Category Archives: Found story

Workshop weekend: Found story Saturday

Tree cutting

In the process of making a small tree. Still much to do. Thankful for a neighbor and smart people who came to help.

There is an old joke.
How do you make a small tree?
Start with a large one.

[Editor's note: I know, originally, the joke was: how do you make a small fortune? Start with a large one. But fortune would be eight syllables instead of seven and ruin the attempted humorous haiku. Plus, I'll be more like to have a large tree to start with than a large fortune. I don't hold much prospect that I'll have a small fortune, either. As for a small tree, well, that may still take me a little while. You don't know how much brush one full-grown tree can create until you have to clean up after one.]

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Filed under Found story, Photo by author, poetry by author, Thunder, Workshop weekend

Found story and haiku: tough times

We Buy Gold

All that glitters could be in your past.

A shack where she once
sold you your future, she now
buys your gold. Tough times.

[Editor's note: at the university near where I live, this booth was for several years, a place where you could go to have your fortune told. Now, you go there to sell gold. such is how higher education has changed (pardon the pun). When I went to the same university, I don't remember seeing as many Volvo, Mercedes Benz, and other high-end cars as I do now. I am sure there were many well-to-do students when I attended, and I'm also sure there are many middle- to lower-middle class students driving less prestigious cars. But as higher education costs continue to rise faster than inflation, maybe this booth is an indication of more than tough times.]

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Filed under Found story, haiku, Photo by author, poem, poetry by author, tough times

Found story: What did Jesus do?

Christ Centered Yoga sign

Why was the sign on the ground in front of the church and written on upside down?

Was Jesus mad?

Is that why the sign was on the ground in front of the church?

Were there not enough Christ Centered poses? Or did somebody in the church think Buddha was sneaking in to take over the bodies and then the souls of the yoga students?

But why was it written upside down on the white board to begin with? Was it done on purpose by the instructor or was it the work of Satan, who wanted the yoga session all to himself?

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Found story: The Last Bookshop

The last bookshop man in the world sat alone in his small store. There was a knock on the door. Startled, he looked up from his science fiction book to find the woman of his dreams standing in the doorway, wearing very little at all. And though she was an android, it had been a long time, so he proposed something indecent to her.

Chair in the last bookshop

The last bookshop

She smiled at him, not without some sympathy, then said, “Not tonight, honey, I have to reformat.”

She then turned and left the room.

He put the book back on the shelf and went to another section.

#

The last bookshop man in the world sat alone in his store. There was a knock on his door.

Before he could answer, the door swung open and a man in a fedora with a tommy gun barged in and started spraying the room with bullets.

The man with the machine gun aimed high, but was bringing his aim lower and lower, yelling over the noise that “The Boss” had sent him to get “the dame.” So where was she?

The last man barely had time to dive to the floor and even then he heard one speeding over his head.

The gun ran out of bullets. The man with the fedora backed out of the room and disappeared.

magazine from the last bookshop

Old magazine from the shelves of the last bookshop


The bookshop man slowly picked himself up, limped to the door, and shut it. He could not be sure if the man with the gun was another android, but he put the Hammett novel back on the shelf just to be safe.

#

The last bookshop man in the world sat alone in his store.

This time a Conan-like brute with a broadsword did not bother to knock, but kicked the door open and charged into the room, swinging. He hit books, slicing the spines, knocking them off the shelves. He hit shelves, splintering wood, embedding his sword.

He yelled something about a woman, or that’s what the last man thought he heard.

Because the room was small, Conan-like was having trouble getting a full, strong swing of his massive sword. Still, as he stomped toward the last man, the last man was not sure how he would escape this one. The same thing preventing this Conan type from getting a complete swing of his sword was also prevent his escape.

The last bookshop man was sure this was going to be his last. Then the scantily clad android woman appeared in the door and announced, “I’m reformatted.”

The Conan-like man jerked his sword out of the shelf, turned, and lunged toward her.

She squealed in an almost mechanical way and ran away, the muscle-bound Conan-like in determined pursuit.

The last bookshop man slumped into his chair and waited for his heart rate to return to normal.

#

The last bookshop man in the world sat alone in his store. This time, there was a lock on his door. This time, he was reading haikus.

[Editor's note: inspired by a visit to Central Street Books, dealer in old and rare books, in Knoxville, TN.]

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Filed under bookshop, Found story, Photo by author, story, writing

Found story: Cat-ching a conversation

No cat, not human

What do you mean you don't have a cat? Aren't you human?

Overheard conversation at a cat show where there were over 250 cats representing about 40 different breeds.

Cat fancier to an eight-year-old girl: “Do you have a cat?”

Eight-year-old girl: “No, but I have two guinea pigs.”

Cat fancier: “Cats and guinea pigs can get along.”

Girl: “I also have two dogs.”

Fancier: “Cats and dogs can get along.”

Girl: “I also have two birds.”

Fancier, frowning slightly: “Well, maybe sometime in the future you can have a cat.”

I wonder if Noah had the same problem.

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Filed under Cartoon, cat, Found story, humor, puns, satire

Plucked from the breadlines: Food Porn found near your toaster

News Flash!

Beware of this food porn creeping into your local food store. Spotted today was FlatJacks, an innocent looking addition to your diet, promising to make life easier and in two flavors: Original and “BarBQ.”

All you need is a toaster and about 5 minutes of your time, and all your fowl desires will be met!

Chicken from a toaster

Chicken from a toaster! What next? Will pigs fly?

When asked, the chief of police said: “FlatJacks is not to be trusted. He will lay your waist, and leave you with nothing to crow about. We have one of top detectives on this and he will get to the bottom of it, and then we will lay out the facts and seek prosecution of those trafficking in this chicken s&*^t operation.”

Psychiatrists are warning that what FlatJacks has to offer could be habit forming. Said one: “It’s almost magical, what FlatJacks is promising. ‘Chicken from your toaster!’ Who ever heard of such a thing? Pure fantasy! It would be as if I said if I had enough feather dusters, I could fly.”

Even one Republican Presidential candidate has weighed in, saying: “FlatJacks is free market capitalism at its finest. We politicians used to promise a chicken in every pot. We can now promise one in every toaster! That’s progress.”

Asked if he had tried one, the politician coughed and clucked as if to clear his throat and then referred the question to his aid.

When asked about FlatJacks, the Democratic candidate said he would form a commission to study the matter, and take that commission’s conclusions under advisement.

One local preacher took no time in condemning “this abomination to the very soul of Christianity.” Wiping away sweat as he spoke outside on the church grounds where an outdoor dinner and preaching was taking place.

He continued: “Young folks today do not know the true meaning of dinner on the grounds. In my day, the men dressed in their best Sunday clothes and women wore skirts and dresses, and often wore bonnets or hats, and they brought their best homemade fried chicken. It was a little friendly competition to see who had the best. Now, well now, look around here.” He waved his arm toward his brood. “They come in summer shorts – men and women – I say, and the women, well some of them wear the scantiest of things, and bring KFC chicken, and don’t even bother to take it out of the bucket. Now, now they will be bringing these FlatJack things and demanding we have toasters outside and long extension cords, and rows and rows of toasters. This will become one big stick it and click it dinner. Stick it in the toaster and click the lever down. Stick it and click it. This is Satan’s handiwork, I tell you. Satan’s handiwork.” In the distance a roster crowed for a second time and the preacher broke down and wept.

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Filed under absurdity, Chicken, church, FlatJacks, food porn, Found story, humor, puns, wit, word play

Found story: Frank and Ike

“Frank, what are we?”

“We’re pumpkins, Ike.”

“But if we’re pumpkins, how come we’re white?”

Frank and Ike

Frank (left) and Ike (right) discuss life as a pumpkin.

“Halloween came and went, and when Christmas came along, they decorated us up as snowmen. Or at least the heads of them.”

“Oh, nice, Frank.”

“If you say so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ike, just wait and see.”

#

Ike Closeup

Ike tells Frank they're changing.

“Frank, are you still there?”

“Yes, Ike.”

“We’re changing. I feel it on the inside.”

“If you say so.”

#

“Frank, look at you.”

“I can’t see myself, Ike. I can’t even see you now.”

“Frank, I’m scared.”

“I know.”

Ike undone

Ike becoming undone.

“Frank, what are we?”

“We’re friends.”

“I mean, what are we? What are we becoming?”

“We’re pumpkins, Ike. We’ve been pumpkins. We are pumpkins. We will always be pumpkins.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“That’s good to know, Frank. Good to know.”

“Good bye, Ike.”

“Frank, don’t leave me.”

“Frank … Frank ….”

Frank undone

Frank undone.

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Filed under Found story, pumpkins, story, storytelling, words, writing

Found story: the eyes have it

He was a small time thief. Never stealing more than what it took to get by. He’d been caught a couple of times, but managed to work his way out of any real time behind bars by turning snitch or offering some other piece of information the cops could use.

But this was one theft attempt he couldn’t believe. He was being paid to steal two pairs of eyeglasses: a mother’s and a daughter’s. He didn’t like the idea of stealing a young girl’s glasses. He had less than 20/20 vision himself, but because it wasn’t discovered until he was in high school, he had already been labeled difficult to teach, a problem student, and his grades had suffered, and so at sixteen, he dropped out of school and into a life of crime. He didn’t want that to happen to her, but eventually decided the money was too good to pass up. The guy who wanted the glasses, wanted both pairs. He wouldn’t settle for only one.

But he had to steal the glasses today, before 9 PM, or no money. It was already 4 PM when he got the job. It was 5:30 and storming when he found the mother and daughter.

He followed them and decided to strike when they walked into a building that had once housed a milling company. The banner on the awning of the renovated entryway said: “Amateur joke night: Everybody welcome.”

Certainly, there would be a chance here to steal the glasses. His only concern was he had not seen the glasses he was supposed to steal, at least not up close. Like most women he knew, they were probably vain about wearing them, unless they had to. Of course, he was a little vain about wearing his glasses, too, and he hated the idea of contacts. His poor eyesight has been one of the main reasons he had never been more than a petty thief.

He sat beside the mother and daughter, the mother’s big handbag on the floor between them.

The joke telling went on for too long. Most of the jokes were old, and most of the telling was enthusiastic but unpolished. Every now and then there was a good laugh. On top of that, the room was warm. Sweat ran down the back of the petty thief’s neck. The time was 8:37 PM. It would take him ten minutes to get to the meeting point.

The mother picked up the bag, took something out, laid the bag back down, and then turned away from the thief and was talking with her young daughter.

The petty thief glanced around to see if anybody was looking, then reached down and gently pulled the bag into this lap. He was looking down into it when the lightning cackled, the thunder boomed, and then the lights immediately went out.

When the lights winked back on, he was still holding the handbag. It was 8:46. The mother and daughter turned to look at him. He screamed, threw the bag down, and bolted from the room.

Mother and daughter in special glasses

Mother and daughter in special glasses

Everyone laughed.

It wasn’t until he was safely outside in the rain that the petty thief understood why the person he was stealing the glasses for was called “The Clown.”

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Filed under eye glasses, Found story, humor, story

Found story: Santa takes on extra work

Santa hit man bounty hunter

Santa hit man bounty hunter

Finding work in the off season hard to come by, Santa takes a job as a bounty hunter and hit man. Using his naughty list, he tracks down the not-so-nice folks and brings them to justice or brings them down.

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Filed under Found story, humor, neighborhood, photo, photograph, Santa Claus, villains