I have purchased and placed in front of the house a plastic, painted, little thin narrow tall Uncle Sam statue. It’s plugged in and burning bright at this moment. According to the little booklet that came with it, his presence will ward off the great swarms of bees that pass by here on their way to trade shows. Spare This House he says. You’ll find nothing to satisfy your bee appetites at this address. Please go sting the neighbors.
Which is great because my throat usually gets real hoarse standing out on the lawn, screaming at bees all night.

We get us a big group of guys and we go down to the hardware store and we make a big show out of scooping up clumps of the loose screws and filling up our mouths with them and spending too much time loitering in the candy aisle. And smarting off to the manager and making a whole big scene out of it and then telling the cop that the guy came over in an aggressive manner and tried to lift up our shirts and get a look at ourselves against our will. Now this group of guys don't mean no harm, Officer. Most of them spend their time down the hall all day, separate from the rest. They just don't got no one to understand them. It affected their upbringing. It made them get those swollen legs your partner was pointing at with his stick. These guys can't help that. Science can't help...

You know what's big in The Bermuda Triangle now? Table legs. Really ornate, carved table legs. People carry 'em around by the dozen. Most are natural wood, with stain but some are painted. They paint them a nice white then put gold ring accents around them. It's a status thing. Table tops themselves have been outlawed for years now. But the legs? That's the loop hole. Everybody's gotta get them. People hoard them. And they never let you touch them. It's a real, “look at it from afar” type society. You know. Here I am, with my table legs, this is how I am now, better than ever and ultra-fab. The whole culture is built upon inconvenience.
And you still can't get a glass of ice water anywhere.

I held onto a dream of designing my own pinball machine based on a theme of endless regret for far too long. I never acted on it, even when I had the means and opportunity. When you're in the middle of running a regional entertainment and novelty company you don't feel it. You don't feel anything. It's a whirring of rubber bladder tests and popcorn cart recall notices. You know you have a team of scientists dedicated to pinball. You met them once, early on. You get their reports. The Envelope Factory-themed machine is selling poorly in the south. The pinballs themselves have a hollow center filled with dolphin blood. Affects the spin. But you never get an afternoon to sit down with them; a chance to really lay it out. They've got their flipper algorithms and you've...

Pine Wood Derby is upon us and with it, a lot of controversy. Specifically, this year the concern is over use of carved baby carrot men in place of the standard rubber-plastic figurine drivers. There are no outright rules against the use of finger foods in this way, but it leaves many silently looking at the walls, shaking their heads in private and mumbling comments about “not doing things like this before,” amongst men who'd rather not talk to one another at all. It might've gone unremarked entirely if the contingent of boys from Elmwood hadn't devoted so much time to the creation of period-accurate clothing and back stories for the carrot men. Many of the troop leaders were uncomfortable with the Elmwood boys acting out their drivers' histories, complete...

With the advent of those single-serving kool-aid pouches shaped like roller skates, the human race is now 0 for 2.