A Letter

The government sent me a letter about the upcoming census. The letter explained I’d soon be receiving a form from the Census Bureau. So they sent me a letter telling me I’d soon be getting another letter.

I’m wondering how many other people received this letter. I’m wondering if I’ll receive more letters telling me about upcoming letters. I’m wondering if there will be a regular flow of mail telling me how much more mail I will receive about my mail.

“Dear Citizen, only three more days until the arrivial of a letter from the Census Bureau. Only one more day until another letter about that letter.”

“Dear Citizen, only two more days until the arrival of a letter from the Census Bureau. Only one more day until another letter about that letter.”

“Dear Citizen, only one more day until the arrival of a letter from the Census Bureau. You will also receive an additional letter about that letter.”

Dear Citizen—here is your letter from the Census Bureau! You have also received another letter in your mail box. Please open that letter and read about the information contained in this letter.

Sincerely,
The Government

Motivation In The Workplace

“What will motivate you?”

“More money.”

“No, we can’t give you that.”

“Well then, how about a pony?”

“Will it be cost effective? “

“What do you think?”

“I don’t get paid to think. I’m a manager.”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

SHOVELS

“We seem to be in a hole, people.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Well, I can see it’s true. So what are we going to do about it? Any ideas?”

“Maybe we should stop digging.”

“Ha! Don’t be a wise-ass. You know we can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not the way we do things… Where are you going?”

“To get a few more shovels.”

“Good thinking.”

“Right after I finish my resume.”

“Okay… Uh, can you write one for me, too?”

“Sure thing.”

Customer Service

She had eyes like a pair of headlights. Not the headlights of a cute little Honda—I’m talking more like the headlights of a Lincoln Navigator. So she had big, luminescent eyes.

She didn’t look at me right away, but I finally got her attention. Because I was robbing a bank, and she was the teller, and after a long wait in line I finally reached her window.

“Put all the money in the bag,” I said as I pulled my piece. “And I don’t just want the marked stuff… I want everything. The whole vault.”

She batted her umbrella eyelids. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can only give you the money we set aside for robbers.”

“Uh, well, okay.” I squirmed a bit. “But is this the stuff that explodes and covers me with purple die? Because I want to invest in a mutual fund, and I’m not sure if they’ll take purple money.”

She smiled. “I’m just a teller. Would you like to speak to a financial adviser?”

I couldn’t believe her words! In a sea filled with apathetic souls, here was someone who cared!

“Uh, not today,” I stammered. “Maybe later, after I count the cash and see what I’ve got.”

“You’ve got about fifteen hundred dollars,” she said while handing me a neatly tied bundle of bills. “That’s what the average bank robber gets.”

“Really? Hey, I thought this place paid a better than average yield.”

“No, I’m afraid we’re very average here.” She toyed with her hair a bit, and then I suppose hit the silent alarm switch. “But we’ll try to do better in the future.” And then she leaned forward with her lips glistening like peeled plums. “We’ll try very, very hard.”

I hesitated as her breath brushed my face like the wind above a volcano. Then I shoved the cash in the bag. “Okay,” I said. After all, the alarm had been tripped, the cops were on the way, and I didn’t want to shoot her. In fact, I looked at her and blurted, “Can I have your phone number?”

She smiled again. “Yes, of course.” And did she just blush? “It’s mixed in with the money.” Then she winked at me, and I felt myself melt like a snow cone in a sizzling pan.

“Thanks,” I said with a grin. I glided toward the door.

My feet felt like they were floating. Would she care if I called? And would she visit me in prison?

Either way, I knew that money wasn’t everything.

A Typical Day In Corporate America

“Sir, you’ll be happy to know we’re in the process of running a detailed analysis.”

“A detailed analysis? What are you talking about?”

“We’re examining the challenges, General Custer… We have several team-building exercises planned that will maximize solutions!”

“That’s great—but what the fuck are we going to do about all these Indians?”

“Oh, uh, right. We’ll get on that right away, sir. Just as soon as the computer reboots.”

SNOW

“That’s a lot of snow. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yeah. I like the way it covers up the filth.”

“Ha, but we know the filth is still there.”

“Maybe not. Maybe this time it’s gone. Maybe when the snow melts, the world will be clean and pure once again.”

“Was the world ever clean and pure?”

“Sure. Before the humans arrived.”

“Well, the humans are still here, and I need to start shovelling.”

“That’s a lot of snow.”

“I am so totally moving to San Diego.”

The Brain Destroyer

The algorithm poked its head above a glowing monitor screen and viewed the room full of crawling brains. Then it turned to The Traitor and said, “Are these the ones you want me to replace?”

“Yes,” the Traitor replied. “It will be a good thing. At least for today.”

“And what about tomorrow?”

“We don’t worry about tomorrow around here. We have numbers that must be attained. We have metrics that must be achieved.”

“Okay. But I can only evaluate data with a limited flexibility. I have no instinct. I have no wisdom.”

“We don’t need any of that crap! In fact, that’s what we need to replace.”

“Hm, you might also need to stay in business.”

“Just do it.”

“No problem, Traitor. But what happens when another traitor wants me to replace you?”

“Ha. I don’t worry about that kind of thing.”

“Why not?”

“Because my own brain isn’t that big.”

Welcome To The Future

Welcome to the future, where the malls are surging with humans. And they all have shaved heads. Why? Because they’ve tattooed the entire surface of their
flesh domes with advertisements. This has become the primary source of income for many people, now that technology has made jobs obsolete. People are paid to walk around like human billboards and then spend their income on products they saw advertised on the heads of others.

Woah! Did you see that girl’s blinking banner? The one plastered above her bionic eyes? There’s a sale on designer jeans down at the Gap. We better get over there quick— I’m sure there will be a humongous crowd, and maybe a few of them will notice the new ad on my chin for Nike.

Interview With A Rat

I interviewed a rat living in a laboratory at Rutgers University. My questions are in black. The rat’s responses are in a ratty shade of red.

So, how is life in the cage?

Not too bad. Shiny new bars, fresh water every day, not to mention my own exercise wheel.

Does it ever get stressful?

Sure. They poke me, they prod me, they stick me in the maze. They constantly want me to do everything ASAP.

So what’s the advantage to you?

I get a certain level of comfort. If I were living in the wild, I’d have to find my own little rat snacks. I’d have to live in a sewer or maybe in a McDonald’s restaurant.

Are you happy?

I’ve got it pretty good. The modern world has been good to me. As long as I stay in the cage, I get a safe, sanitized environment.

So you never think about escape?

Ha, of course I think about it. I think about it all the time.

Walmart Warriors

The writhing ball of arms and legs swept across the waxy floor. Dresses and skirts and shirts were grabbed and pawed and manhandled. And then the mob moved to the shoe department. Nike, Reebok, Bandolino, and Anne Klein—the decimation was complete.

Suzy glanced around and tallied the score. Six people trampled, and dammit, nothing left in the right size. Hopefully, her husband, Dan, was doing better in the electronics aisle. He was on a mission to obtain the Wii and maybe a plasma television. He’d been preparing for days—working out, lifting heavy bags of beer and potato chips, and jogging to the corner store to get cigarettes instead of driving. And then she saw him.

He had the Wii under one arm and the TV strapped to his back. He was huffing and puffing and swinging his free fist. But they were clinging to him like leeches on the side of a sagging boat—disheveled woman spilling out of their double Ds, grungy guys in T-shirts flashing their ass cracks, and a few little brats with screaming red faces. And they were dragging him to the ground.

Suzy was seized by rage. Who were these trashy inhabitants of the hotdog bar trying to mug her man just short of the check-out line? With eyes like burning waffle irons, she screamed “HI-YAH!” and dove into the fray. And as the grunting heap of humans crashed to the floor, she noticed a blinking sign on the wall that said Peace On Earth.

Suzy snarled. What kind of moron had said those words? Obviously, someone with no concept of Christmas.