David Archives

May 16, 2008

David: The Quiet Ones

The Symposium for Irresponsible Science was in full swing. Doomsday devices, death rays, and abominations against God fought for exhibition space, in many cases literally. Hotels had long since banned the Symposium, so it was set up in its usual location, the Bonneville Salt Flats, with the nearest city far outside what was foolishly considered the blast radius.

Doctor Philo doodled in his ever-present notebook as he listened to a debate between the Argutron 6000 and an uplifted marmoset. He glanced down at the geometric pattern he’d sketched and mumbled words portending the end of the world.

“Huh. That’s funny.”

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May 27, 2008

David: And Then Wacky Sitcom Music Plays

“Because it’s raining, duh.”

“But that doesn’t… why would it… where did you even get… how did you find… why is there even… I know you went to the zoo, but… and what about the… I mean, there are rules… for that matter… and another thing… You can’t just… does he even care about… there are licenses, and… and shots, and… seriously? Didn’t anyone try… and how did you get him to… are those my... yellow? Monkey?

“Okay, you win. I’m completely flummoxed. There’s so much wrong with this entire situation that I can’t even find a place to begin.”

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May 28, 2008

David: Not Working Out

I bought a Soloflex off the TV. Now it’s in the garage. I hang oily rags on it.

I bought a Bowflex because the sales girl at Sears was cute and I was trying to get her number. Yarn dangling off those bendy parts amuses the cats to no end.

I signed up for one of those Jenny Craig promotional plans. The food was wet cardboard. Made the roses grow, though.

I found one of those Wii Fit things everyone’s so excited about these days. I plugged it up, and it told me I was fat. I already knew that.

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June 4, 2008

David: Never Trust Google People Search

“Hello?”

“Harold Dumont, we have your daughter.”

“What? Who is this?”

“Don’t interrupt. You have two hours to prepare five million dollars to be transferred to a Cayman Islands bank account. We will contact you again at the end of that period to provide the account details. If you do not do as we demand, your daughter will be returned to you in pieces. If you attempt to contact the police, we will know, and you will never hear from us again.” Click.

“Hello? Wait! There’s been a—“

“Howard? Are you talking to someone?”

“Just a wrong number, dear.”

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June 12, 2008

David: They Get To Everyone Eventually

“I don’t know. I’ve heard some pretty bad things about vaccines.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“They cause autism. And sometimes you wind up getting sick from the vaccine when you might have been able to avoid coming into contact with the virus altogether.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Also, I heard that in Africa they tell people they’re giving them vaccines when they’re actually injecting them with AIDS. That’s why one person in ten has AIDS over there.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“What? That I don’t accept what ‘the scientific community’ tells me without question?”

“But, Dr. Salk....”

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June 18, 2008

David: Your Guess Is As Good As Mine

The moon moved to eclipse the sun at noon on the day of the summer solstice. A red goat with two heads had been born a week ago, bleated the secret name of God, and died. The planets were in alignment, and the stars were right.

Two figures faced each other across an altar set in the middle of a great salt flat, observing the cosmic ballet.

“It is time,” one intoned.

“As we foresaw,” replied the other.

“Our fates are pre-ordained.”

“So it is said.”

“Are you afraid?”

“I am at peace. And glad to have seen you again.”

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July 1, 2008

David: Joisey, Maybe Lawn Guyland

Oh. My. Gawd. So, I went down to the salon this afternoon to get my hair and nails done. Philippe, that nice homosexual boy who knows the way I like my hair, got deported, for crying out loud, so I had to sit for Shelley. I know! I look like she went after me with pruning shears or something. I swear, I’m not going back there again, no matter how much I like that shampoo they use. Well, not for my hair anyways. Gladys is a magician with nail clippers and polish, I swear to Gawd. Just look at these.

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July 8, 2008

David: Work History

I went to school to become an engineer. It wasn’t until after I graduated that they told me I wouldn’t get to drive a train.

So I went back and got a doctorate in philosophy. I figured that would let me perform surgery on people’s morality, but it turns out it doesn’t work like that.

Then I decided to become a journalist. That fell through when I discovered no one wanted to pay to read my diary.

Finally, I studied acupuncture and tattooing at the same time. I can align your chakras and give you a bitchin’ tramp stamp simultaneously.

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July 9, 2008

David: Tradition

I’ve had purpose since the day I was born: to clean the machine. Like my father before me, I trained, studied, and practiced for the day I would be called upon to clean the machine.

My father went to clean the machine when I was a child. He never returned, and his presumed death was celebrated, for the machine would continue to operate by his sacrifice.

I have raised my oldest to prepare for the day when he too will be called to clean the machine. Yet I worry. He is almost grown, and I have yet to be summoned.

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July 10, 2008

David: You Have No Idea

Up at 8:30 because the power outage killed the alarm. Shower. Shave. Dress. Call 911. Drive to work. Avoid the blue van weaving in front of me driven by the heart attack victim. Change lanes. Watch the cop car shoot past. Turn left. Brake hard. Wave at the kid retrieving her ball from the street. Get in the fast lane at the gate. Snag the good parking spot just as Ted from accounting pulls out, angering the jerk in the pickup. Take the back stairs while the boss goes down the front.

“Hey, Bob!” Damn it. “It Monday again already?”

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