oh no

by bofa xesjum

darrell opened the cabinet. there were four shelves in it, and three of them were bare. the fourth held a single glass, and sticking up out of the glass were some objects he had never seen before. those must be the lollipops, he thought. just as he was reaching for the glass, he heard a voice behind him. “oh no, you don’t, young man.” darrell turned and saw authority, with her elbows stuck out and her fists on her hips, scowling at him. “i was - i was looking for some medicine,” darrell managed to blurt out. “you know the rules,” authority replied. “if you want medicine, or anything else, ask one of the attendants, who are always awake and ready to serve you.” “yes, ma’am.” “your story is transparently bogus, you little worm. you knew the rules. now you must pay the price.” * later that morning, as the sun was coming up, a new boy, named darius, was admitted to the institution. two attendants took charge of him and escorted him to authority’s office. authority was seated at her desk. behind her a picture window gave an excellent view of the mountains surrounding the institute. authority gave darius a copy of the 20 page pamphlet which described the rules and regulations of the institution in painstaking detail. she told darius to read it, and to attempt to commit it to memory, because he would be held strictly accountable for adhering to its contents, and that no defense or attempt at exculpation or mitigation would be considered, if he were found in violation of them. the attendants then took darius up two long flights of stairs to the room he would share with three other inmates. none of the three were in the room. after making sure that darius unpacked his clothes and books and other belongings and put them away neatly in their proper place, the attendants told him that he was free to wander around the grounds - subject to the rules and regulations, of course - and left him. darius put the pamphlet into his pocket and went down the stairs and outside. the first thing he saw was a girl - a girl about his own age, the first he had ever seen in real life. “hello,” the girl said. “hello,” darius replied. “my name is dawn.” “my name is darius.” “do you like lollipops, darius?” “i do not know what a lollipop is.” “i will tell you. listen carefully.”

four shots

by bofa xesjum

midnight. memphis, tennessee. frankie and johnny were watching tv. it was frankie’s turn to decide what they would watch and they were watching her favorite show. her favorite show was “popular high school”. it was a reality show. students competed to be popular - but not too popular. at the end of each show students who had no friends or just one friend were branded as losers and were sent to “the chain gang” - another reality show. but students who had too many friends - nine or more - were considered potential trouble makers and were sent to “space penitentiary” - a third reality show. the losers and trouble makers on the week’s show were just about to be announced - after a commercial break - and frankie was just putting a slice of pizza into her mouth and johnny was taking a swig from a 16 ounce bottle of diet pepsi when suddenly - four shots rang out in the night. what was that ? frankie exclaimed. sounds like four unfortunate souls just met their maker, johnny replied. i wonder who they could have been? frankie mused. who would you guess? johnny asked. matthew, mark, luke, and john, maybe. faith, hope, charity, and prudence, johnny retorted. no! not such fine ladies as that, frankie protested. how about war, famine, pestilence, and death? frankie and johnny both knew their bible, having been brought up by godfearing folk, though not always adhering strictly to the righteous path themselves. they could not get them all in one place, johnny replied to frankie’s suggestion about the four horsemen. i know, frankie said - mike fink, johnny appleseed, paul bunyan, and babe the blue ox. that’s a good guess, johnny agreed, but i got a better one - jesse james,, billy the kid, sitting bull, and general george armstrong custer. ulysses s grant, robert e lee, stonewall jackson, and john wilkes booth. hitler, einstein, marilyn monroe, and elvis! that’s it - but wait, what about frankie, johnny, mean old stagger lee, and marie laveau? but, johnny said - we are frankie and johnny , and we are sitting her alive and well, eating pizza and watching tv. true that, frankie agree. so how about - suddenly there was a knock on the door. who can that be?. frankie wondered aloud. the door was pushed open and there stood wyatt earp with his badge. bat masterson was right behind him. i have a warrant for your arrest, frankie, wyatt earp intoned. for the murder of mean old stagger lee. this warrant is based on the sworn testimony of marie laveau and billy lion. pooh, frankie said, who cares about those two old posers? judge roy bean will let me go in a butterfly’s heartbeat. i am sorry to say, frankie, wyatt earp told her, that you will not be going before judge roy bean, who is no longer sitting in memphis, but before judge harsh. poor girl, you’ve got to die, bat masterson added. wyatt earp and bat masterson took frankie away. johnny was left alone. he had missed the end of the show, and did not know who the losers and the trouble makers had been. he was alone now, for the first time in his life. he began to cry.

a baby is only as good as its last million dollars

by bofa xesjum

another day, another ten million dollars. this was monson’s little joke, which he repeated at the end of almost every day at the office, the little office he shared with fenson. fenson did not find the joke funny, nor did he think anything monson said or did was the least bit amusing or interesting or edifying. the joke was that monson and fenson somehow “made” about “ten million dollars” on an average day, even though they personally only got their meagre salaries of five thousand dollars a day. and that they received this pay for work whose purpose and meaning, if any, they had never understood. monson and fenson both lived under the shadow of being found out. they feared - knew - that one day their employer - the intenational agressiveness fund, inc, - would suddenly realize that their efforts were meaningless and would terminate them. monson put on a happy face and tried to make the best of it. fenson hated monson, the international aggressiveness fund, and everybody and everything else in the universe, especially himself, and prided himself on not being taken in by any sweet talk or pie in the sky or by anything at all. monson and fenson never saw each except in the office or its immediate surroundings, and never asked each other about their lives, if any, out of the office. on most days they went their separate ways on their lunch hour, but if the weather was really bad with rain or snow or wind, they would get a sandwich or burger at the little cafeteria on the ground floor of the office building. when they did this, they would sit at the same table together, as it did not occur to them to do otherwise. one day, which happened to be the day before christmas, the wind was howling and the snow was blowing, and monson and fenson were sitting together, the only two customers in the little cafeteria. monson was eating a cheeseburger dripping with catsup, and fenson was eating a tuna salad sandwich with avocado and watercress, when suddenly fenson fell over dead. the local emergency service was called, but nothing could be done for poor fenson, who had apparently died instantaneously. as luck would have it, nellie bly, a cub reporter for the times, happened to be in the area looking for human interest stories in the “big storm”, and she interviewed monson. a little checking by nellie bly revealed that monson and fenson were apparently the last two so-called “clerks” on the planet, and nellie proposed, and her editor agreed, that that made a very good human interest story. nellie wrote the following story. hector monson was heartbroken when his longtime coworker and companion, alex fenson, died suddenly when they were taking their lunch break yesterday, christmas eve, in the cafeteria in the ajax building in pioneer square. monson and fenson worked as data retrieval specialists for a large international conglomerate, analyzing and collating their data using an abacus, and recording their conclusions on paper! they are believed to have been the last two “clerks” anywhere in the world, although this reporter would be happy to hear from anyone with information to the contrary. the occupation of “clerk” has a long and honorable history, dating back at least to the times of amenemhat and hammurabi. he was like a brother to me, hector monson stated. just a great guy, always good for a laugh, with a song in his heart and a twinkle in his eye. i will miss him. he loved life, but life will not be the same without him. hector told this reporter he was prepared to soldier on without his buddy, but admitted he did not know what plans the international aggressiveness fund, inc, had for him.

johnny rogers

by bofa xesjum

johnny rogers lived in a one-room shack out on the outskirts of town, down by the railroad tracks, with his father, jolly rogers, the town drunk. johnny was a bad boy. or at least a damned nuisance. he liked to hide behind bushes and trees and throw things at unsuspecting passersby. and to break windows. that is, he was widely suspected of doing these things. who else would be doing them? one thing he did for sure was not go to school much. or hardly at all. sheriff john brown, who was also the truant officer because the town was not as big as all that, if it was a nice day would sometimes wander down to the old mill or up to the old flooded quarry to see if johnny was at either of those places, trying to catch catfish. every so often, just to keep up appearances, the sheriff would haul johnny back to the school, but mostly he would join him in fishing, or the sheriff would just sit and watch the ripples made in the water by the breeze, or maybe tell stories about old time gunfighters and prizefighters and baseball players, stories of which he had an inexhaustible fund. one afternoon johnny and the sheriff were walking back to town, and the sheriff suddenly said to johnny, you know johnny, this idyllic existence you are leading can not last. if you say so, johnny replied. let me tell you what is going to happen, the sheriff continued. go ahead. one of these days a train is going to pull into the station. and a man will get off. a man dressed in blaclk, and carrying a black bag. he will be a world famous scientist, that nobody ever heard of. from harvard, or the united states government, or the space program, or some such. he will take you away, and he and his team of assistants will do tests on you. to see if you are the one. and if you are the one, and i am confident that you are the one, they will train you and transform you, into the greatest fighting machine the universe has ever seen. they will send you on a mission into deepest space, beyond the blackest black holes in the universe. and you will conquer empires, and slay whole armies of monsters, and be loved by beautiful queens and princesses. maybe you will return from these adventures, maybe not. you may wonder how i know all this, the sheriff said. o k, how do you know? because it happened to me. a man in black came and took me away and gave me the tests. but i did not pass them. they walked the rest of the way back to town in silence. sure enough, five days later, a man in black identifying himself as dr jeremiah fisher arrived at the railroad station, showed his papers and authorization, and took johnny away. that night the sheriff went up to his room above the jail. the jail was empty, with nobody, not even jolly rogers, in the drunk tank. the sheriff, as he did every night, took off his badge and his lawman’s gear, and changed into his clown suit and put on his clown nose. he made himself a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich, poured some jack daniels whiskey into an old jelly glass, snd watched some of his old tapes of star trek, the andy griffith show, and the big valley.

the oldest story

by bofa xesjum

listen carefully, chlldren, miss crenshaw began, because this is the oldest story in the world. once upon a time there was a beautiful young princess. she lived in a faraway castle at the edge of a faraway sea. that is not the oldest story in the world, albert interrupted her. the oldest story in the story of hercules and the seven monsters. well, miss crenshaw replied, there might be some difference of opinion as to what is exactly the oldest story in the world - then you shouldn’t have said, this is the oldest story in the world, should you? maybe not. in any case the story i was about to begin is one of the oldest stories… you’re a liar! a dirty liar! you tried to say it was the oldest story in the world and you were wrong! wrong! apologize! perhaps i misspoke. can we move on… we can’t move on until you admit you are a dirty liar! oh, albert, victorine spoke for the first time, do shut up, and let the poor woman get on with her story, so that she may finish it in time for tea. i don’t want to hear her namby-pamby girly story about a princess in a castle, i want to hear a red-blooded manly story about heroes defeating monsters! if it was not for heroes defeating monsters, there would not be any castles for namby-pamby princesses with long blonde hair to pine away for love in! oh, stuff it, albert, victorine replied wearily. perhaps, miss crenshaw ventured, i might try a story that has a princess and a hero, there are, in fact, no lack of such stories… no! i want a story about a hero and a monster! there was a table beside the sofa on which the two children were sitting, and on the table was a small figurine of a shepherdess. albert picked it up and threw it at miss crenshaw, hitting her on the left temple and drawing blood. just as miss crenshaw was dabbing at the blood with her handkerchief, the housekeeper, mrs george, appeaed. what is all this ruckus? mrs george demanded. can you not do your job, miss, and keep two - two, not twenty - children in line? miss crenshaw tried to explain what had happened, but mrs george cut her short. he is a high spirited child. it is up to you to control him. yes, he is very high spirited, miss crenshaw replied. i am sure he will make a most wonderful admiral someday. what was that? that is enough of your sass, miss. go to your room and pack your belongings. you are no longer employed in this household. * so it was that miss crenshaw, with a bandage on her head and clutching a medium sized portmanteau containing all her worldly belongings, found herself on the high road with dusk approaching. and not just dusk. dark storm clouds were forming on the horizon, and the temperature was dropping. and she was hungry. a few raindrops fell. at least it is not snow, miss crenshaw reflected. as she was searching in her portmanteau for her umbrella, a small one-horse carriage came up behind her, driven by a man dressed in black. the carriage stopped beside her, and miss crenshaw got a look at the driver. he was neither young nor old, neither handsome nor particularly ugly. at first she thought he might be a clergyman, but the look on his face seemed a bit too obviously nasty, untempered by piety or even hypocrisy, for that. in distress, miss? you might say that, sir. the man noticed the bandage on her head and chuckled. a lover’s quarrel, eh? not exactly, sir. i can give you a lift, if you like. that would be a very christian thing, sir. indeed. but i warn you, miss, i am a generous man. but i do not go my way through life expecting no gratitude at all. if you catch my meaning. in that case, sir, i must decline your offer. the man looked at the darkening sky and smiled. as you wish, he said, and cracked his little whip and departed. miss crenshaw was alone again. the rain began to fall harder, in windy gusts. this, she thought, is the oldest story.

that's what i'm talking about

by bofa xesjum

sometimes i think i would like to go far away - far away, where no one has ever gone before. how about you? i bet you would like to go far away too. wouldn’t you? wouldn’t you like to be anybody else except who you are? wouldn’t you like to wake up in the morning, not to your miserable room in the city that you probably have to share with somebody - your boring wife and your whining demanding kids - and wake up instead to a glittering desert in a distant galaxy with a ruby-turreted kingdom shimmering on the horizon, just waiting for you to conquer it? wouldn’t you rather be walking down a dark street in a mysterious city, mysterious as all hell yourself, in a black cape and a top hat and swinging a gold-headed walking stick, and the most beautiful woman in the universe appears out of the shadows and asks you to please help her? wouldn’t you rather do that than get on the bus and go to your job across town stocking the shelves of a supermarket with jars of peanut butter and family size bags of potato chips? what was that? you wouldn’t like that at all? well, excuse me, i was just trying to be friendly. say what? you are grateful that you are married to the most wonderful woman in the world and you have three wonderful children that you could not be prouder of? well, that’s great , brother. adam is gong to play second base in little league this year. and clara just got braces - she doesn’t like them, but she is being a trooper about it. and jenny - that’s your wife - she does a great job with the kids even wth all her allergies. i like it. that’s all good, my man. but that is enough about you, let’s talk about me. i knew when i was born that i was different, that i wasn’t going to be just another schmuck. i made the football team. i was going to be the quarterback on the football team. i beat out the mayor’s son , but the mayor called the coach and you can just guess what happened next. can you believe that shit? but that’s life for you. later that night, me and my gang - i had a gang, a couple of guys who did everything i told them to - went out and got completely shitfaced. we were walking down by the river. tony - he was my number one lieutenant - fell flat on his face in the mud. he was just lying there. i said to him, tony, you asshole, get up, you are not fooling anybody - suddenly a great light filled the sky- it was a fucking spaceship. it was me they wanted, not tony or buster. so i got in and they took me away. they took me to this planet, and hey had this war going on. the war had been going on for a million years. there were two sides - i couldn’t pronounce their names. the assholes versus the dickheads, or some shit. i called them the yankees and the red sox. both sides had tried everything. dragons, death rays, flying saucers, ten thousand megaton bombs, you name it. but neither side could break through. finally the empress of the yankees and the empress of the red sox got together and agreed on one final battle to settle things once and for all. each of them would search through the whole universe for a gladiator, a champion, to meet in the arena and may the best man win. the empress of the yankees found me before the empress of the red sox did, so i was her champion and i took care of her business in more ways than one, as you might guess. the empress of the red sox came up with this character from mars or someplace and he weighed about six hundred pounds and looked like a combination forklift and octopus. but he was no match for me and i whipped that lonesome cowboy without taking a deep breath. i went through his sorry ass like patton going through berlin into russia. so i won the war for the yankees and as you can well imagine there was a big parade and a lot of singing and dancing and a good time was had by all, now you might think the story ended there, but my troubles were only beginning. the empress of the yankees had this pretty boy who had been her bodyguard but he had weaseled out of getting in the arena with the red sox guy and naturally the empress of the yankees was ready to show me her sincere appreciation. so the pretty boy bodyguard who also had some name i couldn’t pronounce but i called him meatball champagne, he was jealous and he got in with some of the yankee and red sox politicians who were dicking around with so called peace talks and he got a knife into my back and so here i am back on good old planet earth where i have not exactly had a hero’s welcome, let me tell you, because that’s what i am talking about. well, my friend, i see i am starting to bore you, so i bid you good day. i hope your little girl gets to like her braces better. i am sorry you could not see your way to helping a guy out, but you know your own priorities best. have a nice day.