David Archives

July 3, 2007

David: Unconstitutional

I was strolling through Chinatown one evening, when, suddenly, a teenaged boy, carrying one of those rounded frying bowls that they use around that neighborhood, ran out of an alley and crashed into me. Moments later, he was pursued by a Chinese man in a greasy apron waving a kitchen knife.

I asked, “What’s happening here?”

The Chinese chef pointed his knife at the kid. “He stole from me!”

Clutching the pan to his chest, the boy protested, “I was just taking a—“ I smacked the kid upside his head and passed him to the chef. I hate puns.

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July 9, 2007

David:Fiddlesticks

I admit it, and take full responsibility. However, and I’m not defending myself here, just explaining certain mitigating factors which may, or may not, affect perception of the consequences of my admitted negligence, I do feel I should point out that, while certain individuals may have suffered more than they would have otherwise, on the whole, looking at the big picture, and taking everything into consideration rather than focusing only on those specific events which reflect poorly upon my conduct, the overall outcome has turned out to be generally beneficial in the long run.

Besides, Rome was pretty darn flammable.

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July 10, 2007

David: It's The Little Things That Getcha

That was the worst New Year’s Eve party I’d ever had the shame of throwing. We had champagne and balloons. There was a live band, too small to be called an orchestra, but in that general style. People were dancing. The caterers had four kinds of hors d’oeuvres.

And, of course, we had a huge clock, custom-built, spanning one wall, so we could count down the end of the century in grand, classical style. Being so busy with other party details, I didn’t even notice the problem until the band started belting out Auld Lang Syne a full hour early.

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July 11, 2007

David: Aftermath

Sarge kicked in the door and tossed a flashbang into the foyer, grinning as it went off.

“Man, I love grenades.” We rushed in, located our dazed targets, and took them out. Innocent casualties: zero.

“They’re all right,” I replied.

“’All right?!’ You throw them at people; they explode! What’s not to love?”

“Yeah, exactly. They explode, and that’s it. I try to maintain emotional distance so I don’t miss them when they’re gone.”

“Now that you mention it, I do feel kinda empty without it.”

“Trust me; do what I do. Stick to a working relationship with your explosives.”

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July 13, 2007

David: PING!

The quarter flipped upward through the air, my fate resting on the subtle interplay of mass, gravity, and angular momentum.

Heads, and I would move to Arizona, take the chance on that job at the startup, and reboot my entire life.

Tails, and I stay here, in my current job, which is unfulfilling but pays more, and not leave my family and friends behind.

The coin caught the light as it rotated. Rising, slowing. It found apogee, then began its inevitable, twirling descent.

I reached out to catch it.

The phone rang. I turned my head, and missed the catch.

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July 16, 2007

David: Vicious Cycle

“The end is near!” shouted the unwashed guy on the street corner as I walked past. “Judgment is nigh!”

I couldn’t tell you why I stopped. “What kind of judgment?”

I’m not convinced he was focusing on me when he replied, “The End of Days is at hand! Make your peace, Michael; the day comes when all men are to be judged!”

He’d guessed my name. I was intrigued “‘Shall the end come in fire or in flood?’”

“Fire! From the sky! Next Monday!” That soon?!

That’s how I wound up broke, homeless, and unemployed. The end is near, Gerald!

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July 17, 2007

David: C-Dog's Law

The Pros hung out in their clubhouse in the center of their territory.

“Think they still out there?” wondered Up-Q.

“Shit, man, they always out there, stalking the edge of the neighborhood,” replied Strange, the Pros’ leader.

“Why they gotta be that way? We ain’t done nuthin’ to them.”

Truth, leader of the New Boys, answered, “It’s the law of the streets, dudes. The Elected Ones out there, you in here, balancing each other out. And we do our own thing. Every neighborhood’s the same. You just gotta deal with it. Right, baby?”

“You know it,” replied Truth’s squeeze, Beauty.

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July 19, 2007

David: [I can't think of a good title. Suggest some.]

Everybody’s got something to hide except for me and my monkey.

Yesterday, I needed some help from a paperback writer friend of mine. “Do you want to know a secret? I was walking down Abbey Road when I saw her standing there: Eleanor Rigby. And I love her. I told myself, ‘All I’ve got to do is talk to her.’ ‘Good day, Sunshine,’ I said. ‘I want to hold your hand.’ But I should have known better.”

He told me, “Honey honey, take a chance on me. Mamma mia, Fernando, I’m a dancing queen. Voulez vous?”

I had no idea.

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July 20, 2007

David: Last Thursday

“So, you come here often?”

I looked around the hotel bar. At every booth and table sat men and women from the far edges of the biometric bell curve; towering, miniscule, corpulent, or emaciated, fabulously attractive or hideously repulsive. Each one had a device with him: worn on the head or wrist, carried in a valise, or strapped to their backs. They popped and fizzed with electricity. The air smelled of ozone and the subtle rending of the fabric of the universe.

I replied, “Sure, I attend the time traveler’s convention every year. I’m meeting myself here in five minutes.”

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July 23, 2007

David: Mr. Mugglesworth

“But, it’s a castle!”

“It’s a hellhole. Look at this place, all dusty and crumbling. No one’s been in here in centuries, probably.”

“Can’t you feel the power of this place? Drawing you to it?”

“No, actually. All I feel is a little dry mouth. Listen to you. ‘Feel the power of this place’. Bah. Next, you’ll be telling me that it’s really chock full of novice sorcerers learning their craft, but I can’t see them because my heart isn’t pure, or some nonsense.”

“You have no sense of wonder in your soul, Barnaby.”

“Oh, I have sense, all right.”

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