Recalling simpler times

“What happened to the good old days when you didn’t have to worry about reserving a spot in an underground vault to protect you from global super-tsunamis, zombie outbreaks and total nuclear fallout?”
“You mean the days when people pooped in a pot and flung it out the back window and then died in massive numbers from fecal diseases?”

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What happened, my son

I took little satisfaction in watching the convicted murderer trail behind the guards as they led him away in handcuffs after being charged guilty and sentenced to life in prison, as there was nothing that could comfort the tragedy of my husband’s death, and there was nothing that could take away that painful familiarity in the monster’s eyes. I remember when he first blinked open those shiny little marble eyes to me and the world and my husband had looked at him real proud the way fathers do when they first realize their baby’s potential – a quarterback for the Eagles, a wealthy doctor or lawyer, the President; the possibilities were infinitely immense! – but alas, what had happened to this baby I had cradled in my arms thirty-five long years ago?

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The Blow

Sometime in elementary school, as she was walking up a short flight of stairs, she realized that even if she began in that moment, she could not finish reading all of the books in existence before she died; and so she would have to make choices. And although it seemed, in a way, pointless to possess only in part what she had childishly, unthinkingly assumed would be hers in full, she carried on.

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Hypothesis Denied

“You know, I was bothered by you at first, but then I thought to myself gee, if someone claims to hate me that much, well, then it must just be they’re intimidated by me, so is that it – are you intimidated by me?”
“No, trust me – honest to God, I just genuinely hate you.”

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The Sign

He was forever being seduced by younger girls who didn’t know what they wanted. He felt like wearing a badge that said, “It’s fine if you’re immature and confused, just don’t drag me into it—keep your hands to yourself.”

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Internet Connection

“Do you ever wonder if Mr. Right is out there somewhere in the world, looking up at the same star that you’re looking at and at the very same time?” Rachel sighed as she gazed longingly out the window.
“Nah,” Jackie shrugged and double-clicked on a link, “but I guess maybe my Mr. Right is looking at the very same webpage as I am right now.”

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Shake ‘n’ Wake

The whole bed beneath me jerked violently back and forth, five feet maybe ten each time, the mattress bouncing and shaking more and more with each thrust, the dimly-lit walls wiggling as if they were made of rubber, and after I had flung myself onto my feet and into a pair of pants and ran desperately to the front door, I was surprised to find when I stepped into the brightness of a freshly-ignited dawn that life seemed to be continuing on as usual, the most dedicated (and presumably high-paid) of the infamous Japanese businessmen already whizzing by in their cars at what must have been four thirty or five in the morning.
Despite the evident lack of damage, and although the five floors of apartments above hadn’t fallen in on me and my own ground-floor living quarters like I had so genuinely expected, I decided right then and there that I did not like earthquakes, and that maybe it was time to get the hell out of Japan.

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For Grampa, for Bubbles

“Sweetie, what on EARTH are you doing?” Claire asked, beyond surprised to see Chelsea, her pig-tailed, freckle-cheeked, pink-shorts-wearing four year-old daughter, hopping repeatedly on one foot for balance while jamming the other down the toilet, two dandelions grasped in one hand while the other worked the flushing lever.
“Well we bringed flowers to Grampa in the hospital yesterday, so now I’m gonna bring flowers to Bubbles,” Chelsea answered matter-of-factly, of course referring to her comrade who had, several weeks ago after a violent incident involving one of his (larger and more aggressive) bowl-mates, been sent via toilet flush to the fishy hospital.

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