Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The First Failed Relationship

You find a box in the attic.

In this box, you find the teddy bear that was your favorite childhood toy. It is despondent and asks why you abandoned him. It goes on, saying that all of your other relationships ended with you being abandoned, and it serves you right for leaving him.

Friday, August 21, 2009

The Story of Your Life

You find a box in the attic.

In this box, you find reports written by your friends, your family, and everyone you have ever met. They relate all of the scandalous things that you ever did, the embarrasing things that happened to you, the shameful events that befell you. They go on to state that these are the only noteworthy things about you.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

The Perfect Gift for Alcohol Prohibitionists

This glass mug transforms any liquid poured into it (water, raw sewage, lava, molten lead, et cetera) into beer. From the moment that any fluid touches the bottom of the glass, the mug frosts and translates its contents into the juice of barley and hops.

Pouring beer into the mug strengthens the intoxicating virtue of the brew.

Monday, August 17, 2009

For English, Please Press One

This room has a cocktail party. The guests are attired to display wealth, taste, and status. An orchestra plays chamber music in the corner.

There is a dial by the door. The names of languages are posted at the cardinal points and along many points in between. English. EspaƱol. Deutsch. Francais. Italiano. Many others. The language spoken by the guests matches that to which the dial is currently set. Turning the dial will change the language spoken in the room, even by you.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Good Wine & Better Wine

The wine cabinet has two kinds of bottles.

The first kind of wine is clear as a friar's argument and pure as a nun's prayer. It is sweet and goes down like lemonade. This wine gives pleasant dreams when it is time to sleep. No night terrors. No haunting premonitons. No shameful dreams you hope you won't remember in the morning.

The second kind of wine is as black as your worst vice. It is as dry as a hard liquer and scalds your throat like conscience. This wine brings nightmares when you lay your head. Your sins take shape in your slumbering eyes and vaunt over your unshriven self.

Monday, August 03, 2009


The trees are even-spaced on either side of the path. They exit the ground with calloused skin where bark would be. Short bristles on the skin perk at cold, shed in heat, grow as autumn winds its way to winter. Limbs branch from knotted joints. Free-flapping grafts of skin wave from the branches' forking fingers.

In springtime, bulbs of fruit sag heavy on the main trunk. The inner kicks crack the outer skin. The infants within draw breath from opened pods, rent by their struggles. Attendants stretch out soft nets to catch the newborns.

At the garden's entrance, a sign names this place:

Mrs. Landgrave's Kindergarden R&D Labs