With the lack of short stories submitted lately and the sparse columns posted on TheWeirdcrap.com “The Boss” decided he needed to talk to me and Stephen…in person!
This is a big deal because Stephen lives somewhere in one of those big-time city-slickin’ East coast cities and I have to be flown in from good ol’ slack-jawed Tallahassee, Florida.
The last time I saw “The Boss” was when he brought Stephen and Me down to Omaha discuss the purchase of what was at that time, OUR website. One sip of wine later and Stephen was making mud pies in the un-paved Old Dodge Street, a popular hang-out for the thousands of pre-school drop-outs that litter the Omaha landscape.
An hour passed by, and the Boss and me had finished our meal. I looked out the window of the Omaha Saloon, only to see Stephen licking his freshly prepared mud-pie.
“What’s yer poison?” the tycoon asked.
“Burbon” I replied. I did my homework, the second most popular thing in Omaha is drinkin whiskey. The first…droppin’ out of school.
The third?
Poker.
I took my first shot, when I heard a chant in the distance…
“Husker-hee, husker-doo!
Husker-me, husker-you!”
It got louder.
“HUSKER-HEE, HUSKER-DOO!
HUSKER-ME, HUSKER-YOU!”
“You better get yur friend. If he goes showin’ off with readin’ and writin’ and countin’…who knows what they might do to them.”
I ran outside and lured Stephen in with a piece of beef jerky.
It got louder as they got closer!
“HUSKER-HEE, HUSKER-DOO!
HUSKER-ME, HUSKER-YOU!”
The bartender locked the door and everyone ducked under their tables.
I heard crashing, women screaming…men screaming…the shadow of fire dancing through the closed windows…
“HUSKER-HEE, HUSKER-DOO! HUSKER-ME, HUSKER-YOU!”
The horror.
“What the hell does that mean, anyway?” I asked our patron.
“Nobody really knows.” Our patron answered, “I think it’s the only thing the locals are capable of remembering.”
Soon, it was all over.
With the passing of the Husker Horde chant, I heard the faint approach of police and fire sirens. Stephen was still chewing on the beef jerky when our future boss asked the question, “You play poker?”
“S.s.s.sure, doesn’t everybody?” I nervously replied. I was lying.
“Next thing I knew, cards were being dealt, hands were being called, bets were being made…it was all very confusing.” Eight minutes later, I was signing over ownership of TheWeirdcrap.com and MyStrangeStories.com to settle my poker debt to the man we now call “The Boss”.
Now he has called us across the USA, to discuss our poor readership.
This time I came prepared, and decided to research and practice my poker. I went to the poker school and learned all about “Omaha Poker.” Then I practiced for one straight week while sipping on sparkling grape soda…with my pinky-up the whole time.
Once “The Boss” was done telling us how worthless and weak we are, he then concluded that he had no choice but to let the both of us go and hire professional writers.
“You don’t know how hard this is form me to do?” He explained while looking toward his feet.
“But, but, you don’t pay us anything!” I pleaded.
“That’s why its so hard.” He said sadly.
“How about a round of “Omaha Poker.” I said firmly.
“Winner takes all!” he confirmed.
All that practice paid off and I won our jobs back, likity-split, just like that!
“Two out of three.” He said excitedly!
“Sure,” I replied, “I win, you pay for our tickets back home!”
Next thing you know, we were both on the next bus home…FIRST CLASS!!
The End
COMING NEXT on “Ask Bob”: The amazing sell – out!!!
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ASK BOB
"The weekly events of a lazy idiot as he stumbles through life, looking for answers to questions that nobody has."
Done with this guy?
Go back to the Weirdness!
Sunday, February 05, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
My non-Top 10 List for 2011
I was quite concerned when Stephen wrote that I didn’t have a 2011 Top Ten list because I didn’t like anything in 2011.
I decided to prove him wrong, not by actually making a top ten list, but by proving 2011 was not any worse than any other year. I would compare a random day of 2001, with the same day in 2011. I keep a dairy, so it should be easy.
First, I printed a condensed four page 2001 calendar on the computer. Then I plopped it in a blender and put it on "high" to separate each date. Then, I reached in to pull out the winner! A moment later, blood, skin, and shredded paper splashed all over the floor and walls. I should’ve turned off the blender.
It was a nice day for a walk, so I headed to the urgent care, conveniently located 2 blocks from my home.
I returned home with a missing index finger-tip, a bottle of pain pills, and one nasty headache. I swallowed a hand-full of pills and chased it with a hand-full of beer. Then plopped down on the couch to watch TV, completely oblivious to why I stuck my hand in the blender in the first place.
A few hours later I woke up thirsty and stumbled to the kitchen for a nice, tall, ice cold, glass of soda. I opened the freezer and put ice in my cup. A piece dropped and slid across the floor. I didn’t want to slip on the cube later, so I went to pick it up.
I stepped on blood-soaked calendar date-shreds, which surprisingly didn’t dry up, and slid into the cabinet with my head slamming onto the counter. I guess that weren’t so bad, but just my luck there was an open can of cat food sittin’ there with the top opened and ‘stickin’’ straight up.
That round cat food top sunk into my skull like it was made of butta’. I fell backwards and just lay there for a minute. Then I tried to stand, but was dizzy and off balance. For some reason, I was convinced that if I didn’t stand I would never be able to get up, so I thrust myself up with all my might.
Too bad the open freezer door was right above me. My head slammed from below and I went right back down.
When I woke-up again, I couldn't open my eyes.
Dried up blood had sealed my eyes shut. Blinded, I headed down the hall toward the bathroom. I washed the blood from my eyes and looked in the mirror. Half the can-top was still sticking out of my head.
I decided to fix the cat food top myself and headed toward the work-shed. When I sat on the bench I felt something in my back pocket. It was the mystery calendar date…and my finger-tip!
Chance had given me 08/17/01 to compare.
I was excited to compare my diary entries from 08/17/2001 and 08/17/2011. I took a pair of needle-nose pliers and pulled tuna can-top out of my head. I just used some carpenters puddy to stop-up the hole in my head.
I went back to the kitchen, got my soda, and tossed my finger-tip into the kitty dish.
I ran to the bedroom and got out my box of diaries. With much anticipation I found 2001 and started frantically flipping through pages.
Here's what it said:
"Dear Diary,
I got drunk today and tried to burn some newborn kittens.
I couldn't do it, and ended up keeping one.
Then, I was chased by the police and it resulted with some nasty gas! After eating two bottles of antacids I got super-constipated.
When I was finally able to go to the bathroom I think I blew a gasket! I'm heading toward the hospital now.”
Now, let’s see what is in this years diary for 08/17/2011!
“Dear Diary,
Today I got up, got dressed and went to work.
I had a fiesta-salad for lunch…yummm!
I had chicken for dinner and enjoyed a fine wine afterwards…pinkies-up!
And now you know.
COMING NEXT: I sell out in the worst way!
I decided to prove him wrong, not by actually making a top ten list, but by proving 2011 was not any worse than any other year. I would compare a random day of 2001, with the same day in 2011. I keep a dairy, so it should be easy.
First, I printed a condensed four page 2001 calendar on the computer. Then I plopped it in a blender and put it on "high" to separate each date. Then, I reached in to pull out the winner! A moment later, blood, skin, and shredded paper splashed all over the floor and walls. I should’ve turned off the blender.
It was a nice day for a walk, so I headed to the urgent care, conveniently located 2 blocks from my home.
I returned home with a missing index finger-tip, a bottle of pain pills, and one nasty headache. I swallowed a hand-full of pills and chased it with a hand-full of beer. Then plopped down on the couch to watch TV, completely oblivious to why I stuck my hand in the blender in the first place.
A few hours later I woke up thirsty and stumbled to the kitchen for a nice, tall, ice cold, glass of soda. I opened the freezer and put ice in my cup. A piece dropped and slid across the floor. I didn’t want to slip on the cube later, so I went to pick it up.
I stepped on blood-soaked calendar date-shreds, which surprisingly didn’t dry up, and slid into the cabinet with my head slamming onto the counter. I guess that weren’t so bad, but just my luck there was an open can of cat food sittin’ there with the top opened and ‘stickin’’ straight up.
That round cat food top sunk into my skull like it was made of butta’. I fell backwards and just lay there for a minute. Then I tried to stand, but was dizzy and off balance. For some reason, I was convinced that if I didn’t stand I would never be able to get up, so I thrust myself up with all my might.
Too bad the open freezer door was right above me. My head slammed from below and I went right back down.
When I woke-up again, I couldn't open my eyes.
Dried up blood had sealed my eyes shut. Blinded, I headed down the hall toward the bathroom. I washed the blood from my eyes and looked in the mirror. Half the can-top was still sticking out of my head.
I decided to fix the cat food top myself and headed toward the work-shed. When I sat on the bench I felt something in my back pocket. It was the mystery calendar date…and my finger-tip!
Chance had given me 08/17/01 to compare.
I was excited to compare my diary entries from 08/17/2001 and 08/17/2011. I took a pair of needle-nose pliers and pulled tuna can-top out of my head. I just used some carpenters puddy to stop-up the hole in my head.
I went back to the kitchen, got my soda, and tossed my finger-tip into the kitty dish.
I ran to the bedroom and got out my box of diaries. With much anticipation I found 2001 and started frantically flipping through pages.
Here's what it said:
"Dear Diary,
I got drunk today and tried to burn some newborn kittens.
I couldn't do it, and ended up keeping one.
Then, I was chased by the police and it resulted with some nasty gas! After eating two bottles of antacids I got super-constipated.
When I was finally able to go to the bathroom I think I blew a gasket! I'm heading toward the hospital now.”
Now, let’s see what is in this years diary for 08/17/2011!
“Dear Diary,
Today I got up, got dressed and went to work.
I had a fiesta-salad for lunch…yummm!
I had chicken for dinner and enjoyed a fine wine afterwards…pinkies-up!
And now you know.
COMING NEXT: I sell out in the worst way!
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