Fiction that explores the monsters and strangers among us.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

What is your butt telling you?

My mistake was buying the smart phone. It gets my email, gives me the weather report, provides a map to wherever I’m going, and I can even get ground positioning satellite service from this thing. Oh, and by the way, I can make a phone call with it.

The phone part is the problem. Why don’t they put a flip cover on the smart phones to shut them up?

If you don’t have a smart phone, let me explain. The face of the smart phone, the part that shows the movies, the games, and the websites, also shows you a bunch of buttons you can push when, let’s say, you want to make a phone call.

The problem happens when you slide the little thingy into your hip pocket after you finish your call. The screen touches your pants as it slides in where it belongs, and so buttons get pushed. You’re sitting there minding your own business when your butt starts talking to you.

I hear this soft tin voice coming from the posterior region. “Hello? Dad, is that you?”

Yes, it’s my daughter talking to me from my pocket. When you get past a certain age, you begin to worry when you hear voices speaking out of your butt. Especially voices you recognize. Talk about scary suspense! I didn’t even hear my butt ringing. Thank goodness I didn’t put it on vibrate.

I’ve known for years that sales people are always talking out of their butts, but now they’re talking out of mine. How can you buy anything from a little voice in your pocket?

My daughter works in IT and assures me I’m not the only victim of butt-talk. It's quite common among smart phone users. I'm just sorry the phone's not as smart as my butt.

Butt-talk… will you be next?

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

When Becky Florped

Here's another venture into the world of sci-fi suspense. At least I think it's sci-fi and suspense. Imagine living in an isolated space colony for about a hundred years or thereabouts. Your language evolves as your population lives in isolation. When Becky florped three three times, and Tom grabbed the glinknipper, the conversation went something like this...

“Ouch!” you left the tarnickle exposed again, Becky.
“Twarn’t me. I’ve been busy all day with morkmiter. Why do you think I just florped brinknackly three times.”
Oh, sorry about the pedinkle morkmiter. I was feeding the kerpolusion and forgot about it.
“No prinkmuster. But what about the tarnickle all over the bringbobber?”
“We could just call the pliminator.”
“Too much kerblank. We go through a lot of kerblank these daproms.
If we watch our perniskys, we should be oinkbonker.”
AQ. I can hankrinkle a few daproms without spending a lot of kerblank. I’ll stop eating wormglommers and pishunks.”
“And I’ll stay away from the binkmommer.