Coffee Shop Girl

I've got a crush: coffee shop girl
She doesn't know I even exist
I'm just a name written on a cup
Along with my order as well

I try to speak but she just says
Please keep the line moving, order up
There is nothing more that I can do
Turn around and walk out the door

How can I get her to notice
Why can't I find the words I should say
Day after day it's the same, the same
I've got a crush: coffee shop girl

Untitled

What is going on
Where did all of this come from
What am I, what am I
What am I doing here
Why can't I just simply
Take one minute before
Everything I know is
Gone

Should've known from the start
Now I'm paying for it all
Couldn't be, couldn't be
Couldn't be, couldn't be now
Now I'm falling through a
Distant tunnel in a
Desp'rate groping for my
Heart

What am I searching for
Can I see it in the dark
Something, something
Something, something's wrong
It is not where I had
Left it before I had
Forgotten what it
Was

When Duty Calls

Cho-Cho the orangutan eeked out a satisfied grunt.

"You said it, Cho-Cho," said Rickie Clay, "Spending some much needed vacation time in the Bahamas was just what we needed."

"Look at that view," remarked Frankie Clay.

A small beeping noise coming from Rickie's duffle bag interrupted the pristine silence of the beach.

"You didn't shut off your top-secret communicator?" Frankie whined at Rickie.

Rickie turned on his communicator. "Clay Brothers! This is General Whitmore. I have an assignm–"

Cho-Cho squealed loudly and chucked the communicator into the ocean.

"You said it, Cho-Cho," Frankie said as he drifted off to sleep.

~~~
More adventures of The Clay Brothers

Escalation

Continued from "Entrance"
~~~

"I know you," a brash man sat next to the stranger.

The stranger said nothing.

"You're Havlin Morrit. You fought in the Continental War. War hero even."

"That was a long time ago," Havlin did not look up.

"Indeed. But it seems you've fallen from grace, Mr. Morrit. You have quite a bounty on your head–dead or alive."

The bartender cocked a shotgun, "No offense, Mr. Morrit. We appreciate your patriotism, but we sure could use that money." The other bar patrons produced hidden firearms of their own.

Havlin finished off his shot. "If that's how it's going to be. . ."

She's in Love with Her Broken Heart

She's in love with her broken heart
It never leaves her side
The only thing that she can count on
Beyond deep despair

She won't mend her broken heart
It's just easier that way
The pain of loss is more to bear
Than of loneliness

Oh, it's a shame
She opened her heart
Opened the door
Bearing her soul
But now it's smashed
It's broke in two
Never again
Never again

Others try to win that heart
But she won't let them near
She's just too much in love
With her broken heart

Oh, it's a shame
She opened her heart
Opened the door
Bearing her soul
But now it's smashed
It's broke in two
Never again
Never again

Guardian Angels

Two guardian angels entered the heavenly locker room at the same time.

"Hey, Gamaliel. You just got back from assignment?"

"Sure did, Hananel. I made sure he lived to a ripe old age."

"I hear performance reviews are coming up. If you keep this up, you're almost a shoe-in for a promotion."

"I don't like to brag, but this one's in the bag," Gamaliel made an imaginary free-throw shot. "Swoosh!"

"So who's your next assignment?"

"Some American kid. Those kids are so pampered! This will be like a vacation for me."

Later on earth. . .

"Hey! Let's go play in the Interstate!"

The Fairy and His Teefs

"Okay," said Timnur, "We have a popular mythical figure that will give you magical presents–no commitment! Even if you don't choose Smarnia as your fantasy escape, they will be yours to keep. Our gifts to you."

The children's eyes lit up imagining a jolly old elf.

However, that wasn't exactly who they got.

"I'm da toof fairy, but I ain't no fairy! Ya get me?" said the fat man in a tutu crusted with a collection of colorful stains. "And I gots presents for ya's, but first give me yer teefs!"

Timnur shook his head.

"Man, dats da best part . . ."

~~~
More stories from The Chronicles of Smarnia

The Case of the Conspiracy Theories

"What are you working on, O'Malley?" I said entering Shamrock's study.

"Well, Walton, you know that the smallest facts often lead to unraveling the most confusing cases?"

"Indeed. I read an article by Mr. Holmes about deciphering differences in tobacco ashes."

"Bah! How many people smoke in Victorian London? Seriously? No, I'm interested in profitable areas of investigation: Ascertaining Sasquatch hair!"

". . . Why?"

"Sasquatch attacks account for 87 percent of all homicides, but they hide by shaving and blending in with humans. Find the Sasquatch; find the murderer!"

O'Malley's 563 page treatise Discovering Hidden Sasquatches Among Us failed to find a publisher.

~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley

Alchemy Inspection

Willem, Chief Alchemist, had saved the best for last on the king's inspection of the Alchemy Workshop: the Lead-to-Gold Station.

"We have our fifty best alchemists working non-stop on the secret of turning lead into gold," Willem proudly announced.

"Impressive," said the king.

"Eureka!" shouted Alchemist 23, "I turned lead into goad!"

"Lead into what?" asked Willem.

"Goad. You know. A pointy stick to prod oxen?" the alchemist showed off his creation.

"Gold! Not goad you fool!"

"Oh . . ." the alchemist was dumbfounded, "So you don't want the goad?"

The king glared at Willem. The next day the Alchemy Workshop was closed.

Feel the Lovenstein

A visage of Space-Senator Vithor Lovenstein and the slogan "Feel the Lovenstein" was hung behind a podium. An enthusiastic crowd cheered as he approached the podium.

"I know that many of you have traveled a long distance to be here. I also know that it's a financial strain as dark matter prices have hit record levels. Some say that things like 'supply' and 'demand' and 'economics' hold the answers. Those are failed policies of the past which depended on 'science' and 'facts.' We need to instead let our emotions and feelings be our guide. Feel the Lovenstein!"

The crowd went wild.

~~~
More stories concerning Galactic Federation Politics

Charging Rhino

"Harry, get back into the jeep. You're not supposed to leave the vehicle during an African safari!"

"Aw shucks, Ellen. They're just animals."

Mbatu the safari guide spoke up, "Mr. Smith, please come back. There's a rhinoceros charging you!"

"That's not a problem. It just wants to play."

"Mr. Smith, I can assure you that the rhino does not want to 'play.'"

Mbatu and Ellen averted their eyes to save themselves from the impending impact, but no 'splat' sound came, just a strange deep purring.

"See!" shouted Harry, "He just wants his tummy scratched! Who's a good boy? Yes, you are!"

Merry-Go-Round Tussle

I quickly count the people standing in front of me. Thirty-seven not counting parents. That should place me near the front of the second bunch. Excellent.

The first group enters. Seven still in front of me. That girl in the curls may be a problem.

We're up! Let me through! Hurry it up!

I don't see it. It must be on the other side. No! The girl in curls is making a run for it! I'll just "accidently" push her over . . .

Success! Take that girl in curls! You can ride the bear that's bolted to the floor! The pink unicorn's mine!

The Castle of the Vam-Bot-Pire

Lightning ripped across the sky illuminating the vampire's castle. Outside stood four monster-hunters.

They were a media-savvy group containing the perfect mix of personality types to hopefully pick up a favorable news story or maybe a primetime TV show deal. There was the smart, tough old guy, the hot-head, the comic-relief, and the obligatory girl.

The old man sighed, "This will be a tough fight."

"No problem," said the hot-head, "I'll use my stake!"

"Stakes don't work against robot vampires!"

"A vam-bot-pire!? I didn't think those existed!" whined the obligatory girl.

"I'll wait for you guys out here," said the comic-relief.

Factor in Some Fun

Mr. Lambert's class was always a chore to sit through. It wasn't just because it was a math class. That was bad enough. But Mr. Lambert's way of trying to spice math up for us youngsters only made it worse.

"Come on, guys," Mr. Lambert said one day, "Math isn't supposed to be boring! It's supposed to be fun-ducational!"

The entire class groaned.

"Turn those frowns upside down," Mr. Lambert's smile never diminished, though it was obvious he was straining to keep it that way, "it's like the reciprocal of a fraction but for your face! It's math-tastic!"

Again, more groaning.

They'll Try to Slip Anything Past You

"This is a cozy little number. Two bedroom, two bath, nice location, convenient shopping nearby, haunted, large backyard," the realtor coughed as she said 'haunted.'

"What was that?" asked Mr. Hopewell.

"What was what?"

"That last thing you said."

"Large backyard?"

"No before that."

"Oh, that it's haaaaaauuuu-ndreds of square feet?" the realtor said with an unconvincing smile.

"You said it was haunted didn't you?" Mrs. Hopewell asked.

"Yes," the realtor sighed, "yes, it is."

Mr. Hopewell tapped his foot impatiently, "Who is it haunted by?"

The realtor looked away, "Axe-Murderin' Max. . ."

"Now apologize to Mrs. Hopewell."

"Sorry. . ."

"Now . . . how much?"

Lead Man vs. The Incredible Sulk

"Stop right there! You've devastated downtown with your whining!" declared Lead Man to the lumbering mass of blue-colored muscle.

"BUT SULK SAD!" The Incredible Sulk cried rivers of tears and pounded on a nearby building.

Lumbering toward the Sulk, Lead Man drew back his arm for a punch. However, he found himself caught in the river of tears causing his armor to rust. Lead Man creaked to a halt.

"FUNNY!" laughed the Sulk as he turned yellow to mirror his feelings.

"Look what you did to my suit you bi-polar brute!"

The Sulk frowned and turned red. "SMASH MEAN MAN!"

"Uh-oh."

~~~
More adventures of the Impregnable Lead Man

Awesome Girlfriend

I was out pile-driving stegosauruses for an extreme workout when I heard a scream from somewhere out in the former downtown area. I say "former" because dinosaurs destroyed it after I accidently changed the future.

Anyway, I jumped in my souped-up 1973 Dodge Charger and put pedal to the metal. I found a hot chick being attacked by a pack of velociraptors. I took them out. How? By being awesome.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Carl Awesome: Dinosaur Hunter," I said.

"How appropriate."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Amy Girlfriend."

"How appropriate."

And that's how I got a girlfriend. Awesome out.

~~~
Other Carl Awesome: Dinosaur Hunter stories

A Conversation with Myself

"Did you ever notice that a lot of my 101 word short stories are just conversations?" I asked myself.

I replied, "Yes, I was beginning to notice that. Why do you do that?"

"I've found that 101 words are very limiting. Every word needs to count, and oftentimes to get a fully realized story, descriptions need to be cut down."

"So then why conversations?" I asked knowing the reply.

"Conversations convey a story while letting the reader fill in the gaps with their own imagination! It's magic!"

"One more question: Don't these short conversations usually end on an anti-climatic note?"

"Yes."

The Choice

Once upon a time there was a princess who ruled in place of her bedridden father. She ruled ably, but as her father worsened her burdens increased.

Then one day a wizard appeared before the princess. "I foresee that the king shall surely die tonight, and you shall become queen and your reign shall be long, and you shall be remembered in history centuries from now. Or I can heal your father, and he will live but shall lose his kingdom, and you shall never be queen."

Years later on a quiet mountainside a father and daughter lived happily ever after.

The Museum of Idiots

"This a very interesting piece. It's from the fifth century BC. We believe it to be a 'back-scratcher' used by Socrates himself." The museum curator held up an ordinary looking tree branch. The visitors marveled.

One of the visitors raised a hand, "Are you quite sure that that stick was used by Socrates?"

"Quite."

"And how do you know?"

"Well, his name is carved into it."

"And how do you explain the leaves still clinging to stick?"

The curator chuckled, "Well, because it comes from a tree, and trees have leaves. Duh."

"You just picked that up outside, didn't you?"

". . . Yes."

Hillbilly Philosophy

"'Ey, Jim Bob?"

"Yeah, Cletus?"

"Ya ever think that maybe we hain't lived up ta our po-tan-tial?"

"How ya mean, Cletus?"

"Well, I was thinkin' maybe I shoulda gone on ta second grade. Maybe with an ed-gee-kay-tion I wouldn't be 'worr'in' so much about Mex-ee-kans takin' my jobs."

"That shore is dangerous talk, Cletus. Bein' interspective 'bout yer own short-comin's rather than blamin' others based upon nation o' origin might jus' get ya thrown outta the gentleman's club."

"I know but didn' Gee-zis say, 'Pull the plank outta yer own eye first?'"

"Cletus, I ain't seein' no plank in yer eyes."

Working Undercover for the Man

"Rickie, Frankie," General Whitmore greeted the Clay brothers. Cho-Cho, the brothers' drummer/orangutan, grunted in dissatisfaction. "You, too, Cho-Cho," Whitmore smiled only a second and returned to his expressionless glare.

"We're in the middle of a tour, General," whined Frankie.

"Sorry boys. We have information that Khrushchev has hired an East German assassin to take out Vice President Nixon as he attends your concert tonight. It will be your job to protect the Vice President and eliminate the assassin." Whitmore passed over a photo. "Her name is Heidi Klaus."

"Why do they always have to be pretty?" Rickie asked with a sigh.

~~~
More adventures of The Clay Brothers

The Last Haggle -sketch-

A sketch of the "The Last Haggle." The four children stand by the give way sign (as close as I could get it to what the sign would look like in WWII era Britain), and Timnur the Faun and Deity-Allegory-Lion discuss how best to keep them in Smarnia.

The Last Haggle

Timnur and Deity-Allegory-Lion had a side discussion as the four children waited by the give way sign in the middle of the forest clearing.

"They say they're really not impressed with Smarnia," Timnur said.

"Well did you try to sweeten the deal?" asked Deity-Allegory-Lion.

"I offered them the opportunity to be dukes and duchesses of Smarnia."

"That sounds pretty good. They didn't like that?"

"They said they got an offer from some other fantasy realm to be kings and queens."

Deity-Allegory-Lion cringed, "That will be hard to match."

"So what do we do?"

"How about magical items? Kids like those, right?"

~~~
Illustration

More stories from The Chronicles of Smarnia

Reasonable Doubt

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am frankly embarrassed by my colleague, the prosecuting attorney. You must have proof beyond a reasonable doubt and he's failed to provide that. Forget the overwhelming 'evidence' that my client 'premeditated' the murder of twenty-seven people, the reports of him laughing gleefully as he committed his heinous acts unimaginable to humankind, and the watertight testimony of thirteen independent witnesses. Maybe it was all one big misunderstanding, huh? Maybe it was self defense when he slowly tortured that group of pacifistic Buddhist monks. I don't know. Do you know? That's reasonable doubt right there, buddy."

Entrance

The bar fell silent as the old man walked in. He was a tall man with long white hair and a broad-brimmed hat hid the features of his face. His clothes, while gentlemanly had been well worn and were bespeckled with all manner of long-dried remains of mud and clay. A rifle was strapped to his back.

The bartender motioned to a sign that read Check Firearms at the Door. The man removed the rifle and left it at the door. The bar-patrons returned to their previous engagements and the man sat at the bar. "Whiskey," he ordered without looking up.

The Case of the Clueless Detective

Before Shamrock O'Malley and I lay a man, Mr. Jacob Hathaway, dead in the middle of his study. He had been stabbed in the small of the back with an intricately carved knife of Oriental origin. However, he had been found with all the doors and windows of the study locked from the inside. How could a murder take place within a locked room?

"I'm certainly confounded," I confessed.

"It's elementary, my dear Walton."

"Go on then, Shamrock."

"Space aliens did this. Yes. Space aliens and magic."

I later heard that some upstart from Baker Street actually did solve the case.

Bradypus: King of the Sloths

Professor Cornwall St. Francis had been trekking through the jungles of Panama when he came across a boy hanging in the trees.

"Hello there, young man," cried the professor in the local dialect.

The boy slowly turned his head, "I'm Bradypus, King of the Sloths! I was raised by a pack of sloths after being abandoned by my parents."

"A pack of sloths? You know those are predominantly solitary creatures, right?"

"Silence! Your 'man-logic' confuses and frightens me! Behold as I counter it with what I have learned from my sloth-parents!" Bradypus took a leaf and began to chew it slowly.

The Curious Case of Mr. Sambrook

"I can't believe I've been waiting thirty minutes for an interview."

The manager poked around the corner. "Mr. Sambrook, would you follow me to my office?"

"Sure thing. Finally!"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing . . . Boy, that was close."

The manager turned around, "Do you seriously want this job?"

"What do you mean?"

"You make smart-aleck remarks whenever I say anything."

Mr. Sambrook's face instantly conveyed shock, "Why I never! I'll have you know I have a legitimate medical condition that leaves me unable to internalize my thoughts! Shall I report this disability discrimination to the EEOC?"

"No, sorry, I didn't realize–"

"Jerk."

Marked 'Return to Sender'

My Beloved John,

I have recently taken to walks along the country path we once walked as children. I often sit underneath the large oak tree for hours and think of you.

Mother seems to have finally gotten over her flu. She scared us there for a while. I read to her the parts of your letters asking of her and she smiles.

I pray night and day that this infernal war would come to an end. Not only for peace's sake, but also so I might see you and once again be held in your warm embrace.

Yours Forever,
Jenny

Enter Le French Stereotype

"Stop right there, Le French Stereotype," Lead Man's voice reverberated inside his helmet.

"Sacrebleu!" said a man in a beret and a striped shirt, "You will never stop me, Lead Man! It is too late! Oh-hoh-hoh!"

The two men stood poised on the roof of the Oldies 95 station.

"I have already coupled my 'French-ifying' Ray with le radio tower! Soon all the citizens of St. Louis shall become French wussies! Oh-hoh-hoh!"

"Not on my watch!" Lead Man let fly a fist, but was blocked by a stale piece of French bread.

"You see, I am just full of surprises, non?"

~~~
More adventures of the Impregnable Lead Man

Sketch of Le French Stereotype

Awesome Story

I'm Carl Awesome. I used Professor Brainly's time machine to travel back to dinosaur times. Brainly warned me not to touch anything because it would disrupt the space-time continuum or something like that. I wasn't really paying attention. In retrospect I probably shouldn't have stepped on that primitive mammal . . . or sucker-punched that triceratops. What can I say, though? My name's Awesome. I have a reputation to keep.

So I return and find civilization's on the brink of collapse because now dinosaurs live in our time. Now I'm Carl Extreme Awesome: Dinosaur Hunter. Oh, did I mention my middle name is Extreme?

Willy the Kid

"All right, this is a stick-up! Everybody on the ground!"

"Billy the Kid!" whispers echoed among the small-town bank patrons.

"Willy! I'm Willy the Kid! I was doing this outlawin' stuff before Henry McCarty was in short pants!"

"Then is the 'the Kid' moniker really applicable to you?" asked a random man from the bank crowd.

Willy the Kid growled with anger, but before he could respond the front door of the bank burst open. The sheriff stood there with a shotgun ready.

"All right, Billy the Kid, just come quietly and I will guarantee you a fair trial."

"Willy! Willy!"