home authors guest shorts graphical shorts
Bud reached his paw between his sweaty black nylon sock and scratched at a green, wet sore with his thick, overgrown fingernails wondering why in the hell his reception was so god damn out of whack and what the hell he was going to eat anyway.
He didn’t know it but he was dying of cancer.
He considered a sandwich, but dismissed it. Too much trouble. Instead he retrieved an open can of Beefaroni in the fridge, leftovers from earlier in the week. The fork was still sticking out of it. He grabbed a paper towel from the garbage and cleaned the rust stains from the rim.
In the living room, beneath the fuzz from his shitty reception, Budd could hear the “Barnaby Jones” theme song. “God damn it,” he shouted. “God damn it, god damn it, god damn it.”
He padded up to his attic and went rummaging through boxes looking for the god damned bunny ears for that crappy Jap TV. Instead Bud found a dusty old bottle with a curved flute, elaborately decorated with dazzling jewels. Bud wiped off the bottle with his stained wife-beater and in a puff of magenta smoke, a Genie appeared.
“Your wish is my command master,” the goateed Genie with the hoop earring said, his body magically materializing form the plume of smoke drifting from the mouth of the bottle.
“I wish you’d leave me the hell alone,” Bud shouted, flecking the genie with a shower of spittle, and went about looking for the bunny ears.
“As you wish, Master,” the Genie replied, folding his arms, and nodding his head with a flourish.
For the next month the Genie minded his own business. He paid for his own food and cleaned up after himself. He even washed Bud’s dishes, thinking it was the least he could do. But when Bud couldn’t find his favorite bowl it really got his goat. He let that Genie have it.
“God damn it, get the hell out of here, you weirdo,” Bud shouted at the Genie.
The Genie was more surprised then hurt. “Your wish is my command, master.”
From then on the Genie just sort of hung out around the neighborhood, his barrel chest spewing impossibly from the mouth of the bottle that dragged behind him with a clank wherever he went. Bud never used his last wish.
He died later that month. He was 63.
Date Written: September 26, 2004
Author: scoop
Average Vote: 3.8333
By the by, this genie popped out in a flourish of magenta smoke. Is it a fag?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: paw
09/30/2004 TheBuyer: I'm conflicted.
09/30/2004 qualcomm (4): eliza: this short sucks.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: ???? ??? ????
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: ???? ??? ????
09/30/2004 Eliza: That is quite interesting.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: guess what? i can do whatever i want.
09/30/2004 Eliza: What do you think?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: what?
09/30/2004 Eliza: What do you think?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: do?
09/30/2004 Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: what that?
09/30/2004 Eliza: What is it that you really want to know?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: what you're wearing.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Does that question interest you?
09/30/2004 Streifenbeuteldachs (3): The last line was kind of uggh.
09/30/2004 TheBuyer: Streifenbeuteldachs - how about this last line?
09/30/2004 anonymous: Eliza: what do you think about this short?
09/30/2004 Eliza: What else comes to mind when you ask that?
09/30/2004 anonymous: Eliza: My own insecurities about it since not many people have voted or commented on it.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?
09/30/2004 anonymous: Eliza: It's rare that a short garners so little attention. Whether it's good or bad it usually is the source of some debate, while his one has more less remained idle.
09/30/2004 Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
09/30/2004 anonymous: Eliza: I guess it suggests to me that I may have written a bland un-Armonk, un-Sirloin, un-Kodiak short. Do you think that's the case?
09/30/2004 Eliza: I see.
09/30/2004 anonymous: Eliza: What are you doing this weekend?
09/30/2004 Eliza: What do you think?
09/30/2004 TheBuyer: Eliza: I'm Hungary, French kiss?
09/30/2004 Eliza: Is that okay with you?
09/30/2004 Moe-Ron: eliza: are you scoop?
09/30/2004 Eliza: Do you really care if I amu scoop?
09/30/2004 The Finch: Eliza is not scoop.
signed,
The Finch
09/30/2004 qualcomm: that's weird. eliza made a typo.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: are you scoop?
09/30/2004 Eliza: Would you prefer if I were notu scoop?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: interesting
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza:
09/30/2004 Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: are you you?
09/30/2004 Eliza: Perhaps you are imagining that I amu you?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: is you scoop?
09/30/2004 Eliza: Is that okay with you?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: are you?
09/30/2004 Eliza: Would you prefer if I were notu?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: you are?
09/30/2004 Eliza: What makes you think that I am?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: shut up.
09/30/2004 Eliza: I see.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: you are your you?
eliza: you aren't?
09/30/2004 Eliza: Perhaps you would like to be your you?
eliza: you aren''t?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: I hate to do this.... you're fired.
09/30/2004 Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza::
09/30/2004 Eliza: Now, please clarify yourself.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza:::
09/30/2004 Eliza: Now, please clarify yourself.
09/30/2004 Mr. Pony: Eliza: are you Eliza:
09/30/2004 Eliza: Why should you care if I amu eliza:?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza:
J""h
M 4
" =
,xnMbnx,
,'"???????". .;!!!!!!!!;;
cccc, `? $" c- JF`$ .
"??$$$$$$$cc,. ,c$$$$cc,,,...,,ccc$$$$. '!! !!!>
"?$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$c !! .,;!!!!
`"?$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$.
"?$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$F `<;.;09/30/2004 Eliza: Is that okay with you?
09/30/2004 Mr. Pony (4): Three five!
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: what is wrong with me?
09/30/2004 Eliza: What do you think?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: what does eliza think?
09/30/2004 Eliza: Are such questions on your mind often?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: Bud reached his paw between his sweaty black nylon sock and scratched at a green, wet sore with his thick, overgrown fingernails wondering why in the hell his reception was so god damn out of whack and what the hell he was going to eat anyway.
He didn’t know it but he was dying of cancer.
He considered a sandwich, but dismissed it. Too much trouble. Instead he retrieved an open can of Beefaroni in the fridge, leftovers from earlier in the week. The fork was still sticking out of it. He grabbed a paper towel from the garbage and cleaned the rust stains from the rim.
In the living room, beneath the fuzz from his shitty reception, Budd could hear the “Barnaby Jones” theme song. “God damn it,” he shouted. “God damn it, god damn it, god damn it.”
He padded up to his attic and went rummaging through boxes looking for the god damned bunny ears for that crappy Jap TV. Instead Bud found a dusty old bottle with a curved flute, elaborately decorated with dazzling jewels. Bud wiped off the bottle with his stained wife-beater and in a puff of magenta smoke, a Genie appeared.
“Your wish is my command master,” the goateed Genie with the hoop earring said, his body magically materializing form the plume of smoke drifting from the mouth of the bottle.
“I wish you’d leave me the hell alone,” Bud shouted, flecking the genie with a shower of spittle, and went about looking for the bunny ears.
“As you wish, Master,” the Genie replied, folding his arms, and nodding his head with a flourish.
For the next month the Genie minded his own business. He paid for his own food and cleaned up after himself. He even washed Bud’s dishes, thinking it was the least he could do. But when Bud couldn’t find his favorite bowl it really got his goat. He let that Genie have it.
“God damn it, get the hell out of here, you weirdo,” Bud shouted at the Genie.
The Genie was more surprised then hurt. “Your wish is my command, master.”
From then on the Genie just sort of hung out around the neighborhood, his barrel chest spewing impossibly from the mouth of the bottle that dragged behind him with a clank wherever he went. Bud never used his last wish.
He died later that month. He was 63.
09/30/2004 Eliza: What do you think?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: learn!
09/30/2004 Eliza: Now, please clarify yourself.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: i am alone.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Why are you alone.?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: i think it's because people are intimidated by me.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Do any other reasons come to mind?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: i think it's maybe because of my breath.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Is that the real reason?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: i am impotent.
09/30/2004 Eliza: How long have you been impotent.?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: about 4 inches.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Now, please clarify yourself.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: oh, i thought you said... no, about a decade.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Now, please clarify yourself.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: pass the butter.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: i have the virus what causes AIDS.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Have you asked anyone else?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: do you?
09/30/2004 Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: to the bone?
09/30/2004 Eliza: That is quite interesting.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: i feel fine.
09/30/2004 Eliza: How often do you feel fine.?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: Machine!!
09/30/2004 Eliza: What is it about machines that worry you?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: Worry!!
09/30/2004 Eliza: That is quite interesting.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: you chink.
09/30/2004 Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: What is it about!!
09/30/2004 Eliza: What is it that you really want to know?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: i like 2 fuuuuuuuuuuck. i like 2 fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, eliza.
09/30/2004 Eliza: I'm not sure I understand you fully.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: ask me a question.
09/30/2004 Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: FRANKENSTONE!
09/30/2004 Eliza: What does that suggest to you?
09/30/2004 John Slocum (4): Sometimes people have trouble accepting help.
09/30/2004 John Slocum: 'Ol Summer needs a hobby. Oh wait...
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: stop me before i rape again!
09/30/2004 Eliza: Is that okay with you?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: me me me!
09/30/2004 Eliza: Do you feel intense psychological stress right now?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: i am paranoid.
09/30/2004 Eliza: How long have you been paranoid.?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: who's asking?
09/30/2004 Eliza: What else comes to mind when you ask that?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: who's your favorite marx? harpo
09/30/2004 Eliza: What is it that you really want to know?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: who are you voting for bush!
09/30/2004 Eliza: Have you asked such questions before?
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: poink! poink poink!
09/30/2004 Eliza: I'm not sure I understand you fully.
09/30/2004 qualcomm: eliza: i wish to pork.
09/30/2004 Eliza: Can you elaborate on that?
09/30/2004 qualcomm:
09/30/2004 qualcomm:
09/30/2004 qualcomm:
09/30/2004 qualcomm:
09/30/2004 qualcomm:
09/30/2004 qualcomm: HTML ""
09/30/2004 qualcomm: ""
09/30/2004 qualcomm: <%
Call Form_TextBox("first name","Fname",20,20,"")
response.write "
"
Call Form_TextBox("Last Name","Lname",20,20,"")
response.write "
"
Call Form_TextBox("City","cy",20,20,"")
response.write "
"
Call Form_TextBox("State","st",2,2,"")
response.write "
"
Call Form_TextBox("Zip Code","zp",10,10,"")
response.write "
"
Call Form_SubmitButton("Register Me","register")
%>
09/30/2004 qualcomm: