Saturday, January 16, 2016

Flat Roads

Gerald was the type of guy who liked to take chances. 
'Chances' being what the neighborhood kids called the free condoms at the free clinic next to the expensive pizza place - 'Chances Italiano'.
'Chances' not being what Gerald would EVER take when it came to pregnancy. 
Not again.
Not since that stripper he'd banged had extorted tons of cash from him to pay for her abortion or else. 
He should have known better when he met her.
Her name WAS 'Chances' after all.
They weren't very diverse when it came to naming things in Gerald's town, Riskville. 
But it was a fun town to live in, and therefore a small price to pay.
As long as you didn't mind living near the local Nuclear Waste Dump, that was next to giant snake breeding facility, that was next to the 'Free All Caged Animals' activist headquarters, who had a share occupancy deal in their office building with the 'Society To Help All Activist Groups, And Also We Have Seven Flesh Eating Aliens Captured And Locked Up, But It Doesn't Feel Right To Us, We'll Probably Release Them Soon' group, with said building located right on top of the world's first volcano readying to erupt with billions of dead fish heads. 
Also the housing was cheap. 
Especially if you rented through one of the two local real-estate firms, 'Chances Reality' or 'Chances Houses'. 
Just don't go with the national chain 'First Roof'.
They MAKE you get insurance.
What a waste of money. 

Confounded Attack - A Poem

Stan was smacked in the head with a meteorite. 
But by the time it struck his temple it had disintegrated to barely the size of a grain of sand.
And left a mark barely red enough for people to think he had a pimple.
And it fetched a market rate of barely enough money to buy a hamburger, let alone retire on. 
Therefore despite his desperate prayer being answered to its exact request.
Stan still had no excuse to get out of work on stock take day.
And another of gods children was needlessly lost from the flock, storming off with an internal monologue of scorn and contempt.
Yet Peter down the hall, heading up Division Seventeen of prayer answering, STILL kept his job.
He really is a nice dude that God.
Way too fucking nice.