Monthly Archives: February 2009

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The Eyeless Man

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(I originally wrote this story in German. I took some liberties with the translation [which you have to do with German anyway], but if any of the phrasing is awkward we’ll blame it on that.)

The children called him the eyeless man. Because he was blind, he always wore big dark sunglasses and nobody had ever seen him without them. Actually, that’s not true. No adults had ever seen him without them. Every kid knew a friend of a friend who had seen under the sunglasses. The story was always the same; he had no eyes.

The children also had other stories about the eyeless man. They said he could see the future. It only makes sense that when someone can’t see normally, they must see other things instead. This is the logic of children and it’s usually right.

But this time it wasn’t right. It was true that the eyeless man had no eyes. It was true that he could see strange things. But he couldn’t see the future. He could only see what was coming in over the television waves. And that’s not nearly as interesting.

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Der Augenlosmann

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(Deutsch ist nicht meine Muttersprache. Ich habe nur zwei Jahren von Deutschklasse genommen. Es tut mir Leid, wenn ich nicht so gut schreiben.)

Die Kinder nannten ihn den Augenlosmann. Er trug immer eine große dunkle Sonnenbrille, weil er konnte nicht sehen. Keine Person sah ihn ohne seine Sonnenbrille. Auch, das ist nicht richtig. Keine erwachsene Person sah ihn ohne seine Sonnenbrille. Alle Kinder kannten einen Freund von einem Freund, der unter die Sonnenbrille sah. Dieser Freund sagt über ihn, dass er keine Augen hat.

Die Kinder hatten auch andere Geschichte über den Augenlosmann. Sie sagten, dass er die Zukunft sehen konnte. Es ist natürlich, wenn man normale Dinge nicht sehen kann, kann man andere Dinge sehen. Es ist Kinderlogik und es ist oft richtig.

Aber dieses Mal war es nicht richtig. Es ist richtig, dass der Augenlosmann keine Augen hatte. Es ist richtig, dass er fremde Dinge sah. Aber er sah nicht die Zukunft. Er sah nur die Fernsehwellen. Und dies ist nicht so interessant.

All Too True

The Only Therapy I Need!

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“Hey man, you OK? You look a little down.”

“I guess you could say that.”

“You know what your problem is?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I know what my problem is. My problem is I have a terrible sense of self-worth. I constantly harp on my failures while ignoring my successes. Causing, of course, a never-ending spiral of failure because as I trust in my own abilities less and less I succeed less and less. Of course, it’s not really my fault. When I was young, nothing I did was ever good enough for my parents. I was the only child so all their attention was always focused on me. Whenever I screwed up, I got it big time, when my father was even around. Most of the time he was off on ‘business trips’ (at his funeral I found out he had at least 50 mistresses) leaving my mother to raise me. I mean, she tried her best, but she didn’t have the masculinizing influence that a father would have had. Plus I think she knew what he was really up to so most of the time she would just cry herself to sleep watching TV, leaving me to eat stale crackers and tuna. Actually, the tuna probably didn’t help either. There’s a lot of heavy metals in that stuff. Probably disrupted my brain real bad, probably all sorts of chemical imbalances up there now. ‘Course, things didn’t get much better when I went to college, my mom wasn’t willing to cut the apron strings, they’d call me every night. I tried sometimes to ‘accidentally’ leave my phone in my room but then I just got chewed out. Honestly it was basically like having someone watching you all the time, do you know what that’s like? Of course now that they’re gone that’s not a problem anymore and I feel relieved, but I really feel sort of guilty for feeling that way too. And honestly after having someone there all the time to force you to achieve and to support you when you fail…it’s sort of hard to deal with actually being independent. Honestly, all in all I’m pretty much just a basket case.”

“Wow.”

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was gonna say that your problem is it’s been too long since you’ve gotten drunk.”

“Yeah, actually, you’re right, that’s probably what it is.”

Continual Story

Dead and Dirty in Dubai Part 9: Oscar Moments

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(Just joining us? Go back to the beginning of the story.)

“Hey lady!” shouted Alex, “Over here!”

They had jumped dramatically through the window of the hotel to rescue Jenny. She caught sight of them and ran over.

“Come on y’all, back in the hotel!” shouted Billy.

The three of them ran back to the hotel and dove through the window not a moment too soon. Jenny’s pursuers howled in heat and anger that their quarry had escaped. The three of them sat on the floor panting, when Billy looked up.

“Oh hey there sweet pea, I wondered where your pretty little self got off to there,” he said, smiling at the woman he met in the bar.

The woman smiled back, but her smile was filled with razor sharp teeth that dripped with blood. She lunged at Alex, biting him on the arm.

“Shit!” he screamed, shaking her off, “Back out the window!”

“Wait!” Billy said, taking a bottle of booze out of his pocket. “Gonna drive off those sons of guns first.” He fashioned himself a molotov cocktail, lit it on fire, then through it out the window. The three followed.

Unfortunately, they found themselves in a writhing mass of horny zombies. To make matters worse, several of the zombies were now on fire. Jenny was the first to go down. By playing hard-to-get, she’d annoyed and upset the zombies even more. Alex was futilely trying to beat of a paramour of his own. Billy, on the other hand, had caught on fire when one of the flamboyantly flaming zombies started to dryhump him.

As Billy went down in flames, he caught Alex’s eyes one last time. Alex looked at him sadly from beneath a pile of writhing bodies.

“Young man,” Billy said, haltingly, “I ain’t known you that long but I got somethin I gotta tell ya.”

“What’s that?” asked Alex, choking back a sob that was partially caused by this heartfelt moment, and partially from the intense sense of violation he felt.

“I gotta tell ya…”

Moaning and groaning.

“…that even though…”

Disgusting slurping noises.

“…you’re just some no-good punk kid…”

“What? What?” Alex shouted, straining to reach Billy, knowing deep in his heart that Billy was going to say what both of them knew, to reveal the powerful forbidden feelings that they’d felt for each other since the moment they’d met. That he would tell him how different things would have been under different circumstances, how this whole horrible apocalypse had ruined everything but still, they’d found a brief moment of happiness in the few minutes they’d spent together.

“…the Baby Jesus loves you.”

All Too True

Caught Red Handed

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Tom was sitting at his computer when all of a sudden his heart froze as he heard the door behind him open. Quickly closing the window, he spun around and smiled. “Hey honey, you’re home early!”

Rebecca stood in the doorway, shock and disappointment plastered on her face. “Tom,” she said quietly, “What was that?”

“What was what?” Tom asked a little too casually.

“On your screen,” she said.

“Oh, I dunno. Just looking at the stocks, checking up on the news a bit.”

Rebecca’s brow furrowed as she walked over to the desk. “Don’t lie to me Tom,” she said.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, laughing nervously as she leaned over him and clicked the history button.

“Tom,” she said quietly, “What is this?”

“It’s nothing,” he said frantically, “I thought it was something else I accidentally clicked it…”

Rebecca turned to him, tears in her eyes.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me,” she said.

“Honey really, it’s not…look, I don’t normally look at that stuff, OK! An old friend from high school sent it to me in an email, he didn’t tell me what it was…”

“You’ve been doing this since High School?” she asked, slowly sinking to the floor, head in her hands.

“No, it’s not, no! Look, please, just listen to me,” Tom began, grasping for words that could explain, could set everything right.

“No Tom, you listen to me,” Rebecca said, her voice hardening as she stood up. “I’ve put up with a lot in the fifteen years we’ve been married. I realize that we’re different people. I know that I can’t please your every taste, and that sometimes a man has needs. But Tom, there have to be limits. There’s a line you just can’t cross.”

“Rebecca…” he faltered.

“I could put up with almost anything, Tom,” she said, “But The Star Wars Christmas Special? I’m sorry, Tom. It’s over.”

Continual Story

Dead and Dirty in Dubai Part 8: How Not to Get a Tip as a Waiter

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Bear Grylls looked up from his meal. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

“Well gee Bear I dunno,” said Tim, “What’d it sound like?”

“This is why I’m famous and you’re only the cameraman, Tim,” said Bear. “It sounded almost like…a small bell.”

“There was a bell on the door of the restaurant,” said the doctor.

“I bet it was the bell on the door of the restaurant,” said Bear, “Let’s check it out.”

The trio crept to the door of the kitchen and peeked out into the dining room. There, they were horrified to see several zombies sitting at the tables, pounding their silverware and  loudly demanding their meals.

“Gee Bear, that’s a lot of zombies dontchaknow,” whispered Tim.

“Now look,” Bear said, pulling back into the kitchen “Things look pretty bad right now, but I didn’t get to be the most famous survivalist in the world by giving up when things look bad. I’ve got a plan.”

—

“Hello!” the three shouted as they glided out of the kitchen wearing the clothes that used to belong to the waiters of Luigi’s. Each of them held a covered silver platter in their hand and they approached the nearest table. The zombies looked up at them and grinned.

“Tonight, for your first course,” said the doctor.

“We’re just so proud to present to you,” said Tim.

“Your death! Um…second death!” shouted Bear, as the three whipped the cover off of the platters to reveal meat cleavers and other various knives.

In the aftermath of the bloody battle, the three sat on the floor exhausted.

“Where’d you learn to be so good with a knife?” Bear asked the surgeon.

All of a sudden, three police officers kicked down the door.

“Freeze!” they shouted, “We’re shutting this place down for not paying your rent!”

“There’s a zombie plague infesting the city and you’re worried about rent?” asked the doctor, amazed.

“You have the right to remain silent, so shut up!”

“Make sure you get this on camera,” Bear whispered to Tim. “Confrontations with armed maniacs always bring the ratings up.”

Bear stood slowly, holding his hands in front of him in a gesture of peace. “Officers, there’s been a mistake,” he said, as he grabbed for the nearest one’s gun. Unfortunately, another one of the officers noticed this and smacked him in the face with a shotgun, shattering his skull. Bear Grylls collapsed, dead.