A Houndstooth Check Blood Pattern Day!

In all your years on the job, you ain't never seen anything like this.

"The assailant used a stencil," you tell the flatfoot with a notebook.

"He a fruit, Detective?"

You take in a lot of air, let out a long, low hiss of disgust. "Most definitely," you say. "I'd stake my badge on it."

"Takes one to know one!" you expect someone to shout into the silence that follows. A part of you would welcome it. The part that's still in love with the seventeen-year old Puerto Rican boy you sent to maximum security 28 years ago. The part that's doing all it can to substitute love of your work for the love you only gave once to Julio. In the backseat of your police issue, by the side of route 40, you lied and said you'd let him go if he does this one thing, just this one thing. He knew the game, he'd played it before, so many times that when it was all over and you smacked his head up against the cage behind the front seat he didn't even seem surprised. He knew he was going to jail the whole time, but he played the game anyhow.

"He loved me," you think, every night just before passing out in your chair. "Julio knows what I am."

He's the only one.

Happy A Houndstooth Check Blood Pattern Day!

Burglars Day!

Today, burglars all over the nation are postponing that one last score so that they can head into the park for a nice, friendly, here-comes-autumn picnic. Burglars don't find time to get together as often as they'd like. It's hard to take them off the job. Even today, they're not gonna take off the ski-masks. At least not at first.

At first it'll just be the same as always. Everyone crowds around the burglar who brought a velvet cloth full of diamonds. They'll ooh and aah while he says, "Isn't that a great diamond? I'm a hell of a burglar." But eventually, the sun will send them all to the blanket, peering up at the blue sky, wiping their minds clean of safe-cracking shortcuts and generic chloroform price hikes. Soon, one of them will whip out a Frisbee, and they'll be running this way and that like a bunch of little kids on the first day of spring (albeit in ski masks).

The picnic on Burglars Day never goes sour. Everyone leaves happier than they came, and full of just a little bit more cold fried chicken. Last year, one of the female burglars hit it off with one of the male burglars and they went for a walk. This year, they're coming back wearing wedding rings they stole for each other.

See you at the park, unless you're in jail.

Happy Burglars Day!

Happy 15th Anniversary You Two Day!

You know the drill. Get naked and sit Indian Style in the middle of the floor. Lean forward as far as you can. Lean forward so far that it feels like your spines are about to snap. Try to touch noses. Hold it.

On the count of three, shout the first thing that comes into your mind.

She shouted failure. He shouted Evelyn (her name's Doris).

Happy Happy 15th Anniversary You Two Day!

Lou Rawls Day!

Lou Rawls told his wife, "She's not gonna bother us anymore."

His wife didn't say anything.

Lou Rawls told her again, "She's not gonna bother us anymore, I said."

His wife nodded at the table. Lou said, "You got nothing to say then?"

His wife just kept looking at the toaster. Lou Rawls went into the living room, rustled his newspaper on his lap, and began his new life, a life undisturbed by an infidelity. But just before it began, he shouted to his wife, "I killed her!"

His wife ran into the living room, saying, "Thanks a lot for protecting me, Douche!"

"What," said Lou Rawls. "You don't wanna know about it? Don't wanna know that it takes a murder to keep this marriage from falling apart?"

"Now I'm an accomplice," she shouted at Lou Rawls. "This is just like you. Far be it from you to suffer in silence to protect me. With you it's all about Look at all the sacrifices I've made for you. As if I should feel guilty just for having accepted your wedding proposal. You never made any sacrifices, just excuses. Every choice you ever made was an excuse to get outta doin' what you really wanted to do."

"Fuck you!" said Lou Rawls. And they fought on and on like that, like they do every night.

Happy Lou Rawls Day!

The Rock Band Died Day!

Last night, your favorite rock band died. They were coming out of church when they spotted a kitten meowing in the second floor window of a burning house. Every member of your favorite rock band – lead singer, lead guitar, bass player, drummer, backup guitar, keyboard player, and the guy who plays the cow bells and the maracas – swung into action. The lead singer and the bass player joined hands to hoist the lead guitarist up onto the trellis, from where he climbed onto the roof adjacent to the awning below the window where the cat was calling out. The drummer and the backup guitarist climbed the moleberry tree that hung over another awning adjacent to that window. Meanwhile, the lead singer, bass player, keyboardist, and the guy who plays the cow bells and maracas headed into the house to try to get up to that room to block the cat from running back into the fire to get away from his rooftop rescuers. Once everyone was either on top of or inside the house, the roof collapsed, killing all but the keyboard player, who died later that night of a heroin overdose while in bed with a handful of fourteen year old groupies, who also died that night, but of natural causes. The cat's fine.

Happy The Rock Band Died Day!

It's Like The Frog And The Scorpion Day!

"The one where the frog asks the scorpion for a lift across the river?"

"Scorpion asks the frog," say.

"Which one am I?" she'll ask.

"Duh," say. "You're the scorpion."

"So," she says, "My suggesting moving in with you is comparable in your mind to you helping me across a river, and my murdering you before we get across, bringing about my own death by drowning."

"Right," say. "Wait, I thought they get across, then she bites him."

"She? Have you always thought that the scorpion was necessarily a female and the frog a male?"

"And they're dating, yeah. But I thought they get across, she kills him, and goes on with her life."

She shakes her head, which sort of turns into a shake of her entire body. "No, I think she bites him midway through, which illustrates the whole 'it's my nature' thing about it."

"That doesn't work as well," say.

"No?"

"No, not as a parable for dating."

She'll say, "Holy shit."

"What?" say. "I just don't think we're ready." Then go to your guitar lesson.

Happy It's Like The Frog And The Scropion Day!

Today, You'll Say The Following Into The Barrel Of A Gun Day!

So I guess this is it?

You're a big, giant, festering, weak pussy. I fucking dare you to pull that trigger you faggot.

I should've known it would end this way.

It's right there on the bottom shelf of the curio. See for yourself (when she turns her head you'll grab for the gun but the tables won't turn).

I never thought I could find you more attractive until I saw your pretty little eyebrows pop out from around the hammer of that handgun. I'm going to unbutton your blouse now. Don't shoot.

Awwwwwww God! Awwwwwww God I don't wanna die!

Thanks, I love oyster crackers.

His name…is your name. Kandinski. He's your brother Patricia.

Oooooh isn't she just such a scawy wittle gangster girl. Evewybody wun fwom the scawy wittle gangster girl.

(Glancing under the recliner from your spot on the floor) So that's where the DVD remote ended up.

Kill me and you'll never get your hands on the antidote.

Nice gun. Who'd you blow for it? Ooooh! Dis!

Happy Today, You'll Say The Following Into The Barrel Of A Gun Day!

Pull The Fire Alarm Day!

There's not much time. Yank that handle down. You'll find out whether it's true that your hand gets sprayed with ink so that authorities can determine who it was that pulled the alarm.

Look at your hand and say, "Well waddaya know."

Your coworkers will be milling absently towards the fire exit. Go to Kara's desk and whisper through the thick of her hair and into her ear, "This isn't a drill. Don't cause a panic, just come with me."

Lead her (by the hand) to a non-designated fire stair, one where it's just the two of you.

"Will this get us to the sidewalk," she'll ask.

Stop on the stairs and say, "Who cares?"

She'll say, "The fire."

Say, "What? Oh, there's no fire. I pulled the alarm. I needed to get you alone so I could present my case for why you should leave your husband and kids and marry me."

She'll lean back against the wall of the stairwell, her arms crossed, and she'll say, "I'm listening."

Breathe deep and lay it on her. "I just think we've got something here. A connection. Am I wrong?"

Kara will take a second to consider your proposal. Say, "Goddammit the suspense is killing me! Yes or no!"

She'll say, "I need some time. I really dig my husband and kids. And I never noticed that connection thing you mentioned. But I have to admit, it was romantic of you to pull a fire alarm just to get me alone."

Get closer to her, and in a soft voice say, "I had no choice but to get you alone. I was too afraid of being laughed at by Dave (the loudmouth temp)." Say this whilst grazing your thumb along the circumference of where you estimate her right areola to be underneath her sweater.

She'll begin to pant. Then she'll push you away, telling you she needs to make a list of the pros and cons.

Happy Pull The Fire Alarm Day!

The Keys To The Kingdom Day!

It's been six years since your wife let you have sex with her and you're racking your brain for how to get yourself some of that. The problem is, you're so close to your wife that you can't see the forest for the trees. The easiest way into your wife's pants is through your wallet.

Your wife loves money. Actually, loves might be the wrong word. Your wife thinks holding money is as close as you can get to touching the bloody foot of Jesus Christ while he is dying on the cross. Since she was old enough to make her own decisions, every decision she's made has been in effort to acquire more money. It's why she married you. You were loaded and she knew it. When she danced with you that night you met, she could feel in your back that you were the kind of guy who was rich and would stay that way.

When she decided to make you propose to her, she thought, "I think he has enough money."

Using your money is clearly how you can get her to do what you want.

"But how?" you pant. "We share all of my money. Anything I have to give she's already got."

Take it away from her. Empty all of your bank accounts and open new ones. Hide the cars and houses and all of her clothes and food. Lock it all away until she demands it back.

"Not unless," say to her, "you have sex with me."

She'll tell you that as your wife that money is hers just as much as yours. Any court would agree.

"True, but courts take a long time to come to an agreement. You can wait months and months in a courtroom to be awarded the money by a judge. Or you can have it all back today, before dinnertime, just by letting me have sex with you."

She'd be a fool not to go for it. Have fun loverboy!

Happy The Keys To The Kingdom Day!

Your Kid's Piggy Bank Is Empty Day!

This is warning sign number two that he's addicted to the pot. Warning sign number one was when he was rude to his mother the other night. And warning sign number three is on its way. That's when he'll run through the living room naked, tearing at his own flesh, screaming "GET EM OFF ME! GET EM OFF ME!"

Just so's you can kept an eye out, here are all of the warning signs that your kid's addicted to the pot:

4) You find him in his little sister's room, forcing the barrel of a semi-automatic weapon in between her teeth (she's 9).

5) Large black people on the front step.

6) Unraked leaves.

7) He can levitate.

8) He is dead and there's nothing you can do about it now because you didn't heed the warning signs.

9) He is fathering children left and right.

10) He talks endlessly about how awesome the pot is and how it's the best thing ever.

11) When you ask him if he wants to go play mini golf with you on the weekends he just doesn't seem all that interested.

12) He has withdrawn roughly $78,000 from your bank account.

13) Snot pours out of his nose like water from a spigot.

If your kid exhibits any or all, or hell, even none, of these signs, he's probably addicted to the pot and you should beat him with a ring of keys until he's better.

Happy Your Kid's Piggy Bank Is Empty Day!

Deflated Beach Ball Day!

Not enough sunny days.

"It just never got hot enough." She repeats this over and over again, each time her voice sagging further with disbelief.

"Sometimes, summer doesn't come through," you say. You don't know if you'll ever be able to lift her spirits, and you're beginning to think you don't want to try.

"So much cold ahead. So much gray. How will we make it through?"

"Maybe," you say. "Maybe the winter will be mild as well."

She looks at you like you just spent your savings on lotto tickets.

"We need to plan," she says. "We need to be practical. We got our hopes up for the summer and now I feel tricked naked and raped. We need to shop and prepare for the coming months of misery. And, perhaps, the months of disappointment after that."

She takes your head in her hands. "We should assume that we won't be happy anymore. If we start from there, it won't hurt so much."

You rip her hands from your cheeks and you lose your shit.

"Goddammit," you shout. "I won't do it. I won't live under your cloud of black. Rain or shine, there's beauty to be had. If it rains on the beach, I don't want to run into the house and play Monopoly with a cashew substituting for the missing race car. I want to build a castle from the wet sand, because wet sand is better for building castles."

She begins to shiver. "What are you saying?"

"I won't keep you warm anymore. We're breaking up."

You divide up your stuff that night. She sobs steadily, occasionally shrieking "Please," but it doesn't affect you. All you can see is the possibility for an Autumn not spent huddling underneath an afghan !!!WITH YOUR WET BLANKET OF A GIRLFRIEND!!! (that was awesome. truly. the wet blanket under the afghan thing. pure maximum adrenaline rock and roll.).

Happy Deflated Beach Ball Day!

Because Lesbianism Begins With A Stern Trim Day!

Until now, you've only known your 19 year old sister to pursue unattainable men. She's held on to long-distance boyfriends with a decided calm. Her crushes have all fallen on men far outside of her age group or male friends with girlfriends. Occasionally, you wonder at the last time she might have had sex, which makes you feel like you've invaded her privacy just within the confines of your silent conjuecture.

But you've never ever thought she might be gay. Until this afternoon, when she came home with a close-cropped "bowl" of a haircut. The same cut you had when you were 12 and playing soccer. No matter how she musses and fusses with it, there can never be anything remotely "feminine" about what's settled upon her head right now. And she's never looked better.

"Holy shit, she's gay," you thought. You thought it the minute she got out of the car. She said hey to you and walked up the stairs without waiting for a remark on her new 'do. You stayed in your seat, feeling like a master detective who's just cracked a case.

"No wonder," you thought. "She's always seemed so tense in the shoulders. A very aggressive driver."

Happy Because Lesbianism Begins With A Stern Trim Day!

Juggle Chainsaws Day!

Today, rev up three gas powered chainsaws and toss them all up in the air just above your head.

Happy Juggle Chainsaws Day!

Chef Dilly Day!

Dilly got high, went to the store, and came back with pasta and sausage. He's cooking it up for the whole house to eat.

"Good day and welcome to Chateau Dilly, yo," he says to everyone who comes in to see who's using the kitchen.

Dilly's in the middle of a big long monologue that he's laying on everyone who comes in and sits down for a bit. When someone leaves and someone else in the house comes in, Dilly just continues on with his monologue as if whoever's in there has been there the whole time.

"The car never really ran right after that but me and Larkin are still real cool. I've done a lot for him since then," he says when you walk into the kitchen.

"Is there meat in that sauce?" you ask.

Dilly laughs. "Yes Mr. Vegetarian, there will be meat in this sauce. Vegetarians must order from the Tibetan House if they wish to eat tonight." He stirs his pasta a little then continues with his story. "Jenny got out of the hospital about six days later, but it was like two months before she spoke to me. We shared a bed the whole time, but we didn't fuck. When I finally got work she…"

You leave the kitchen and wander out onto the front porch. You're not a vegetarian. Your girlfriend is. But she gets angry any time she finds what she thinks is meat on her plate. And if you ordered a meat dish, she'd get angry at you. So you stopped eating meat around her. And soon you stopped eating meat altogether. Now that you've decided you're going to break up with her when the time is right, you really want to eat Dilly's pasta. But you're not going to. It'll cause a fight.

Happy Chef Dilly Day!

The Marines Day!

If we pitted our branches of the armed forces against each other, you'd root for the Marines. The Marines are just a bunch of hard-luck cases. Like growed up orphans who know how to kill. No one would root for the air force because they have all the spaceships. If it's a bunch of guys running around on the ground versus a spaceship, only a dick would keep his fingers crossed that the spaceship might be able to come out on top. The Navy's more about keeping their boots shiny and staying out of trouble so as not to be banned from the Saturday Night "Everyone On The Boat Fucks Everyone Else On The Boat" Topside Orgy. And the army is all about road repair nowadays.

But the Marines. They're the guys who just don't wanna have to go home and raise their kids. Every last one of them has gotten into a mixed-race fistfight and they've all cried into the arms of a heterosexual member of the same sex. You want the Marines to win even though they make you feel small. You can't resist getting behind the guy who could snap at any minute.

Happy The Marines Day!

The First Conversation With Your Husband After You've Cheated (You Might Be In Love) Day!

Hi honey.

Hi.

He kisses your forehead.

How was your day?

Good. Yours?

Great. We saw the Des Moines presentation.

Oh?

It looks like quite a nice area.

Mm hmm?

I think you're really gonna like it.

Mm hmm.

I really appreciate this you know. You know that right? I'm only doing this because I think it's worth it.

I know sweetie.

For the kids, and for you.

I know.

He kisses your forehead. His firm is relocating you and your family 1200 miles away from the guy you think you might be in love with.

Happy The First Conversation With Your Husband After You've Cheated (You Might Be In Love) Day!

Facebites Day!

Your wife hates you. She hates you so much that she sometimes stares at you while you sleep, miserable with just how much ugly she has to cede half her bed to. The more she stares, the more her blood boils, until she spreads her jaw open wide, wracks her head down at your face and rips her teeth into the skin on either side of your nose, trying to rip the center of your face off in her maw.

You wake up screaming into her neck. She recoils and cowers into the corner of the bedroom. You pant by the pillows, blood pouring forth from the gashes in your face. She says, "I hate you so much I'm gonna kill you one night. While you sleep."

Happy Facebites Day!

Your Mom Loves Him, Your Dad Wants To Kill Him On Sight Day!

He's in your hotel room, the fiancé who jilted you, the one you were supposed to marry. He's in your hotel room and tonight's the night before your wedding.

"No worries about your tidy little groom dropping in and interrupting us. That'd be bad luck, after all."

"Get out."

He wants more than just to screw. "I want you. Tomorrow I'll lose you forever unless I wake up by your side. I'm not leaving."

Your Mom and Dad are gonna drop by to kiss you goodnight. When your Dad sees Jonathan he'll try to strangle him, but your Mom will put a stop to it. Your Mom thinks you're making a big mistake by marrying this Rick kid tomorrow. She knows that Jonathan is the one you loved. Even though Jonathan broke your heart so bad you got into a car accident that put a faint scar on your face, your Mom thinks he's the one.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy about it," she once said when you confronted her. "There's nothing to be happy about when you find the one you love. But try too hard to deny that love and you're gonna die."

"Mom, he left me!" you sobbed.

Your Mom looked confused. "Yeah, but he'll be back. You know that right?"

Don't admit this please, but you always did know it. You couldn't imagine him staying away. Right now, you're just hoping you're more like your Dad now. You're hoping that the part of you that could love a cocksucker like Jonathan is dead. It's not.

Happy Your Mom Loves Him, Your Dad Wants To Kill Him On Sight Day!

Stop His Lotto Playing, He'll Leave You Behind Day!

The plans are laid for a beautiful future together. You're continuing your apprenticeship as assistant director of the Community Y. He's in his second semester at Community College in pursuit of a business degree.

"We're gonna make it right," you say.

"Then we're gonna make a family," he says.

And yet, every single day he buys himself a lotto ticket. Why even go to school if he's putting his hat in the ring to ride a gravy train outta town? Why all the planning? The promises?

"Why do you waste your money on those stupid lotto tickets?" you say.

"It's fun. I like to dream of what kind of life we'd lead if I won a hundred million dollars."

If he won a hundred million dollars, he'd go down to the office to claim the money. He'd call you up to tell you everything's right as rain and they're honoring his ticket. But he'd have to stay down there to meet with some financial advisors recommended to him by the commission.

The next time he'd call would be to tell you to watch the TV, because they're gonna announce him as the winner. After, when you tell him over the phone how handsome he looked up on that stage, he'd say he's not coming home because he's been told he'll be swamped with pleas for handouts, but he'll call soon to say where he is.

A few days later, he'll call once more, saying he's being moved for the third time. People keep tracking him down and showing up at his doorstep with their empty hats shining up at him. "Everyone wants a piece of me, here. They're trying to suck my blood. I can't trust nobody no more."

You'll say, "I love you."

He'll say, "Ah ha!" and hang up the phone.

You'll never hear from him again. I don't know what your mother will say to make you feel better about it all. I don't know if she's aware of what a team of financial advisors can do to a young couple in love.

Happy Stop His Lotto Playing, He'll Leave You Behind Day!

Unreasonably Impatient, Angry, And Profane For A Sunday Morning Day!

When you wake up say, "Fuck I'm awake and fuck!" Go to your favorite muffin store. It's called "Muffin On Out!" Ask for "The Fucking Banana and Cranberry for God's sake. Jesus! Does everything have to be so goddamn hard? Does everything...have to be...so goddamn...motherfucking...hard???" Pay.

Return home, place your muffin on a small plate and place the plate on your pillow, next to your sleeping bride. Gently rouse your wife awake. As her eyes flutter open on the muffin by her head, say, "Oh my God! Eat the Muffin! Fuck! Oh my God! Eat the Muffin!" Stomp away to the living room to sulk, swear, and wish that everything was moving just a little faster than it is.

Happy Unreasonably Impatient, Angry, And Profane For A Sunday Morning Day!