SHORT STORIES

The Life & Time Of Distinguished Historian William H. MacMillan

Jacket
Each morning at 5:30 sharp, distinguished historian William H. MacMillan would leap from his third-level bunk bed, flip on the lights, and, jutting out his jaw, begin to beat upon his chest with his fists, declaring himself to be high king of the jungle. His fourteen sisters would grumble and groan, thrashing about in their beds and pulling the quilts over their faces, pleading with him to let them sleep.
 
On this particular morning however, he had other plans.
 
"Sqwawk, sqwawk!" he cried, pecking at the air, "Lazy bones make for lazy days! Sqwawk, sqwawk!"
 
"Uuunnnhhhhhhhhh..." said his sisters.

Sasquatch Faces Rejection After the Apocalypse

SasquatchWhen Sasquatch awoke it was still dark. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolled over on the rocky ground and looked over at the boy. He was asleep, curled in the blue plastic tarp they had found in the deserted filling station. Sasquatch could see that his condition had worsened. His nearly translucent skin clung corpselike to his cheekbones, and his eyes were sunken and dark. Even in sleep he drew breath in ragged, wheezing gasps. Grunting softly, Sasquatch used a paw to smooth the boy's thinning hair.
 
The sun began to rise. Slowly, the dusty air around them took on a grimy reddish-grey cast. Sasquatch climbed to his feet, stretching and brushing out the red soot which had settled on his fur during the night. He shook the boy gently to wake him, and once each had taken a drink of murky water from the canteen, Sasquatch lifted the boy onto the rear seat of the bicycle built for two, and they set off towards Dusttown.

The Tears Of One Thousand Generations

Professor
Professor Huntington closed his eyes and whipped the tarp dramatically from the enormous machine. It spanned the entire room, ceiling to floor, and was covered entirely in long, flat, brushed steel panels, creating a kind of false wall.
 
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he cried, spreading his arms wide, "I give you the baby crusher!"
 
The room was silent. Someone coughed. The scuffing of feet on the cement floor was clearly audible. Finally a woman near the front raised her pen timidly into the air. Huntington pointed to her.
 
"Yes, you there, the ill-proportioned woman in the two-toned body suit."
 
"Why on earth would anyone want to crush a baby?" she asked, shaking her head. "It's beyond the pale."
 

Sasquatch Faces Rejection in Husset Park

Sasquatch GentleSasquatch is out for an afternoon stroll in Husset Park. He stops at the foot of a grassy hill to admire a group of wild sunflowers. Suddenly a foam kickball rolls over the hill, coming to a stop at his feet. He picks it up, studying it for a moment, then he turns and begins to walk towards the gazebo.
 
"Hey what gives!" comes a voice from behind him.
 
Sasquatch turns to see scruffy boy in a woman's dress and a battered silk top hat standing at the top of the hill, his hands on his hips. He studies the boy with large, soft eyes, tilting his head to one side and huffing softly.
 
"That's our ball," the boy says, haphazardly cartwheeling down the hill and coming to a stop at Sasquatch's feet, "Hand it over."

Sasquatch looks down at the ball, and then hugs it to his chest. The boy furrows his brow and glances over his shoulder. From over the hill comes the sound of children shouting, along with something that sounds like the high pitched squeal of a pig. The boy begins creeping towards Sasquatch, wringing his hands. Sasquatch squints his eyes and bares his gums, hugging the ball even closer.
 

Sasquatch Faces Rejection at The Pine City Post Office

SasquatchSasquatch stands inside the lobby of the Pine City Post Office with a confused look on his face.
 
"Can I help you with something?" Says the woman behind the counter without lifting her eyes from her book.
 
Sasquatch walks up to the counter and sets down a small white scrap of paper in front of her. He crosses his arms. The clerk sighs, sets down her book, and picks it up. She turns it over and over in her hands, squinting and scrunching up her nose. The words "TOO MOM" are penciled on the front in large block lettering. A small stick figure of a what appears to be sasquatch with long hair has been scrawled hastily underneath.
 

Sasquatch Faces Rejection at The Tennis Court

SasquatchTwo girls are playing tennis in the tennis court at foot of some mountains. In the middle of the match, one of the girls looks up and sees Sasquatch standing at the edge of the court with a tennis racket clutched in his paw. "Hey Terri look," she says, pointing, "a sasquatch." Terri stops in mid-serve and turns towards him.
 
"And just what do you think you're doing here?" She places her hands on her hips.
 
Sasquatch snorts, swatting at the air with his Shiny New Racket and looking hopeful. Terri shakes her head.
 
"Sasquatches aren't allowed on this court." She says, pointing to a large white sign which displays the silhouette of a hulking figure inside a crossed-out red circle. "Now you had better get out of here or else we'll call the game warden, right Jenna?"
 
"Right." says Jenna, squinting into the setting sun.
 

Doomchair: Chair of Doom

ChairAs I explained in a PREVIOUS ARTICLE, an office supply store contacted me recently asking if I would agree to post a shill review of a "FREE CHAIR" they would send me. I declined the offer on moral grounds, and by moral grounds I mean I didn't feel like writing a stupid article about a boring chair.
 
But then I got to thinking: What if I do write that article after all...but instead of writing it about one of their chairs, I'll write it about a different chair. Yeah! That'll be great! Then not only will I NOT receive a free chair, but I'll also still have to waste an hour and a half writing a pointless and uninteresting chair-related article which nobody would possibly have any interest in reading anyway.

Here I go.

Walker: Texas Ranger - Spec Script

Walker: Ranger RangerFADE-IN   CONSTRUCTION SITE - WIDE SHOT - DAY
Walker's truck is shown entering GLEN COVE CONSTRUCTION site. Three CONSTRUCTION TOUGHS mill around out front, kicking at dirt and leaning against various objects. WALKER exits his DUSTY AMERICAN TRUCK and approaches them.

WALKER: I'm a Texas Ranger, do any of you boys know where I can find the front office?

...And Crackling Skies of Contumacious Flame

Smokey Bear
It begins with a match. A spark. Birthed of sulfur it sputters and burns. Bringing the spreading smoke. Down into throats and lungs; burning and clogging and choking and squeezing. Searing rains of black ash fill skies; simmering and grey with death. Somewhere, in the cold dark, a child screams. Flames creep from the corners a room, gliding eagerly up and over the covers of the bed. Flames cradle him; embrace him; destroying all he is and all he might have been.

George Lucas In The Bathroom

Parking Lot
We pulled into the lot and George swung the car into a handicapped space. I furrowed my brow and peered at the blue sign through the cracked windshield.

“As far as I know,” I said, “You aren’t a handicap.”

“This is justice.” He said, pushing the car door open with his knee. “Why should a cripple get a free ride? Let him put on a stained white work shirt. Let him push despair into the pit of his belly and smile at the customers. I say put down the crutch and pick up a shovel; There’s work to be done.”
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