Nightcap 04/06/13

Americans are close to figuring out how to wrap a permanent set of christmas lights around pre-sliced ham and North Korea.

Nightcap 04/05/13

For the last several weeks, I've been sending vials of my disease-free blood to blind addresses in some of the wealthiest zip codes in the country. Each vial tied with a ribbon and a small, hand-written Thank You note “Just for being you” message.
I'll work my way up to amputated toes once I track down the PO boxes of some of our four and five star generals.

Nightcap 04/03/13

Lazlo sits all day meticulously crafting paper airplanes. After folding and creasing, his ball point pen comes out and he carefully draws dozens of tiny windows along both sides of the craft. He fills each with passengers of all manner – men, women, aunts, uncles, fathers, sons. Barristers, clergy, the lonely, the afraid, the loved and unloved. Bald men and pets, all strapped in tight. As he draws their portraits, he speaks aloud their story. Why they got on the plane, where they're headed, what they hope to find when they get there. Intimate details, far beyond their physical appearance. By the end, anyone nearby knows the story lines of a thousand made-up souls, created there on the spot by Lazlo's mind. At the end of the day, Lazlo takes his hard work to the cellar and...

Nightcap 04/02/13

The last children's placemat designer was killed today. Drone strike.
He was number two in the organization. His duties included drawing four identical pirate turtles and a fifth with just a few slight differences as well as deciding which corner to adorn with the upside down riddle answers and nerve agent procurement.

Nightcap 04/01/13

One thing all the world's disparate cultures and creeds can agree on is the simple joy of a carousel. Gently rotating, carved Arabian circus ponies and baby mules, beset with jewels and mirrors and well wishes, washed in the happiness of the calliope and the carnival man's stare.
Another thing we can all agree on are pork rinds. Laid out all over your stomach, no shirt on, spreading that hot sauce forward and back while your neighbors cut down all the trees. Hold onto those overcast Sunday afternoons. Hold onto them.