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Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Sunday, November 09, 2008

SHORT STORY -- MICHELLE, LISA AND THEIR DAY OUT

SHORT STORY: MICHELLE, LISA AND THEIR DAY OUT

Michelle gently held onto to Lisa's left hand as the two walked. She knew that Lisa would break the silence any second now. Lisa was bursting with the I-have-a-question-and-I-want-to-ask-you-soon look. It has been three minutes since they left the house and and three minutes is about the threshold for three-year old Lisa before she succumbed to her curiosity about things.
"Mommy, what is the difference between people who eat meat and those who don't", she asked, looking up as Michelle walked slowly. Michelle was always conscious and made sure that that she walked at a pace that Lisa was comfortable with.
"There is no difference, my little love," Michelle said in her soft for-Lisa-whom-I-adore tone of voice.
Lisa looked up, with a puzzled look in her eyes. The little lady was expecting an answer that would have reaffirmed what her friend Amy had told her.
Amy Wong had told Lisa, and all this was according to Amy's mother who is a Buddhist, that people who ate meat were aggressive and violent. Those who ate only vegetables were gentle and peace-loving people.
"But Amy said people who eat meat are always angry," Lisa protested in her own little way, with a mini little frown on her forehead and voice full of a the weirdly strange mixture of uncertainty and certainty that only children could pull off.
"Amy is wrong my little darling. Everyone, whether they eat meat and vegetables OR people who only eat vegetables, are capable of getting angry. People who only eat vegetables are also capable of doing bad things," Michelle gently explained.
"They might think they are gentle, but it is only probably because they are actually very tired all the time because they do not get all the nutrients that meat provides the rest of us. We eat meat, so we have energy all the time," Michelle cheekily said, tilting her shoulders up and down and moving her head to the left and right to comically imply strength and power, wearing a mock-serious look before instantly breaking into a laugh, and Lisa's face instantaneously loosened to a smile on seeing her mother's robot-moves and hearing her Mommy's laughter.
Michelle noticed that Lisa's steps lightened somewhat when she did that funny robot move. Humor always had a funny way of oiling human interaction. Michelle treasured the times when she is able to diffuse Lisa's concerns and uncertainties. And she always spoke slowly to her daughter, to make sure that the little girl understood exactly what Michelle said and meant.
Lisa's trust in her mother was absolute.
In raising. Lisa, Michelle and Nicolas agreed that they would tell Lisa the truth about life if Lisa asked any questions. Any question at all, except for things like discussions of the birds and bees, which they both agreed would only be broached or explained when she reached a suitable age.
From Lisa's very beginning, these young parents wanted Lisa to be grounded in reality and truth. They saw it as their duty to guide Lisa on the path of morality and truth.
"Why did Amy's mother tell her that, Mommy?" Lisa asked.
"Oh, that's easy darling. What is the one thing that I always say is very important to remember before we say something?" Michelle asked.
"Logic. We must think logically before we say anything. And we must weigh the impact of what we say on others," Lisa happily answered.
Michelle nodded with a school-marmish, "Yes! Correct!", while not being able to help herself but being impressed by Lisa's capacity for understanding such high concepts. This child is going to grow up to be a genius, she thought to herself.
"Come, explain to me how vegetables are grown and we will see why Amy's mom was wrong, OK. What do you need to grow vegetables?" Michelle began, looking at her daughter momentarily having paused their walk. Then, resuming their walk, Michelle looked ahead, smiling and nodding at passers-by. Michelle always kept her eyes peeled out to the surroundings -- safety was her constant concern. Michelle always was on the lookout for cyclists on the sidewalk, for cars at junctions, for unleashed dogs, for skateboarding kids -- just about anything that could endanger Lisa in one way or another.
"You need seeds to plant vegetables," Lisa offered.
"Yes," Michelle agreed. "For the seeds to grow well, you need fertilizers. Fertilizers come from chicken droppings and cow manure."
"Mommy, chickens eat worms and insects!" Lisa suddenly realized.
"Yes dear," Michelle affirmed.
"But, cows only eat grass," Lisa added, as the thought hit her.
"How do grass grow?" Michelle asked her daughter.
"They grow on the ground," Lisa said, keeping up with her mother's answers and questions.
"You see Lisa, in the soil, there are living things. Worms and other insects. And sometimes even animals, like birds and deers, or insects like grasshoppers, these living things die. They they end up in the soil," Michelle explained.
"And some are eaten by wild animals like cougars, and vultures, Mommy," Lisa offered.
"Yes dear, and these animals also grow old and they too, you know..." Michelle trailed off her words, while looking at Lisa. Michelle was extremely uncomfortable saying words like "die" because she felt. Lisa was too young to hear negative words like "dead", "dearth", "killed", "murdered" and the such.
"Yes..." Lisa trailed,eagerly waiting for her mother to continue.
"All living things that go back to the soil, are broken down by insects and worms and bacteria. It is the cycle of life that keeps our beautiful planet Earth alive," Michelle continued, in her gentle maternal tone of voice. She wanted desperately to cancel out any negativity implied by the idea of death and, instead, play up the positiveness of preserving mother nature and the environment.
"The small microscopic things in the soil -- bacteria... what is microscopic darling?"
"Microscopic is something we cannot see with our eyes. We need to go to the laboratory to see microscopic things, Mommy," Lisa offered her definition.
"Clever girl! Yes, these microscopic things, like bacteria, then change those organic things that are breaking down to smaller and smaller things to become food for plants and tress and food for grass and vegetables. This type of food become the vitamins for the plants and vegetables and flowers and fruits and all green things," Michelle.
Lisa's eyes were wide. The light bulbs in her head were furiously lighting up. "Mommy, plants end up eating animals too! I didn't know that Mommy!"
Michelle was happy to hear that. Lisa's capacity for processing logic always impressed Michelle. She was very proud of her little daughter.
The two walked for another ten minutes, talking about fertilizers and fruits and flowers and plants before they reached the playground where Lisa's playmates Amy, Suresh, Derek and Jeremy were waiting for her. The kids gathered there every alternate morning to play and the mothers and house-husbands would sit back and keep an eye on their precious little tots.
This morning, Michelle was especially proud of the fact that Lisa didn't bring up the matter of meat eaters and vegetarians with Amy at the playground. Lisa was a sensible young girl and she would probably bring it up when Amy is invited over for lunch with the other kids and the two were playing house with their dolls. And even then, Lisa would only talk with Amy about the matter after doing plenty of research by asking her parents to help explain to her the information on the Internet (having got either parent to Google terms, she would point to the search list and ask her mother or father to click on the various results and read the content -- dwelling on those that pique her interest and moving on quickly from those that didn't interest her); grilling her parents further for more information and also making Michelle and Nicolas read from the children's encyclopedia set that they had at home.
"You know, darling," Michelle said to Nicolas, later that evening as the couple sat on the sofa where Nicolas was reading the papers and Lisa was playing with her Barbie dolls -- "we are raising quite an extraordinary young girl there!"

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

SHORT STORY... AN ODE TO 30 ROCK AND ITS TALENTED LEADS



SHORT STORY: THE TINA FEY CONFEDERACY...


"God, this had better be good! It is 3am!!!" Liz Lemon screamed into the phone.

The unknown caller assured her, "Mizzz Lemon, it is most definitely worth your time! Trust us!"

"Who is this," Liz demanded, as the mystery started to get on her nerves.

"What we are about to ask you to do is patriotism of the highest order... what we are about to ask of you involves our national security...," the caller said, cleverly pacing himself for maximum dramatic effect.

If nothing else, he knew what a sucker Liz Lemon was for conspiratorial things and he was determined to milk it to the max.

"Ooo, tell me more," she demurely said, after pausing for a few seconds. "I am all ears..."

"Mizzz Lemon... we want you to step into Sarah Palin's shoes!," the caller said.

"Are you crazy?" Liz immediately shot back. "Are you insane?.... Anyway, how would you know if the shoe fits?"

"Mizzz Lemon, we cannot risk having a stupid woman like Sarah Palin possibly running this great Republican nation of ours! We will handle her capture, you don't have to worry your pretty little head about that. What you WOULD need to do is be at the place and the time that we tell you to, to make the switch!," the stranger went on.

The audacity of the suggestion silenced Liz for a few seconds. Which is an eternity, actually, if you knew Liz at all.

"And as for Sarah Palin's husband Todd..." the caller said, before he was immediately interrupted.

"DO I GET TO SCREW HIM?" Liz immediately shot back. "God, say YES! Say YES, dammit!" This single woman in New York was beginning to lose it. Her hormones were raging wilder than the Niagara Falls, worst even than the Brazilian forest ablaze from forest clearance!

"Yes, you will get to do that.... but on condition.... FOR GOD'S SAKE WOMAN -- STOP JUMPING UP AND DOWN ON YOUR BED!... thanks, that's better... as I was saying, on condition that you push through policies that we tell you to... Oh, dammit..." the caller cussed as he was distracted by some background noise.

"Oh my God -- is that Colleen's voice in the background? Jack, is that you?" Liz demanded.

"Don't be silly Mizzz Lemon! Of course it is NOT me."

"Hey, it IS you, Jack. Jack you son of a gun! I knew I recognized Elaine Stritch's voice in the background..."

"Stay in character Lemon! The name is Colleen Donaghy, not Elaine Stritch, THANK YOU! Yes, mother, I will get you your vodka lime... sheesh... that woman is like a Elvira, the walking dead and Godzilla all rolled into one!"

"Jack Donaghy! I can't believe you woke me up at this ungodly hour to play a prank on me! But I must say the voice distorter I got for you for your birthday yesterday works really well. I didn't recognize your voice at all! You almost got me! Hey, how come your mother's voice still sounds the same...?" Liz characteristically said.

"That because this woman is not of this Earth, that's why! YES MOTHER, I AM GETTING YOUR DRINK NOW! HOLD YOUR HORSES -- if you haven't devoured them yet!.... Gotta go Lemon. See you at work tomorrow!"

Photos:
1. 30 Rock cast (publicity shot)

2. Liz Lemon & Jack Donaghy photo from http://featuresblogs.chicagotribune.com/entertainment_tv/30_rock/index.html

Thursday, October 02, 2008

GREEN EYES: AN ORIGINAL SHORT STORY... WRITTEN IN TEN MINUTES!


"OMIGOD! Those are the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen! They look stunning. Did anyone else have green eyes in your family?"

Esther was a medical student, going out of her way to come see me that evening. She was intrigue by me. Earlier in the day, she'd come visiting a houseman -- junior doctor Mark who was her senior in college.

"No, no one in my family had green eyes. Everyone had brown eyes," I replied. I've had the questions directed at me so many times, but what my parents had taught me, always stayed with me: to be respectful of people. And that included answering questions (even those asked repeatedly, by different people, all the time) I'd realized that dealings with people deserve a level and decency and thoughtfulness lacking in this modern world.

"Hey Esther! Good to see you again! I see you are intrigued by my favorite patient!" Mark joined, and pulled up a chair next to Esther's.

"Hey you!" Esther said as she looked up and smiled. "I couldn't resist asking him about his green eyes! I hope you don't mind."

"No problems on my side. You have to ask the patient himself!" Mark replied.

"You're gonna be bored doc. I am going to repeat the story again," I told Mark.

"You're anything but boring," Mark diplomatically said.

"The eyes were initially brown, but it is a combination of unhappiness, chemical pollutants and plain old envy that have changed my eyes and, even my heart," I began.

Unlike most youngsters, I entered the world with a mighty sense of optimism about the goodness in people. But as I grew up, I began to see that people were not nice.

Naturally, I gravitated towards people who were like minded. I loved my friends and cared about them as they did love and care for me. But at work, as in the real world, you can't run away from people who are not so nice. You are walking on the street and someone might have had a bad day and that touches you in the way they walk in front of you, cut across you on the sidewalk -- whatever. Other people's vibes will come bearing down on you.

As an escape, I immersed myself in my work.I became quite good at what I did. It was a nice escape. But it didn't last long. Bad people can come and be part of the place where you work. Bad people, when they are also stupid -- that is a lethal combination! It is worse than good people who are dumb!

The bosses, in cutting costs, bought a building in a bad neighborhood that was a chemical plant and put us there. From industrial use, the building was peopled by office workers almost overnight.

Many of us complained of not feeling well. We were falling sick at the workplace. People were coughing throughout the day in the office. I pointed it out to the bosses. Coughing all day long is not normal! But no one listened. They didn't care.

I was becoming an angry person. And having tired of trying to get management to listen, I gradually felt envious of others who worked in safe places. Others, who made noise and were heard. I am a writer. I worked in the media. And every time I saw other media people, I wondered what'd it be like to work in their organization. But I had this thing called loyalty. Obviously, it was not worth anything.

People in other countries in the media were well taken care of. You see them on TV, and they are well paid, well looked after by their employers. You can see it from the joy they have in what they do... you can see it in their eyes. Why couldn't we be like that? Why are writers here not respected? Why are the writers here not built up to be all that they can be, like in those western countries?

The bitterness just kept growing. And one day, I before I knew it, people remarked about my green eyes. And after years of having worked in that toxic environment -- at 35, I had to go for a heart surgery. Particles in the air had clogged my arteries in my heart. And when they cut it open, the heart, they were shocked to see -- was green in color.

I sued the company, of course. But all those bastards who never did anything, never lifted a finger to investigate my complaints are dead. The toxins had gotten to them to.

Now, I am finding my soul again. I have started writing again. An I am here for my check-up. The doctors here keep me for a few days for tests and observation.

And that is how I've met you both wonderful people -- Mark and Esther! Good people are coming back into my life and I have again begun to feel the goodness that so filled me in my younger days!

"Sorry Mark, I tried to go through the story as fast as I could!" I said apologetically.

"Hey, never say that -- I am with you on this!" he said.

"I am glad you've gone back to writing again! I love your writings! I grew up reading your articles in the papers!" Esther said. "I'm so sorry, but I just have to touch you! My friends and I adore you!" she added, as she held my hand tightly.

"Hey, I saw him first! He's my friend!" Mark said, looking at Esther in a mock-territorial manner. Both laughed and had youthful, toothy smiles on their faces.

That is what life is all about, you know. The chance to be happy is so precious!




Image, cropped from a piece done by artist Roy Lichenstein

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

MEOW! A FIVE-MINUTE ORIGINAL SHORT STORY... STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS... YOU KNOW LIKE, IN, URINATING... ONLY, THIS IS A CAT'S PERSPECTIVE


OMIGOD! What's wrong with me? She has not made any sound to attract my attention in 30 seconds! What is she doing? What's more important than me? NOTHING! Nothing is more important than me!

I'd better go see what she is up to? Oh, I'd better be nonchalant! Don't want the old girl to think I am desperate... I know, I will lick the back of my shoulder. Mmmm, that's nice. OMIGOD! If anyone could read my mind, they'd think I was speaking at bullet-speed! It'd be their own fault anyway -- they must pace themselves like an elegant cat if they want to read these thoughts of mine!
Yes, slow down when reading this human jottings of my thoughts.

I know, now I shall splay my legs and lick my bottom! Hmm, no more of that new cat food for me. I must boycott it next time she puts the filthy thing in my bowl Oh, time to sit up and clean my face. Left paw first... one, two three.... wipe, lick, wipe,lickwipelickwipe! Now, right paw.... Ok, I think I look nice and clean now. I am ready for the old girl now. I shall move soundlessly as only us excellent cats can... aah! there she is!

Shit! She's staring at the light box again on the table... ok, ok, must jump up... take up position... hesitate... take pre-leap pouncing position again... GOD! I am getting old!!! Ooomphff! Voila -- I am on the table!

"Hello there my little pussy cat! Where have you been sweetiekins? What do you want my little munchkins! What does baby want from mommy?" -- God, I wish I could understand what she is saying. But I like the tone of her voice. Sounds like she still loves me!

Iloveyoutoomummsiewumsy -- everytime I try to say that, it comes out as a pathetic, "MEOW!" Oh, well, I'd better start purring now... puuuuuurrrr! puuuuurr!

Ok, I must sit for second and look at her now and slay her with my impressive doe-eyed (gawd! --- why am I always referencing all these other animals!) look. Ok, now to stand up, tail upright, and walk towards her. Oh crap, this open lightbox cramps my style. I shall walk on the buttons now! Ooooooh -- this thing is nice and warm... I think I shall lie down here for a while! Mmmm...

"Sweetiekins! How is mumsie going to read her Sunday papers on the internet if you insist on lying down on my laptop keyboard like that? C'me here you bundle of joy! Let mommy kiss you! You are a naughty little baby boy Mister Tyler!"

Puuuuurrr! Puuuuurr!

Never fails -- every time!

The illustration is from the cover of the excellent graphic novel book by Joann Sfar, called "The Rabbi's Cat"

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

SHORT STORY... STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS... YOU KNOW LIKE, IN, URINATING...

SHORT STORY... STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS... YOU KNOW LIKE, IN, URINATING...

What kind of workplace leadership is this? It stinks worse than a pile of crap. Reduce the workforce -- mainly by sacking some seniors and making life difficult for other seniors. Then, when the headcount has been reduced, to mercilessly squeeze those who are left behind to pick up the slack.

You see, if this was a production/manufacturing plant or if this was related to clerical work, then it might seem like a good idea. Cost-wise, anyway. The fools are actually thumping their chests thinking what magnificent leaders they are! But businessmen, they are not!

In a creative industry like this, when you work the staff like slaves and tighten the screws, the inevitable that WILL happen is that the standards WILL drop. And standards have dropped indeed. Especially amongts those who have no passion for their work and have no love whatsoever for language. Most are duffers have no desire to master the language they write in! Or build up their social skills. What more can one say of EQ?

How can these un-leaders who have done so much damage be allowed to get away with this despicably short sighted corporate maneuvers? All this reflects on the country's leadership, as these leaders are the cronies of the politicians, you know.

I sit and look at the going ons and I do try to make my voice heard amongst. But there is only so much that a small fry can do. And if they want to be malicious, they can make my life miserable. I feel miserable to the utmost already.

The fourth estate is not something you mess around with. It is a sacred estate and its warriors must be protected and nurtured so that the nation will grow in its collective intellectual prowess and the average people's sphere of power and influence expands.

When will the light bulb of foresight light up? I still sit and wait and hope, even though I get no recognition for the noble aspirations that I hold so dear and embrace so close to my heart for my country. In my actions and in my work, I do my best. If you are the wrong shade of brown, things tend to go by, ignoring you.

Monday, September 15, 2008

A VERY SHORT STORY... kind of X-rated


Impalin' the Palins

"Hey sweetiebun! You know what we are gonna do when we go live in the Whitehouse?", Todd whispered breathlessly, looking up intently at Sarah's chin.

Sarah put her book down and looked down and glared at Todd in his favourite school-marmish way and she said (just as he winked at her and flashed her a horny smile and grunted -- in case you wondered that's how small town folks are, always behaving as if they are a load of walking cliches).

Anyway, Sarah said: "Look here honey, McCain will be living in the Whitehouse. I am just a VP! Get that through your thick skull,", then she gently touched his head and said, "I mean, your beautiful thick skull," and she grunted at him too. They were like Marge and Homer Simpson all throaty giggles and horny laughter. Or, like turkeys gobbling in a farmyard. Take your pick.

Then, when he started gently grabbing her, she sternly said in a mock-threatening way, "Don't make me grab my shotgun!"

"You mean this," he put his hand on his crotch.

The two were in bed, and Todd had his head on her lap with their little baby sleeping beside him. Their conversation was at whisper level, so as not to awaken the baby.

Looking slightly serious, Todd then said, "C'mon, you know that McCain feller ain't got that much time and the Whitehouse is as good as yours! The first thing we are going to do when we take over the Whitehouse is we're gonna make a new Whitehouse baby! You'd like that, right!"

She didn't say anything. Sarah, smiled benignly at him, thinking to herself, "Great, Todd! Always thinking with your dick! The world will think the Whitehouse is really full of Republican fuckers! Gawd, I'd left him ages ago if the sex wasn't so good!"

THE END


Photo: Sarah and Todd Palin in photo by Al Grillo for Associated Press in NYT

Thursday, October 18, 2007

GOD




SHORT STORY...

The night was getting colder and as everyone was walking faster, pants legs were rustling louder. That's when a small group of us, alighting from the metro, surfaced onto the street and walked past the dark alleyway. There was a loud sob coming from the alley.

We stopped, all of us wondering what was going on? We looked and as our eyes adjusted to the darkness, there was an old man seated on the cold alley path, with his back leaning against the wall. His knees were bent in the pyramid shape, feet flat on the path, and his hands, midway between the palm and elbow, rested on top of his knees.

One of the men who stopped, asked, "What's wrong? Are you OK old man?"

"I don't feel too good. I am weak and I can't go on," the old man in the baggy pants and worn trenchcoat said wearily.

The gentleman, then asked, with a sonorous voice, "Why? Aren't you getting enough converts? Aren't you getting enough of the humanity embracing your ways?"

The old man looked up. He had a look that indicated he wondered who the man was who spoke to him.

The younger man, probably in his 40s, stood with his back straight, but although his body was facing the direction of the old man looked away as he continued, "Why give up now after so long?"

That man suddenly stretched his right hand and a luminous spear suddenly lowered from his sleeve, he grabbed it instantly, clearly wanting to spear the old man.

I was closest to the threatening man and I saw another passenger, lightning fast, get a grip of his dangerous hand and weapon before the gentleman could launch his deadly spear. The grip was a solid one and with unearthly ease flung the suddenly ruby-eyed man and his spear away from the old man, across the road behind into the side of a building. The building shook when the gentleman's body hit it a second later.

The old man was shocked. He stood up. But the rescuer started walking away, nonchalant. As the old man asked repeatedly, "Who are you?", the rescuer just continued walking away and he didn't even notice that the old man was suddenly beginning to glow and the earth cracked under his feet. The rescuer disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

Friday, October 12, 2007

OPRAH WINFREY... SHORT STORY




SHORT STORY...

Oprah's private moments...

Oprah always loved her private moments. It was always a few hours before her TV show started when she would be in her dressing room, all alone. Her hair and make-up had already been done in the morning before she left the house and it will all be done all over again later before the show starts. Sigh, such is the trying life of a superstar diva, she tittered to herself girlishly.

Oprah loves these quiet moments because she sometimes came up with ideas that she would later discuss with the show's producers, comprising: "Me, me and me," she gigled like a giddy schoolgirl as she powertripped.

Such alone times were treasured by Oprah and all her staff knew that and they never bothered her during these moments. This is where she had the brainwave to give every audience member a car a while back, after all. And everyone in the industry knows that the ratings of her show went up all over the world because of that.

How spectacular can one of my entrances be for one of the future show, she wondered. Then, for some strange reason, she remembered the scene with Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge where Nicole was on a trapeze above the audience. "Perhaps I should be wearing a pair of beautiful fairy wings (I'll get Vera Wang to design it!), a little tutu and ballet shoes as I swing up above the audience, and when the spotlight hits me, I shall sprinkle fairy dust on the audience as they look up and gasp," she thought to herself.

She will save that idea for the week after Halloween. For Halloween, she wanted to surprise everyone.

"I will appear in a witch's hat, with ghastly rotten green teeth and unglamarous witch's wardrobe," she thought, with the left index finger fashionable poised at her cheek as she purposefully wrote it down.

"Then, I shall rip off the drabby clothes and the hologram that is precision-projected to make my teeth rotten shall be switched off and the hologram witch's hat will also be turned off as well and my usual glamourous big hair will be revealed as the audience applauds," the words ringed in her very big head and even bigger hair as she thought about them.

She would only settle for a hologram hat as she could NEVER EVER imagine messing up her fabulous big hair do.

Then, another brilliant brainwave hit her: perhaps she should get her dentist to embed teeny weeny little diamonds on her teeth so that when she smiled at the camera in the studio, they would sparkle and bedazzle. And...

*"Knock, knock!"*

Oprah was roused from her very, very private revelry and, having adjusted her plush robe, said, "Come in." Showtime was approaching.

Saturday, October 06, 2007

JAY LENO




SHORT STORY...

Jay Leno's anxious moment...


"God, I wish I hadn't seen that beauty," Jay Leno anxiously thought to himself, as he stood at the wings of his Tonight Show stage, waiting for his cue to appear on stage. He outstretched his arms to his sides, closer to his hips, rather than sideways like a make-belief airplane, then bent his arms a bit and pretended to jog-on-the-spot quickly.

Why was this world famous man of TV anxious? He had, to put it politely, a pistol-in-his-pocket moment. It was a mild case, but it would most definitely look odd, AND OBVIOUS, on TV. He was nervous. What can I think about... what can I think about to cancel out this state of semi-excitement, he kept asking himself. Aha, then he thought he'd think of his wife. Which he did.

Woosh! No more pistol-in-the-pocket. Just in time, too, as that's when John Melendez announced, ".......Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay Leno!" As he happily hopped and skipped onto stage, Jay thought to himself, no more looking at car magazines before the show from now onwards for him! Instinctively, he then celebrity-slapped his audience's outstretched hands, greeted the studio audience and proceeded to focus on the cue cards!

Thursday, October 04, 2007

HALLOWEEN... SHORT STORY




SHORT STORY...
Britney Spears' Halloween wish...

She was sitting in front of the computer in her oversized T-shirt, checking the blogs and had the TV switched on to CNN. There was an itch in her hair at the very top of her head and she gave it a very good, satisfying scratch. She made a mental note to wash her hair later.
The reason Britney Spears was glued in front of the screens was because she wanted to know what the court outcome would be - nevermind that she had a splitting headache from partying all night the night before. Would she get the kids or K.Fed, she wondered. Sigh! How she wished she'd not met up with Kyoto Hilton the previous night.
"That dang Kyot, because of her I snorted so much drug, my head is still spinning," Britney thought to herself, forgeting that she had also downed two bottles of Hennessy that her newfound pals -- rapper Filthy Sense and some pale white guy called Erm-Mean-Man -- had bought at the new club in town called Mamba Vroom.
Dang, I wish the damn CNN would stop looping the news so much: I am fed of seeing myself so much on tv, she thought to herself. She felt she could understand now why public opinion was swaying against her! Dang bloody media!
Then, finally, the announcement came, and as the CNN newscaster started talking about her, Spears increased the volume.
"Although Spears' attorney argued strenuosly on her behalf," the reporter went on to say, just then, Spears thought to herself, "Didn't I fire that attorney? Dang, I must have forgotten!"
In her still hazy mind she remembered that she'd just about fired everyone else before that. Either that, of everyone dumped her. She could not remember which way things had unfolded.
Anyway, when she heard that K.Fed got custody of her two boys, she dramatically fell to her knees from her chair and raised her hands, with tears streaming down her cheeks and sobbingly screamed out:
"Oh, thank you God!"
Let that dang K.Fed deal with the boys, she'd decided. WIth the glare of the media light on him let the hypocrite sing and dance to public opinion glory!
Hahaha, she laughed like a diva would, and answered her ringing mobile, " Hey, hi Kyots! Yeah, thanks babes!..."