David Archives

April 26, 2007

David: I Dream of Euclid

The corners go all strange at night.

I don’t think I can describe it any better than that. During the day, it’s an average, cute little faux-Victorian cottage. But when I go to bed, it’s like the house folds around me.

One night I got up to pee, and walked straight into a wall. The lights were off, but the bedroom door is a straight shot along the side of my bed. I shouldn’t have had any trouble. The next morning, I found a mark on the wall over by the closet, way on the far side of the bed.

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April 27, 2007

David: Epic(ac)

It was in the summer of my seventeenth year—or perhaps it was after my birthday and therefore my eighteenth year—as I was staying in the little cabin in the backwoods of Tennessee that my parents rented every year and dragged us all up to each summer, whether we wanted to go or not, like the world’s worst timeshare, and pondering the metaphorical map of the road my life was meant to travel, that I was bitten, not by a Lyme Disease-carrying deer tick, but by the tick of Love that would scramble that roadmap like a shaken Etch-A-Sketch.

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April 30, 2007

David: Wheels Within Wheels

I died, and my soul flew up and away from my body at the speed of light. Almost instantly, Earth became little more than a blue disk, growing ever smaller and finally receding to a point. Then, I became aware of the entire solar system, from old Sol all the way out past plucky little Pluto and into the Oort cloud, as another disk, an oblique circle that circumscribed all human experience. All living human experience, I corrected myself. Eventually, it shrank away to nothing too.

I look forward to escaping the galactic disk and seeing that from the outside.

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May 1, 2007

David: The Great Unwashed

“Your Majesty! The people are revolting!”

The king sighed. “Gary, you make that joke every week.”

“No, seriously! They have risen up and seized the means of production.” The interior minister’s eyes bulged as if to pop out of his head and fly about the chamber.

“The what?” the king asked soothingly, in an attempt to calm Gary down.

“Um… they… took over the aglet factory.”

“The what?” the king repeated.

“It makes those plastic things that go on the ends of shoelaces.”

“I see. So… they’ll be preventing frays each according to his ability? Why is this a problem?”

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May 2, 2007

David: Strange Visitor

“Superman!” Timmy cheered along with the TV. Sitting inches away from the grainy black and white screen, wearing his Lone Ranger mask, and clutching his official Roy Rogers Cap Pistol in one hand and Little Orphan Annie decoder ring in the other, Timmy’s eyes glazed over as he recited the introduction to the Man of Steel’s latest adventure, oblivious to everything beyond that 15-inch window into the world of the amazing. The world where good guys won, bad guys got foiled by the end of the hour, and justice prevailed.

It helped him ignore the sounds from his mother’s room.

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May 4, 2007

David: It'll Do

No one knows where the plague came from. No one in any condition to answer questions, anyway. All over the world, people started dying, and then coming back to life, hungering for the flesh of the living.

It got pretty grim there for a while. Folks found out what they were made of when they were suddenly confronted with brain-eating monsters that used to be their husbands, wives, or children.

I got lucky, finding my way through the wreckage of civilization to this old folks’ home. Medicine, stored food, lockable doors. And the former residents can’t bite without any teeth.

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May 7, 2007

David: Keeping The News Cycle Rolling

“With the polls closing on the west coast, we are now ready to call this election and declare Bob Johnson the next President of the United States! Jim?”

“Thanks, Tom. Opponents of the Johnson campaign are already calling for the President-Elect’s impeachment for crimes they assume he’ll commit upon taking office. Here’s Susan with more.”

“Tom, Jim, burst polling performed just seconds ago indicates that the new President’s approval ratings will be hurt by this blatantly partisan attack on his character. However, he should come through otherwise unscathed.”

“And now, here’s our first look at the candidates for Campaign 2012.”

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May 8, 2007

David: We Didn't Start The Fire

The third Cola Wars exploded in the mid-21st century. Battlefields ran red with blood as thick as cherry Dr Pepper. The Cokeheads, still stinging from the betrayal of the Jolt Jockeys, launched a surprise attack against Mount Dew, the stronghold of the ascendant Pepsikins.

It was the Cokeheads’ spy network, led by the mysterious Mr. Pibb, that found the enemy’s weakness. A desperate plan was hatched to flatten the extremist Red Dewlittle Raiders before the final surge against Buffalo Rock

In the end, the conflict would be decided by the shifting loyalties of the mercenary group RC and the Fantas.

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May 9, 2007

David: Conspiracy, Man!

“At first they were just observing us, hovering invisibly above and watching us. Then, they started taking us, one or two at a time. They took the ones no one would ever believe, and they studied us, probed us, learned how we worked.

“Then, they started chipping us so they could track us wherever we went, and control our minds. Bu they could only manage a few of us at a time. Now they have mind-control lasers to shoot us all from space. I’m telling you, man, we’ve been conquered and we don’t even know it.”

“Oh, chew your cud.”

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May 10, 2007

David: Trevor Lockhart and the Jungle Anachronistically Full Of Nazis

The lush jungle greenery fell to Trevor’s machete. “Legend has it no man has set foot in this jungle in a thousand years, Professor!”

Suddenly, Trevor, Betty, and Wainwright found themselves surrounded by machine gun-wielding Nazis.

“So much for legend,” Betty muttered.

“You vill come vis us,” one of the Nazis demanded. “Try anythink, and ve vill shoot ze voman.”

“What?!” cried Betty.

“Calm down, Betty,” Trevor advised.

“No, seriously,” she continued, “Why is it always ‘shoot ze voman’? I’m arguably the least dangerous one here. If Trevor does something stupid, why not shoot Trevor? Doesn’t that make more sense?”

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