Friday, April 29, 2011


The day after
my cat died
Mummy told me
"The rain
Is God
Crying with you."
I asked what God
Up in Heaven
Could ever have
To cry about.

That night, my bum sore
from the spanking, I wondered
If God hated people
Living in deserts
It never rained in them.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Friday, April 08, 2011

facebook status updates: part IV

I want to post about a fake trip and, when the burglars arrive, give them a happy grin. "I was just looking for friends! Didn't you see that I'm looking for friendship in my status?"

You are now infected with sentient lice. They will eventually try to establish communication... unless, of course, you've been trying to exterminate them. In that case, they'll be very unhappy with you.

"I don’t get this whole destiny thing. Aren’t you already doing whatever it is you’re going to do?”

“There are many forms of currency in this world,” Ril said softly. “You and I both know that the only one that matters is secrets. ”

Mind you, most things mentioining Anne Coulter sear themselves into the brain much like cthulhu would. - Moi.

Silence, Del had found, was the most cunning of traps. People felt compelled to fill it.

From a current WIP: And sometimes, if you say you'll pay anything, the price is everything.

You begin to urinate shredded White House documents for the next 10 hours, and the page they form tells you who will really kill you tomorrow.

How to tell your kids there is no Santa: "We're not getting you any gifts this year because Santa will bring them."
And come christmas morning: "Well, it seems the recession hit St. Nick hard, too. But we still got you each a satsuma!"

Signs you are writing a very screwed-up story: It includes references to zombie fetish films. In this case, one made for zombies by zombies and involving humans eating zombies.

For the past week, you have been getting text messages on your phone, dated noon tomorrow.
"Sorry," from a blocked ID, and nothing else.
The messages are coming less frequently now.

this is a fun story line out of context: "Ant farms aren't vampires, least not any one I've ever seen."

What ISN'T the world's second-oldest profession?

Telemarketer for scotiabank: "Hello, I am looking for Josh MacLeod."
Me: "No, you're not. Because he's getting sick of these calls and will switch banks if they continue."

Weirdest line written thus far this week in WIP:
"What is decency, if not stigmata?"

This is the postscript of a letter I sent to my grandmother 5 years ago.
PS - I just discovered that spiritual councillors who speak to the dying are paid by the hour. It created an interesting mental image of “die slower, I need to pay my rent!”

The grass won't be greener on the other side after you apply the lighter fluid.

Vampires who sparkle in sunlight should convert to Islam so they can hide behind the burka. Discuss.

"You killed God," the Devil said, and She looked disappointed. "I had a round of golf booked with Him this weekend; now what am I going to do?"

"Would someone care to explain," the Detective said slowly, "why anyone thought the king's horses could put an *egg* back together again? Look at what their hooves have done to the shell!"

This was turning out to be a bad day for the Detective. No less than four calls in the last hour from people claiming they had lost an hour of the day, and demanding someone catch the thief who stole it.
Only two of them had been joking.

"No," the Detective said, his voice cold and quiet and breaking through the shouting of victims and suspects and the killer.
"What?" The killer said. "No? No to what?"
"I am not telling the mayor the butler did it." The Detective raised his gun. "We need a better killer than that."

"Commissioner, you asked me to solve the case of reality." The Detective paused. "The solution is 42."
"That is amusing," the Commissioner said, his voice devoid of a smile. "You're fired."
"But .... I wasn't joking. It really is 42. Why won't anyone listen to me?"

"Of course I arrested the suspect," the Detective said to Internal Affairs.
"For someone to be a suspect, you have to charge them with with a crime. Not march into their office and arrest them!"
"I knew he was guilty of something; he's a senator."

There is one conspiracy so great is can bring down the moon, so brilliant it burns even the worthy as it makes them pure, and so terrible that darkness quells from it and sorrow seems, at times, its mate. This conspiracy is called love.

Things that would be fun: answering the phone as though you were a help desk.

"Yes, your honour, I was drunk when I was pulled over," The Detective said. "Drunk on clues."

"Oh yeah?" she said. "So I'm like that, am I? Well, how many horsemen of the apocalypse have *you* slept with, mister?"

The Detective laughed unkindly. "I hate to disappoint you, but this is not a locked room mystery: I placed a cat in the room four hours before the disappearance of Ms. Dunway in this same room so it is now a schrodinger's cat room, and neither locked nor unlocked."

The Detective has been fired for many reasons, over the course of his career. Concerned pet owners over his use of Schrodinger's Cat was, however, a new one.