Monday, July 2, 2012

The Old Man




A Short Story


Yesterday, I awoke in a drunken haze to find a creepy old man lying on top of me, dripping his toupee adhesive onto my left cheek. Trapped under this bulging, bolder of pedophilia, I began to spit and gurgle violently in his direction in the hopes that it might reach his hearing aid and electrocute him, or worst-case scenario, he’d just slip and fall-off. Seemingly aroused by my spurting fountain of disgust, he threw his tiny, de-formed, T-Rex hands up behind his head and let-out a loud “Yeeessssss”. But then he had a massive coronary and died. So I just called his wife and asked her to come and pick him up. 

The Kitchen




A short story



Last night, as I was lying in bed, I heard a loud, clanking sound coming from inside the kitchen. So I got up to check it out. I thought, best-case scenario there would be a masked teenager in there for me to stab. So I was particularly disappointed to find it was just my possessed kitchen appliances engaging in some sort of ethical quarrel. “Bla bla bla, Kettle...Bla bla bla, Black Pot”, they screeched at me, as if I cared. But I didn’t. So they both turned on me, scalding me head to toe with boiling hot water. Leaving my mutilated, husk of a body on the tiles, seriously stoked for the next council clean-up.