StrugglingWriter's Stories

Who Teaches the History Teachers

2007-07-05T18:56:20Z

I had never noticed how sexy Anna’s index finger was, but as I saw it curled around the trigger of my grenade launcher I nearly forgot about our impending doom. As I was picturing those slender digits in some black Isotoners, Seth interrupted.

“Well, what about the aliens?” said Seth, searching for a flaw in our story, clutching to the what was left of his of his world view.

“Think back to junior high school,” I said, trying to calm my brother. “Did you ever notice your history teacher was a little off?”

“Mr. Scaney was a little strange,” answered Seth, nodding his head.

“Of course he was,” I said. “And if we asked a hundred people the same question, ninety-nine of them would have a similar answer. That’s because your teacher and everyone else’s was not of this Earth. Mr. Scaney was an alien.”

“But why?” said Seth.

“You ever hear of The Watchers?” I said. “You know, the dudes with the big heads from the comics? These aliens are like that, only they like to mess with us. And they hate Canadians.”

It's Always Canada

2007-07-03T20:51:33Z

“Have you checked his office?” I said, removing the current issue of Mad Magazine from my forehead.

“Come again?” answered Seth, my brother, and information getter.

“Your ferret,” I replied. “Have looked for him in his office?”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” said Seth, rubbing the back of his scrawny pale neck. “Where’s his office again?”

“I’m surprised you don’t even know where your own pet’s office is,” I said, pointing to the tall closet in the corner near the window. “And don’t look at me like that. He likes it in there. Says it helps him concentrate.”

Seth slowly opened the closet door, finding Sammy staring intently at the stress ball that I had given him a few Christmases past. Only now did I remember the ball was a miniature globe.

“How’s it going buddy?” said Seth nervously.

Sammy did not look up.

“There’s some aliens asking for you,” Seth continued, his voice trailing.

Sammy shot a glance at me then back to the ball and it all became clear.

“It’s Canada,” I said, reaching for my pistol.

Being Dead Ain't So Bad

2007-06-19T18:48:57Z

Seth opened his shirt, pressed the Automated External Defibrillator to his chest, and pushed the shock button, sending an electric current into his heart. In college, Seth had tried the most popular drugs, but nothing could match the high he felt as his heart began to pulse in his chest. In that brief moment Seth felt alive.

Seth wasn’t sure of much, but he knew he wasn’t a zombie. Not once had he felt the desire to eat anyone’s brain nor grunt or moan. He had noticed himself walking in an undead shuffle, but figured the loss of mobility was because his left foot was ready to fall off.

Replacing the machine in its case, Seth hurried on, knowing the AED ’s audible instructions would draw unwanted attention. Seth avoided leaving his house during the day, and not just because the hot summer sun sped up the rotting process. He was simply in no mood to talk to anyone.

By and large, Seth felt no desire to seek answers about his condition. As it were, those answers were about to find him.

The War Escalates

2007-06-15T20:56:12Z

“Schmergins, send them all we’ve got,” said General Boggins.

“Sir?” answered Schmergins.

“You heard me,” said Boggins. “Didn’t you see that blip on the radar a moment ago? General Crummel thinks he can pull a fast one on me by sending a spy. He broke our agreement, and I won’t have that.”

“It could’ve been anything, Sir,” said Schmergins, slithering away from his boss. “We don’t know it was sent by them.”

“Would you like to investigate for yourself?” said Boggins, the color in his face changing from its normal green to red. “It wouldn’t be too hard to strap you to a missile and give you a first-hand look. Open a channel to engineering for me.”

“Uh, that won’t be necessary Sir,” said Schmergins. “Launching everything we’ve got.”

“Good man,” said Boggins. “I just wish I could see the look on Crummel’s face.”

Peering in the direction of the first rocket launch, Mitch began his sprint across No-Wijmer’s-Land as the hatch opened once more.

“If something’s coming out, something’s going in.”

Civil War on an Unknown Planet

2007-06-14T17:43:13Z

One was to take certain precautions when visiting a planet that had yet to be documented by the Federation of Space Travelers. Were the natives friendly to humans? Was there oxygen available or would one have to rely on a respirator? Most importantly, where was the nearest Pub?

Mitch knew none of these things as he began his descent towards the glowing landing strip, flashing the Spee-Lunker’s headlights in the universal sign of peace. He had visited thousands of undocumented planets and never once had a problem, save for the time he nearly made love to the President of Ecabosh Alpha’s beloved house pet. Species confusion aside, Mitch had no reason to believe this pit-stop would be any different.

A mile above the landing pad Mitch first noticed the ground surrounding the landing site was completely charred. “Must be some type of protective shield,” he thought as he ejected from his ship, too close to the ground to pull up. Ship gone, Mitch was about to find himself stranded in the middle of a civil war.

Answers? (Asbestos Part 3)

2007-06-05T17:06:41Z

“Anything you’d like to tell me, like why there’s a phone inside our apartment wall and how the dude on the other line knew our names?” I said shifting my legs to keep them from sticking to the plastic interior of the VW Bus.

“How about the phone has been in that location since the beginning of time, and they built the building around it?” said Julia shifting into third.

“And the dude?” I said, curious to hear what else Julia could imagine.

“The dude is a friend who has always been here and always will be and he could use our help,” said Julia turning toward me with those glowing green eyes. “Tell you what, I’ll buy you a drink if you stop asking questions.”

“Fine. Whatever,” I said as we pulled up to Stinky’s Pub. Even if it wasn’t part of my programming, there was no way I could ever say no to her, a fact Julia never failed to exploit.

“Hello Asbestos,” said Julia with a smile on her face and a tear in her eye as we entered the pub.

“Welcome back,” replied the soft voice at the end of the bar.

Strange Things are Afoot at The Rusty Tailpipe

2007-05-09T18:10:20Z

It was about a mile walk to the bar, and by the time Sam arrived he was tired and thirsty. Sam hadn’t walked a mile since his senior in high school, when he and Roy Sands had a competition to see who could “run” the mile the slowest. Their gym teacher stopped keeping track after a half hour.

As he opened the door to The Rusty Tailpipe, Sam couldn’t help but notice the bicycle parked outside the establishment looked nearly identical to the one the little boy was riding, though this one appeared considerably older. “Couldn’t be,” Sam thought to himself.

Jonathan Spokes was sitting at the bar, sipping on a fuzzy navel, reading the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Resting on the bar to his right was the time machine. “Ah, Sam, right on time,” said Spokes. “Have a seat.”

“Spokes,” said Sam, sitting beside the old man. “If I wasn’t so tired I’d kick your butt. What’s going on?”

“Two lagers for my friend,” said Spokes motioning to the bartender. “And you, drink up. You may enjoy my little story better that way.”

Time Keeps on Slippin'

2007-05-01T16:52:33Z

A few yards up the road Sam noticed a boy no more than 10 years old riding a bicycle with a metal halo on his head.

“Hey kid, where’d you get that?” said Sam jogging toward the boy.

“I wanted a bike for Christmas but Mom said we didn’t have any money so then I asked for it for my birthday but she said no again but then she got a new boyfriend and they told me they wanted me to play outside so then..” said the kid.

“Not the bike,” said Sam. “The thing on your head.”

“Oh, I found it over there,” said the boy pointing at the stoop outside Amy’s apartment. “It’s my new helmet. It’s way cooler than my old one.”

“Yeah, well it’s mine,” said Sam reaching lunging toward the kid. “Didn’t your Mom ever tell you about stealing?”

“Gotta catch me first,” said the boy as he began riding circles around Sam. “Hey, what does this button do?”

“No! Don’t!” said Sam, but it was too late. The child was gone.

Dejected, Sam started the long walk into town. “Never too early to start drinking,” he thought to himself.

Talking to Oneself (Moved)

2007-04-23T18:01:37Z

Ribs bruised and head pounding, Sam struggled to suppress his whimpers of pain, drawing on the times he “played WWF ” with his older brother. The last thing Sam wanted was for Amy to see that his future self was just as weak as his past self.

“Look what you did to my shoe,” said Todd, amazed that Sam was still conscious. “I think I scuffed it on your face.”

“Hello Todd,” replied Sam. “Nice to see they let you out for some fresh air and they even let you take off the muzzle. Could you do me a favor and hold it down a little.”

“Why?” said Todd. “You stalking my baby sister now, too?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Todd, weighing his options with the remaining 10% of his brain that hadn’t been jostled by the meathead’s hoof. “Please don’t tell your sister right now.”

“You wait here,” said Todd, shoving Sam to the ground as he opened Sarah’s front door. Moments later, Sam heard shouting, a struggle, and saw the door open.

“Over here,” said Sam, grabbing his past self as he ran out of the apartment. “We need to talk.”

Talking to Oneself

2007-04-20T20:36:49Z

“Look what you did to my shoe,” said Todd, amazed that Sam was still conscious. “I think I scuffed it on your face.”

“Hello Todd,” replied Sam. “Nice to see they let you out for some fresh air and they even let you take off the muzzle. Could you do me a favor and hold it down a little.”

“Why?” said Todd. “You stalking my baby sister now, too?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Todd, weighing his options with the remaining 10% of his brain that hadn’t been jostled by the meathead’s hoof. “Please don’t tell your sister right now.”

“You wait here,” said Todd, shoving Sam to the ground as he opened Sarah’s front door. Moments later, Sam heard shouting, a struggle, and saw the door open.

“Over here,” said Sam, grabbing his past self as he ran out of the apartment. “We need to talk.”

A Call to Himself becomes A Bogus Journey

2007-04-17T19:43:29Z

As Sam was about to knock on Amy’s front door, he noticed through the open curtains his past self sitting on the couch with Amy. “Of course,” Sam thought. “Here’s where I tell her we should see other people.” Sam hadn’t really wanted to see other people, but it wasn’t really his choice.

Hoping to stop himself from making a huge mistake, Sam pulled out his phone and dialed his own number, wondering if the call would qualify as mobile-to-mobile and on what month’s bill the call would appear.

“I thought I told you to stay away from her?” said a voice behind Sam, causing him to drop his phone. “You stupid or somethin’?”

Sam’s stomach tightened as he turned to face his worst nightmare: Amy’s older brother Todd.

“Remember the sandbag”, Sam thought as he looked skyward, recalling a trick he had seen in Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey. Nothing happened.

A swift punch to the gut followed by a size 14 cowboy boot to the ribs confirmed what Sam had feared: not everything you see in a Keanu Reeves film is real.

Destiny and Time

2007-04-15T02:21:48Z

“You believe in destiny, sonny?” said Jonathan Spokes as Sam closed the passenger side door, placing the time machine on the seat.

“Never really gave it much thought,” said Sam, “though if there’s someone out there mapping my future, he sure has a sadistic sense of humor. Why?

“Destiny doesn’t just happen, sonny,” said Spokes. “Sometimes it needs a little nudge to get going in the right direction. That’s where I come in. What would you say to that?”

“Well, today I’ve witnessed a notebook writing in itself, had a newspaper from the future inform me I was married, and traveled through time to avoid an explosion. You could tell me the tooth fairy’s real and I’d probably be cool with that. What’s that got to do with me?”

“We need you to make things right with that girl,” said Spokes.

“Amy?” asked Sam.

“We’re here.” said Spokes bringing the truck to a stop.

“Amy’s house?” said Sam. “You gotta be kidding me.” Approaching the front door, Sam was so furious he failed to notice his own car in the driveway.

Let's Travel Through Time

2007-04-13T18:57:58Z

“Jon Spokes. Got it”, said Sam. The old man was clearly senile and Sam was not interested in small talk. Besides, it was common knowledge that things in Franklin tended to go from inert to explosive without warning, and sure enough avoiding things blowing up was at the top of Sam’s to-do list. To put it succinctly, he wanted to get the heck out of Dodge.

Climbing into his car, placing the time machine on the passenger’s side seat, Sam couldn’t help but think about how nice Amy had looked that day. She always was cute when she was angry, Sam thought to himself. Maybe that’s why I always mad her mad.

A few miles out of town, a large ball of fire heading his way, Sam quickly opened the cardboard box. Grabbing the time machine, Sam placed the flashing metal halo on his head and pushed the GO button, neglecting to notice the display on the dial: -2 weeks.

A flash of light and a searing headache later, and Sam was on his journey through time, a journey which threatened to change the course of human history.

The Bunny Slippers are Key

2007-04-12T17:06:33Z

“Oh, I get it,” I said. “Cookie is obviously the name of some giant alien spaceship bent on the destruction of the Earth, right?”

“No, the cookie is pretty much just a cookie,” answered my feline companion. “Chocolate chip I believe.”

“Oatmeal raisin, actually,” replied the snake. “And if we don’t stop it we’re all dead.”

“Should I worry about any other baked goods, maybe a croissant or evil cheese danish?” I asked.

“No, just the cookie this time,” said the pigeon with what I imagine was his version of a straight face.

“Well, then. What’s our next step?” I said, realizing there was no point in trying to understand what was going on. If fighting an alien cookie would get the talking animals out of my apartment, that’s what I would do.

“Let’s go to Yankee Stadium and talk to the boss.” said the snake. ”’e’ll know what to do.”

“One more thing,” said the snake pointing to my feet with his tail as we were about to leave the apartment. “You’ll need to take those off and put on the bunny slippers.”