Friday, April 24, 2015
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
"That mummy is cursed," Museum Curator Harlow muttered to Detective Dark.
At that exact moment, the mummy tripped over an ancient Egyptian urn, got it's foot tangled in a roller skate, and went sailing hilariously into the wall.
"See what I mean?" Harlow said.
"Perhaps the mummy is just clumsy," Dark said.
"No, I really think he's cursed," Harlow said.
A series of exciting events had taken Dark to Egypt, where he solved The Case of the Egyptian Ambassador's Missing Slipper. As a reward, Egypt had donated an ancient mummy to the Museum. Unfortunately the mummy was always smashing it's head on low hanging objects, getting its wrappings tangled up in various items, accidentally dropping ancient Egyptian artifacts down the cleavage of really fat ladies at the opera, stuff like that. It was getting so you couldn't take the mummy anywhere.
Having collided with the wall, the mummy put an arm out to steady itself. It knocked over a sarcophagus, which was lined up against a whole row of other sarcophagi for some reason, causing them all to fall over like dominoes.
"My precious sarcophagi!" Harlow exclaimed. "Now how will I make a living?"
"That proves it!" Dark said. "This whole operation - the mummy, my exciting Egyptian adventure, that roller skate - was really an elaborate ruse to prove that you were embezzling sarcophagi from the museum!"
But Harlow did not hear Dark. His ears had been cut off in Vietnam.
Later, as the boys in blue led the handcuffed Harlow away, Dark shook the mummy's hand. "Nice work, Mummy," Dark said. "Once again, we've proved that peoples of different cultures and time periods and states of aliveness can work together to apprehend dangerous criminals!"
Suddenly, the KRAKOW of machine gun fire rang out. The mummy was torn to pieces. The shooter turned to flee, but found himself clunked on the head by a roller skate - a roller skate thrown by none other than Detective Dark.
Dark turned the unconscious scoundrel over and peered into his unconscious face.
"Just as I suspected!" Dark said. "A Christian scientist!"
She was the sort of woman who makes men want to marry her, get a steady job to support her, and make lots of babies with her - not necessarily in that order.
She wore a red dress, which accentuated her body perfectly, mostly because she had a somewhat triangular, dress-shaped body. She had creamy white skin, and soft sensual eyes beneath long black lashes. She wore ruby red lipstick, on her forehead for some reason.
She'd been eying Detective Dark from her smoky little corner all evening. When he finished his meal and stood up, she gave him a look that seemed to say "this is a totally indecipherable look that could mean any number of things."
Casually and coolly, Dark sauntered across the Taco Bell floor. He sat down across from her and inhaled her perfume.
"What' s crackin', Doll?" Dark said. Having just recently arrested a skateboarder who said "what's crackin'", Dark had been trying to work it into his own vocabulary as much as possible.
"What's new, Pussycat?" said the female.
"Whoa. Whoa," replied Dark. "You've been eying me all night, Sugar! What gives?"
"The name's Thelma," the woman, who's name was Thelma, said. "In two minutes, a couple of knuckleheads are gonna come through the door and try and murder me."
"Murder you? But why?!" Dark queried inquisitively.
Thelma sighed. "I came to this town to be a star. But then I fell in with a couple of good-time Charlies who promised me the world on a string, and only delivered a pocketful of shattered dreams."
"Oh the humanity!" cried Dark, having just accidentally squirted himself in the eye with lava sauce.
"I worked a lotta second class joints, and incurred a lotta debts," Thelma said. "Now the big boys are sending their goons to collect."
"I won't let them hurt you, Baby," Dark said. "I've seen four or five mysterious vixens get gunned down in Taco Bells. Four or five is enough."
"Would you do that for me, Mister?" Thelma asked. She felt like tears were about to spring to her eyes, but instead, tears came from her eyes, in more of a trickle than a spring, which made much more sense.
Dark took out his handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, getting his previous day's snot all over them. "And then we'll be married," he said tenderly. "We'll have lots and lots of children. That way we can put the weak ones and girls up for adoption."
"Sounds nice," Thelma said. "I'd like to be Missus - say, what's your name anyway, Handsome?"
Dark opened his mouth to speak.
But he was interrupted by the blistering KRAKOW of machine gun fire. The window behind them shattered, and Thelma was torn to pieces.
When the smoke cleared, Dark was sitting in a corner. Cradled in his lap was what remained of Thelma's spleen.
"You were just a small town girl," Dark whispered. "But then this city took you its bosom, and chewed you up and spit you out, like a giant bosom with a mouth and teeth."
He gazed into the dark recesses of an overturned chalupa supreme. He could see a long way, but not as far as Thelma had gone.
Miles Freeman had taken a one-way trip down an elevator shaft. His mangled corpse lay at the bottom. Chief Homicide Inspector Ford was inclined to rule it murder, but Detective Dark had other ideas.
"It was murder, Dark!" The Chief intoned forcefully. "Murder, pure and simple!"
"But, Chief! Everything points to suicide!" Dark riposted. "For example, the thirteen bullets in Freeman's skull. He obviously shot himself in the head thirteen times, and then threw himself down the elevator shaft."
"Poppycock! Hogwash! Balderdash!" said the chief, who, it turns out later, was actually a 19th century British colonel.
"Just as I suspected!" cried Dark. "You're not the chief homicide inspector at all, but rather a 19th century British colonel. Just the sort of man who would throw Miles Freeman down an elevator shaft!"
"Absolute tommyrot!" Chief Inspector Ford screamed. "What cause would I have to murder Freeman?"
Dark smiled. "As a loyal Englishman, you would hate anyone named 'miles', due to your fanatical European devotion to the metric system!"
But Chief Inspector Ford had already produced a gun from his sleeve, one of those tiny little guns, like whores and schoolmarms and various other ladies have in Westerns.
"One of those tiny little guns like whores and schoolmarms and various other ladies have in Westerns!" Dark gasped.
For a moment, it seemed that the Inspector would shoot Dark. Dark's life flashed before his eyes - that one time he tried a cool ranch taco at Taco Bell, the first girl he ever took to Taco Bell, other stuff.
But then Inspector Ford put the gun to his own head, and pulled the trigger. There was a not very spectacular flash, and Inspector Ford fell to the ground with a minor head wound that probably wouldn't even require stitches.
"The boys in blue are on their way, Inspector," Dark said, and then cursed himself for not thinking to put air quotes around the word 'inspector'.
Two months later, 'Inspector' Ford was deported to Australia, and Dark was awarded the Nobel Peace prize for some reason.
Friday, December 14, 2012
I reached into my stocking
And found that there was not coal after all!
"Mother, I thought you said Santa would bring us nothing but coal!" I said.
Mother only smiled, and I felt warm tears sting my eyes.
"We could have burned it to stay warm," I said. "Or used it as fuel for any one of a thousand useful types of industrial machinery!"
"Play with your rocks!" Mother ordered.
As the evil robot
Grabbed Phinehas in its iron claws
And rocketed back on its rocket boosters, out through the window
"Quick, darling!" Jon cried. "The car keys!"
With the grace of a former skater, but one who recently had a baby,
Tenile dived across the room
And tossed Jon the car car keys.
Two minutes later
Jon zoomed southward, down 37, in his red car
In pursuit of the evil robot, which was flying high above him
"Still trying to stop me, Puny Human?" the robot chortled in a metallic voice. "The baby is mine! Because we robots need babies, to train them into our slaves!"
"Not on my watch, you bucket of bolts!" Jon growled
And floored the accelerator
Swerving through traffic
The robot fired two missiles, just missing Jon
And causing several other cars to explode and flip over
Jon knew if the robot made it to Bedford,
The new headquarters of the robot slave trade in Indiana,
All would be lost
Jon's phone rang. It was Tenile.
"Did you save my baby?!"she cried hysterically
"This is no time for hysterics, woman!" Jon replied, hanging up.
He gritted his teeth, and floored the accelerator even more than it had already been floored
"If only I had some projectile weapon," Jon muttered to himself "Something to disable the rocket boosters!"
"Something like a bow and arrow?" Dewayne Pinkney said
Sitting up from the back of the car
Grasping his bow and arrow
"What are you doing in the back of my car?" Jon said.
"This new racist robot regime makes it hard for me to find housing," Dewayne replied.
"Just take the shot!" Jon cried. "And for heaven's sakes, just disable the rocket boosters so he has to land, and we can fight him, don't blow him up with my baby!"
"What if I shoot the arrow in such a way," Dewayne replied, "that it goes through the baby's shirt, whips him out of the robots hands, and pins him safely to a tree?"
"That's a terrible idea!" Jon cried.
"Fine," Dewayne said huffily.
He stood up out of the sunroof of the speeding vehicle
Put arrow to string
The arrow slashed through the air, straight and true
And hit the evil robot right in the back of the head
Causing him to explode and collapse in a gigantic heap of rubble
All over the highway
"Oh no!" Dewayne cried emotionally. "What have I done?"
The car screeched to a halt
Without saying a word,
Jon got out
Dewayne watched him disappear into the black cloud of smoke
After two agonizing minutes, Jon returned
With a cooing and contented Phinehas in his hands
"He survived!" Dewayne wept as Jon got back into the car.
"He's a Crum Baby, isn't he?" Jon replied.
"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Dewayne.
Later that night, Tenile rocked the baby to slept
As Jon and Dewayne ate some pasta.
The phone rang and Jon picked it up.
"This is President Obama," a voice on the line said.
"Yes?" Jon replied.
"You did good today, Son," The President said. "What I mean to say is - I'm ashamed to admit this - but not all of us thought you were ready for fatherhood."
"Well," Jon said, "Not all of thought we were ready for a new government robotics program, either."
"How dare you -" The president sputtered. But Jon had already hung up.
Jon stood. "C'mon, Dewayne."
He opened the door
Dewayne walked out
But Jon lingered a moment in the doorway
"Where are you going?" Tenile cried trepidatiously.
"There are other mothers out there," Jon replied. "Mothers whose babies have been kidnapped by the robot army. And they're not all Crum babies, either. It has to stop."
"I already thought I'd lost you once," Tenile said quietly. "Don't make me go through that again."
Jon shook his head. "When you married me, honey, you married a Crum. You knew what you were getting into. All that's necessary for the rise of the robots, is for a good Crum to do nothing."
"And what about Phinehas?" Tenile said. "When he's old enough, will he too spill his blood and grieve his mother, in ceaseless war against the robots?"
Jon smiled slightly, and shrugged. "When he's old enough, I hope he won't have to."
He kissed her and walked out into the gathering darkness.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Rocket ships above
From stars out where we send our finest gifts of love.
Working on a plan
You'll find yourself with every other single man.
Some build up the wall,
It'll take no time but it won't really help at all.
Elevate your face
Before you find it floating into outer space.
And everything that's said to you
Is just a lesson good and true
The only trouble honey,
With all your piles of money
You've got no time to spend it too.
Take your little hand
We'll run away and find some other promised land.
Far from these machines,
To valleys, hills, and forests, all are leafy green.
There's no looking back,
Our planet victim to another space attack.
Let's have a parade.
We'll settle back and see the home that we have made.
But everything that's said to you,
Though just a lesson good and true,
Still everything you know is
Just a bunch of hocus pocus.
A little magic, it'll never do.
The only trouble honey,
With all your piles of money
You've got no time to spend it too.