Diary Of A Grocery Cart

By: Russell Bradbury-Carlin

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May 11: Oh, I am shining. I am glistening with hope. Here I am in the tractor-trailer with all of my shining, glistening comrades making our way to a Piggly Wiggly in Penopshaw, Indiana. After all of my time dreaming about this day, it has finally come. I am going to be of service to the common man. I will wheel over asphalt and tile to carry his or her burdens, help families provide sustenance, to be an integral part of the Capitalist system — I am the future of grocery transportation devices. No higher calling could I think of.

May 13: I thought that being at the end of the truck meant I would be one of the first fresh carts for customers to make use of. Instead, they took us off one by one, and I was jammed deep into the far recesses of Backup Cart Storage Area #2A in the plastic-covered, dirt-floored side lot of the store. I am not discouraged, though. This is giving me ample opportunity to drink in all aspects of my new life. Sure, I share my space with the over-ripe fruit disposal container. But, who said the life of a hard-working grocery cart would be all soft loaves of Wonderbread and bright bags of Cheetos. I feel lucky to have this time to watch the veritable ballet of fruitflies dancing around me. I will be patient. My day will come.

May 21: Today I was moved to the main backup cart storage area at the front of the store. Oh, the bright lights, the bustling murmur of customers entering and leaving the store. I am almost sure I can hear the laughter in their voices as they wheel other carts from the store ladened with their freshly bought grocery items. That is the good news. The bad news is that my back right wheel is almost completely covered in some sort of sticky brown muck with a gum wrapper stuck to it. I fear that I may be unbalanced – that if someone takes me, they may reject me — because who wants to push a cart that wobbles. I will keep my hopes high as best I can.

May 23: Today I was outfitted with an advertisement card on my child seat. I’m happy because it means I’m being suited up for my first foray into the store. It means I’m finally getting my chance. Unfortunately, the downside is that I feel as though the message on the advertisement — “Wiggle Your Way To Great Savings At Piggly Wiggly!” — makes my mucked up rear wheel more apparent with the “wiggle” reference and all. I know paranoia is a drink best taken in sips. I mustn’t let this damage my excitement. I will hope that no one will make the connection.

May 24: It was a bit of wait, but I’m in! It was a busy Saturday so this morning I was moved into the main cart station. After a number of people started to roll me into the store and abandoned me after noticing my wobbly wheel — I was given the opportunity to assist a family of six. As they loaded me up with Tang and butterscotch pudding, I bopped along with the muzak version of “Losing My Religion”. I was overflowing with abundance. I think I’m going to like it hear. What am I talking about? I do like it here.

June 14: Children — God bless them — should not be allowed to be unsupervised in a cart. It says so on the placard near the front door. This one little tyke who was fond of a can of strained peaches, decided to take out his latent aggressions on me by pounding the can on my frame. The damage wasn’t too bad — a few dents and chipped coating. I hope it doesn’t rust. I will soldier on, though. Despite my shredded finish, I will finish my job. Despite my disappointment, I will not disappoint.

August 28:

Shakespeare once wrote:

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices make instruments to plague us

And, I almost told this fat guy about his apparent vice — gluttony. “Hey, buddy! Didn’t you hear that cola can take the rust off of metal? It turns your teeth into dust. Do you really think you can drink twenty cases of cola in a week and not have your stomach dissolve? It will dissolve or my name isn’t A Shopping Cart.”

August 29: I want to apologize, Diary, for my entry yesterday. It was the week before Memorial Day and I had been constantly out in the store and in the lot for seven days straight. My head’s clearer now. I am clearer now. I will not get upset like that again. Because my head is clearer now. I am relaxed.

September 4: Those scummy little punks! Last night, near closing, a group of rogue juveniles nabbed me as I sat out at the side of the store. Who parents these violent and untamed youths? They took me for a joy ride — deciding it would be fun to slam me into the sides of buildings. I lost a wheel in the vestibule of the pet food store. Then, these desperate youths dragged me out to the copse of woods behind the store and shoved me into the swamp. As I write this now, I’m half-buried in mud. In the dim murky distance I can see the inert outlines of other carriages. I am sure they are covered in rust, I can smell it from here. I’m trying to keep my hopes up — at least mosquitoes don’t bite metal.

September 6: I’m still trapped in this viscous swamp. But, I continue to pray for the best. It is difficult. I fear I may be too far from the store to find my way back alone. At night, I have fever-dreams of families in the store juggling produce and meats in their arms, entire rounds of cheese, sausage links, and celery stalks crashing to the floor in a dirty and distasteful floor salad. I could be there right now. I could be helping them.

September 8: I am guessing, at this point, that the Cart Organizer, Ben, will not come looking for this lost member of his flock. I remember thinking him lazy when I first laid eyes upon him and now I know for sure. I write this now knowing I will never make it back home. I was so ready a few short months ago to fill my open carriage with the bounty of life that lines the well-stocked shelves of Piggly Wiggly. Now, all I am left with are boxes of shattered dreams, cans of disillusionment, and bags of lost hopes. So please remember me faithful reader, whoever you may be. Remember me for my once steely optimism. Remember me for the corners I turned — despite handicaps. Remember me, world. And sing out my name. Sing out A Shopping Cart.

Quiet, Please!

By: Michael Fowler

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Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Cat’s Club. I’d like to introduce our band, we’re Rick Soloway on bass, Kit Richter on drums, and myself Mike Blaine on piano. Before we get started I’d like to go over a simple ground rule we have for playing out. We ask that you observe a strict silence during our performance. I don’t want to hear anybody ordering food or drink, or any talking or laughing, or any cell phones ringing, or any ice cubes clinking in glasses. It’s time to pay respect to this great music we call jazz. The least disturbance may interfere with our concentration and make it impossible for us to play. Up front in the red jacket, what is your name, sir? Are you the performer here tonight? Then why are you talking so much? You haven’t stopped talking since we came out on stage. Listen up, people. If the band doesn’t get a respectful silence, we ain’t going to play a note. It’s that simple. You want to talk or order food, go elsewhere. All right. Umm, hmm, piano seems to be in tune. We’d like to kick off the set with a Monk number, one of several of Monk’s we plan to play this evening. It’s called ‘Ruby, My Dear.’ Gentlemen, one, two…who is strangling? I think a man whose breathing is that labored should go to the hospital right now. He may require medical treatment that is not available here at Cat’s where a world-class jazz trio is trying to perform. You were just clearing your throat, sir? I see. And are you finished now? Right, then let’s take it again. One, two…yeah, this time we’re into it. It’s smooth, isn’t it? I like to make the high notes twinkle like stars in the night sky. And so far you’re silent, which is good. I myself talk over the band, as you can see, but then it’s my gig. Okay, everyone stop playing. Who’s snapping their fingers? Oh you’re just “getting into” the music, ma’am? Have you joined our band as our new timekeeper? No? Okay then, knock it off. That is a total distraction. How would you like it if I went to your job or to your house and snapped my fingers in front of your coworkers or your guests without the least inhibition and all out of sync? I’m thinking you wouldn’t like it very much. We’re going to pick it up at the drum solo, and I don’t want to hear anyone so much as sniff. One, two…yeah, that’s got it. Digging it there, digging it. Get in on that cymbal. All right, stop right there. You, at the table by the steps. Did you toss a Styrofoam cup down those steps? Did you or did you not, is what I’m asking. You did drop a Styrofoam cup down the steps, but it was an accident? Man, with the acoustics in this place, that cup was audible next door. I could hear a “pock!” each time it bounced off a step. Each one of those “pocks!” cut into my brain like a gunshot. People, you simply have no idea what damage you’re inflicting on my nervous system. I get a distinct pang when I play before people who have no self-control, who are ill-mannered as children, who have no regard for the majesty and sanctity of the music we bring to them, and no respect for the musicians who, often at great personal sacrifice, dedicate their lives to bringing forth the finest jazz sounds of which a musical conglomerate is capable. We’re going to try this one more time, but let me remind you that we’re under no obligation to perform for ingrates and savages. Thank you, I appreciate your consideration this evening. One, two…yeah, okay we’re cookin’. We’re swingin’. This is my favorite part here. This is my favorite part that you, lady back there, just ruined by calling for your check. Everybody stop. I would gladly have paid for the cocktails and dinner of everyone here if only I could have been assured that no one would ruin our performance by calling for their check. Oh you thought you did it as quietly as possible? It sounded to me like you were screaming for you life. Do you know what? We’re leaving now. You save your “aw’s” and “come on’s” for someone else. This ain’t no James Brown act, we’re finished, there’s no coming back. Goodnight. And hold your applause. Nothing upsets me more than applause.

A Short Interview With Larry Sandwich, Health Nut

By: Ed Page

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INTERVIEWER: Good evening, Mr. Sandwich.

LARRY SANDWICH: Good evening.

INTERVIEWER: How long have you been a health nut?

LARRY SANDWICH: Well, let’s see … as long as I can remember. And I can remember pretty far back, let me tell you. Hell, I remember the dinosaurs. Remember those? Huge gray nasty things with long snouts, always stealing your peanuts…

INTERVIEWER: Peanuts? I think you may be thinking of elephants.

LARRY SANDWICH: Is that what they were? I do remember thinking, “Why are all these dinosaurs here at the circus?”

INTERVIEWER: Tell me, Mr. Sandwich. Do you exercise?

LARRY SANDWICH: I’ll level with you, Steve. Can I call you Steve?

INTERVIEWER: My name’s Barbara.

LARRY SANDWICH: OK, Barbara. I’ll level with you. I’m a big proponent of visualization. I put on my workout togs — a tracksuit, tennis shoes, a sweatband — and I go into my den, and I light up a cigar, and I sit in my big orange beanbag chair, and I picture myself jogging. I can visualize for hours.

INTERVIEWER: You have a beanbag chair?

LARRY SANDWICH: Yes, an orange one. But, then, I’m an expert. If you’re just starting out, I’d recommend something less intense than orange, maybe a light green or a burgundy. After all, I don’t want people hurting themselves.

INTERVIEWER: Very prudent, Mr. Sandwich. Do you eat junk food?

LARRY SANDWICH: I do. Trying to do anything else with it is a fool’s game. When I was young and naive, I made a yacht out of Ring Dings. The thing sank like a brick. My wife, Bernice, went down with the damn thing. Always loved Ring Dings, the poor dear. The yacht was my anniversary present to her. More recently, I made a hat out of Twinkies, but a bird ate it.

INTERVIEWER: Were you wearing it at the time?

LARRY SANDWICH: I certainly was. I was walking along, minding my own business, when all of a sudden, out of the sky, nibble nibble nibble!

INTERVIEWER: Well, I’m sorry to hear that.

LARRY SANDWICH: Oh, it was a beautiful Twinkie hat. Just beautiful! In fact, I named it Bernice in honor of my dead wife. Now, alas, they’re both gone.

INTERVIEWER: You’ve had a difficult life, Mr. Sandwich.

LARRY SANDWICH: Yes, it’s been quite an ordeal. And mostly because I didn’t eat junk food. If I’d just gorged on those Ring Dings, my wife would be here today. And if I’d scarfed down those Twinkies, I’d never have had to endure the grief of having my favorite hat eaten by a sparrow.

INTERVIEWER: One last question. You mentioned smoking earlier. Isn’t smoking unhealthy?

LARRY SANDWICH: I’ve found that if you put the lit end of a cigar in your mouth and touch it with the tip of your tongue, it hurts a lot. I would say that doing that is not at all healthy. In fact, I’ve stopped doing it altogether.

When Worlds Run into Each Other

By: Mark O'Donnell

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(Outer space. Two planets meet by accident and hail each other.)

ONE: Hey, whoa, how are you!

TWO: Hi! I must be way out of orbit, running into you! Look at you!

ONE: Hey, you look great! What is it, trillions?

TWO: Trillions of years, it has been. So how’s your civilization?

ONE: Well, they’re just discovering music, if you know what I mean.

TWO: Lotta drums, huh? My smallest satellite – Plutonis, that green bit in the distance, just broke out in mammals.

ONE: Very natural, mine had them. I notice your polar ice caps are larger.

TWO: Well, you’re not exactly molten, you old spheroid – how’s your star?

ONE: The red giant? No, seriously, fine, couldn’t break free if I wanted to!

(awkward silence)

TWO (out of chat): Well, you look great. Real atmosphere.

ONE: You, too. Bounce some cosmic rays in my direction.

TWO: Sure will, I sure will.

ONE: Bye!

TWO: Bye!

(They part. Pause, then each says to itself simultaneously)

BOTH: I thought she’d exploded!

(blackout)

*****

From May Contain Nuts by Michael J. Rosen. HarperCollins Publishers. Used by permission.

To order the book, click here: May Contain Nuts at Amazon.com

To learn more about the Mirth of a Nation anthologies, click here: Mirth of a Nation

New on DVD

By: Jeff Ward

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Sense and Sensibility – Columbia/Tristar, 1996 (PG); Theatrical Trailer; $32.00

The Sussex of 1811, impressively recreated in Emma Thompson’s film adaptation, is overwhelmingly alive on DVD. The rendering of the period’s clothing and furniture is worthy of a time machine, and the countryside is so lush you’ll smell the damp hay.

But the crispness of the format reveals a number of anachronisms – in a church cemetery, for instance, one can easily read “DIED 1915” on a tombstone. A niggling detail; but what of the vehicle that carries Col. Brandon so urgently to attend his ailing daughter in London? It is clearly a Pinto.

Careful viewing reveals distant power lines, contact lenses, a Timex watch, a Monkees poster – overall, a level of sloppiness not hinted at by the VHS.

The “enormous tome” sent to Elinor by the dashing Edward turns out to be Yes I Can by Sammy Davis Jr. Most flagrantly of all, in a medium shot of Marianne stuffing herself with JiffyPop and Tofutti by lava lamp, she sets down her bong and switches on American Bandstand, where Salt ‘N’ Pepa are doing their 1994 hit “Shoop” – nearly wrecking the believability of this otherwise masterful film. (Bandstand went off air in 1989.)

Taxi Driver (Special Edition) – Columbia, 1976 (R); Widescreen, Dolby; $19.95

With its musical numbers removed, Taxi Driver became a grim urban drama instead of the delightfully tappy confection envisioned by Scorcese. Seeing them restored reminds us what a lithe, spruce dance team De Niro and Foster were.

The songs are pure champagne. Herrmann & Ebb’s “When You’re Pimpin'” and “Tippy-Tappin’ Teen-Whore from Old Times Square” are the zenith of Columbia production numbers; and De Niro’s specialty, “Bickle with a B,” redefines the water ballet.

The Wizard of Oz – MGM, 1939 (G); $24.98

The big surprise is Kansas – the opening sequence is revealed as a series of Dorothea Lange tableaux, hardly less vivid in their evocative dustiness than Oz itself. Just as surprising is the original ending, unseen since Louis B. Mayer ordered it cut after a disastrous Pomona preview. After Dorothy’s famous exclamation, “There’s no place like home,” Miss Gulch enters her bedroom and demands the return of the escaped Toto.

Uncle Henry and Aunt Em reread the order from the Sheriff and again hand the dog over to Gulch, who this time seals it into her basket with a thick bicycle chain and bears it outdoors to be shot. Dorothy, hysterical, pleads with the farmhands to rescue Toto using their brains, hearts and courage. “We’re drifters, Dorothy,” they explain, and exit to dig the dog a grave.

“Life is bleak, Dorothy,” counsels Aunt Em. “All living things die. You’ll be dead too, someday. Then there’s an afterlife – but that’s an open question, to say the least.

Professor Marvel opens a newspaper and announces the Nazi invasion of Poland. Everyone stares, numb with apprehension, as shots ring out in the yard and Dorothy, now irreversibly unhinged, screams uncontrollably. Fade to credits.

Commentary track by Sam Peckinpah and Lorna Luft.

*****

From May Contain Nuts by Michael J. Rosen. HarperCollins Publishers. Used by permission.

To order the book, click here: May Contain Nuts at Amazon.com

To learn more about the Mirth of a Nation anthologies, click here: Mirth of a Nation

This Week on the Law & Order Network

By: Justin Warner

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Monday, 8 p.m. – Law & Order:

Parking Adjudication

A Manhattan shiatsu therapist receives a bogus $200 ticket. Fifteen consecutive written appeals are denied automatically by computer. He contemplates suicide on the Queensboro Bridge, where he receives another ticket for parking in a “loading zone.”

Monday, 9 p.m. – Law & Order:

Suburban Township Board Meeting

(Part 5 of 12) Re-zoning the 4400 block of Fairfax Avenue for multi-unit non-commercial dwellings. As himself: Rep. Jim Byer (at-large alternate delegate, Rappahannock County Council, VA).

Monday, 10 p.m. – Law & Order:

L.A. Police Brutality (Celebrity Edition)

Controversial white rapper Eminem fails to amortize the value of his Humvee on his state income tax return, and is mercilessly flagellated with a socket wrench. Officer O’Donnell: Rodney King.

Tuesday, 8 p.m. – Law & Order:

Orthodox Kosher

Talmudic scholars debate whether platypus may be served during Passover. Rabbi Judah Friedman: Martin Mull.

Tuesday, 9 p.m. – Law & Order:

Infield Fly Rule

Part One: An umpire defends a controversial call before a jury of agitated, nosebleed-seat Philadelphia fans. Part Two: Foreman Rich Leardi defends his verdict at a Camden, NJ, ESPN Zone before a jury consisting of his alcoholic Uncle Paul. Part Three: Uncle Paul defends himself in court against ESPN Zone, Inc., for unspecified damages to a foosball table. Uncle Paul: Billy Bob Thornton. Philadelphia: Baltimore.

Tuesday, 10 p.m. – Law & Order:

Advanced Dungeons & Dragons

A fifth-level Paladin half-elf (12 Strength, 14 Dexterity) attempts to lift the +3 mace in his right hand in order to strike the first of 42 marauding Orcs. (6 _ hours)

Wednesday, 8 p.m. – Law & Order:

Catholic Girls’ School Dress Code

Seniors at Notre Dame Academy in Worcester, MA, circumvent the 5″ hemline rule with floor-length skirts made entirely of Saran Wrap.

Wednesday, 9 p.m. – Law & Order:

Your Mom’s House

You are grounded for flushing broccoli down the toilet, but your younger sister receives only mild reprobation for tie-dying the cat.

Wednesday, 10 p.m. – Law & Order:

Small Liberal Arts College

A freshman from the Midwest makes an offhand remark that a wealthy, white, heterosexual Protestant upperclassman perceives as prejudiced. The incident is exhaustively analyzed in 287 separate threads on the school’s Internet newsgroup. The Rev. Al Sharpton: Don King. Don King: The Rev. Al Sharpton. Cornel West: Martin Mull.

Thursday, 8 p.m. – Law & Order:

Australian Parliament

Details of Aboriginal land grants in New South Wales are resolved through elocution and drunken fistfights. Prime Minister: Former Minnesota Gov. Jesse Ventura (18 Strength, 16 Dexterity, 8 Wisdom).

Thursday, 9 p.m. – Law & Order:

AFTRA Eligible

A man is shot in Grand Central Station, where 200 underemployed New York-area actors are given one-line walk-ons as witnesses. Corpse: Ted McGinley.

Thursday, 10 p.m. – Law & Order:

Occam’s Razor

(4 minutes) A woman is found stabbed in an alley. Her ex-husband is caught running from the scene with a bloody-knife. He is arrested and convicted. (Followed immediately by Law & Order: 55 Minutes of Target Commercials. Man Building Bookshelf/Street Mime/Komodo Dragon: Ben Vereen.)

Friday, 8 p.m. – Law & Order:

End-User License Agreement

(2-hour, back to back premiere) “Surprise” clauses are slipped into the licensing agreements for downloadable software, and then immediately enforced. Episode One: “The user agrees, in perpetuity throughout the known universe, to affect the physical likeness, manner, and vocal quality of the popular McDonaldland™ character of Grimace®.” Episode Two: “The user agrees, under penalty of immediate and irrevocable decapitation, never again to use words containing the letter ‘S’.”

Friday, 10 p.m. – Murphy’s Law & Order

The pilot should have been done by now, but it got held up by the directors’ strike, and then there was a fire at the garage where they were shooting, and last night the editor’s copy of FinalCut Pro crashed three time. Three freakin’ times!

Saturday, 8 p.m. – Law & Order:

Second Thermodynamics Division

(Time indeterminate.) At the top of the episode, the crime is solved, the perpetrator is behind the bars, and justice is served. Eventually, all the lawyers, police officers, and suspects, along with the New York Superior Court and the entire island of Manhattan, have spontaneously disassociated into a homogeneous mixture of free-floating constituent atoms. Nitrogen gas: Barium gas. The Yawning Void of Infinite Chaos: Keanu reeves. Shiatsu therapist: Martin Mull.

*****

From May Contain Nuts by Michael J. Rosen. HarperCollins Publishers. Used by permission.

To order the book, click here: May Contain Nuts at Amazon.com

To learn more about the Mirth of a Nation anthologies, click here: Mirth of a Nation

Romeo and Juliet Versus Mrs. Jackson’s Seventh-Grade English Class

By: Ethan Anderson

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Why do they teach Romeo and Juliet in seventh grade? When boys turn 13? When Romeo and Juliet are medieval seventh-graders? When they make love once and kill themselves? What are they thinking?

THE AVERAGE BOY SITTING BEHIND SUZY WARNER IN MRS. JACKSON’S CLASS

One, Suzy Warner is incredibly hot.

Two, no one is hotter than Suzy Warner.

Three, I’m hungry.

Four, last year I was a kickball superstar.

Five, this year I am a virgin.

Six, Suzy Warner is incredibly hot.

Seven, there’s a muffled noise coming from the front of the room.

Eight, the muffled noise is Mrs. Jackson, trying to teach.

Nine, Mrs. Jackson is incredibly hot.

Ten, Suzy Warner beats Juliet

any century, any day of the week.

Eleven, how hot would Suzy Warner look in the 14th century?

Twelve, the correct answer is crazy 14th-century hot.

Thirteen, let’s say I’m Romeo

and Suzy Warner not only does it with me,

but then she tells me she wants to do it AGAIN the next day.

Fourteen, gaphphnuggungh, my brain has imploded.

Fifteen, I didn’t think it was possible to be this hungry.

Sixteen, according to Shakespeare,

the day after I do it with Suzy Warner,

I’m across town lying dead in a crypt.

Seventeen, NO WAY that happens in real life, okay?

Because One, if I’m Romeo,

that means I’m not a virgin anymore,

WHICH IS AWESOME.

And because Two, if Suzy Warner’s in bed with me,

no way I’m leaving the bed, EVER.

I would never get out of bed.

Skittles, skateboarding, food and water –

things of the past, my friend.

Let’s assume for some totally unbelievable hypothetical reason

that I leave Suzy Warner in bed.

Let’s suppose later that day,

one of Suzy Warner’s relatives

kills my best friend Mercutio.

On one hand, I hate that dude.

On the other hand, I know Suzy Warner

WANTS IT AGAIN, FROM ME, TONIGHT.

So let’s review.

Either I avenge my best friend, who is tragically dead.

Or I sleep with Suzy Warner, who is totally hot.

Door number one,

Avenge friend’s death, return to kickball.

Door number two,

SUZY WARNER.

In conclusion, Shakespeare, total idiot.

Class dismissed.

And if I don’t get Cheetos in the next five minutes,

I will pass out and die.

SUZY WARNER, SITTING IN MRS. JACKSON’S CLASS

One, Mrs. Jackson is my favorite teacher and

Romeo and Juliet is not just a great play,

it is also an incredible movie.

Two, in the movie Leonardo DiCaprio played Romeo

and he is an amazing actor.

Three, the only movie I have seen more times than

Romeo and Juliet is Titanic,

starring Leonardo DiCaprio.

Four, you should be allowed to drink Diet Coke in English

class.

Five, Leonardo DiCaprio is so amazing in Titanic

that I almost forget the ending every time. I swear.

Six, my other favorite movie

behind Titanic and Romeo and Juliet

is The Beach, starring Leonardo DiCaprio.

Seven, I haven’t seen What’s Eating Gilbert Grape yet,

but I want to.

It stars Leonardo DiCaprio and Johnny Depp,

who is also an amazing actor.

Eight, I could not believe how incredibly much

Johnny Depp loved Winona Ryder

in Edward Scissorhands. They were like unicorns.

Nine, if I were Juliet,

that would mean I would be married to Leonardo DiCaprio.

Ten, if I were married to Leonardo DiCaprio

we would have houses in Hollywood and Europe and Florida

that my friends could visit any time

and I would have my own successful business

and I would still write in my journal

when Leonardo is out making movies

and I would decorate on of the houses entirely in kelly green,

which is an amazing color.

Eleven, if I were married to Leonardo DiCaprio

and he was Romeo, and I woke up and I saw that he had killed himself

because he thought I was dead even though I wasn’t,

I would definitely do what Juliet did,

which is incredibly sad, but I definitely would.

Twelve, I would definitely NOT EVER do what Juliet did

for any boy in my class.

NOT IN A BILLION YEARS.

Thirteen, I know Leonardo is fat now, but I don’t care.

In conclusion, Shakespeare is an amazing writer,

and it makes me sad that there are no boys in my class

who are anything like Leonardo DiCaprio.

MRS. JACKSON, TEACHING HER ENGLISH CLASS

One, if Suzy Warner calls Romeo “Leonardo” one more time,

I will kill her and lose my pension.

Two, you should be allowed to drink Diet Coke in English class.

And three, what’s that boy behind Suzy thinking?

He’s not even in this class.

*****

From May Contain Nuts by Michael J. Rosen. HarperCollins Publishers. Used by permission.

To order the book, click here: May Contain Nuts at Amazon.com

To learn more about the Mirth of a Nation anthologies, click here: Mirth of a Nation

Developmental Valley School District Lunch Menus for This Week

By: Phil Austin

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PLAIZMENTARY SCHOOL


MON: Paper Stack; Boneless Burrito; Paste; Kitten on a Stick; Milkaroni

TUE: White Bread on Toast; Glass of Sugar; See-Through lettuce; Liquid Milk

WED: Sponge; Sugar Sandwich; butter Plate; Cloth Pudding; Milk

THURS: Simple Pie; Banana Split; Sugar Mound; Blanched Cookie; Milk

FRI: Diaper Surprise; Clear Peaches; Steamed Cereal Boxes; Sugar; Milk

MYSTERY ISLAND SCHOOL FOR GIRLS


MON: Soft Eggs on a Mirror; Hard-boiled Hollow Birds; Handful of Tacos; Milk

TUE: Rack of Clever Hans; Whisked Apple Fly; Coronation Ham; Nylon Bunnies; Big Carton

WED: Mystery Potato; Curd; Slippery Tart; Milk Pie; Leg Salad Sandwich; Clear Liquid

THURS: Oysters Frightened by Chickens; Liver Mounds; Nest of Interesting Spiders; Mai Tai; Pack of Camels

FRI: Breast of Clam a la “Eddie”; Wieners in a Basket under a Blanket; Teacher’s Surprise; Milk

EARNEST BOYS ACADEMY


MON: Beef Throats; Smoked Leg; Hind Quarters; Gros Livers; Old-Fashioned Milk; Cigars

TUE: Flat Motor Pies; Fisherman’s Regret; Loin of Fat; Stunned Ducks in Alcohol Sauce; Milk

WED: Tart Bottoms; Slick Fritters; Breasts of Toast; Sweetbreads in Hand; Cuckoo Punch; Cigars; Milk

THURS: Roast Puffins; Revenge Pudding; Pancakes in Water; Baked Salad; Ring of Fire; Milk

FRI: Ducklings a la Moron; Smothered Rodents; Closet Pie; Turbo Skeletons; Champagne; Brandies; Cigars; Milk

WILLY LOMAN PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL


MON: Horse Butter Sandwiches; Hot Jello Salad; French Kisses; Curb Cake; Milk

TUE: Toads in Blanket in a Hole; Complicated Salad; Ice Bread; Lomax Pie; Milk Cocktail

WED: Hat with Cheese; Insurance Salad; V6 Bread; Field Surprise; Milk

THURS: Battered Vegetables; Wax Wrappers; Wallet and Raisin Salad; Adult Milkshake

FRI: Fried Chuck; Paper Salad; Responsibility Pie; White Dessert; Retirement Milk

ALTERNATE CURRENT MAGNET SCHOOL


MON: Eco-Veggie Bar; Rainbow Krazy Krunch; Twig Sticks; Turkey Straws; Cow Milk

TUE: Helpless Nuggets with Sour Sauce; Gator Tots; Trial Mix; White Milk

WED: False Rabbit Wedges; Farm Dip; Sloppy Joans; French Acid; Goat Milk

THURS: Meatless Hot Creatures; Sweetened Cherries; Meltdown on a Bun; Squares; Mother’s Milk

FRI: Refried Fries; Early Dismissal Cup; Hemp Wheels; Party on a Bun; Dip; Sheep Milk

*****

From May Contain Nuts by Michael J. Rosen. HarperCollins Publishers. Used by permission.

To order the book, click here: May Contain Nuts at Amazon.com

To see more of Phil Austin’s work, click here: Phil Austin’s Blog

To learn more about the Mirth of a Nation anthologies, click here: Mirth of a Nation

Kenny Asimov’s Three Laws of Robot Baseball

By: Christopher Monks

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As the grand-grand-grand-grand-nephew (by marriage) of the great science-fiction author and robot expert Isaac Asimov, I, Kenny Asimov, feel more than qualified to devise the Three Laws of Robot Baseball. Now I realize there are quite a few people in the robot-baseball community who believe my recent stay in Space Sector Four’s Apple Junction Penitentiary is cause for my removal as the first-ever commissioner of Basebot. All I can say to those people is, even though they may have seen the indicting hologram of my alleged offense, they don’t know all the facts of the case. Yes, it might have looked like I was distributing illegal robot sexual prosthetics to robot minors, but I assure you I was not. It was all a big misunderstanding, and I have my team of lawyers to thank for convincing the appellate judge the same.

While the time I spent incarcerated was hard on my family and my robot concubine, Wendy, it allowed me to not only kick my pesky synthetic-smack habit, but to also carefully consider the basis for the Three Laws of Robot Baseball. I take this new sport very seriously, my friends and robots, and I feel it deserves the same amount of respect and attention that all the other elite robot sports get, like extreme ultimate robot fighting and robominton.

For Basebot to thrive, we must recruit the most athletic and aesthetically pleasing robots. Nobody wants to watch baseball played by uncoordinated and ugly robots. I know I don’t. Therefore, I call on robot manufacturers around the Milky Way to create faster, stronger, and hotter robots designed solely for playing Basebot. And while anatomically correct robot players might help us tap into the trillion-dollar “adult” market, they are at this time not required. (If and when they are, contact me and I’ll get you a good deal on prosthetic robot genitalia.)

I also ask all human fans to be courteous and orderly while attending Basebot games. Believe you me, I know how satisfying it is to mock robots, but we must refrain from it while the robots are out there playing on the hexagon. We can’t have our robot players humiliated (no matter how comical it may be), as it will only lessen the quality of play. As for our robot fans, all I ask is that you stay in your specifically marked seating areas in the upper bleachers of all Basebot stadiums. And keep your beeping to a minimum, please.

Ultimately, Basebot’s success will rely on the robot players themselves. If they play the sport with honor and integrity, the game will no doubt evolve into a solar-systemic pastime. Thus, certain robotic laws must be adhered to so that the sport can be played the way it was meant to be played. With that said, I give you the Three Laws of Robot Baseball:

Law Number One: A robot may not injure another human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm on the playing field.

So no killing human umpires. A robot may argue with a human umpire over a disputed call provided the robot does not read the umpire’s mind. This will ensure a fair fight, as well as prevent any residual brain damage on the part of the umpire. In addition, a robot must not use its laser rays to zap off an umpire’s pants in an effort to embarrass the umpire. And should family members of the human umpire be in attendance, robots must not kidnap them and/or threaten to drill holes in their heads to try to persuade an umpire to reverse his or her call. As for robot umpires, robot players are encouraged to not only argue with them, but to attempt to destroy them as well. Everyone likes a good robot battle, so let’s not disappoint our patrons.

Law Number Two: A robot must obey orders given it by human managers, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

For instance, if a manager wanted one of his robot players to rip the eyes out of a human umpire’s head, the robot wouldn’t be allowed to do it. It doesn’t matter how many bad calls the manager believes the umpire has made: no eyeball ripping out allowed. Now in regards to team mascots, well, that’s another story. Even though most team’s mascots feature humans dressed in some kind of funny-looking suit or uniform, robots do have more leeway in terms of the level of harm they can administer. You see, even though they’re humans, they’re dressed up like nonhumans, so managers are allowed to order their robot players to harass, molest, and torment an opposing team’s mascots as they see fit.

Law Number Three: No pepper games allowed.

I am confident that if these three laws are strictly abided by, we shall have quite a popular and revenue-generating robot sport on our hands. Yes, there will be a constant struggle to fill team-mascot positions with human applicants, but if worse comes to worse, I’m sure mutants would be more than up to the task. I mean, mutants have to work somewhere, right?

The inaugural season begins three weeks from Monday in Boise. President Tony Danza VI is scheduled to throw out the first titanium sphere at 1:05 p.m. sharp. He’ll be followed by Fantasia-bot’s rendition of our Galaxy Anthem, and the ceremonial proclamation of “Play ball!” by the recently unfrozen and reattached baseball legend Ted Williams. I look forward to a great day and the advent of a great new robot sport!

The Water Lover’s Newsletter

By: David Martin

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Dear Subscribers,

It’s hard to believe another month has passed but here we are again sharing our expertise with you about the world’s best beverage: water. We hope you have enjoyed some of our previous picks and are ready and eager to sample some more.

It’s been an exciting month and we’ve discovered some new waters that will knock your socks off. And for the dedicated aquaphile, we’ve revisited a few old favorites with some surprising results.

Emu


This is the first Australian water we’ve tried and we suspect it won’t be the last. Who knew Alice Springs really had a springs? Well it does and Emu comes right from the source. Clear, wet and splashy, Emu leaves no aftertaste. Just that wonderful thirst-slaked feeling that locals must get after a long, hot day in the Outback. At $2.95 a bottle, you’ll want to put a few “down under” your own water cellar.

L’Attrape


Just when you thought the great waters of France had been exhausted, there’s L’Attrape. Less a water than a potion, L’Attrape provides a spiritual experience not found in other drinks. Aged in oak casks for fifty years, this “l’eau regional” has a stillness and flatness that echoes over time. Although filtered at the source, you may still wish to decant before serving to ensure a pure, clear, oak-free beverage. At $10.95 a bottle, these won’t last long.

Las Vegas


Young, bold and splashy, Las Vegas has a crystalline 24/7 clarity that brightens up any table. Unlike older, more mature waters, Las Vegas is bottled directly from the municipal taps to give you the exciting taste of today. It’s the same great-tasting water high rollers all along the Strip use to freshen up their spirit of choice. Buy a case for your next big party. But don’t keep for more than a year as Las Vegas is a “l’eau nouveau” and doesn’t age very well.

Ganges


Exotic and unpredictable, Ganges is a water for those who want to take a chance on adventure and live a little dangerously. Clear, colorless and odorless, Ganges nevertheless may have a fecal coliform count of anywhere up to 1,000 ppm. Often goes best with a slightly saline water administered intravenously.

Redistillé


New from Evian is Redistillé, billed as “the essence of water.” The clever folks at Evian have taken their famous spring water, distilled it and then distilled it again and then distilled it once more. They then pour it through a tightly knit sweater. Evian dares you to find any hint of taste, flavor or color in their new product. When you’re looking for a perfect impurity-free, palate-cleansing drink, Redistillé has everything you’re looking for and less. Lay in a case or two and don’t worry about aging. The first bottle will be as tasteless as the last.

L’Office


Ordinarily, we don’t recommend spring waters sold in 18 liter plastic containers. But L’Office is different. It’s a clear, fresh, campy water meant to recreate the “joie de vivre” and “esprit de corps” of the old 1950s office water cooler. Buy your own retro cooler for as little as $279 and get two or three containers of L’Office for your next home party. Watch as your guests are magically drawn to the cooler and let the fun begin.

WaterPak


If you’re at a loss for what to get friends and family for a gift, look no further than WaterPak. WaterPak is twelve mini-bottles of the best waters from around the world. Without breaking the bank, you can let your friend or loved one try a dozen of today’s trendiest waters. From the clear, flat taste of Switzerland’s Alp to the flat, clear taste of Colorado’s Rocky, they’ll enjoy the best the world of water has to offer. And for those who can’t get enough of a good thing, WaterPak is now introducing their Water-of-the-Month Club.

La Piscine


As children we were all warned not to drink the water from the swimming pool. Now, just in time for the dog days of August, La Piscine’s refreshing hint of chlorination lets you experience the forbidden taste of summer without the guilt. Pop one open whenever you’re stuck inside on a humid day — or throw a bottle in your beach tote for the best of both worlds! Just don’t drink more than 12 fl. oz. in a day, per the La Piscine warning label.

Cheers,

The Editors