In my fantasy, I will buy scissors. So many pairs, perhaps a wheelbarrow full of them. A vanload? Way more scissors than any person has ever owned.

In every cupboard, in every drawer and on every surface in my house, you will find at least one pair of scissors. There will be scissors hanging from the walls, scissors hanging from the ceiling. Anywhere you look in any room, you will see scissors...

Then I wait.

I know The Moment won’t present itself immediately. It could take days, weeks even. But when The Moment arrives, oh boy, I’m ready.

Whatever it is, an envelope, a bag of candy, a dangling string… On that day I simply reach out and grab me a pair of scissors. It will be beautiful.

Surely they can’t all have vanished?

#irony #sarcasm #sardonic #everydayproblems

Long story short, I did shoot the sheriff. I waited outside the station until everyone else had left (Or so I thought), went in, and blasted a shot square in his chest.

Poor sheriff, didn´t even have time for a quick “What the—“.

You know that sweet sound of a pump-action shotgun, click-clack, followed by the hollow thud of the empty shell hitting the floor. I cherished the moment. The smell of gun powder was intoxicating, the smell of blood not so much.

The sheriff twitched for a while, and I merely observed. It was only then when I realized I wasn´t alone. Deputy Paulson was standing by the filing cabinet, his hand still inside it. Frozen, scared shitless (or so I thought). How unfortunate for Paulson, since I had no beef with him. I sighed and pointed the barrel at him. I remember thinking should I say something like, “Sorry dude, nothing personal”, but didn´t. Instead I waited for him to say something. I was expecting “Please”, “Wait”, “Don´t”, or even “I have a family”.

Go on dipshit, work me up, say something annoying to make this easier. But he didn´t. What came out of his mouth took me completely by surprise:

“I´ll give you a head start”

What? Now this I did not see coming. He wasn´t blinking.

“Five minutes. After that I´m coming at you with everything I´ve got. I´m talking bloodhounds and helicopters. You´ll hang for this.”

Check out the balls on Paulson. Who knew? I was in awe, I always figured him for a sissy.

“I´d take the opportunity if I were you. The clock is ticking, when it hits nine, you´ll be the most wanted man in the state. “

Well played Paulson, I could only smile. Talk about a game changer. I gave him one courteous nod, and simply left. He was pushing it, but I heard him say one more thing: “Make it a good one, you hear!”

Now I laughed out loud. So I didn´t shoot the deputy. Was that the biggest mistake of my life? Yeah, but the thing is, I´d do it again in a heartbeat.

It´s hard to explain, but I guess you could call it respect. Also, it takes one to know one. I´d bet a whole lot, he too would score well on the Levinson scale.

Within an hour, I was back at the station, only this time cuffed and severely beaten up. Still I couldn´t help it, but laugh. They hadn´t even bagged the old man yet, and I was already behind bars. Paulson was true to his word. He gave me the head start as promised, and every road out of town was blocked. Poor planning on my behalf, granted. I didn´t even bother to try and shoot my way out. Paulson was disappointed. He is now the sheriff by the way, and I hear he rules with an iron glove. I´d expect nothing less from him. There´s a lethal injection coming my way soon. See if I give a shit, I´m funny that way.

#crime #killer #sheriff #shotgun #death #murder

I was on a mission. This was not just another fishing trip, this was about vengeance. This was about retribution, and I would not come back defeated. There was a good chance I would not come back at all.

Old Satan, they called it. A pike supposedly a hundred years old, or more. Considered an urban legend by some, but I knew better. It had haunted my very existence for the last twenty years, but today it would all end.

You see, I had seen Old Satan eye to eye. I had watched helpless, as the dreaded beast jumped in the boat, and swallowed dad whole. “Save yourself” were his last words, although I´m pretty sure I heard a muffled “Avenge my death, son!” coming from inside the fish as it plunged back into the depths of Lake Ghastly. To this day I swear, the fish looked at me as if saying: You´re next…

Old Satan was easily a 400-pound giant then, and I dared not imagine how much it had grown over these years. All I knew was, that I couldn´t afford to underestimate my nemesis. On this day, I came prepared. Apart from the usual fishing gear, I was armed with a 12-gauge shotgun and 100 rounds of ammo. I had five hand grenades, ten sticks of dynamite, a bazooka, and a 38 Smith&Wesson for a sidearm, just in case.

My boat was a 25-footer, with a motor considered illegal for inland waters. In the worst case scenario, I would have to drag the damn beast for hours, and I needed the sufficient horse power for that. I felt secure, but by no means safe.

The day was serene. The surface of Lake Ghastly was as smooth as it had ever been. There was an eerie sensation, of being lured into a trap, but I couldn´t let fear overcome me. As I started the engine, I knew there was no going back. Today, only one of us would come back alive. Me or the fish. Except of course, that the fish would not be coming back from anything in any case, it would simply continue living even if I was dead.

For bait, I had brought a 220lb shark from a previous fishing trip. Sharks are easy, and over the years I had mastered the art of catching shark with karate. As usually not found in inland waters, a shark is a rare and irresistible treat for a pike. Knowing this, I had also brought a couple of barrels of shark blood meant to be used as a lure.

Before the main event, I did a little “normal” fishing. Before long, I had caught me an average 45-pound pike, which I had no intention of keeping. “Go”, I said looking it squarely in the eye. “I have no beef with you. Go, and tell your master I have come. He´ll know.”

And it did. I knew it understood every word, now was the time.

The hook was the biggest ever made for fishing. I had had it done in Japan, by the master Sensei Hakamuro. It was hand crafted out of finest steel, melted from the swords of a hundred heroes, forged in dragon´s fire, and hammered into perfection by 12 chosen students of ancient blacksmithery. It had taken Hakamuro more than a year, but it was a debt of honor to my father, who had saved Hakamuro´s life in the war all those years ago. I wowed not to bring shame upon him, or to my father. I also promised to invite him over for some tasty fish soup, once the ordeal was done.

Now the shark was hooked, the hook attached to special-strength diamond wire, and the wire secured tightly to a crane capable of lifting up to 10000 tons. Hook, line and sinker.

All I had to do now was wait. Or so I thought—

It didn´t attack straight away, first it decided to mock me. There was a splash, and the aforementioned 55-pound practice fish dropped in my lap, its neck twisted grotesquely backwards. A message. I knew I only had a moment to respond. If I could only reach my shotgun… but I was too late. Even if I am the fastest man alive, the speed of Old Satan astounded even me. The diamond wire yanked, damn near tipping the boat over. There came a suction sound not of this earth, and with that the wire was released. As the boat splashed back to its regular horizontal position, the hook also came back. A useless piece of metal, that apparently meant nothing to the creature. Old Satan had simply sucked the shark out of it, as you might enjoy a cocktail olive, and returned the hook unusable. This was personal alright.

Nothing had prepared me for what happened next.

Old Satan started circling around the boat, and it was then when I realized the boat simply wasn´t big enough. My God the fish was huge, I wish you´d seen it. The shotgun felt like a joke now. How in the world could I ever have dreamt of taking on this beast?

As it settled itself in front of the boat, I understood its plans. It meant to eat the boat whole, and I had no means of stopping it.

It was laughing as it bit in, I can still hear that laugh in my dreams. With only a single bite, it had swallowed the bow already. I took the 38 and fired all six straight between its eyes, but the bullets merely ricocheted off its thick skull. What was I thinking, bringing a knife to a gunfight?

With the second swallow, the boat was 2/3 in the fish. I had barely started, but the giant behemoth was almost finishing. This was not going according to plan at all, but luckily I´m good at thinking on my feet.

With only a third of the boat left to go, I knew what I had to do. Without contemplating, I opened both shark blood-barrels, and jumped. This was madness, I knew it would easily outswim me after eating the boat, but it was the only way.

The beast devoured the boat as easily as you might enjoy a marshmallow. I was left now helpless on water, with nothing but a flare gun as my aide. I could see the tail of the boat sticking out of Old Satan´s mouth, with two barrels of shark blood barely visible.

We all know just how flammable shark blood is. I had only one shot, but luckily I was an Olympian athlete, and an army marksman, so I needed only one. The flare hit the other barrel exactly where supposed to, causing a deadly chain reaction. The blood ignited like gasoline, setting fire to the grenades and the dynamite.

Old Satan had a split second of regret as it understood. Its eyes seemed to say: “No wait”, but the time to wait had gone. “See you in Hell” I said as the dreaded beast exploded. Blood, scales and fish guts flew everywhere, and with that, Lake Ghastly was free of its curse. As if thanking me, the inhabitants of the lake came to my aid, and escorted me to the shore. The gulls and the fish came and feasted themselves on the remains of their oppressor for a hundred years. I wish I had had a camera.

So, in the end there is very little evidence of Old Satan´s gory defeat, or that the fish even existed. Even the 80-pound practice fish was destroyed in the explosion. I know some of you won´t believe me, but that´s ok. I know, and that is enough for me. The debt has been settled, and I know dad is up there somewhere, smiling and saying: “You did well son”.

#danger, #deadly, #fishing, #humor, #odd

The goblin was furious and wanted to attack me. But he couldn´t, since I had beaten him fair and square.

“Double or nothing?” it said.

“How would that work exactly? If you win, you eat me twice, or what?”

“No… shut up. You know what I mean. I deserve another chance”

The goblin deserved nothing, but in a victorious frenzy, I accepted.

“Ok, hit me”

The goblin smiled, and was visibly salivating. He went for, what was sadly his best.

“A relative of yours, but only for the smallest amount of time?”

Too easy.

“A second cousin. Now fuck off!”

It did. I almost felt sorry for the poor thing.

#goblin, #riddle, #fairytale, #humor

He was Really handsome. He had that certain confidence that would show in little things. A good hard stare, and a firm handshake, served with a smile. Oh, and smooth parallel parking, just outside the restaurant, where there seemed to be a spot waiting just for them.

His presence demanded attention. When they entered the restaurant, the staff was just short of groveling before them, like he was someone famous. Was he, she would have to find out?

She had red wine, he had ice-tea, since he was driving. Now she could add responsible to the list. He said he enjoyed a good brandy, or quality-whisky every now and again, but not to excess. She dropped by the restroom before the meal, and took a pill. In fifteen minutes or so, all the tension went away. Soon she was relaxed, and just riding this wave. He was the captain, and she felt secure on this ride.

The food was delicious. He encouraged her to try new things she would never have touched on her own. She had been missing out on so much. He didn´t check out the waitress’s ass, and seemed to have eyes only for her. Everything was great. While he popped to the restroom, she popped another pill. She had almost finished the whole bottle of red, and felt terrific.

Then there was the sad story. He had almost been married once, but his fiancé had developed an aggressive cancer and died in just three months. He told this matter-of-factly, but she could hear his voice crack a bit nearing the end. She just wanted to hold him, and tell him it will be all right. After that, he had lost interest in dating, and this was his first in three years.

He ran his own company, and made a really good living. Just how good, she wanted to know, but couldn´t really ask. He knew this, and casually showed her a photo of himself petting his dog on his front lawn. The house was huge. She pretended not to pay attention to the house, and complimented the dog.

His real passion was to be a novelist. He had just completed his first novel, and was now talking to two publishing houses, but who knew, it could go either way.

He paid, and tipped generously. The staff just about threw rose petals before them on their way out. They all knew him by his name. Was he famous, she should really find out?

When he dropped her by her house, she was more than ready to welcome him in. Just say the right words, don´t hesitate, don´t ask, just put your hand in my hair and kiss me. Instead, he said:

“You know, I don´t know the etiquette, so I´m just gonna flat out say it. I like you, and I want to see you again”

He was not even planning to come in, and this was wonderfully confusing. There was that odd second when she wondered had she done something wrong, but then realized he had just stated wanting to see her again.

She gave him her number.

“That three-day rule is crap by the way. I´ll call you tomorrow,” he said and drove off. She only just noticed the car was really expensive.

When she got in her apartment, she was tingling all over. She poured some more wine.

She started to picture their life together. Would they get married? They would make an awesome couple, and maybe the dog would learn to like her too. She just knew what their wedding photo would look like. A pity those moments don´t last forever, things always get sour. Maybe he would become cold and evasive at some point? Would his farts smell? Is he a snorer?

She found herself thinking about happy endings. A movie can end in a happy note, but real life never does. Everything always ends in tears. People get divorced and have bitter custody battles. In this case, their son would look up to the father, and would want to stay with him. Then she would be left alone again. This time maybe nearing fifty, who would want her then anymore?

Even if they had a happy marriage, he would die. Men always die before the women, leaving us alone.

What´s the use? Why can´t life end in a perfect frame, in a perfect melody, like it does in a movie? This had been a perfect date, perhaps even a perfect day. It dawned on her, this could be the peak of her life, and from here it would be a dull journey downhill.

She could keep her dignity. She could end this story on a happy note. Before realizing, she was already holding a handful of pills. Maybe fifteen or so. Today was the 15th. She´d lost virginity at 15.

She opened the good bottle of red. The one she had been saving for something special.

Thinking of happy endings always made her sad. But she wasn´t crying, and didn´t want to. She just wanted to feel nothing. Why does happiness make you sad?

Soon the palm of her hand was empty. The bottle was still half full, which made her wonder why she thought of it half full, not half empty. Now she was in that place, where she felt nothing. No tears, no joy, no fear of tomorrow. Then she went to bed, and never woke up again.

#suicide, #depression

My only encounter with a rune bear was as a young man, in Norway. As we know, Norway is the capital of Poland, located just 16 miles east of Ipswich. But then again, those were happier days.

This particular specimen was a hermaphrodite. I could tell straight away since it had both, the male and female genitalia. This is not uncommon, but then again, not entirely not uncommon in the general sense of how we perceive common. This was not the biggest creature I have ever seen, but in direct relation to its own size, it was fairly large. Much bigger than a matchbox, but distinctly smaller than an aircraft carrier. A matchbox can be considered much more dangerous than a rune bear, since a matchbox can be used to set an entire forest on fire. Rune bears don´t work that way. Their heads don´t light up if you rub them to a rough surface in an attempt to generate friction. Much like a hot dog, which is a type of food, and not a species of animal at all.

I decided to name this rune bear after my uncle Jim. So my uncle Jim named it first, and then I named it. Herchibald felt like a good choice, since it rhymes with “agnostic”.

However, the rune bear did not appreciate its new name, and ran off with a mighty bang. Good old Herchie, the times we had.

Next day I went to the movies. I saw Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny. I loved it, and found it odd that it failed at the box office. I have seen the film many times since, and it still remains as one of my all-time favorite comedies.

The goblin had me in a tight spot.

“I haven´t had a human in two hundred years. You are going to be a feast.”

This was not helping, I was cornered and he knew it. Stupidest riddle ever, and I couldn´t think of anything. “An article of clothing, where one is not better than the other.” That didn´t even make sense. Is it a plural or a singular? In a minute or so, I was about to get eaten and there was no help coming. I couldn´t call a friend, or ask the audience. The goblin was now filing his teeth.

“Give up?”

Hell no. I thought about running, but they say you can´t outrun a goblin. Maybe I could throw a rock at him or something? Nope, those damn magical creatures are just too fast.

“I think I´ll start with your throat. A nice, juicy start for a meal.”

This made me really uncomfortable. I loosened my tie, and… got it. I smiled at him, and delivered the answer. You should have seen the look on that goblin´s face.

Get it?

Best bands burrow bravely beyond borders, but Bastard Barbarians booked bars, bistros, begrimed beer-bashes.

Dave´s dim-witted doppelganger Dick, doubled Dave during difficult days. Dave´s drumming: drowsy, dismal, dreary. Dick´s: devastating.

Ricky´s riffing recently resembled rheumatism-ridden rambling. Rich rhythms required rocking ruthlessness, relentless ramming…Ricky´s resolution: Rum&Ritalin. Ricky´s resticles rashed.

The trousers, tucked tightly through tantalizing twines, tickled Ted´s tummy. Ted tried to taper, though this tested Trevor´s temper. Tense Trevor tried to threaten Ted to triple the tempo. This treatment ticked Ted, tender trombonist, to tempestuous tantrums. “Tucking tunt!” Ted tumulted. Trevor thundered: “Timing! Tighten the timing!”

Meanwhile, Manuel manifested marvelous musicianship, mastering many moving melodies, mainly making manic movements manipulating Mary´s mandolin. Mary monitored Manuel´s mannerisms. Magnificent, Mary mused.

Barney bounced bass beautifully, but bellowed: “Blimey, banging bongos brought better benefits. Barkeeper, bring beer!”

“Ready”, Ricky retorted.

“Truly”, told Ted.

“Dude, dodally” Dick declared.

“Mmm, magnifico”, Manuel mentioned.

“Beer, bring beer!” Barney beckoned.

This time, they totaled the tavern. Their timing titillated the tough troupe. Thespians, throat-surgeons, taxidermists, thankless tellers…they totally thrived through this. Tomorrow, they´d travel to Texas…

I met Einstein once. Not a big deal to him, I´m sure he didn´t think about that day ever again. But I do. Every day.

You see, it was a school project. Fortunately my dad, bless him, knew someone who knew someone who knew the Man Himself. Before I knew it, I was on my way to “interview an important person”.

The kids normally go and interview their grandparents, ask about the war and such. The general idea behind the assignment is of course, that we are all important. Every one of us has a function in society. One of my classmates went for the mayor. That was my idea by the way, but he was faster. I wanted to get back at him, and do one better. Or one million better.

Dad didn´t even come in. He dropped me off at Einstein´s house, and I was on my own. “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. I´ll pick you up at six, make this a good one” and with that he drove away. That was just one of that day´s many lessons.

Nothing before or since has been as exciting as knocking on that door. When I say exciting, I do mean gut-wrenchingly terrifying. I wanted to run away, but my legs didn´t work. Then the door opened.

“Yes?” the funny looking man inquired. He obviously didn´t remember our appointment.

“Mr. Einstein…professor Einstein, I´m here for the school project…” I couldn´t find the words.

“Well, you better come in then silly boy, we can´t do it on the street”

The place was a mess. Every surface on every item of furniture had a stack of disassembled paper. Books and notebooks scattered everywhere.

“Coffee?!”

“No thank you Mr…professor Einstein”

“Yes, I suppose you´re too young. Whisky then? Hah, just kidding. Coca-Cola?”

“Yes please”

“The fridge. Kitchen. Bring me one too. And call me Al”

Of course I didn’t. Nowadays the kids call their teachers by their first names, but back then every adult was sir, or mam. To call the world´s most famous scientist Al would have been just a tad short of blasphemy.

As we sat there sipping Coke in silence, he suddenly picked up a paper, and scribbled something. Then he handed the paper to me.

“Solve this, then we can talk”

It was a mathematical equation. Not very hard, but it took me a minute or two. Upon completion I started blushing, and he started cackling like a crow. The answer to the equation was a very naughty word, which I am not going to repeat here. He seemed satisfied, I think I had just passed his test.

“Answer me this, with how many words can you change a man´s life?”

Was this for real? Another joke or a trick question? I had to say something. Guessing the amount is very little, I tried:

“One, sir”

“One? What makes you say that?”

“Sir, I just figured that you can change someone´s life by very little”

“Hmmm…interesting logic. But one is such a small number. You do realize this was not an absolute question?”

“I suppose”

“Then why did you answer? You could have said you don´t know. If you don´t know the answer, don´t try to bluff. A random guess rarely gets you anywhere”

I was embarrassed.

“By the way, the real number is 900”

Now he was just messing with me. I absolutely didn´t know what to say.

“Ok, start asking me stuff. And a word of warning, don´t misquote me. Seriously, when I say something, I mean it exactly as it is. Word by word”

I nodded. Then I picked up my notes and began the questioning. Many of the questions were childish, like “why did you want to be a scientist” to which he would reply kindly: “Well, somebody has to do it, might as well be me. Those atoms don´t split themselves, you know”

When asked: “How important is science in everyday life?” he would say: “Listen boy, everything is mathematics. We can solve any problem, any obstacle, and every dilemma by examining and calculating. There is only one force in the universe, that doesn´t bow down to the laws of science. That is humor”

He then wanted to take a walk, and so we took off. We went to a cafeteria two blocks away and sat down. There he continued with his mind tricks.

“I also read minds…yes, I´m 99% sure your favorite ice-cream is chocolate”

He was right. I was impressed then, but not so much anymore. It seemed they knew him well in that cafeteria.

“Norma, how are you today? A chocolate ice-cream for the young gentleman, and what is today´s 3,14159265—“

“It´s apple” Martha said, and I got the feeling she had heard this one before.

“Splendid, and a cup of coffee please”

That was the best bowl of ice-cream I´ve ever had to this day. While eating, I listened and took notes. He said fascinating things.

“Examination, curiosity, and an open mind. This is your recipe for life. Live by it, and remember to listen to everybody´s advice but not take it. That includes this one”

Everything he said was profound and magical. And he ended every bit of wisdom with a joke, which made me question everything he said. I´m still not 100% sure about some of his answers, but cherish them all nonetheless.

“Learning stuff enables you to learn more stuff”

We talked more on the way back, and had another Coke in his study. The most mind baffling of all his wisdoms was: “The only thing in life worth taking seriously, is humor”

With this, he fell silent. His gaze went up, and he seemed to drift off. Not exactly a trance, but he didn’t say a word after that. He picked up a pen and a paper, and stopped paying attention to me.

It was almost six. I thanked him for everything, and bid a polite goodbye from the door. He simply raised his hand never taking his eyes off the paper. I thought I had outstayed my welcome and what else could I do, but leave.

Dad´s car was already outside. We had a quiet ride home, since my mind was swerving. At some point I asked dad: “How did you set it up?”

“Set what up?”

Nice one dad. He never arranged anything, he just knew the address and dropped me off at Einstein´s house. God I miss him. I had lost count on how many lessons I had learnt that day.

A month later I got a C. Yeah, I know. I really busted my ass over the essay. I made sure every quote was nailed down exactly like he said, and the whole thing was way longer than I intended. Mr. Hetfield thought I had made it up, and started questioning. When he finally believed me, it was still a C. I think he was disappointed to learn even geniuses are only humans. Or maybe he was just jealous. Oh well.

It was only a few months later when Einstein died. I cried that night in bed. I had met him only once, but it felt like losing a friend. Through the tears, I went over that day time and time again. Ice-cream, numbers, lessons and jokes. It felt like there was an invisible line connecting all this. While I was just about to fall asleep, a thought hit me. I jumped from the bed, and dug out my essay from the drawer.

I counted the words on the essay. There were 900 words on it.

Han´s my one true friend, challenges we seeked

He understood my growls, language that I speak

Treacherosly slain, evil overdue

I could use some dog shampoo, a gallon, maybe two