Tag Archives: Absurd

Walking Absurdities

 

It’s been one of those days when everyone seems to be having a rough time of it, except for me.

Maybe this will help lighten the mood.

 


 

What are we made of?
What is this puttylike substance?
Doesn’t anybody notice
We are ridiculous.
All stretchy faces and brightly colored insides
With two bright eyeballs in front
A wide mouth below
And the nose!
An absurd protuberance
Set far outward
So you can stick your shelf nose right over stuff
And vacuum up smells.
We’re not God’s finest work.
We’re awkward creations.
We’re the hairless cats of primates.
When excited, we bray laughter.
When we age our teeth fall out, our skin gets baggy.
We wallop each other with closed fists
And break our silly noses
Right across our stretchy faces.

Our trunks split into limbs split into digits
Which splay and wiggle and toy with things
Which pick and slap and pop zits.
Our toes are stubby.
And we do stub them,
Repeatedly.
Sometimes we break them repeatedly,
Through stubbing alone.
Sometimes they break
Because we collided with another clumsy person
Who accidentally landed on them.
Sometimes we break them
Because we were moving a couch,
Filling a nest with worthless treasures
We found and attached value to,
Which we then dropped on our foot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

The Ice Skater

 

This is a collaboration between Cowdog Creatives and myself.
It didn’t go perfectly… there was some confusion as to the exact nature or species of our hero, but after we embraced the mystery, it just added to the charm. I suggest you don’t overthink this one. Unless you really want to. If so, I will accept your fully fledged literary criticisms.
Enjoy!

 


 

Once upon a time there was a time traveler named Mickey. He decided to go forward to the future and see how his kid would grow up.

His kid was an honor student in present, but in the future he was sassy figure skater. Not that this was a bad thing… but their grandfather had been tragically killed while watching a figure skating competition, and Mickey was AGHAST. He ran out onto the ice and tried to stop his kid from competing, but he got run over by the skates of a one-hundred-competitor-parade. He lost a head. He ran to catch it as it slid across the ice but it was punted by Mickey’s son while he was performing his last spin. The head landed in a stroller and the mom mistook the head for her baby and left. Mickey and his kid now had to take care of the baby, but this was tough for them since it was a human baby.

Mickey was now a Headless, and he couldn’t really see well. Everything he saw was the other doting parents. Sometimes he would stub his toe and scream profanities at them and they would be startled. Often he had to eat baby food. They always babbled loudly over him when he tried to explain anything to them.

Meanwhile, his body had to be led around by his sassy son, who frequently grew impatient and abandoned him to get lattes.

One time he abandoned Mickey’s body in the bad part of the neighborhood and a pimp found him. His body was forced into prostitution and he was very popular since everyone wanted a good time without any judgemental words. Mickey’s sassy, figure skating son had to use his masculine wiles to entice them to let him go.

But it was too late. The Headless already had syphilis.

The parents of the head watched horrified as its nose decayed off.

“Syphilis,” said the doctor.

Syphilis.

The son put the body out pasture, where it could die a peaceful death in the grass. It leaked many fluids.

On the bright side, the leaked fluids from the Headless fertilized the pasture and a beautiful, large tree grew…it was vaguely shaped like a hydra.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

A Quick Breakfast

 

I was really tired when I wrote these!

 


 

I want an egg sandwich.
These things make themselves
If you’ve lost enough sleep
You can watch them
Make themselves
Life is easier when your breakfast is sentient
And ambulatory
As long as its attitude toward being eaten
Is positive.
A positive attitude
Can really make or break
A good breakfast.
Don’t break my breakfast
By giving it existential dread
Don’t let it start enjoying the real world
Or fearing death
Because soon
I must eat it
And I hate having to catch my own breakfast.
Swifter than a deer
So does the yolk in my egg sandwich run.

 

 


A second attempt:


 

Every morning
I must catch my own breakfast
The eggs are runny
The bacon is cooking fast
And these quickbreads won’t get away from me anytime soon.
But they’re going to have to get up earlier than that in the morning!

 

img_20190108_084730267

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

The Bag Boy

 

This is another old one, from years, eons into the past, back when I was young and beautiful and full of shit. I actually don’t remember when I wrote it… that’s how old it must be.

 

 


 

“I don’t think so,” she said with marked finality.

The grocery boy paused in his bagging before he realized that she had an earpiece in and was speaking on the phone.

“No, no, I–yes, that’s mine, just put that — NO, I can’t let you do that…”

The grocery boy slipped a black cat into one of the plastic grocery bags and tied it off while she was distracted.

“Because it wouldn’t look good… because it’s stupid.”

The grocery boy slipped a dachshund into the other plastic bag and tied it off.  This was a little harder, as the dachshund was wily.

“No, just put it– yes, put it center, like I asked.  …center, like I told you. This conversation is over.”

She clicked off her earpiece, grabbed all the bags without acknowledging him, and headed for the door.

Then her groceries exploded into action.

Lean Meal Frozens skittered across the floor.  Peaches sailed through the air in a flurry of barks and yaps.  An otherworldly scream sounded from within the second grocery bag, and a bag of frozen french fries went straight up into the air, pirouetted, and plummeted straight down onto the startled woman’s head.

The cat and the dachshund clawed their way free from the bags she dropped, and streaked out of the room after each other in a blur of primal fury.

Lemons stopped rolling.  Graham crackers skittered to a halt.  The woman collapsed, dead with fright.

The manager poked his head out of the staff room and quickly appraised the scene.

“Goddamnit!” he said.  “Who keeps putting animals in the groceries?”

Nobody said a word.  

The bagboy smiled to himself and surreptitiously slipped a ferret into a distracted woman’s purse.