Tag: humor

“Carefully…CAREfully…” Doc Miller, head of CERN’S ultra-classified Interdimensional Research Division, stares intently at a wall-sized monitor mounted before several rows of busy techs.  They’re all dressed in lab coats, eyes flickering back and forth across their holographic consoles. “What’s going on, Doc?”  I’m reclining in an office chair, feet up on a desk, maowing down…

My name is Kent Wayne.  I’m five years old.  My life is a bright, shining road, paved with boundless potential and exciting possibilities. Or IS it? I crack my knuckles and start poking around the interwebs.  Reams of data flash before my eyes, assaulting my mind with terrifying scenarios:  middle school, high school, college, first…

Assholes don’t die.  They just regroup and attack again. Which is I’m hunkered in my studio-turned-fortress, peeking through my blinds at post-apocalyptic San Francisco.  Eliot was right; the end came not with a bang, but with a whimper.  Beta males arose out of nowhere and banned weightlifting, meat, and all penises over 3 inches long. …

“These Bark-damned cats!”  I stare vexedly down at the strategic array of squeakers, dog treats, and stick fragments my Doggy Elite have arrayed upon the forest floor.  Each one symbolizes a concentration of cats or dogs. My lieutenant terrier, a mustachioed mini-schnauzer named Old Man Face, nods solemnly.  “They have outwitted us at every turn,…

“Okay guys, gather into your assigned groups, it’s time for trust falls!”  My preschool teacher, Ms. Arglebarf, bends at the waist, claps her hands, and beams joyously at us. Fuck me.  Even though I’m only four years old, my bullshit detector can easily sense when we’re about to engage in some utter and complete horse…

What the fuck?  Last thing I remember was watching a strange, disc-shaped craft slowing to a hover over my back yard… A hot soccer mom tour guide gestures to me while addressing a crowd of her peers:  “And so you can see, my fellow soccer moms, that we keep Kent Wayne, Man Whore Extraordinaire, inside…

“Is that IT?” Taylor Swift throws her head back and laughs raucously.  “Pathetic!  You only gave me a dozen orgasms, Kent!  You’ll never be anything more than a second-rate man whore!  Take this fistful of crumpled ones and get the fuck out of here!  AHAHAHA!!!”  She throws a wad of dirty cash at my tear-streaked…

Only a few more weeks until Halloween  In most cases, that means a bunch of horned-up doofuses getting blackout drunk, throwing on some OMG-I’m-so-crazy-let’s-fuck-like-spastics costumes and dancing badly to some top 40s singles, but every so often, it involves a truly terrifying brush with horror…     Hallo-fucking-ween.  Fuck. FUCK. For the vast majority, it’s…

One sentence—that’s all I need.  Half the time, I start my writing sessions with whatever rando combination of words come to mind.  Let’s reach in the ol’ Kent Wayne brain and— Der-boobies-look-better-when-you-coat-them-in-oil-especially-after-they-get-pressed-together-so-I-can— —WHOA!  Not what I was looking for!  I need story ideas for books, dammit, not Brazzers scenes!  I screw up my face, squinching…

“SACRILIEGE!” Beta Male Prime cries from atop his tofu throne.  He points his scepter at me and screams, “HIS GENITALS ARE FAR TOO BEAUTIFUL!  FEED HIM TO THE DICK-WORMS!” “NO!”  I writhe helplessly in the grips of his testosterone-deprived lieutenants.  “KEEP YOUR DAMN DIRTY DICK-WORMS AWAY FROM MY DAMN DIRTY DICK!” (Might’ve come out wrong,…