Cold Earl Gray

          He sipped on a cup of earl gray tea as he wrote about sipping on a cup of earl gray tea. He had purchased a large cup of the stuff from Harry’s Eatery at about 11 AM in the morning, and at this point, it was far too cold to be enjoyable. He drank it anyway. His pay was minimum wage; he had eight dollars to his name; and the goddamned tea had cost him $2.12.

          When he thought about it, his time was worth $7.25 an hour, which meant his lukewarm earl gray tea was worth 17 ½ minutes of his life. 17 ½ minutes he’d never get back. He wanted to enjoy his goddamned tea because of the 168 hours in a week, he spent 80 of them working at McDonald’s, Burger King, or Wendy’s. He only got to sleep 6 hours each day. He spent 2 hours each day commuting between his three jobs. All of which left him with an average of 4 ½ hours of free time per day. But hey, he needs to pay rent somehow.

           Usually he spent the vast majority of those 4 ½ hours of daily free time doing things like cooking his meals, doing the dishes, taking out the garbage, etc. Really, he had just about maybe half an hour to live with abandon each day. But that cold earl gray tea cost him $2.12 or 17 ½ minutes. He didn’t even have half an hour for himself. He had not even 15 minutes! He was going to enjoy his goddamned tea whether he wanted to or not.


Thoughts of an English Teacher

Clad in his sweater vest, Mr. Maher clapped his hands before the two dozen middle schoolers in his room. He clapped three times. Then he clapped once. Then he clapped three times again. It was a ridiculous thing to do and an even more desperate attempt to capture their goldfish like attention spans, but for some reason it worked. It worked every freakin’ time. It was magical.

“Okay class, for this chapter we’re going to try something a little different. I’m going to split you guys up into groups of four-”

“Mr. Maher!” Julie’s hand shot up with vigor.

“Yes, Julie?”

“I’m not a guy.”

“It was colloquial.”


“It’s an expression, nevermind. I’m going to split you guys and girls up into groups of four as we study this next unit on Shakespeare. Each person’s going to read one of the sections for homework, and you’ll each discuss your notes in class the next day. That way you don’t have to read the whole chapter.”

The students seemed delighted by that fact. A quarter of the reading sounded far less tedious. Alex raised his hand. “Mr. Ma-HARE!”

Mr. Maher rolled his eyes. Yes, he knew his name looked a bit confusing to say on paper, but he made it very clear on the first day of class that it was pronounced ‘MAR.’ Alex had purposefully butchered his name that fateful morning in September, and admittedly, Mr. Maher had given a small chuckle at the joke. HUGE MISTAKE! Alex never stopped calling him that. Sure it was a little funny the first time, but halfway through the school year and a thousand beatings to a brutally murdered horse later, Mr. Maher called on every ounce of self-control in his being to keep himself from strangling Alex’s shit-eating grin off his face.  It was okay though. Mr. Maher was banging Alex’s mom.

Accustomed to receiving a perfect report card, Ms. Richardson must have been aghast to see the bold F in English for her precious son. Not long afterwards, Ms. Richardson invited Mr. Maher to dinner one evening to see what measures could be taken to help improve her little Alexander’s grades. He wanted to go to Harvard, you know. Amazingly, Alex saw huge improvements on his essays and tests. He won the award for Most Improved in English at the end of the year.

With a groan, Mr. Maher called upon the little shit. “Yes Alex?”

“Can we choose our own groups?”

“No. No, you cannot choose your own groups.”

“Why not?”

Because then you would just pair up with your friends and do nothing but fuck off all day. “Because you guys will need-”

Julie’s hand shot up.

“Because you guys and girls will need to learn how to work with different types of people.”

“What if I don’t like the people I have to work with, Mr. Ma-HARE?” Alex asked.

Tough shit, you little fuck. “Very often, usually, if not always, you will not like the people you have to work with.”

“Do you like the people you have to work with, Mr. Maher?” Katie asked.

The young English teacher in his mid twenties sighed as his shoulders fell about an inch or so. “Katie, you’re gonna be in group 3.”

The Unicorn and the Olive Tree

One day a Unicorn had fallen in love with an Olive Tree. The Olive Tree was very shy at first, but the Unicorn thought that the Olive Tree was incredibly sexy. It had so many curves that the Unicorn’s horn stood up straight as soon as it saw the Olive Tree. Intelligent people will note that a Unicorn’s horn is always standing straight, but if they are so intelligent, have they ever even seen a Unicorn with their own two eyes? No? Well than they’re arrogant, ignorant bigots who promote a stereotypical objectification of Unicorns. People who have actually seen Unicorns in person will testify that Unicorn horns are normally very floppy and often much shorter than expected. Unicorns will typically only display tall, sharp, pointy horns when they are very aroused. The reason why Unicorns are depicted as such is because the first man to illustrate a Unicorn was really into bestiality. Narwhals, on the other hand, have constantly sharp horns. This is because Narwhals are Whores.

The Olive Tree also found the Unicorn attractive, but their love was forbidden because there was a massive war between the Unicorn Nation and the Olive Tree Kingdom. Even though their parents forbid it, the Unicorn and the Olive tree eloped to the one place in the world where they would be accepted for who they are, Portland, Oregon. The Unicorn and the Olive Tree campaigned for interficticious animal and arboreal marriage equality rights, but were struck down in the Supreme Court. They had a small ceremony in their neighbor’s backyard anyway. They eventually had children, little olive trees that sprouted tiny Unicorns that tasted like Nature Valley Granola Bars. The two grew old together until a tragic surfing incident when the Olive Tree was bitten by a shark. The Olive Tree immediately fell in love with the Shark and engaged in a lengthy affair that destroyed their marriage and devastated their children. Then the Unicorn died of a broken heart. The Olive Tree attended the funeral, but this was because the Olive Tree was chopped down and used to make the Unicorn’s casket. And that is why olives are an integral facet of Greek heritage.


There once lived a fearsome caterpillar named Jonathan thousands of years ago, and Jonathan ate a dozen nuclear submarines every evening for breakfast because he thoroughly enjoyed the taste of Uranium. It reminded him of Chocolate Cream Pie, but nuclear submarines were very hard to find in the Oak tree he lived in, especially in the 2nd century B.C. In fact, this caterpillar hadn’t eaten a nuclear submarine in its entire life. Jonathan was just a poser. Jonathan didn’t have any friends – but not because he was a poser. Jonathan didn’t have any friends because he was a caterpillar, and it is common knowledge that caterpillars are incapable of forming deep lasting relationships. The best they could ever hope for are acquaintances. Jonathan, however, didn’t have any acquaintances either because he was a poser. This upset Jonathan greatly, and so he set off on a quest to supply his nuclear submarine diet. Enlisting the help of an Egyptian Kangaroo and an olive tree, Jonathan developed a time machine that could transport him into the future, but Jonathan forgot to discover the fact that the Earth revolves around the Sun. When he exited the time machine, Jonathan’s body imploded due to the absence of atmospheric pressure, and his mutilated remains instantaneously froze in the near absolute zero temperatures of space. Thus was the story of Jonathan.


        In a very distant and far, far away land known as the United States, there once lived a shoemaker named Schlaschleschlischloschlu. Schlaschleschlischloschlu was a failed abortion, and his parents named him Schlaschleschlischloschlu in hopes that he would commit suicide at an extremely young age because children are very expensive investments. Growing up, everyone made fun of Schlaschleschlischloschlu, but not because of his incredibly strange name. Everyone made fun of Schlaschleschlischloschlu’s incredibly large ears that extended to his ankles and his unusual habit of wiggling those ears in a fashion that caused his inexplicably long ear lobes to jiggle like the derriere of a thick, busty Brazilian night club dancer. Schlaschleschlischloschlu was also particularly unpopular because he always insisted on being called Schlaschleschlischloschlu in its entirety, but everybody just called him Samantha. Schlaschleschlischloschlu really hated being called Samantha, and he would often act in an unnecessarily aggressive manner towards anyone who called him that. However, everyone called him that. Usually a conversation with Schlaschleschlischloschlu went something like this.

         “Hey Samantha, how’s it going?”

         “My name is Schlaschleschlischloschlu.”

         “Right… I’m going to leave now.”

         “Go fuck yourself in the asshole with a rusty, tetanus-ridden garden rake, and then shove that rake down your mother’s whore throat before shredding her internal organs into a meaty paste of intestines, Jerry.”

         “Woah. That was uncalled for, Samantha.”

         Schlaschleschlischloschlu proceeded to use his inexplicably long ear lobes to constrict Jerry’s arms and strangle his neck as if he had tentacles sprouting from the sides of his head like something out of the dream of a strange 32 year old American man who lived in his parents basement and spent 18 hours a day watching Japanese television cartoon shows for children while dressed in an extra extra large sized My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic limited edition Twilight Sparkle costume. The police quickly arrived at the scene and arrested Schlaschleschlischloschlu for murder, but when the trial occurred, the court registry couldn’t fit Schlaschleschlischloschlu’s name onto the official record because his last name was Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. His great grandmother was Mary Poppins. Because they couldn’t fit Schlaschleschlischloschlu Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious onto the record, the judge decided to sentence Schlaschleschlischloschlu Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious to a Seaworld Aquarium Tank for the next 25 years. Schlaschleschlischloschlu Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious was forced to survive on fish and tread water for 25 consecutive years. Schlaschleschlischloschlu Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious quickly became Seaworld’s most popular attraction because people often mistaked him for a horribly deformed squid on account of his horribly deformed ears. Unfortunately Schlaschleschlischloschlu Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious died a day before his release was scheduled. And so the moral of the story is to always clean up after your pets when you bring them to the park.