Donning Red

An excerpt from the fictional series Wokest Tales of Truth.

We all know Little Red Riding Hood as an old-timey European folk tale, but what if it took place in modern-day America? Now, sit back and enjoy our presentation of Little Red Riding Hood as told from a hyper-Americanized perspective. For the comfort of others, please no smoking.

Red hon, I just got off the phone with your grandma. She’s stuck in bed with gout because she refuses to go to the doctor. Can you deliver some food to her house?

Why doesn’t she just go to the doctor?

Well, honey, she refuses to participate in socialized medicine. She believes the last president was a secret Muslim hell-bent on destroying America. She rejects anything his administration implemented. She thinks the previous president hated her freedoms — and she’ll do anything to stand up for the America she so dearly loves.

Is that why she’s on Facebook complaining everyday?

Now, Red, can you please just deliver this basket of canned goods to your grandma?

Okay mom.

As she left the house, Red put on her red-white-and-blue hoodie. It was her favorite. Her dad gave it to her right before his deployment. He was a Navy Seal that served his country proudly.

Being a Millennial, Red always sought the easy path through life, so today she decided to take the shortcut through the woods despite what her mom told her about going the longer more secure route.

As Red walked through the woods, a wolf spotted her coming.

Hello dear, don’t you look every bit of delectable today?

Red just kept walking, she couldn’t hear him anyway because she had her wireless Apple AirPods in her ears while listening to a Spotify playlist.

Being of the wiser baby-boomer generation, the wolf knew he could easily take advantage of this clueless child that walked right by him. He guessed her destination because there was only one house at the end of the road and he jogged as fast as he could.

Upon arriving at the house, out of shape and out of breath, the wolf heard the sounds of FOX NEWS blaring through the windows. He banged on the door yelling “Open up! The liberals are coming to take your guns!”

Granny yelled back, “I never lock my front door! Come in and hide my guns!”

The wolf entered and gathered up all of Granny’s guns and threw them out the window, leaving the poor woman defenseless. Granny was too busy mailing out checks to Republican politicians and coal-mining CEOs to notice. She knew they’d use the money to create jobs and would manage her Social Security funds better than anyone.

The wolf sat by the front door waiting for Red while Granny remained distracted in the kitchen, yelling about liberals.

When Red finally arrived, she popped out her AirPods and knocked on the door. The wolf quickly answered and told her to come in. He had a college loan application ready and waiting, all Red had to do was sign it and she’d be on the hook for $50,000. When she wouldn’t sign, the wolf got angry and approached Red menacingly.

All she could think about was what her dad told her before he left, “the only thing that can stop rampaging evil is a good-guy with a gun.” After the initial pop, Red’s ringing ears heard nothing as she emptied a magazine of Black Talon hollow-points into the savage beast. When the body hit the floor she re-holstered her concealed-carry firearm.

Granny! It’s me, Red! Are you okay!?

As Granny emerged from the kitchen carrying an apple pie, she and Red turned to the American flag that flew majestically in the front-yard. With right hands over hearts, they recited the Pledge of Allegiance. America had become great again.

Advertisements

Comedy Writing 01

A brief attempt at being funny.

It was Rich’s birthday and everyone was there, sounds of party games filled the air, and wrapped presents were everywhere. It was finally time for cake, and Rich loved nothing more than cake. Mmm tasty cake. But what kind of cake would it be this year he wondered to himself. He liked it to be a surprise. “Happy birthday to you!” came the song and presentation of the cake. Rich’s smile dropped. It was cheesecake. He could tell with one look. The rage began building, all internal safety systems failed. “RUN!” yelled Rich’s friend Michelle as she finally noticed the cake that was in front of him, “IT’S CREAM-CHEESE PIE, IT’S NOT REALLY A CAKE!” But it was too late, Rich’s fists double-smashed the cheesecake sending a snow-storm of goop in all directions. Poor Jim, who was closest to the blast looked more snowman than man.

The table of ladies were talking about post-pregnancy woes.
“I’ve heard the application of a potato poultice is a good remedy for hemorrhoids,” said one.
“Waxy or russet?” asked Rich.
The table erupted with laughter. Rich sat there still wondering which type of potato to use.
Rich never told a joke in his life, yet often found himself in the epicenter of raucous laughter.
Based on a true story.

Rich: Man I tell ya, I’d like more of them biscuits. Y’all want some? Else imma fittin to finish ’em.
Michelle: I thought you were from Massachusetts.
Rich: Yes ma’am, southern Mass.

Man on stage: We’ve got to support the president and his policies!
Crowd: Boooo!
Man on stage: I mean the president you just voted for!
Crowd: Yaaaay!
Man on stage: We have to reject the president’s irresponsible and dangerous policies!
[Silence]
Lady in the crowd: Wait, which president, incoming or outgoing?
Man on stage: The one you didn’t vote for!
Crowd: Yaaaay!

Standing at the corner of an intersection, a right-wing fundamentalist preacher was giving a sermon on the dangers of liberals and their ungodly ways. He told the crowd they should shout out their disgust and proudly proclaim that gays and gun-grabbers were ruining America. Just then a scruffy bearded CEO of a tech-startup in sandals that earned three doctorates from Harvard and two from MIT stepped to the front. The bearded man said calmly, if your backwards ideas were true, man would never have landed on the moon. The preacher said, man never landed on the moon it was a hoax, as he smiled conservatively. Then explain that, said the bearded man as he pointed to the sky. The crowd gasped as a Falcon 9 rocket self-landed where the preacher had been standing. The preacher jumped out of the way just in time to declare himself the real victim. He cursed Obama while running back to his trailer to watch Fox News. Just then, Elon Musk parachuted down safely inside a command module – he opened the door and the onlookers were instantly convinced that they existed within a simulation and immediately volunteered for a one-way journey to Mars.
Adaptation of an Atheist Professor meme

Snow Life

An excerpt from the non-fictional tales of Snow Saga.

I was out in the thick of it. I could see falling snow resting on my shoulders. But tirelessly I pressed on, Snow Saber my lightest shovel was within my grasp. White powder flew from ground to air as my shovel’s blade cleaved it from the driveway. What’s this, the devil’s chariot approaches! I watch as the mighty plow pushes compacted white brick in the way of every opening. Curses! I press on.

But as the metal machine leaves to plow a neighboring road, this sinewy man revs up to full power. Areas that were once snow now become empty space. White mist from constantly flying snow fills the air. What’s this? Headlights ahead. Could this be? Why doth the metallic beast return!? I step back from the road as its power is a thing to be respected. But what am I witnessing? He veers over to the pile of compacted white brick he so kindly left just minutes ago.

The vehicle stops. I look over, yet discern no face, I assume it’s due to the thickness of the falling snow or my own nearsightedness. Then he moves, his plow catching a good portion of the snow blocking my driveway. He pushes it to the end of the dead-end street, then reverses and stops again. There were no words exchanged. I thought I saw the form of a man inside, but in that instant he was gone, this time for good.

Was it kindness? Did he see the flying snow from a distance and come to lessen my load? I do not know. Was it jealousy? That a man might have the power to remove so readily what he had put in place? Was he showing me the ease with which he could remove what took me great effort? I cannot say. Perhaps it was camaraderie between two beings tasked with snow removal. Or maybe so close to Christmas, the beast’s heart had softened. I don’t think I’ll ever truly know.

Prose of Personality

An excerpt from the fictional tales of Richard Lawrence Worcestershire.

Richard Lawrence Worcestershire (pronounced like the sauce) is quite the peculiar character. Richard Lawrence Worcestershire speaks in a most erudite manner within his own mind. Of course, he has enough self-awareness to refrain from an upper-crust English accent out-loud, but mentally he’s always conversing in a highfalutin fashion, with words such as “whilst” liberally sprinkled in.

If you ever the occasion to meet Richard Lawrence Worcestershire, and you suspect he believes himself your better, you are most assuredly correct. When describing this fellow, words such as abrasive, argumentative, and pretentious come to mind. Yet despite his loftiness, Richard Lawrence Worcestershire grew up amidst mediocre means.

His vision-board contains turn of the century mansions built by barons of the so-called Gilded Age. The toils of daily life are far beneath the dignity of Richard Lawrence Worcestershire. Labor is for the little people that enjoy such trivial responsibility. No, for our dear Richard Lawrence Worcestershire, the weight of the world rests upon his shoulders.

Yet funnily, with all his superiority, Richard Lawrence Worcestershire does’t seem to accomplish much at all. Yet in his mind, what little he does do resonates exponentially, influencing the world in ways that go unnoticed by those lacking faculties to understand. This poor fellow, I can’t help but to pity him, a personality with an incongruous context.

Funny Thing

I went to get my license renewed the other day. Not long ago they moved the office to a location closer to where I live — which was a pleasant surprise. I walked into a large waiting room that was completely empty. I pulled a number and was immediately called. The number happened to correspond to my current age. I probably spent less than ten minutes there. Afterwards I got some pizza and ate in a nice park on a pleasant day.

When I received the notice about my renewal, I was displeased about going through the license renewal process. What a bother I thought. I put it off for a bit and finally, begrudgingly, went. Later that day I got a massive headache though, so I suppose I was able to work some negativity into the day.

Even though I neutralized the unpleasant images surrounding the license renewal, I couldn’t perceive any positivity and was still bothered about the process. Neutral is not inspiring. Yet in actuality, it turned out to be a decent time. I suppose what this means is that I should practice the art of positivity more often.

Though to be honest, Pollyanna style positivity doesn’t particularly excite me, maybe that’s why my mind defaults to negativity, as that rarely fails to incite emotion. I like humor though. Instead of positivity, maybe I should find a way to fashion my thoughts into something funny. Perhaps comedy is a valid substitute for optimism.

In Harry Potter lore, they use the Riddikulus spell against boggarts, it changes the creature’s frightening appearance to something laughable. Overall I think humor works best at diffusing tense situations. Instead of framing outcomes as pure positivity, perhaps I should frame them as funny. Hm, now I just have to figure out how to be humorous….