« Previous Issue | Main | Next Issue »

June 18, 2007


Can someone stop that infernal ringing?!

Comments (1)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit

Jim: He Can Also Cure A Bad Case Of Coffin

“It’s called tinnitus,” Dr. Peyton explained. “Most people get it from time to time.”

“But this ringing has been going on for weeks!” I whined. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”

Dr. Peyton shook his head. “Usually I refer chronic cases like yours to an otolaryngologist. The tests are pretty expensive. However…” he trailed off.

“What is it, Doc?”

“Let’s try something a little different,” he said. He dug a plastic probe into my ear. Suddenly, I heard a little click and the ringing stopped. That horrible, incessant ringing stopped!

But now I hear a little voice repeating, “Hello? Hello?…”

Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit

Jeff R.: What a Tale

You've heard the story about belling of the cat? None of the mice had the stones to actually put the bell around the cat's neck, but that wasn't the end of it. See, the cat heard the plan, and thought it a fine idea, except it shouldn't be she who wears the bell but the dog, a large German Shepherd that terrorized her. So the cat procured a bell and, while the dog slept, belled it.

It worked for a while. Then the mice got their own bells, and could make the cat flee the Rin-tin-tin tinabulation of their bells.

Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit

David: Pact

The Demon Bell had rung 13 times since being bound in custody of the small New England town of Virtue in 1638. Each time has meant calamity somewhere in the world: war, plague, assassination, natural disaster. No one ever determined whether the bell was cause or alarm.

A parapsychologist studying the Demon Bell wanted to ring it, just to see if anything happened. The town council refused, but feared he would ring it anyway. Paranoia spread through Virtue, eventually causing an angry mob to hunt down and murder the parapsychologist and his team.

And the Demon Bell began to toll.

Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit

From The Comments: kipp

It’s the ring your finger makes circling a champaign glass, the night of your wedding.

It’s the ring of the sirens you follow home to find a house fire, your wife inside.

It’s the ring of the church bells, as your daughter marries.

The ring of the monitor as her heart beats it’s last.

It’s the ring of the bugle as your son graduates the academy.

The ring of the phone – you’re regretfully informed.

It’s the song of the guillotine, whistling and resonating through its fall.

It’s the scream in your ears, as the chair tumbles and the rope tightens.

Comments (2)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit

Dave: Shattered

It's all perfectly clear.  Connect the right tantalum loops, formed just so ... a current at that wattage ... in a vacuum, of course.  The explosive output ...


No,  that would never work.  Okay, so a circle, hematite crystals, selected from the desert under a full moon.  That word, and that, in the right pitch, the right rhythm, and then the portal would ...


The words slip away -- so, instead, build a box out of the right tungsten alloy, bound in bone and leather, pour equal parts aqua regia and ...


Dammit, Martha, would you please pick up the phone?  Can't hear myself think!

Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit