to step outside, but then I slipped and fell

And then busted up my knee…

And that’s about the time that I said f**k the freeze

Nobody goes out when it’s ten degrees

And I’m still aground under icicles

What the hell’s wrong with my knee?

My shoes do not have traction here


Dewey: Hey Sam, what’s that you got there?

Sam: Get out of here, Dewey. You don’t want no part of this. I’m warning you.

Dewey: I kind of wanna know what it is that you’re hiding from me.

Sam: It’s nothing, okay! Just leave. You see nothing.

Dewey: Well, I see a little something. Like that sauce on the side of your face.

Sam: What?! Oh… (quickly wipes the sauce with his sleeve). You don’t want this, Dewey!

Dewey: That smell. (Sniffs the air) Makes me glad my nose is finally working. It’s tantalizing.

Sam: That’s because it’s Mexican food.

Nolan Yard

Nolan is a many-time published, gazillion-time burritoeater. Cinders on the Wind = his SFF novel under Louis Emery. https://nolanyardwriter.wordpress.com/about

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