I’m really punny.
What do you do with a bunch of puns except inflict them upon others?
The doctor has to reset my broken nose. I hope he doesn’t blow it.
My broken nose is crooked. It needs to go a hair to the left.
I need to schedule a checkup for my broken nose. The doc said any day, just pick it.
I hate when people make a running joke out of my broken nose.
Struggling magician is disillusioned.
Man who loses Netflix stream voices discontent.
A federal judge who lost his job is disappointed.
Downtrodden lion causes an…
John Miller (“Miller Man”) and I were pen pals. We never wrote to each other. It was a different type of pen pal. We exchanged pens, actual pens, every time we saw each other. His were always blue Arapahoe Basin pens he copped from the ticket desk. Mine were pens I acquired from anyplace I went. Banks, realtors, trade shows, restaurants, mortuaries, bars, other bars, and other bars. I traded all of those for A-basin pens that lasted for two-and-a-half signatures each, in warm weather.
It was just a stupid inside joke we had. Every time we met, we’d swap…
Have you ever introduced yourself to someone who uses mind tricks to remember your name?
“That’s easy to remember, it’s the name of my neighbor’s dog.”
“That’s easy to remember, it’s the name of the asshole who dumped me in college.”
“Rick? Like Dick? Or prick. The ‘P’ is silent.”
Not in your case
Here’s a tip for those of you using mind tricks. Hopefully, you’ll remember it.
Keep your mind tricks to yourself
Nobody wants to know they’re being associated with a pervert uncle who always makes sexual innuendos or the aunt that always gives ugly handmade sweaters as…
Jim, a friend of mine since college, sidled up beside me and clinked glasses.
“A new book coming out. Big night for you,” he said.
“It’s not about me.” It’s all about me. Everyone here will fawn over me before the night is over. They’ll all want autographed copies to display on their bookshelves. Not everyone knows a published author. Not everyone is a published author.
Pat on back
After tonight, they will casually drop my name into conversations to impress their friends.
“Who’s your publisher?”
“Self-published, actually. Those old publishing houses are relics of the past. …
She sat at the end of the couch, sipping from a can of craft beer. There was something familiar about her. I knew her from somewhere.
Then it struck me.
She turned her eyes toward me as I approached. I said, “I remember you from Beto’s Halloween party. You were dressed as Woody from Toy Story.”
“I was a cowgirl.” A frown grew on the edges of her lips.
“You looked like Woody.”
Her frown deepened. “Does Woody wear lipstick and a skirt?”
“I don’t know what Woody does in his spare time.” I attempted to backpedal.
“And that was…
Contributor to Slackjaw, The Haven, The Junction, MuddyUm, and ILLUMINATION.