Tag Archives: pointless

One Bird


One minute left
To breathe
One stream trickling away from the desert.
One bird lands to sip
Delicately, as birds will
Beakful by beakful
The sweet cool water
Life giving, nourishing.
And then with ten powerful thrusts of his wings
He is again aloft
Looking for something
Only he knows.
One bird in the sky
One story
And not much at all to tell.
But to him
It is the only story that matters.















A fairy tale: The old man and his three daughters


Once there was a little old man who lived in the woods with his three daughters. As he lay dying, he called them over to his deathbed.
“I am dying,” he said. “I am sure one of you has poisoned me, but I don’t want you all to fight, so I’m not telling you which one it was.”
“He’s lying,” the eldest said. “He just wants us to fight.”
“I have a small treasure buried under the house,” he said. “There is only one way to determine the successor. You must fight.”
“Goddammit, dad,” the eldest said. “Why is it always this?”
“Give a dying man his wish,” the father insisted.
“I’ll fight,” said the youngest daughter, who was the sweetest and most beautiful (anyone who’s ever read a fairy tale knows that the youngest child is always the best and most enabling child). “Since it is what father wishes.”
“Oh my god, what kind of man is she going to marry?” The eldest groaned.
“Okay,” said the middle to the youngest. “You and me. Let’s scrap.”
“Thank you, my children,” said the father. “Please, someone make popcorn. As a dying-wish favor?”
There was a throwdown. Hair flew, blood flew, molars flew. The youngest nearly lost an eye. The middle broke her arm. After a bitter struggle, the middle child triumphed.
She dug where the father pointed and pulled a purse from the dirt.
“A dollar thirty-eight. Really, dad?”
But the old man was already dead, a faint smile on his face.
“At least we were able to give him some joy before he died,” the youngest said piously.
“I hate my life,” said the eldest.














Kid’s stuff… or maybe not

Penorama said we should post something pointless. I’m always up for that!

I spent most of middle school writing stories with my friend Liz and giggling insanely in the corner of the classroom instead of doing work. When we wrote this, we must have been in… seventh grade, so 12-13ish?

This doesn’t make much sense… it was written by kids after all. Enjoy!



Darla and Doug


One day, a girl named Doug was walking along at the Zoo.  Suddenly a monkey swooped down from a tree and hit her on the head.  Then he threw coconuts at her.

“Ow! Ow!  Owwwongle?  Waahlamop.”

Then the monkey stole her purse and ran into the zookeeper.  Then the zookeepers took the monkey way and gassed it.

Doug said, “Glop-op-do?  Wa… Wha…  Where am I?”

A passerby said, “You were just hit on the head with coconuts when a zookeeper gassed a monkey who swooped down from a tree.  Or maybe it was a rhino.  I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell the difference.”

Doug said, “Cool!”

The passerby said, “Where are your parents?”

Doug said, “I don’t know.  I don’t remember having any.  Can I live with you?”

Passerby said, “But I’m a guy named Darla.  guys and girls don’t live together… Oh, well, I guess it’s an exception for me and you.

“OK.”  Darla said.  “I have to warn you, I’m forty-five and I live with my parents still.”

Doug said, “Oh, that’s alright.  I dig old guys.”

Darla said, “Don’t you go hitting on my dad!”

Doug said, “OK, I’ll just hit on you.  OK?”


Darla and Doug walked away.  On the way home, they visited a pet shop and bought a monkey.

“Be good now,” said Doug.

“Okay,” said the monkey, Bart.  Then he stole some girl’s purse.

“I guess that just primate nature!” Doug laughed, then Darla laughed, and they walked home talking about cancer.  They also bought some ice cream with the money from the monkey’s new purse.