Monday, June 30, 2014

Clowning Around

     Jason pulled off the highway and followed the dirt road. He came across an empty field and pulled over, parking on the edge. "Well, that's convenient."
     He climbed out of the car, grabbing the grocery bag and his sword from the passenger seat. Jason looked for a flat clearing then set the bag down as he looked around. He couldn't afford to have anyone see him. There was too much riding on this.
     His sword glistened in the mid-afternoon sun. He opened the bag and pulled out an orange. Tossing it up in the air as high as he could, he counted, "One, two, three, four, five ..."
     Jason swung the sword around his head three times. The squelchy sound of the blade hitting the fruit was music to his ears as the juice dripped onto his head and the orange halves landed on the ground at his feet. He repeated the action on apples, a cantaloupe, and finally a watermelon.
     "I'm ready," he announced to the grass and trees. He left the fruit for the animals then drove home.
     Two days later he appeared in full clown make-up on the stage of America's Got Talent in the Kitchen. His performance was flawless. Jason made it to the final show with a promise to blow their minds.
     The spotlight hit his face and he smiled. Jason held four apples in his hand and four knifes. Jason stared into the camera as he threw the fruit into the air over the judges heads followed by the knives.
     One by one the knives hit the fruit as it reached head level for each of the judges and set off a bomb that had been planted in each apple, blowing off each judge's head.
     Security rushed the stage and tackled him. When he asked why he did it. Jason replied, "TV viewers have suffered long enough. We're done clowning around: America doesn't have talent."

Sunday, June 29, 2014


      The soft glow of the moon filtered through the clouds. Susand looked out the clocktower. In the street below she could see the zombie cannibals roaming the streets and the distant fires of the refugee camps.
     Next to her the cage rattled. Timmy, her baby, was awake and started to whimper. She slid him out and exposed her breast. He hungrily latched on and she watched him chew on it, biting her lip to keep from crying out. Timmy was soon done and she rocked him back to sleep then slid him back into the cage and covered the wound he left behind with makeshift bandages.
     She wistfully watched the fires for a few more minutes then closed her eyes. Maybe tomorrow she would find a vial of the elusive anti-zombie serum and cure her baby. Tomorrow. There was always tomorrow.