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Phils' Book Of Things
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TITLE (EDIT)
Phils' Book Of Things |
DESCRIPTION
Three very short stories taken from the book "Phils' Book of Things"
[762 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Humor |
AUTHOR
Scott Oglesby |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
Scott Oglesby (aka Phil Phillips) surreal humor
[May 2010] |
Phils' Book Of Things
Scott Oglesby
I LIKE IT WHEN MY BRAIN WORKS
Hold a pen up to your eye ......................
... If you’re like me, you’re on your way to the
hospital, with your eyeball in hand, screaming.
Many people would not think to hold the pen to
their eye sideways. These people are called
“geniuses”. With so many I.Q. points floating
around in their heads, you’d think they’d be
walking upside down, but they don’t. They look
just like you and I, but walk amongst us with
many thoughts.
Oh look! There goes one that just thought of
the cure for cancer! But will he share it?
Oh no. For geniuses are very secretive
creatures. They meet together at night in wooded
areas to discuss things like coat hangars and mold.
Sound unintelligent? It most certainly can’t be
if they are talking about them.
One dark and smelly evening, I decided to attend
(read: sneak into) one of their meetings, and
witnessed the mostest bad thing I ever did seen!
They caughted me sneaking in and put a curse
on me that would make me more stupider than
I were!
Well, I’m here to says that it didn’t
not work! I’m stills the same, old Phil that
I was always am! Looks like they isn’t as smarter as they
thought they was! Well, life goes’d on and now
I works for the Burger Barn as their importantest cleaning up man. I’m happier than
I’ve ever were and ..... oh ..... getting
stupiderer ..... moose .....Ummm ...... and
i have toes ....... blue .......
The End
BUYING SHOES
Last summer I bought shoes and said to the man,
“Thanks for the new shoes, shop man!” He smiled
and grinned and thanked me for stopping by.
As a thank you for selling me shoes, I made him
some bacon. He ate it up with his teeth. I thought,
however, that this was just not showing my
gratitude enough.
I shined his bald head with my sleeve and made
him a martini. Then I went to his house and picked
up his family. I brought them to his shoe store
so that he could spend precious time with them.
When I thought that would be enough, I was wrong,
so I built him a summer home in Peru and gave him
a check for $90,000,000,000,001 and one dollar.
I told him it was $90,000,000,000,002. He thanked
me by telling me to leave, so I did. Later that
night around 10 AM, I called him up on the phone
and read him a story about a guy named Phil who
went to buy shoes and was very thankful for them.
He hung up.
Two weeks later I stopped by his house and painted
his car to match my shoes. He must have been grateful
because he cried and pounded his head with his fist.
Then I brushed his dog and watered his driveway.
I gave him another check. This time it was for $1.00
because I had felt guilty for giving him the measly
$90,000,000,000,002 when there were starving shoe
salesman all over the world that had never even seen
$90,000,000,000,002. I think this made him quite happy
because he said the checks bounced. He must have meant
“bounced with happiness in my heart!”
Five weeks later, I returned the shoes.
The End
WHY I LOVE GRANDMA
Grandma Pimples was turning 386 on the exact day
she was born. It was quite a coincidence.
Her family gathered to give her gifts and a cake.
Then they sang “Happy Birthday” and went home.
“So grandma”, I said loudly because she can’t
hear very well, “what did you get for your birthday?”
Grandma ran out of the room quite quickly.
“Where are you going, grandma?”, I asked with a
question. And just as quick as she left, she
returned wearing a sweater made from porcelain
fibers, and high-water pants lined with asbestos.
“I got a sweater and pants!”, grandma exclaimed
with beaming pride. “Oh, grandma!”, I replied,
“You always have things to say!”
Well, needless to say, I shot her and dismembered her body.
I put her remains in a duffle bag and set it on
fire. Then, I dumped her ashes in the toilet
and blew up the toilet. After that, I took the
debris to a Satanic ritual where several naked
women covered in blood rolled around in it.
I sold all of her property and bought drugs,
and demolished her house so I could build a
strip club on the property.
Then grandma came back from the dead in the
form of a dog and ate me.
The End
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2010 Scott Oglesby |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
May 2010 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1459
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