Skip to content

Wizard Of WormHole Square

Wizard Of WormHole Square published on 1 Comment on Wizard Of WormHole Square

                 Wizard Of WormHole Square City

 

WIZARD:  Sorry folks, I’m all out of brains, hearts, and courage.  Can I interest you all in some NFT’s, crypto currency, or WormHole Square City time shares?

MW:  What?   No, we’re not interested in any of that stuff.  Bento here,    ( points to Bento ) needs a new actuator for one of his knees.

BENTO:  I got a fucked up knee, Doc.  Sometimes it gets so bad that I walk around like Jack Sparrow after doing an 8 ball.

MW:  And Indigo here, wants… ah (embarrassed ). Actually, I’ll let her tell you herself.

INDIGO:  Indigo needs a wireless self pleasuring device… with voice activation.  You feel me, Mr. Wizard, sir?

WIZARD:  Indeed.

MW: And I want…

WIZARD: Want, want, want, who am I, Santa Claus around this motherfu- ?

BENTO: No, no, no, we’re not saying that.

INDIGO:  We’re not saying that at all.

MW: What we’re saying is… MW wants a copy of Supertramp’s Breakfast In America… on eight track.

WIZARD: Nawwww, sorry, I don’t think I can help you with that or any of your requests.

MW: Damn.

WIZARD:  Sorry, but like I said, maybe you folks would consider some WormHole Square City timeshares instead.  Or perhaps dare to wade into the cryto currency waters.

INDIGO: What, no! We came all the way here to WormHole Square City because we heard you were a great and powerful wizard who could grant our requests!

WIZARD:  Who told you that?

MW:  Are you even a real wizard?!

BENTO:  Yeahhhhhh, who are you?  Are you catfishing us right now?!

WIZARD:  No, no, no, this is no catfishing scenario, I assure you, my good man.  And yes, I am a real wizard.

INDIGO:  No, you strike me more as a feckless warlock who’s on the down low.

WIZARD:  No, I assure you, I am a wizard.

MW:  Then what’s the problem, dude?  Why can’t you grant our respective requests?

INDIGO: Yeah!

BENTO:  Yeah.

WIZARD:   Well, it’s quite a complicated mechanism concerning the power brokers on the City Council… and the trustees inside the Lollipop Guild, etcetra, so forth and so on, you understand.

MW:  We must certainly do not fucking understand that sideways jibberish!

INDIGO:  You’re suppose to be all powerful.

BENTO:  You’re supposed to be the shit around here!

WIZARD:  Well, sir, despite my reputation preceding me, I assure you, I am not the proverbial shit around here… or anywhere else for that matter.  I’m sorry.

INDIGO:  So… you mean, I’m not going to get my voice activated wireless self pleasuring device?

WIZARD:  I’m afraid not, my dear.  I’m sorry.

BENTO:  And I’m not going to get my titanium micro lateral actuator for my left knee?

WIZARD:  I’m afraid not.

MW:  And I’m not gonna get Breakfast In America on 8 track?

WIZARD:  No, I’m sorry.

BENTO:  You’re sorry?  Is that all you can say… you’re sorry?  You have any idea what we had to go through to get here?

WIZARD:  Ahh, not really.

INDIGO: Lions and tigers and…

WIZARD:  …bears?

MW:  No… Baltimore.

WIZARD:  Oh my… God!

BENTO:  Yeah, G, we had to go through Baltimore to get here and all you have to offer us is sorry excuses.

The Wizard’s attitude completely changes from dismal to upbeat.

WIZARD: Baltimore… well why didn’t you say so?

INDIGO:  You’ve been there?

WIZARD:  Hellllllllll no, what are you crazy?   But I’ve heard stories from  folks who have been through that particular stretch of alternative landscape and lived to tell about it.   And these feats are tantamount to the heroic feats of the bravest and most noble warriors of both past and contemporary times.  Dare I say, even more noble than vanquishing wicked witches.  So because of your collective indomitable sprit and valiant efforts, what I’m going to do is grant each and everyone of your requests…

INDIGO: Really?!

WIZARD: Ahhhh… sort of.  What I mean to say is… ahh, in lieu of granting you actually requests…  ( pulls coupons out of his vest pocket ) please accept these coupons on behalf of all the citizens of WormHole Square City.  Good at any brick and mortar store and online, including Amazon.  Give them the special wizardry QR code at the bottom to access any item currently available… and save 25% off!

INDIGO: Twenty five percent off?

MW:  You mean we still have to pay for this stuff?  We assumed it would be free.

WIZARD:  Free?  C’mon, a brother has to make a little on the side.  A wizard’s overhead is quite challenging in these time.  You understand, right?

The trio reluctantly capitulates.

WIZARD:  Now… have you made a decision on those timeshares?

 

 THEND

 

Siamese Twins Double Agent

Siamese Twins Double Agent published on No Comments on Siamese Twins Double Agent

                  Conjoined Twins, Double Agent

A BAR.  MW sits at stool.  His Siamese twin, NOEL, who is attached to him at the lower back, is playing a CELLO.

MW: ( whisper) Quiet, Noel, you’re gonna blow my cover!

NOEL: Oh, please, why is it always about you?  We’re conjoined twins and we’re supposed to have equal time enjoying our different interests.

MW:  I understand that, Noel.  But at the moment, I’m on a top secret mission to catch an international illegal arms dealer.

NOEL: ( chuckles ) Hmmm, you might mean an under arms dealer.  Did you put on deodora-?

MW: Shut up!

NOEL:  And by the looks of this joint, about the only thing you’re gonna catch in here is an international case of scabies.

MW: Will you stop playing that damn thing.  You’re gonna blow my cover!

NOEL: Never in the history of time has Bach’s Cello Suite No. 4 in E flat major, ever blown anyone’s cover.

MW:  You don’t know that.  Somewhere back in the 17th century, there could have been a double agent trying to uncover a ring of blasphemers, witches, and, or, market stall coupon abusers…

Noel stops playing the cello.

NOEL:  Market stall coupon abusers?

MW: Yeah, and then as soon as the double agent was about to get the evidence on the blasphemers, witches, and, or, market stall coupon abusers… somebody starts playing Bach’s Cello Suite Number 5-

NOEL: Number 4.

MW: Number 4… in E flat minor.

NOEL: Major.

MW: Major… and everyone is thinking how strange that is… because up until then, they’ve only been playing covers songs of Tom Petty… on the lute.  Red flag raised, cover blown!

BARTENDER:  Did they play Free Falling?  I love that song.

The other seated Patron tunes into the conversation.  His name is DOUG.

DOUG:  What about Runaway Train?  Did they play that?

BARTENDER: ( to Doug ) That’s not Tom Petty, that’s Soul Asylum?

Doug:  You sure?

BARTENDER:  Yep.

MW:  It doesn’t matter, it’s all theoretical!

The Bartender and Doug nod to themselves respectively.  Doug returns to his drink, and the Bartenders goes back to making a drink for another patron.

NOEL: Look, MW, all I’m asking for is a little more equity for the things I like to do.  Today is Monday.  Monday is my scheduled day to play my cello, and you’re taking that away from me, because you want to spy on some dude selling illegal shotguns.

MW:  Not shotguns, he’s selling illegal rocket launchers.

BARTENDER:  Who is this guy, the Coyote?

MW: How do you know that name?  Are you involved in this?

BARTENDER:  No, man, I was talking about the Coyote on the Roadrunner cartoon show.  We used to play that shit every Saturday afternoon, here at Blizz’s.  Customers loved it.

MW:  Wait, the name of this place is Blizz?

BARTENDER:  Yeah.

NOEL: Yes, MW, ( points across the room ) it’s right there in bright neon fucking letters… BLIZZ.

MW turns, sees the name… BLIZZ.

MW:  Shit.

NOEL:  Let me guess, we’re in the wrong fucking place?

MW: ( begrudgingly ) Yeah.

MW dismounts from his stool, heads out with Noel dangling from his back, the cello dragging behind them.  Noel plays Runaway Train on the cello as they reach the door and then exit.

Doug hums along.

DOUG:  I could have sworn that was Tom Petty.

 

THEND

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Little Friend

Little Friend published on No Comments on Little Friend

 

                              LITTLE FRIEND

 

TONY: Say heylooo to my little-

A small BOX TURTLE peaks his head out from behind a box.  This is ELSNORE.

ELSNORE: Hello, everyone, my name is –

GUN FIRE is heard outside the door.

ELSNORE: Okaaay, what is happening here?!

TONY:  Don’tchu worry about nothin’ man.  No prolens.

ELSNORE:  Are you sure, Tony?  It sounds like at least 99 problems on the other side of that door.

TONY:  Yeah, maybe 99 cockaaroaches!  But I take care of theen.  They don’t know who dey fuckin’ wit’!

ELSNORE: Yeah, I think they do know.  They’ve been specifically calling you out by your name for several minutes now.

TONY:   Okay, maybe, but when they fuck wit me, they fuckin’ wit de bes!

ELSNORE:  Yeah, I don’t think so.

TONY:  Whatchu talkin’ bout, mainnn?!

ELSNORE:  Tony, I’m your little friend and I love you but…

TONY:  But wha?

ELSNORE:  If you’re talking about being a drug lord and running a successful, sustainable, multi-million dollar empire, then no.  No, you’re not the best.

TONY:  That’s hurtful.  That’s reelly hurtful.  And I disaglee, becuus I an de best.

ELSNORE:  Okay, maybe if you’re talking about getting high on your own supply of coke.  Yes, you are the best at that.   No argument here.

TONY:  No that.

ELSNORE:  Yes, that.  And if you talking about portraying a Cuban drug lord with an over the top caricaturistic Spanish accent, then yes, you are the best at that.

TONY:  Oh my godddddd, sonn frien chu are, mainn.

ELSNORE:   I’m just keeping it real, Tony.

TONY:  I showchu real!

Tony aims his bazooka and blows the bedroom door to smithereens.

ELSNORE:  See, that’s what I’m talking about.

TONY:  Wha?

ELSNORE:  Why blow the door open, when you could have simply opened it like a normal human being?

TONY:  I’m making a point, Elsnore!  I’m Tony-fucking- Monta-

ELSNORE:  Let me stop you there.  You’re more like Tony the Tiger… but you’re not “great” at that either.

TONY:   I’ll showchu who’s great!

Tony walks out of the room through the blown out door way.  From the hallway we hear….

TONY:  Fuckchu cockaaaroaches!!!

GUNFIRE.  A Pause and then Tony plunges into the water fountain below

SPLASH!

THEND

 

 

 

Square BBL

Square BBL published on No Comments on Square BBL

MW sits alone contemplating some of the most important questions ever posed to human beings.  A joint dangles from his fingers, smoke adding cosmic curls to his hair and the atmosphere.

MW:  (thinking)  Sooooooooo… is God a man or a woman?  Is God made of flesh and bones?  And what would SpongeBob Square Pants look like with a BBL?

Suddenly… POOF!

MW:  God?

GOD:  Yes, my son – well maybe… for sure probably, well, depending on whatever your weed is broadcasting to you right about now.

MW:  Cool.  Actually, this is not weed.  It’s incense.

GOD:  Incense?

MW:  Yeah, it’s got some of the cremated ashes of Jimmy Hoffa in it, combined with a sprinkle or two of soot from the window sill of a Tibetan monastery.  And I never smoke it.  I just light it up and let the smoke do its thing.

GOD:  Okay, so… to answer you first question; I am neither man nor woman.  I am non-binary.  At least I am this week.  I change up from time to time.  Last week I was a Whirling Dervish NFT.

MW:  Nice.

GOD:  To answer you second question, I am of neither flesh nor bones.  I consist mostly of spirit, watered down Red Bull, and the crumbs of two hundred and eighty-seven Olive Garden breadsticks.

MW: Awesome.

GOD: And to answer your third question…

MW:  Hmmmmm?  Nahhhhhh, that BBL’s not a good look.

GOD:  I agree.

MW:  And it’s not practical.   How can he cook Krabby Patties if he has to drag that big-asssssss….

GOD: Ass…?

MW: Around.

GOD:  Right.  All settled then.  Any more questions before I go?

MW:  Nope, I’m good, your deityness.

GOD:  Okay, and by the way, you don’t have any of Hoffa’s cremated ashes in your weed.

MW: Incense.

GOD:  Yeah, that.  Hoffa’s alive and well.

MW:  No shit?

GOD:  He’s working as a manager in a bowling alley.  Not gonna say where.

MW:  Okay.  ( thinks ) Then who’s cremated ashes are in my incense?

GOD:  ( sniffs )  Not sure.

MW:  But you’re God.  You’re suppose to know all the answers.

GOD:  Well, I don’t.  I can’t even qualify to get on the Jeopardy game show.  Tried six times.  I have trouble with certain categories like, World History and 80’s Rappers.

MW:  Me too, God, me too.  So don’t beat yourself up about it.

GOD:  ( nods ) Anyway.  Be good, my son.

MW:  No worries, your deityness, no worries.

POOF!   God disappears.

MW is left alone as he was before.  He ponders, ruminates as the smoke from his incense swirls around him.

MW: ( thinking ) What is funky cold medina exactly?

 

 

THEND

Walls

Walls published on No Comments on Walls

WALL
Go ahead, say it.

MAN
Excuse me?

WALL
Go ahead, say it. Say it – that I’m an
underachiever – that I’m a thirty-eight
year old major failure.

MAN
Dude, what are you talking about?

WALL
It’s obvious. I see the look of
disappointment on your face.

MAN
No, that look you see is four beers,
all trying to exit through my bladder
at the same time.

WALL
Hey, I may not be the Great Wall
of China, but I’m not ashamed
of what I am.

MAN
And what would that be?

WALL
I’m a men’s room wall… in a
sports bar.

MAN
Try again. I actually see a lot of
shame in that.

WALL
No sir, no sir! You don’t get to just
walk in here and judge me like-

MAN
NOT judging you, dude. You dragged
ME into your introspective wall-of-shame.
I’m only expressing my thirty second opinion.
Just came in here to take a wiz.

WALL
Okay, I may not be my brother, Emerson,
the mural wall on 25th street, but-

MAN
That mural is beautiful! Your brother is
really talented.

WALL
He didn’t paint the goddamn wall! He
is simply the vessel the mural was
painted upon!

MAN
Dude, you’re emitting trace amounts of
some serious, serious jealousy.

WALL
No, not hearing this! (looks away )
Of course my father loves Emerson.
And I could never measure up to him…
or my father. (looks back to Man)

MAN
And what’s the deal with your father?

The Wall looks back to the Man.

WALL
He immigrated here from Germany,
back in 89’. He was part of the
original Berlin Wall.

MAN
Oh my god, you can’t compete with
that! Just accept it, dude, you’re a
men’s room wall. Your life consists of
a never-ending routine of huffing urinal
cakes and blankly staring at strangers,
while they stand in painfully uncomfortable
silence in front of you. No nods, no winks,
no unspoken gestures to validate
your existence.

WALL
Well…you’re talking to me. You’re
acknowledging… my existence.

MAN
No, I’m shaking off. There’s a difference.

WALL
Fine then! That’s why your penis looks
like a game piece from a chess board!

The Man looks down at his man-junk, and then back up.

MAN
Which chess piece?

WALL
The rook!

MAN
Hhhmm, I actually, get that a lot… mostly
from my grandmother. Is that weird?

WALL
Depends. Does she say it while you two
are playing chess?

MAN
No.

WALL
Then it’s definitely weird.

The Man zips up, considers.

MAN
Cheer up, dude. Things could be worse.

WALL
How so?

MAN
You could be an imaginary Border
Wall conjured up from an asshole,
built on lies, bigotry, demagoguery
and industrial strength horse shit.

The Wall considers, an ever so small slit of a smile on his face.

The Man walks over to the sink, washes his hands.

MAN
And… my grandmother could’ve said
my penis looks like the Bishop… with
that cut on the tip, half – circumcision –
thing going on. No thanks.

He looks back at the Wall, dries his hands, gives an unspoken gesture to the Wall, walks out.

THeND

Dendro

Dendro published on No Comments on Dendro

A small office, cluttered, but somehow functional. JOHNY RUXTON sits at his desk perusing laptop content. He wears a long tie and vest that structures an otherwise unstructured look. Across the desk, LILLIAN DETNER, 40’s, her face pacing with concern. Off to Ruxton’s left is BENTO, a robot-like unit hovering in place. Lettering spells out Ruxton Investigations along the back wall.

RUXTON
So… this is where we are Mrs. Detner. Good news
with a dose of not so much.

MRS. DETNER
Okay…

RUXTON
First off… your husband is not cheating on you…

Mrs. Detner sighs, relieved.

BENTO
… with another woman.

MRS. DETNER

With another woman? What are you saying – he’s
having an affair with another man?

RUXTON
So…here’s the bad news.

MRS. DETNER
Okay…

RUXTON
Are you sure you’re ready to hear this?

Mrs. Detner drops her shoulders and then breaks brave.

MRS. DETNER
Yes.

RUXTON
Would you like some water?

MRS. DETNER
No, thank you.

RUXTON
Some tea perhaps?

MRS. DETNER
No.

BENTO
Some Pepto- Bismal and a shot of rum perhaps?

MRS. DETNER
Could we… just… get on with it, please?

RUXTON
Sure.

BENTO
How about some orange juice and a double liquid
valium chaser, perhaps? You’re gonna need it.

MRS. DETNER
Is it that bad?

RUXTON
Mrs. Detner, are you familiar with the term
dendrophilia?

MRS. DETNER
Dendro… ?

RUXTON
…philia. Dendrophilia.

MRS. DETNER
No, what is that?

RUXTON
Your husband has dendrophillia – also known
as arborphilia.

MRS. DETNER
What is that?

RUXTON
Basically, it’s a love of trees.

MRS. DETNER
Well, I love trees too. Charles and I both
love trees. We go to the National Cherry
Blossom Festival every spring. We both
love trees.

BENTO
(points to laptop)
Not like this!

MRS. DETNER
Not like what? What does he mean,
Mr. Ruxton?

RUXTON
Your husband likes to do… certain things
with trees.

BENTO
Close and personal things.

RUXTON
Intimate things.

MRS. DETNER
I don’t understand. What are you saying?

RUXTON
Okay, let me put this as delicately as I can.
Your husband likes to… (searches for words)

BENTO
…fuck trees! Your husband likes to fuck trees!
No other way way to say it!

Mrs. Detner gasps with shock. Ruxton frowns at Bento. Mrs. Detner
breaks brave again.

MRS. DETNER
I don’t believe you.

BENTO
Thems the facts, lady!

RUXTON
Please excuse my associate, Mrs. Detner.
His etiquette and empathy module has a
defective filter… (gives Bento a look) and he
tends to speak in inarticulate and crude terms
from time to time. It’s like a cyber-tourette
related malfunction.

BENTO
( to Mrs. Detner )
Yes, forgive me.

Ruxton turns the laptop around so she can view the screen. He scrolls down and explains as he goes.

RUXTON
So…here’s Mr. Detner making out… with a
red spruce.

MRS. DETNER
Oh my…

RUXTON
And here he is getting it on with a sycamore tree.

Mrs. Detner, speechless, stares, eyes bulging.

BENTO
( pointing)
And here – banging a slippery elm!

RUXTON
And right here – doing an eastern white pine.

BENTO
No, I think that’s a bristlecone pine.

RUXTON
( squinting )
No… pretty sure that’s an eastern pine.

BENTO
No way – ( in closer ) look how sparse those pine
needles are.

RUXTON
Yeah, that’s after Detner had his way with it.

BENTO
Okay, yeah, you’re right. Damn, looks like a
woodpecker went to town on that bad boy!

Mrs. Detner sits in stunned silence.

RUXTON
And finally, this is Mr. Detner, making love to a
black birch.

MRS. DETNER
( pained whisper )
That’s ridiculous. Making love? A man cannot
make love to a tree.

BENTO
Ah… clearly, lady, you have not been paying
attention to the pictures we all just saw!

Mrs. Detner glares at Bento.

BENTO
Ah- jungle fever alert in aisle five, please! It’s a
wonder your husband didn’t cause a motherfuckin’
forest fire with that much wood on wood action!

She turns away from Bento and back to Ruxton.

MRS. DETNER
What does this all mean, Mr. Ruxton? Why would
Charles do this? Why? ( reflects) This is my fault.

RUXTON
This is NOT your fault. For what ever reason,
your husband has a thing for trees. We can’t tell
you what it means, but this is the existential
evidence of what it is. What you decide to do
with it is up to you.

MRS. DETNER
( thinks )
It was all right there in front of me. All the signs
of infidelity. I didn’t want to face it. Tree sap on
his collar. Tree bark fragments in his moustache
and public hairs… and…. ( breaks down ) that
pine cone up his ass on our twentieth wedding
anniversary! ( composes herself )
What can I do to win him back?

BENTO
I don’t know… somedays you just can’t compete
with a pine cone up the –

RUXTON
Anywayyy… !

MRS. DETNER
I don’t want to lose my marriage. Twenty-two years,
three children. I don’t know what to do.

RUXTON
Maybe counselling… perhaps?

BENTO
Or… perhaps I might hazard another suggestion?

RUXTON
And what might that be? Tread carefully, mi amigo.

BENTO
Mrs. Detner, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

RUXTON
Bento…

MRS. DETNER
( turns to Bento )
Meaning…?

BENTO
I don’t know- maybe the occasional tri-orgy
should be on the menu.

MRS. DETNER
What are you saying, Mr. Bento?

RUXTON
Ah… I don’t think we want to go down this road

MRS. DETNER
( to Ruxton)
No, it’s okay. ( turns to Bento) Go on, sir.

BENTO
I’m talking about the occasional….
( expands his hands ) threesome.

Ruxton buries his face in his hands.

BENTO
You know – you, Mr. Detner and a Douglas
fir to named later.

RUXTON
Bento, c’mon!

BENTO
Just think about it is all I’m suggesting here.
( goes over to her, puts a hand on her shoulder )
How about you? Are you partial to deciduous
or coniferous trees?

MRS. DETNER
Coniferous.

BENTO
Well, there you go! I think that’s a start.

Mrs. Detner thinks, her face churning with possibilities, face softening.

MRS. DETNER
Thank you, gentleman… for everything.

She stands, collects her things.

RUXTON
Are you okay, ma’am?

MRS. DETNER
Yes, I think so.

RUXTON
So… what’s next for you?

She draws a thoughtful breath, exhales.

MRS. DETNER
A long overdue string of vacations sounds
good right about now.

RUXTON
Great, where to first?

Again, her mind chewing over the question, and then an exhale.

MRS. DETNER
Oakland.

She gives them a nod, turns and walks out the door.

 

 

TheEnd

Creation

Creation published on No Comments on Creation

HERB
God?

GOD
It depends. Who wants to know?

HERB
My name is Herb. I’m from the Agency.

GOD
The Agency?

HERB
Yes, the temp agency sent me. I’m here
to assist you.

God searches Herb visually with no clue.

HERB
You know – to help you with your design
of the Heavens and the Earth.

GOD
Oooohhhh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Been
expecting you.

HERB
Okay, great.

GOD
Can I get you something to drink?

HERB
No, thank you.

GOD
You sure? Water… tea?

HERB
No, thanks, I’m good.

GOD
Some juice, perhaps? Or maybe you’d
be interested in a concoction I call the
Wine Cooler. Technically, It’s still a work
in progress. I had plans to create it on
the third day, but since you’re here now –
what the hell.

HERB
No, sir. I’m fine, sir, really.

GOD
Okay… soooo, where should we start?

HERB
Well, sir, the agency’s policy requires me
to ask you to show one form of official
identification before we proceed.

GOD
That’s new.

HERB
Yes, it’s part of the Deity Authorization
Act.

GOD
I understand. Well, what qualifies as
an official form of I.D?

HERB
Well…

God shows Herb a blue CARD.

GOD
There you go – Blockbusters Membership
Card.

HERB
That’s not quite official enough.

GOD
Why, because I never returned that
VHS copy of Ted 2?

HERB
No, what else do you have, sir?

God shuffles a stack of small Cards.

GOD
Five Captain Crunch cereal boxtops.

HERB
No, sir.

GOD
Why not? Four of these have been
notarized or autographed by
Ruth Ginsberg.

HERB
Do you have anything else?

God shuffles more cards.

GOD
Here’s my drivers licence.

Herb looks at the license.

HERB
Sir, I don’t think this I.D. is real.

GOD
Why’s that?

HERB
The name on it says Lakeshia
Blumenthal.

GOD
(annoyed)
I got that fake I.D. on the second floor
of Tower Of Babel for ten bucks! Last
time I trust a prostitute with a
Percocet addiction.

HERB
Sir, I’m going to need to see something
official before we can continue.

GOD
Right.

God SNAPS his fingers and suddenly hundreds of LOCUSTS fall from above and litter the ground.

HERB
Works for me.

A CLEANING LADY walks by with a bitter brow. Her name is JILL

JILL
(to God )
I told you before, I don’t do windows,
pestilence or plagues!

GOD
Yeah, yeah – did you pick up my suits
from the dry cleaners?

JIILL
(frowns)
You haven’t created dry cleaning yet!

Jill walks off mumbling under her breath.

GOD
Dammit. (to Herb ) Write that down.

HERB
(jots)
Create process to clean clothes
without water.

GOD
Yes! Okay, what else do you have
for me?

HERB
Well, sir, I’ve been looking at your
preliminary sketches of Creation….

GOD
And…

HERB
Frankly, I have some concerns.

GOD
What concerns?

Herb lays out large sheet of PAPER full of ANNOTATED DRAWINGS.

HERB
Well, first of all, you misspelled Genesis.

GOD
Say, whattt?

HERB
It’s spelled with two Ss. I know it’s
small thing, but, it doesn’t look very
professional up on the Apostle’s bulletin
board. You know what I’m saying?

GOD
Go on.

Herb shows God a FLYER.

HERB
And you spelled succotash wrong on
this flyer advertising the Last Supper.

GOD
I like succotash.

HERB
Yeah, still spelled wrong.

GOD
Hey, I’m the lord. I’m not a Scrabble
prodigy, okay? Don’t hate on me
because I found a shorter way to say
corn and lima beans! What else you got?

HERB
Well… your preliminary designs of the
earth are not going to work.

GOD
Why not?

HERB
You’ve got the earth shaped like an oval
and you’ve got purple tassels around
the equator.

GOD
(defiant)
And?

HERB
And it’s going to clash like crazy with
these rhinestones you’re got running
long the Prime Meridian.

GOD
Okay….

HERB
(frustrated)
Did you even look at the swatches I
sent over yesterday?

God smacks himself in the forehead.

GOD
Those were swatches?! Shit, I thought
that was hemp. I may have inadvertently
smoked your swatches… (thinks ) which
now explains why the Mississippi River
didn’t turn out as straight as I had planned.

HERB
Yeah, that would explain quite a bit

GOD
What else?

HERB
It looks like you were totally wrecked
when you created this place called
WormHole Square.

GOD
WormHole Square? What is that?

HERB
WormHole Square… it’s a… well…

GOD
I have no idea what you’re talking about.

HERB
A place where – like- cartoon panels
with inhabitants like, talking tubes
of toothpaste.

God looks at Herb blankly.

HERB
No, not you?

GOD
Nope.

HERB
Talking potholes?

GOD
Nope.

HERB
No…. nothing?

GOD
Naw, son.

HERB
(skeptical)
Okay.

GOD
Look, Herb, I may have been smashed
after I smoked your swatches. I admit
that. After which, I may have even
dabbled in a few rounds of Russian
roulette tree frog speedballing. That’s
on me. And I may – may have accidentally,
allegedly, unwittingly, caught a severe
contact high from watching Dave
Chappelle Show, whilst soaking in a tub
of Snoop Dogg bath salts. As a
consequence, my sketches and
preliminary designs of the Heavens
and the Earth may resemble the
screaming scratchings of a five year
old, who’s been trapped in a root
cellar full of over-fermented Chinese
cabbage for fifteen years. Even after
all that, I vehemently and without
hesitation, disavow any involvement
in the creation of this place – ah
WormHole Square, in whole or
part, directly or vicariously, and any
ancillary shenanigans.
(looks off blankly, then back )
Anything else?

Herb sighs, disappointed.

HERB
Actually, I think we’re done here.
The revelation that you may have
impaired during the-

GOD
Good, I’m starved!

HERB
What should I tell the Agency?

GOD
Creative differences. Go with that.

HERB
Okay, I’ll just collect my stuff and-

GOD
Naw, leave it. I’ll get Jill to tidy up.

Jill yells from from behind them

JILL
No can do. I’m leaving early today.

GOD
And why is that, Jill?

Jill
It’s Christmas Eve.

GOD
Oh, okay.

HERB
I’m pretty sure Christmas is not a
thing yet, sir.

GOD
Yeah, right, good, good. Jot that
down, Herb.

HERB
I’m not your assistant anymore,
sir. Remember?

GOD
Nonsense, I just hired you back.

HERB
Okay.

GOD
Jill, Christmas is not a thing yet, so you
can’t leave early.

JILL
Okay… I have to leave early because
it’s… Black Friday.

God and Herb look at each other.

GOD
Herb, is Black Friday a thing?

HERB
Definitely.

God and Herb make a hasty exit.

Jill walks back in drinking a wine cooler. She studies the designs
on the table.

JILL
Idiots.

ThEnd

Kent Chronicles

Kent Chronicles published on No Comments on Kent Chronicles

PERKINS
Your Social Security disability claim
was denied because, well… zombie is
not a recognized disability.

KENT
Why not?

PERKINS
It just isn’t, Mr. Kent… (looks at his file )
Kolvin.

KENT
Well, what types of physical conditions
are recognized?

PERKINS
Total blindness, for instance.

KENT
I’m totally blind in my right eye,
because, as you can see, I don’t
actually have a right eye!

PERKINS
But, you can see out of your left eye.

KENT
Yeah, but, only in monochrome… and
only reruns of Alf.

PERKINS
Still counts. Loved that show, by the –

KENT
I have jaundice!

PERKINS
Jaundice is not a qualifying condition
for disability benefits.

KENT
What about a jaundice outlook on
the world?

PERKINS
No. Look, we’ve all become more
cynical of the world since the
apocalypse. Doesn’t mean you
can’t work, Mr. Kolvin.

KENT
Thank you. My jaundice view of
the world just got worse!

PERKINS
The other reason for denying your
disability claim is because…
you’re dead.

KENT
Nooooo, I’m undead.

PERKINS
Not according to your medical report.
(reads from report ) Cause of death:
Apocalypse-related virus.

KENT
That report is bullshit. I’m undead!

PERKINS
That report is solid. It’s the official final
decree governing your case, sir.

KENT
So…. that’s it?

PERKINS
Fraid so, Mr. Kolvin. The only other
option I see, since you are dead,
is to have your spouse or minor
children collect your death benefits.

KENT
That’ll work! I don’t have any
children, but, I am married.

PERKINS
Okay, is you wife among the living?

KENT
Yes.

PERKINS
Okay, let’s take a look.
(opens folder and closes it just as fast)
Sorry, we can’t pay your spouse any of
your death benefits.

KENT
Why not?

PERKINS
Because you’re not dead.

KENT
But, you just said I was!

PERKINS
Did I? I don’t think so. Must be a bad
echo in this room, spewing out erroneous
information, combined with a, Who’s on first,
bureaucratic spaghetti web.

KENT
No, it’s you!

PERKINS
Disability benefits denied! ( stamps file, BAM! )

KENT
Why?!

PERKINS
Because you’re not totally disabled!

KENT
Are you kidding?! I walk around all
day in in a staggering stupor. My
organs have all shut down, and I
can no longer confidently
cite Shakespeare!

Perkins
Sorry.

KENT
(stands, recites Shakespeare)
How all occasions do inform against me!

PERKINS
Mr. Kolvin, please.

KENT
( recites )
My skin is peeling like a leper!

PERKINS
Now… ( checks a different file ) leprosy is
a recognized disability

KENT
Oh, come on!

PERKINS
You’re going to have to face reality,
Mr. Kolvin. You can’t claim disability
benefits because you’re not totally
disabled.

Kent sits down, the news sinking in.

KENT
Right.

PERKINS
You’re going to have to get back out
there and re-invent yourself in the
work place.

KENT
You’re right.

PERKINS
What was your occupation before
the apocalypse?

KENT
Middle school principal.

PERKINS
Really?

KENT
Yes, I’m still wearing the school blazer
after all these years.

PERKINS
Okay, that’s explains the smell?

KENT
(offended, recites )
O my offence is rank it smells to heaven.
( to Perkins ) Thank you, that’s helpful.

PERKINS
Look, just get back out there and find
a new occupation.

KENT
Yeah… but what?

PERKINS
You like Shakespeare and the
stage, right?

KENT
Yeah…

PERKINS
Maybe you could host a game show?

KENT
Host a game show?

PERKINS
Yes, a game show!

KENT
( interested )
You mean, like – The Price is Right with
Bob Barker?

PERKINS
Actually, I was thinking more like,
guess the weight, with the Carnival
Barker. You know, working as a carny.
But, not just any carny. You would be
a sophisticated carny, with the Bard as
your life.

Kent feels inspired.

PERKINS
Think of it as your great stage.

Kent slowly stands, a distant gleam in his jaundice eye.

KENT
(recites)
What light through yonder window
breaks? How sweet the moonlight
sleeps upon this bank. I am a merry
wanderer of the night!
(improvises)
Step right up! Step right up!
Knock down the milk bottles!
Three tries for five dollars!

Kent’s right arm falls off. All optimism evaporates from the room.

KENT
( to Perkins )
Okay, what else you got?

ThEnd

Farmer Talk

Farmer Talk published on 2 Comments on Farmer Talk

SNAIL
Hey, you guys want to buy some thumbs?

BENTO
Excuse me, what?

JONNY
Huh… (leans closer) what did you say?

SNAIL
Nothing – I didn’t say nothing. Just three
guys talking – shooting the proverbial
breeze. Nice, cool, sensual breeze, that’s
all. Nothing weird or unethical going
on here.

JONNY
Oh… okay.

Jonny and Bento stare at the Snail in suspicious silence.

SNAIL
So… you guys headed to WormHole Square?

JONNY
Yeah.

SNAIL
Me too, me too. Got some business up
that way.

BENTO
You don’t say?

SNAIL
You know, that sounds like something
a farmer from the 1950s would say.

BENTO
What?

SNAIL
You don’t say? It sounds like a 1950s
response to a mundane statement like,
Cleo’s dog had five pups…. or…
Captain Crunch is not a real captain.
(annoyed) You don’t say?! It sounds like
you’re minimizing my upcoming business
dealings. It’s kind of annoying.

BENTO
Sorry, dude – was not my intention.

JONNY
You don’t say?

SNAIL
Stop doing that! My father used to do that
and I hated his fucking guts!

JONNY
Dude, calm down.

The Snail goes into a meditative, anger control crouch.

SNAIL
(chants)
Captain Crunch is not a real captain.
Captain Crunch is not a real captain!
Captain Crunch is not a real captain!!

Bento and Jonny look at one another.

The Snail unfurls itself, exhales, smiles.

BENTO
So… your father had a farm back in
the 1950s?

SNAIL
No, my father had an express courier
business back in the 50s.

BENTO
Express… ?

SNAIL
But, it didn’t work out too well.

JONNY
Why not? – Okay, let me guess –

SNAIL
And you’d be wrong! The service was
fine. The reason my father’s business
failed is because they cancelled
I Love Lucy!

BENTO
I Love Lucy?

SNAIL
The TV show! ( calms himself ) Long
story. Rickey Ricardo, Cuba, Fidel
Castro, Che Guevara traveling on a
boat donated by the lepers…

Bento and Jonny look at each other, then back to the Snail.

…and six degrees of separation and
all that shit!
(looks down the road then back). Soo…
you guy want to buy some thumbs?

JONNY
What are you talking about?

BENTO
Yeah, it sounds like you’re asking us
if we want to buy some –

SNAIL
Nothing! Did I say anything? No, just
three guys talking, chewing it on the side
of the road. Talking pablum and free trade –
side of the road. A desolate road where
no one can see or hear you scream. Just
talking, gents. ( to Bento) Nice vest, by the
way. Not pretentious in the least.

BENTO
Look, little dude…

SNAIL
So, what are you, some kind of robot-man,
ugly, pretentious vest model, or something?

BENTO
(annoyed)
No, I’m actually –

SNAIL
That’s fascinating, Steve Austin Jr.!
I’ll be sure to tell my grandchildren that
titillating bit of cybernetic fodder… when
I’m trying to put them to sleep at bedtime.
(switches mood)
So, you guys want to buy some thumbs,
or what?

JONNY
(points at Snail)
There, I heard it!

BENTO
Yeah, me too! I heard it!

SNAIL
Heard what?

JONNY
Thumbs.

SNAIL
What about thumbs? (whispers)
Buy some!

JONNY
You keep asking us if we want to buy
some thumbs.

BENTO
Yeah, that’s the third time now.

SNAIL
What? Did I mention anything about
thumbs? No, sir. (whispers) Yes, sir!

JONNY
Yes, sir!

SNAIL
No, no, no, no , no – yes… let’s recap!
Okay… WormHole Square, right? You
don’t say? Slash – farmer talk – hate
my father. (whispers) Buy some thumbs!
(normal voice, rapid fire ) Isolated road,
empty threat… ( whispers ) or is it?
Robots, grandkids, chewing pablum,
I Love Lucy! Captain Crunch is not a
real captain. Captain Crunch is not a
real captain! (inhales, exhales) Talking.
Just three guys talking… bonding.
(whispers) Thumbs for sale – two for
ten dollars, three for twelve!
(normal rapid fire voice ). That’s totally
generous given the aggregate as it
pertains to the hypotenuse! That’s 1950s
prices, folks!

The Snail takes breath, looks down the road, smiles, and then back to Bento and Jonny.

JONNY
I know what you’re doing.

SNAIL
What, throwing out some good old
fashioned the farmer talk… by the
side of the road?

BENTO
It’s obvious.

JONNY
You’re trying to plant subliminal seeds
in our minds, so we’ll buy some.

SNAIL
Buy some what?

JONNY
Thumbs, man, thumbs! C’mon we all know
what’s going on here!

SNAIL
Preposterous! Why on earth would I do
that? After all, thumbs are ugly and have
no real purpose? What good are they?

Bento and Jonny go into advocacy mode.

BENTO
Well, they make holding a tennis racquet,
flashlight, and a grilled cheese sandwich
possible.

JONNY
And you can give someone positive
reinforcement with an insincere
two thumbs up.

BENTO
Like your kid… right before he strikes out
for the third time in his little league game.

JONNY
Or an employee… after an interview for
a promotion they have no chance in hell
of ever getting.

BENTO
Or a pilot at an air show…

JONNY
Right before his plane goes down in a
burst on flames.

BENTO
Thumbs are essential for hitchhiking.
Not unlike what we’re doing right now.

JONNY
Thumbs are also used for suckling by
babies when a nipple is not available.

SNAIL
Go on…

BENTO

You know – like – if the nipple is face down
in the sand, or covered by a burlap tee shirt…

JONNY
Or if the nipple is otherwise obstructed by
a set of fashionable miniblinds.

BENTO
Or an apron made from construction scaffolding.

SNAIL
Not unlike what we’re doing right now.

BENTO
What?

SNAIL
Nothing. See, I wouldn’t know about any
of that stuff, because my father never came
to any of my little league games. And
neither my mother or her nipples were ever
available for my suckling nutritional benefit.

BENTO
That’s too bad. So… what did you do?

SNAIL
Like you said – I had to suck my thumb
as a substitute.

JONNY
See, thumbs can be a wonderful thing.

SNAIL
Yes, but leave it to my father to ruin
even that little bit of artificial comfort.

JONNY
How – what did he do?

SNAIL
He used to pour salt on my thumbs?

JONNY
To get you to stop?

SNAIL
Yes.

JONNY
A common practice back in the day.
Excessive thumb sucking can cause
bucked teeth.

BENTO
Yeah, you can’t hate you dad for that.

SNAIL
Except, when you pour salt on a snail’s
thumbs… that part tends to dissolve!

JONNY
Well, yeah, there’s that.

The Snail slides closer to Bento and Jonny.

SNAIL
Imagine me in my crib… what use to be
my thumbs dissolving over the side rails.
And with it… my dream of ever becoming
the thumb wrestling champion of the world!

The Snail looks at them with the saddest eyes the universe has ever known. Moments tick on heavily, until a sudden, gentle, breeze pushes Jonny to action.

JONNY
I’ll take three, Mr. Snail!

BENTO
I’ll take four!

SNAIL
( to Jonny )
Okay, three thumbs for you, sir!

JONNY
Yes.

SNAIL
(to Bento)
And four thumbs for you, Robocadet?!

BENTO
Right.

SNAIL
(rapid fire)
Okay, three plus four equals seven.
Your total comes to twenty-seven bucks.
However, only makes sense to round up
to ten thumbs to take advantage of the
quantity discount. Ten thumbs – thirty
bucks! That’s a steal considering the
aggregate pertaining to the hypotenuse!
Paying together or separately? (winks)
Cash only!

Jonny and Bento pool their money and the transactions are quickly made. The thumbs go inside plastic zip lock bags and the two customers hold their purchases with measured confusion and revulsion.

SNAIL
Thank you, gents! It was a pleasure.

The Snail makes a U-turn and slowly slides his way back down the road.

JONNY
Hey, I thought you had business in
WormHole Square?

The Snail swivels his tiny head around.

SNAIL
Not anymore. For the first time in a long
time… I have no more thumbs to sell.

JONNY
Well, be careful in your travels, Mr. Snail.
They’re calling for rain later this evening.

The Snail looks up and surveys the darkening skies.

SNAIL
You don’t say.

The Snail turns away and continues down the road.

ThEnd

Questions? Go to the 'About Comic Strip' page for answers to why this strip exists, or go there just to find the solutions to life's mysteries in general.

Primary Sidebar