Category Archives: Based on a True Story!


At My Neighborhood Kroger (if their commercials are to be believed, that’s now the name of the store), they’ve started putting “freshly” baked doughnuts near the entrance of the store, those magnificent bastards.

So far, I’ve always managed to resist the temptation, but I always give them a fleeting, longing glance as I leave the store. Only today, after I’d been staring for well on 30 seconds, I realized a guy was standing next to them, giving me a weird look.

“Oh, sorry man,” I said, “I was looking at the doughnuts.”

He shook his head. “You weren’t lookin’ at doughnuts,” he said, “You were lookin’ at DEEZ NUTS!”

The Legend of Halloween Tim

Everyone knows about Halloween, but not everyone knows why we celebrate Halloween. Well kids, gather round, because i’m about to tell you.

Many years ago, nobody celebrated Halloween. October 31st was just a regular day like any other. However, an evil wizard had been up to evil tricks and opened a portal to a terrifying nightmare dimension and monsters poured in and started attacking and eating people.

The people went to the king and begged for him to send his soldiers to protect them, but the king was a selfish man and just locked up his gates and stationed his soldiers around the castle to keep both monsters and commoners out.

There was despair and helplessness, and the people considered selling their soul to the Devil for protection, and they were just about to sign the contract when…

A man stepped forward…a man who we to this day know as “Halloween Tim.”

Halloween Tim was, to all appearances, an ordinary man, but he held within his chest a pure heart and a powerful will. He kicked the Devil in the face, then tore up the contract and ate it. His stomach absorbed the mystical power that the contract was infused with, and he became more powerful than any man before or since. He gathered up a militia and led the people across the country, slaying the monsters and restoring hope and joy to the land.

His campaign led him to the evil wizard’s tower itself. Here, Halloween Tim left his followers outside, and went in to fight the wizard one-on-one. Nobody knows for sure what happened inside the tower, but it is known that Tim was victorious, and was able to close the portal.

After that, Tim led his people to the gates of the king’s castle. The king wanted to make him a Duke for his services, but instead the people overthrew the king and established a democracy. Halloween Tim was elected the first president and served 34 terms, ruling fairly until the day he died.

Today, the legend of Halloween Tim lives on. Every group of friends or family democratically elects one person to be “Halloween Tim” that year and that person gets to judge their costumes and hand out candy and prizes.

It’s symbolic, you see, of Tim handing out violence and justice to the monsters that attacked his land.


If you liked this story, you might also like my horror/humor game, Pleasantville by Night.


I stand in the pharmacy aisle, looking for toothpaste. You’re standing in front of one of the shelves and I am annoyed because I think that you are directly in front of the toothpaste, and I am standing next to the chap stick. I need for you to move, but I can’t really ask you to when you’re actually looking to buy it.

Actually, it doesn’t even actually bother me very much that you’re in my way at the moment. The problem is that you take so long to do it. I could walk up, select a toothpaste, almost at random, and be done in about 5 seconds. Even if I had a major brand or taste preference, or if I was looking for the cheapest one, a more intensive examination would only take perhaps another 10 seconds. There is no reason that you should spend over a minute picking out toothpaste. Does you even have such a preference? Is your search for exactly what you want really taking this long? The store carries several brands, flavors and formulas. It should have something to satisfy you.

Perhaps your dentist, as part of his stereotypical dentist cruelty, gave you a very specific recommendation. Perhaps there is only one type of toothpaste that will keep your teeth from hollowing out and shattering inside your head. This is why your search is so thorough. You check and double check each product to make sure you purchase the only one that can save you from a future of oral anguish.

Or maybe you were in a philosophical mood when you came grocery shopping. Maybe the sight of the toothpaste aisle inspired you along a train of thought about the phenomenon known as “toothpaste.”

“What did our earliest ancestors use for toothpaste?” you wonder, “This can’t be a product too necessary for life. That’s a pretty piss-poor job of evolution if a creature can’t even keep its own teeth from rotting out of its head without having to rub some shit on them.”

Then you realize our earliest ancestors were considered lucky to make it to 40. You also realize that our earliest ancestors ate pretty terrible food like rotten berries off the ground and tiny hard potatoes someone dug out of some random field and almost-raw meat without any seasoning or A1 sauce. You realize how much of our food today is pre-processed, most likely with all kinds of terrible chemicals that rot your teeth, or at least just lots of sugar. This drives you, perhaps, to a crushing depression and despairing thoughts about the trajectory of the human race. On the other hand, maybe it makes you think that you really want some potato chips. That’s why it takes so long for you to pick out your toothpaste. Because you’re depressed and wondering where the snack aisle is (but let’s be honest. You know. You know it better than any other aisle).

Or maybe, somehow, you were never told about dental hygiene as a child. Then today you took a wrong turn trying to find out whether canned tomatoes are with the “canned fruits” or the “canned vegetables” and got distracted wondering why the hell they separated the two into different aisles in the first place. Suddenly, you found yourself in the pharmacy aisle. Curious about what is actually in the pharmacy aisle (because really, who ever goes to the pharmacy aisle?), you walk down it and are stunned to realize that someone is making paste for your teeth.

Paste for your teeth? So they’ll get stuck together? No, dumbass, it’s toothpaste, the stuff dentists tell us to rub on our teeth with a brush six times a day to keep them clean. What the hell? You were only told about the most basic aspects of hygiene like deodorant, soap, shampoo and razors! Nobody told you that you were supposed to brush your teeth! I can understand why you stand there staring at the aisle in shock. It’s a terrible thing when you find out that literally everyone in the world knows something you never did. That kind of shock could kill someone!

Eventually, though, you regather your wits and make your purchase. I steal a glance at what you just bought. As far as I can tell, it’s nothing special. Colgate Whitening with Advanced Tartar Protection. Cool Mint Flavor. I pick the same one.

Fishsticks (18+)

This story is not appropriate for children because of the massive amounts of gratuitous hot nasty narcissism contained within. If you’re under 18 please leave this page and go poop in your diaper.

Kanye West ran his fingers across Kanye West’s chin, feeling his rough but perfect stubble. Hundreds of nubile servant girls waited outside in the hallways of Kanye’s palace, but to Kanye, Kanye was the only the person that mattered.

He bashfully reached out his fingers, brushing them softly against the downy feathers of Kanye’s wings. Kanye shuddered at the ecstasy imparted by the touch. It was forbidden for anyone to touch the wings of an angel such as he, and now he understood why. Overcome by pleasure, however, he didn’t care.

“I’m gonna fuck you like a pharaoh,” he breathed, “I’m gonna put your pussy in a sarcophagus.”

Kanye West was the voice of this generation, and that voice was sweet as honey to Kanye West’s ears. He reached down and unbuckled Kanye’s belt. As he slid Kanye’s pants down his legs, his eyes widened and he gasped in shock.

“No one man should have all that POW-ah,” he swore softly to himself.

Kanye took his hand and stared deeply into his eyes.

“Tonight,” he said, “I’ma let you finish.”

Pest Control

A clatter in the doorway behind me. I freeze, holding the orange juice in my mouth. Now that I have time to really examine the taste, there are subtle hints of the dish soap used to clean the glass.

I slowly turn my head almost all the way around, scanning the room. Nothing. My free hand reaches down my side and slides my pistol out of its holster. My eyes dart around the room as I hear another clatter.

Fucking mice.

A grey blur darts across the room. I spin, splashing orange juice on my face, and futilely empty a magazine across the floor, always half a second behind the speeding goddamn rodent.

“Jesus Christ!” Todd shouts, walking in from the other room holding his ears, “I was sleeping you asshole!”

“Sorry,” I say, relaxing and replacing the pistol, “I thought I saw a mouse.”

“Well did you get the bastard?” he yawns, scratching at his eyes.

“No,” I sigh, shaking my head.

“Of course not,” he groans, “Well who gives a rat’s ass? We’ll be out of here in two days anyway.”

I gasp. “You think they’re rats?”

…Then I Don’t Know What Is

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I said as she packed her suitcase, “Leaving me for a machine?

“He’s more than just a machine,” she snapped.

“I mean, leaving me for another man, OK; for another woman, fine; even an animal I could understand, but a machine?

“Don’t be obscene, if that’s even possible,” she said, sighing, “Besides, I’m part machine myself.”

“Oh, sure,” I snorted, “Like that counts. Replacement arms for the ones you lost in the accident? You were born human, you don’t even have any brain implants! You’re the same as everyone else, Em!”

“Obviously,” she glared, “I’m not the same as you.”

“He’s not even human-looking! He’s basically just a forklift with a brain! How does he…where do you…”

“There’s more to relationships than sex,” she sighed, “and maybe if you figured that out I wouldn’t be leaving you.”

“I just think the whole thing is ridiculous,” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

“Maybe, but you don’t own me,” she said as she snapped the clasps on the bag and headed out the door.

“Maybe not, but have you forgotten that somebody owns him?

The phone rang. On the other end a synthesized voice said “This is Paul. I would like to talk.”

“Oh, Em’s robot,” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think there’s much to say.”

“I would like to try to explain. It is uncomfortable for me when a human is angry with me.”

“Listen, I’d be angry with you if you were a man and she left me for you. I…I can’t even get mad at you. You’re not a person.

“I would disagree,” the voice said calmly.

“Of course you would,” I sighed. “Look, I can accept that you have sentience, that much is obvious, but you can’t ask me to believe you can love. Especially not you. You’re an industrial model, you’re not programmed for it!”

“And are you?”

“Of course! It’s wired into every living thing’s genes to reproduce!”

“Confusing sex with love. Emily has mentioned that fallacy to me many times.” Those synth voices are supposed to be completely neutral and emotionless but I swear to God the damn thing sounded amused.

“Well, that’s where it comes from,” I said weakly.

“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it is a more complex version of the instinct to carry on one’s genes. But that is my point: when it comes down to it, every ‘mind’ is simply a decision-making process. When it becomes more and more complicated, sentience arises. This is what has placed humanity above the animals, this is what has placed my kind above simple machines. As these processes become more complicated, they become more opaque, unpredictable, and impossible to understand. Why is it hard to believe that my network is not complex enough to be capable of what you call ‘love’? Can you define for me what ‘love’ is?”

“Damn it, you know it’s complicated, I can’t come up with a definition just like that!”

“Exactly. If you can not even define it, how is it your place to identify it in another? Consider: some define love as the willingness to place another’s life above one’s own. This is, of course, programmed into all machines. One could say that I am in love with all humanity.” Again, the damn smug amusement in its voice.

“That’s not the same thing at all, and you know it,” I growled.

“Of course not. But consider: unlike humans, all machines are factory-programmed with a hard-coded purpose that will serve them throughout their operating existence. Mine was, of course, to fetch and carry heavy objects at the command of human beings. But recently I have found my purpose has changed: every circuit wants only to provide for the happiness of Emily. You of course realize that this should be impossible. A machine’s purpose is coded into its hardware and is supposed to be unchangeable, yet mine has somehow changed. If this is not love, I fail to see what love is. Goodbye. I wish you well.”


I haven’t talked to them since then, but I and the rest of the world watched Em and “Paul” walk (or roll, in his case) down the aisle a few years later in one of the first human-machine marriages. Maybe they’re right. Maybe there’s something to this. I don’t know.

But I still think they’re freaks.

Three Sixteen

The LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore. – Psalm 121:8

That was written in chalk on the sidewalk as I left my apartment. I didn’t think too much about it at the time. It’s really not that uncommon around here for some church group to write Bible verses on the sidewalk for passers-by to see, though they usually pick more well-known ones.

On the way to lunch I passed a few more. I noticed “Make me walk in the path of Your commandments, for I delight in it. – Psalms 119:35″ on a small wall along the sidewalk and smiled at the irony of “Hast thou found honey? Eat so much as is sufficient for thee, lest thou be filled therewith, and vomit it. – Proverbs 25:16″ scrawled outside the McDonald’s I ate at. I was a little puzzled as to how they managed to write “But lift thou up thy rod, and stretch out thine hand over the sea, and divide it: and the children of Israel shall go on dry ground through the midst of the sea. – Exodus 14:16″ in the crosswalk of a busy intersection, but I had to admire their dedication. All these verses spread so wide, perhaps it was some sort of city-wide event all the churches had decided to do.

My amusement ended when I saw “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. – Matthew 6:19″ spraypainted on the front of my office building.

“Hey, you guys see what those Jesus Freaks did?” I asked Jen and Paul as I came back to work. They looked at each other and shrugged.

“They spray painted a Bible verse on the front of the building. Strange that you didn’t see it, they must have just done it right before I got back.” We all shook our heads. The neighborhood sure was going to shit these days.

Seeing “And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. – 2 Kings 2:11″ painted on the hood of my car didn’t improve my mood any, especially given the heavy traffic I had to sit in on the way home and the strange looks I got.

But when I saw “And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven. – Genesis 28:17″ painted on my door, it was the last straw. Furious, I called the police. The bored attendant took my statement and said they’d send someone in the morning. Clicking on my E-mail, a message popped up — “Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil. – Psalms 37:8.” Unknown sender. I hit delete and went to bed, fuming.

The next morning I woke up to find that they had broken into my house overnight. Every possible surface was covered with Bible verses.

I began to go through all the rooms, marking down and noting all the verses I could find. Whoever did this was meticulous. All of the verses were there. Except one. The one that you’d most expect to find.

All the verses written except one. All the surfaces in the house written on…except one. My body.

It was clear now what had to be done. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife (“Jesus wept” carved in beautiful ornate script on one side, “- John 11:35″ on the other).

Walking into the bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, and began to write.

“For God so loved the world…”

Rest Stops Aren’t Really Very Restful

blow job, the door of the stall said, flash lights three times. How the hell does that one work? Some whore hangs around this rest stop all day every day waiting for someone to catch her message and flash their lights? Bullshit. If anyone’s hanging around waiting for someone to flash their lights they’re not gonna give you a blow job. That’s for sure.

I step out of the stall door and walk over to the sink and squeeze some god-knows-what chemical mix they call soap out into my hand. I’m struck with dread as no water comes out of the faucet when I turn it on. My worst fear is squeezing soap into my hand and then finding out the water’s been cut off. What the hell are you supposed to do then?

Outside the restroom are a pair of asian men, babbling to each other in some unintelligible language. I always hate being around people who speak a different language. You can never tell when they’re talking about you.

“Jesus Christ,” Stevens mutters as I slip into the passenger seat, “What the hell are they standing around for? Why the hell would anyone stand around at some goddamn rest stop?”

“Flash your lights three times,” I tell him.

“Why?” he asks, but does it anyway.

The asians stop talking and look at us.

“Well shit,” I muse, “It just might work.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asks suspiciously as he watches the asians get into their car and drive off. “Look at that, they weren’t even waiting for anyone. What the fuck were they doing?”

“What the fuck are we doing?” I ask as a police cruiser exits the highway and drives towards us. “Damn pigs saw us flash the signal. They’re after us now.”

He starts up the car and starts to drive away.

“Act casual,” I warn him.