Michael’s Temporal Tourist Trap

The alarm clock reminded Michael that in two hours he needed to wake up. In two hours his day would begin anew with a toothbrush, shaving cream and a time of longing in the shower in memoriam of his separated wife, Gloria. After a moment’s thought he realized that if he did that presently he could spend the extra time watching cartoons. The crowds love that kind of thing. With utter disregard for the long term consequences of voluntary insomnia, Michael went towards the bathroom.

As he passed the living room to the bathroom, Michael considered his house’s curious floor plan. He probably had the only house in ten miles with a viewing room. It was cut off from the rest of the house by velvet rope. Ten people were currently viewing him, gawking and looking dumb as tourists are want to do. From this room, they could view every room except the bedroom and bathroom; apparently decency codes will forbid that. They even had their own door… which led to the future.

In the salad days of sometime after now, tourists are a jaded lot who travel through time and space with the vague hopes of something interesting to distract them. Michael’s house was an educational attraction, an authentic third millennium bungalow, complete with game consoles, gas stove and a microwave. Actually, Michael ‘accidentally’ broke the microwave after the fiftieth time he watched male patrons cover their crotch while in use. One day he was just a little to eager to move an iron skillet from the stove and it ended up crashing through the microwaves window. He played the caveman klutz and the crowd ate it up.

That was back in the days when he had a pregnant wife and the whole world in front of him. Now Gloria lived in Santa Barbara with equal custody. In six months and four days, Michael would join her and they would start again, hopefully. Paul looked so smart in all the pictures, aside from the drooling. She wouldn’t raise her child in a zoo and Michael couldn’t blame her but the contract kept him at the house.

The contract itself laid bare a mystery of time travel. Paradox is not a law of the universe but of the 32nd century Temporal Tourism Bureau. The TTB will be really into authenticity and their local division was quite willing to sue you over breach of contract. In fact, any interaction at all could be a considered a breach. That’s why when Michael found a little boy in his bathroom, Michael was a little distressed. Also Michael was naked and in his time, naked men in the presence of boys were heavily scrutinized.

“I know how it ends.”

The little boy had a tablet in his hands. Michael tended to get annoyed at people with wiki knowledge. This kid had Michael’s whole future in his chocolate covered hands.

“Good for you, get behind the rope.”

As he put a little pea of toothpaste on his brush, a thought occurred. All through the foamy baptism of his teeth, the thought persisted. After he spit, he looked back to see that the child still standing in the corner of Michael’s bathroom.

“Does Paul make it out okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does he have a good life?”

“Uh, yeah, he does pretty well. In fact he…”

“Stop, thats all I need. Go.”

Feeling helpful, the child left to find his negligent parents. There was a good chance this information was not true or after spoken wholly inaccurate due to tampering. Michael couldn’t think of such things, he could only assure himself that his boy would grow up right.


My Cold And Shrinking Proposal

She’s walking away now. Her name might as well be Aphrodite, but it’s Lisa. Her waist length hair flows outwards caught in the dawn sun, she is autumn and the departure of color. She’s scrunches inwards, keeping warm in the face of fall’s bitter last days. We’re both a little cold but I don’t think I’ll ever be quite so warm again. Among trees and hilly sidewalks, she disappears. I’m not quite so lucky as to never see her again; she reappears at some distance and slowly fades into the horizon. There’s a part of me that can still see her, but that’s just my imagination.

Finally, I relax and the pear shaped diamond with my grandmother’s gold band falls to the sidewalk. I tie my belt, close my trench coat and slowly pick up two months salary off the ground.

Would Be Hero

There’s four more shots coming before he must reload, but any fantasy you had of stopping him and becoming a big damn hero ended with the shot inside you. That load is meant for a buck and a man ain’t a match for it. Your organs are opening up and seeping out. You actually might just live because you’re proving to be stronger than you really should be. Still, you’re now more of a spectator to the bank robbery than a player.

Cathy Lieberstein’s Radical Stance

“I don’t believe in killing the Irish.”

This was one of many radical stances that Cathy Lieberstein had. It was really only radical in that she was running for the Indiana State School Board. Prior to this, no one really stated their stance on murder. Mostly they ran with strong stances for vouchers and hot lunches but Cathy really changed the game. No one could even imagine running without stating their position on the murder of the sons of Erin. This in turn boiled down to the politicians belief in the controversial constitutional right to murder*.

For her part, Cathy was at the forefont of the no murder movement in and shoe in for the board. Then she went and flipped flopped on the issue destroying her base of loyal supporters and making her look weak kneed and unable to face the inability to actually do anything meaningful. No one thought she could handle resting on her laurels, not after the poor boy died underneath her car. This is to say nothing of what the Irish community thought of her overall.

So, Cathy Lieberstein proved to be just another politician that couldn’t stand by her principles. For shame.






* If you’re hungover and squint real hard you can see it right between the first and second amendment. It has been jokingly called the nineteenth amendment due to it’s relation to the eighteenth amendment. The actual nineteenth enabled women to vote and was far more real. The Constitutional Right to Murder is fictions and if it wasn’t fictitious it would federal law and therefore not a proper issue to be brought up in a race for a state institution.

Subsituting Plane Crash With Cheesecake

The fork plowed through the cheesecake and the graham cracker crust broke against the stainless steel construction. Tiffany will soon have to to go back to the mountain, where her very costly plane has landed poorly. Right now though, she is enjoying her impeccable memory and her persistent imagination. The delusion itself is of a charming Italian eatery that happened to have terrible food. The cheesecake is her mother’s recipe and a man on the other end of the table is desperately maneuvering his fork for a bit of her dessert. She saw him once in a catalog advertising the very suave suit he is wearing during their lovely delusional date. It’s cold and she’s telling herself that the she’s under the central air duct. From the kitchen she can hear the radio which is broadcasting a baseball game. Currently it’s in the fifth inning and she’s enjoying the game but some man keeps interrupting with his bothersome maydays.



The One Sided Romance And The Hostage Crisis

Please sit, you look tired.

Ha, the trap is sprung! There is a pressure sensor in the cushion so don’t move. If your eyes should wander you might see a wire running down that chair. It’s attached to a big pile of putty, Semtex actually. That’s high explosive my darling. If you really want us to end by all means get up. That should end us and the rest of the building. It’ll be amazing, I promise you.

Now, I know you want to leave but have you ever considered how happy you used to be with me? It can be like that, except you’ll sit there very still. Now don’t squirm for god’s sake, you’re likely to set off the bomb. For the love of all that’s holy don’t get up.

Okay fine, there was no bomb. I stapled electrical wires to a chair and attached it to molding clay. Really, can you blame me for wanting to keep what we have going?

Fine, yes you can blame me but you shouldn’t.

Because I love you.

No, I don’t think that knife is really necessary, I let myself out.


Craft A Soul With Your A+ Certification

Martin’s soul currently sits on Martha’s desk. He put his blood, tears and everything in that one receptacle. They don’t date anymore but it’s still there. It has a 2.4 gigahertz dual core processor and a 500 gigabyte hard drive. It’s got a small form factor and a smaller linux install. Martin doesn’t miss it. Martin is building a new soul. This time, it will be a quad core. He wonders who will end up with this one.

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries