David Archives

August 9, 2007

David: What A Week I'm Having!

Monday, terrorists announced they’d acquired a nuclear stockpile and demanded that everyone convert or die.

Tuesday, the alien ships arrived and started draining our oceans. All attempts to communicate have failed utterly.

Wednesday, the first cases of a drug-resistant, highly contagious superflu were reported.

Thursday, the dead began rising and feasting on the brains of the living.

Friday, NASA announced the discovery of an asteroid the size of Bolivia on a collision course with Earth.

Saturday, a scientist at FermiLab said, “Oop—”

Sunday, Jesus reappeared on Earth, and told us all to go fuck ourselves.

Yeah, we’re boned, pretty much.

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August 10, 2007

David: Not Everyone Gets To Be A Superhero

Ever since I was bitten by that radioactive wombat, I’d been looking for an opportunity to use my new wombat-powers to fight evil and protect the common citizens of the city.

This was my chance. Miscreants had set fire to the second floor of a tenement. Most of the residents had gotten out, but a little girl was hanging out a fourth floor window. She was starting to panic, and would lose her grip any second.

I positioned myself on a nearby building. If I timed it right, I could catch her safely in mid-air. She fell, and I leapt.

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August 14, 2007

David: Could've Been Worse. Could've Had A Banjo

“Um, give them tea and cakes, accept their sincere apology and a promise never to do it again, and send them on their way, thoroughly chastised and having learned an important lesson?”

“Nope. Close, though. First, we stake you spread-eagled on the ground. Then, we all line up and take turns kicking you in the junk until we think you’ve seen the error of your ways. Then we let you go.”

“You do? Oh, good.”

“Then we set the dogs after you. After they’re done, we drag what’s left back here and marry it to our sister what got despoiled.”

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August 15, 2007

David: Radio Days

“Oh, dear. Excuse me, sir and madam, am I late for the train?”

“No. Look, down the tracks, there. You can see the train puffing along as clearly as I see my husband standing beside me in his tweed coat.”

“I must concur with my beautiful wife. As I lean out over the tracks, I can plainly make out the engine. And lo! I also hear the chugging that must indicate its imminent arrival.”

“By my bushy red mustache, you’re right! Thank the gods we won’t have to stand out in this thunderstorm much longer, with its lightning and thunder.”

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August 16, 2007

David: Run Aground

“He’s not the sharpest thumbtack in the bulletin board.”

“You can say that again.”

“He’s as sharp as a bag of wet mice.”

“Heh. Good one.”

“He’s not the sharpest cheddar in the small, independent cheese boutique.”

“Okay.”

“He’s about as sharp as the rock of Sisyphus after ten thousand years.”

“I think you’ve made your point.”

“He’s not the sharpest sword in King Arthur’s court seeking the Holy Grail.”

“All right, already.”

“His sharpness compares unfavorably to a mass of gas and dust that collapses into a planetoid under its own gravity.”

“For the love of God, shut up!”

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August 20, 2007

David: Sloppy Work

Joe Stone, veteran of such adventures as the Radioactive Hitler Affair and Zeppelins Over Washington, made the fatal mistake of assuming word had gotten out to every lost tribe that cannibalism was out of vogue.

As Stone roasted over the fire, Haniki groused to his tribemate, “We are so many, and he was but one man. I fear I will go hungry eating only my share of him with bread.”

“Do as I do. Add him to a spiced tomato paste. He will be hearty and filling. For a hero is just a sandwich, but a manwich is a meal.”

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August 21, 2007

David: The Trial

The evil god Shaitan challenged a man. “Reach my temple and gain your fondest desire. Fail, and become my slave eternal.”

The man began walking.

Shaitan threw a wall of fire before him. The man walked through it and was burned.

Shaitan sent a mighty wind. The man pushed against it.

Shaitan sent torrential rain, soaking the ground to mud that sucked down the man’s feet, and lashing his face. Each step was an eternity.

Shaitan reappeared as the man neared the temple. “You impress me. You may stop; I grant your desire.”

“That’s… okay. I’ve… got it… from here.”

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August 22, 2007

David: An Intricate, Multi-Faceted, And Thoroughly Detailed Conspiracy

We robbed a bank to get the necessary operating capital.

We stole some pensioners’ identities so we could move around unobstructed.

We swiped uniforms from the back of a municipal laundry service truck.

We heisted an armored car not for the money, but for the bulletproof wheels.

We knocked over a National Guard Armory for the heavy firepower and flak vests.

We lifted access codes from the laptop of an inattentive and handsy drunk.

We pilfered various technological odds and ends from “spy supply” stores.

We’re ready. Tonight, the gates of Area 51 will fall. The truth is in there.

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August 28, 2007

David: It's All In The Timing

“I’m thinking about diversifying my portfolio.”

“That’s what she said.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s an innuendo.”

“Oh, really?

“Yeah, because of diversifying… and- and-“

“You have no idea what an innuendo is, do you?”

“Sure I do.”

“I’ll bet you heard someone say, ‘That’s what she said,’ once, and the person he was talking to laughed. You didn’t understand why, but you memorized the line anyway, in hopes that someday you’d find out how to use it.”

“Jesus, dude. It was just a dumb comment. Why are you riding my ass like this?”

“That’s what she said.”

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August 29, 2007

David: Hollow Man

I sighted along the barrel to a point dead between his eyes. He laughed at me.

“You don’t have it in you,” he taunted.

“Oh no? There are lots of things I don’t have in me anymore. Faith in humanity. Hope for the future. Compassion. Mercy. You took them from me, one by one. You deliberately and systematically ripped from me every last scrap of joy. The love of my family is gone. My pride in my career, shredded. My reputation discarded like old coffee grounds.

“Don’t have it in me? There’s plenty of room. I think it’ll fit.”

BLAM!

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