Random Story – Working with porn

This is just an odd little story from my life.

For a couple of months in the summer of 2001, I worked in a small video store.  If you’re young, what that means is I worked in a place where people would come in and rent movies on various formats.  And when they were done watching it, they would have to bring the movie back to the store. 

Anyway, besides all the beloved classics and latest mainstream movies, we also had an adult section.  Because of this section, I had an unusual day.  My boss – who also managed a couple other stores – was a rather attractive woman about 40.  One day she came in with a box full of new porn.  She had the invoice and would read off a title like, Backdoor Bitches, and I’d look through the box until I found it.  While I attached an anti-theft thing to the DVD, she’d enter it in the computer.  And then we went on to, Lesbian Island, Vol. 17.  (I just made up those titles, but I’d be surprised if they weren’t actual movies.) It was just … weird to be casually talking about porn with my boss. 

This job also gave me another porn story, but it’s not mine.  The reason I only worked there for a few months is that one morning I showed up and my boss said, “Surprise, this is your last day.  They’re closing the store.” But I got one last day of work helping pack stuff up.  At one point, her boss showed up to help.  I think at lunch he ordered pizza, and while we ate he told a story.

He drove a station wagon, and one night he got stopped at a sobriety checkpoint.  The cop shined his flashlight in the back of the station wagon and saw twenty or so large boxes and asked, “What’s in the boxes?” My boss’s boss then said, “Let me give you my business card first.” Because he was moving some twenty boxes of porn.  He said the cop made him open every box, to make sure he didn’t have any child porn.  Looking back I don’t know if saying I have twenty boxes of porn is probably cause to do a search, or if the cop was just curious about all the porn. 

Free Pies!

Here in the US, we’ll be having an election on November 2.  It’s not a Presidential Election, and for most people you’ll only be voting for local elections or issues, but voting is important.  So if you’re an American citizen over 18, I hope you’re registered and will be voting.

Every election I try to have a sale for Political Pies, my collection of forty short stories of a political nature.  And this election will be no different.  So, from Friday, October 29 through Tuesday, November 2, you’ll be able to grab the Kindle version of Political Pies for free.  If you get it early, you can have something to read while you wait in line.  And if you’re not an American, well, you can still get it, and I hope you are peacefully involved in your own nation’s politics.

Over-engineered holiday lights

I have a crappy, part time job at a store.  One of the things we sell are holiday lights.  Mostly Christmas, but also Halloween.  These strings of lights usually come in a small display box that has a super short string of lights on it and a button you can press to see how they look when they light up.  Usually, once the display box is empty, we just throw it away.  But a couple of times I’ve ripped the display lights out to hang them around the register.  I then have to rig some way to keep the lights on, usually by taping the button down.  The thing I’ve noticed by doing this a few times, is that these cheap, disposable lights will stay lit for days.  I guess the lights are so efficient we can’t make batteries small enough for them to only last a few hours.  So if you need some holiday lights, for a day or so and are okay with super short strings, ask if you can have the empty boxes the store would normally just throw away. 

***

Image from Pixabay.

Short story – “Rest in Peace”

This story began as a dream.  In the dream, I was walking along the sidewalk and I saw the Tenth Doctor carrying bags of groceries or something, and he stopped at a beat up old vending machine.  He soniced it, and it opened up to be a TARDIS, slowly decaying in plain view.  The image stuck with me, and since I had been kicking around the idea of doing some fan fiction stories at some point, I started working on a story based on that.

But after a few months, I hadn’t started anything.  Then a site I wrote on had a Doctor Who Fan-Fiction contest.  I guess a new season was starting, so I got around and wrote this story.  It didn’t win, and then a couple years later the site went belly-up. 

I have a few ideas for fan fiction stories, but I haven’t really written any because I have too many of my own stories I need to work on.  But I was reminded of this story recently and I decided to repost it.  In case you’re wondering, my only other fan fiction story is “Jedi ER,” which is more parody.

“Rest in Peace”

“Where are we?” Martha asked.

Opening the TARDIS door, the Doctor replied, “In the middle of nowhere, in what will one day be Nebraska.”

They stepped outside to a small clearing surrounded by pine trees.  The trees right in front of them were back lit by a rosy sky.

Walking forward, Martha asked, “Is that a sunrise, or a sunset?”

“Sunset.  It’s late on the evening of the Twelfth of November, 1833.” Waving at the clear sky, the Doctor added, “Right now, far out in space, untold thousands of dust particles and pebbles and other debris of Comet Tempel-Tuttle – which humans won’t discover for another thirty-three years – are heading for Earth.  In a few hours they’ll hit the atmosphere and burn up in The Great Leonid Meteor Storm.  It’s estimated that at its height, people could see 100,000 meteors an hour.  The number of meteors was so great, some people even thought the next night would be completely black because all the stars had to have fallen.”

“And let me guess,” Martha said.  “Hidden amongst all those meteors are alien spaceships here to conquer the world.”

The Doctor stopped and frowned.  “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.  But that’s the sort of thing that happens around you.”

After a few seconds, the Doctor continued walking.  “Those were just coincidences.”

“So why are we really here?”

“Because it will be pretty.”

The clearing widened into a small meadow filled with drying weeds.  The Doctor turned and said, “Martha, you really should-”

Martha took a few more steps before she stopped and looked at the Doctor.  The blood had drained from his face.  “Doctor, what is it?” She followed his gaze to see – at the edge of the meadow – an old, wooden shed that looked like one strong wind would blow it over.  “What is that?”

Without replying, the Doctor took off running towards the shed. 

Martha ran after him.  “Doctor.  What is it?”

The Doctor reached the shed and slowly reached out to pat the rough wood. 

When Martha arrived, she heard him whisper, “Oh you poor girl.” Martha took a closer look at the shed.  It was made from old, weather beaten planks, several of which had fallen off.  Patches of moss grew on some that remained.  Piles of dead weeds and pine needles were around the base, and a few small trees had taken root in them.

Looking back at the Doctor, Martha said, “I don’t understand.  It’s just an old shed.”

“No, it’s not.” The Doctor took his sonic screwdriver from inside his coat and aimed it at the door.  It buzzed a few seconds, and then the door – despite the rusty hinges – swung open.  Inside was a much, much larger space.  It was very dim inside, but Martha could make out what appeared to be a rustic cabin.  But in the center, surrounded in pale light, was a TARDIS console.

It took a few seconds for Martha to voice her thoughts.  “It’s the TARDIS.”

“It’s a TARDIS,” the Doctor corrected her.  “A Type 60.”

Before Martha could ask, the Doctor walked in.  After a few seconds she followed him.

The Doctor stopped by the console.  He reached out, but hesitated before resting his hand on it.  In response, the room filled with a low, mournful sound.

Martha walked around the Doctor, but had only gone a few steps before she stopped.  “Doctor.” On the other side of the console was a comfortable chair filled with remains.  All that was left inside the tattered clothing was a skeleton, but it looked as if a third of the bones had been turned to dust.

The Doctor looked at the body and sighed.  “Janithid.”

“You … knew him?”

“Only in passing.  He disappeared during The War.”

“What did that to him?”

“The Nightmare Child.”

“Who’s that?”

“You don’t want to know.”

They were silent for a few seconds, then the room again filled with a mournful sound.

Martha looked up the ceiling and asked, “What’s wrong with this TARDIS?”

“She’s dying.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

The Doctor shook his head.  “No, she’s too far gone.  They’ve been here for centuries.  Slowly gathering dust, fading away, being buried by time.” He patted the console and added, “These are her final moments.  Of course, the final moments of a TARDIS can last for decades.”

Martha placed her hand on the console next to his.  “Rest in peace,” she said.

The Doctor smiled and took her arm.  “Come on.”

Back outside, the Doctor soniced the door closed.  He then patted the worn wood and said, “Rest in peace.”

He turned around and said, “Now then, it’s getting dark.  Let’s find a good spot to watch the Great Leonid Meteor Storm.”

Random Story – Giant penis

This is just an odd little story from my life.

In 2002, I lived in a college town.  And I had a crappy job where I worked the night shift.  I had to work on Halloween, so I was asleep when all the trick or treaters came, which annoyed my one roommate because he had to deal with them. 

Anyway, I left for work – I think about 10:30 or so – and as I was driving through town I saw a bunch of dressed up college kids partying.  And then, down the sidewalk, I saw an eight foot tall penis slowly walking.  And it wasn’t just penis-shaped, they took the time to make it look lifelike. 

I can’t remember how long I laughed.  And since then, whenever someone mentions Halloween, one of my first thoughts is of a giant penis shuffling down the sidewalk.

Short story – “Shake Things Up”

“Shake Things Up”

John knocked on the open door of Principle Shelia Kubinsky.  She was typing on her laptop and said, “One moment.”

After a few seconds she looked up and John asked, “You wanted to see me, Principle Kubinsky?”

“Yes John,” Shelia said.  “Have a seat.”

Once he sat down, she said, “We’ve received a note about you from a concerned parent.”

John straightened up.  “Oh?”

“Yes.  Did you tell one of your classes that if they studied math and science they could one day build a doomsday weapon, such as an earthquake machine?”

John relaxed and nodded.  “Yes.”

Shelia raised an eyebrow.  “Why?”

“The subject came up.”

Shelia’s eyes narrowed.  “How did such a subject ‘come up?’”

John thought for a moment, then said, “As I recall, it was Monday, just before fourth period.  The bell hadn’t rung yet, and some students were talking about that new movie Shake Down where, apparently, the villain has an earthquake machine.  They asked if something like that was even possible.”

When he didn’t continue, Shelia added, “So you thought it best to tell them that by studying math and science they could one day build such a device?”

“I believe I said ‘physics and engineering,’ but added that it would be a massive undertaking probably exceeding the Manhattan Project.  And then I had to explain the Manhattan Project.”

Shelia nodded.  “I see.  I’ll send an email to the parents.  Hopefully it will clear up any misunderstandings.  Just be careful about discussing doomsday weapons in the classroom.”

“Of course.”

***

I posted this in 2015 on a site that is no longer around, and I figured I should repost it.

When I try to come up with new story ideas for stories, I often let my imagination go off on wild tangents.  One day, such a tangent led to me thinking about earthquake machines.  I liked the idea, but I couldn’t think of a story I could use an earthquake machine in.  But then I came up with this.

9/11 Memories

For the past nineteen years, around the end of August or the beginning of September, I’d get the feeling that I should write a blog about what I did on 9/11.  I think I even started writing one in 2002, but it quickly became weird.  I didn’t know anyone who died that day, I wasn’t anywhere near any of the places attacked; I was just some schmuck who watched it all on TV.  It felt like by writing about my experiences, I was trying to shoehorn my way in to a tragedy I was only a distant spectator of.  Since then, every time I thought about writing a blog about it I’d stop myself because my experiences are only the … 61,567,928th most important of that day.  And that’s an overestimation. 

So why does this blog exist?  Well, 9/11 was a tragic day that changed countless lives, but it’s not something I think about every day.  Time dulls all tragedies.  If I say Pearl Harbor, you – hopefully – know the significance of that event, but it may have been months since the last time you thought of it.  As the twentieth anniversary of 9/11 was coming up, I started thinking more and more of the day, and I realized that my memories had become fuzzy.  As the years pass, my memories will only become fuzzier, so this is more for me to have a clearer record for me to read in ten or twenty years.

A few months before 9/11, I moved to Kennett Square, PA.  It was the other side of the state from where I grew up – and where I live now – but I had gone to college in the area and some of my friends were near there.  My hope was to find a better job than I could find in the middle of nowhere.  I was living off my savings, but my plan for that Tuesday was to go around to see what places were hiring and get some applications to fill out.

For any youngsters reading this, 2001 was before … basically everything you think of as “The Internet.” I had an old laptop for writing, but to check my email, I had to go to the library.  My main source of news was a TV channel called Headline News, which went over the latest headlines every half-hour.  I’d usually watch a bit before I’d go to bed to see the latest national and international news.  And I’d usually watch it while I ate breakfast in case anything happened while I was asleep.

That morning, I turned the news on and went to go to my kitchen.  I saw something about the Twin Towers on fire, and at first I thought it had something to do with the 1993 bombing.  Then I saw “Live” on the screen, and I wondered if someone had bombed it again.  Here’s the first fuzzy part.  I can’t remember what I was doing when the second plane hit.  I’m almost positive that I just missed it, but I can’t remember if I was just flipping through the channels, or if I had just stepped back to the kitchen for something. 

Once it became certain that this wasn’t just a plane crash, I was glued to the TV.  My TV at the time was old, and the remote didn’t have numbers on it.  If I wanted to go from Channel 40 to Channel 20, I had to go through the intervening channels.  I’d watch one news channel for five or ten minutes, then switch to another.  And one of the details of that day burned into my brain, is that I left one channel, and when I arrived at the next one three or four seconds later, the first tower was collapsing.  It started to collapse just as I switched channels.  I left the report of the disaster on one channel, and when I arrived at the next news channel and it was like finding out about this whole new disaster, in progress.

Sometime that afternoon, it was reported that President Bush had been flown to some Air Force base.  At the time, I was a member of the Air Force Association.  (I’ve never served in the military, I was just an interested party.) One of the things the AFA does is publish a yearly almanac of everything Air Force: personnel numbers, types of planes, base locations, etc.  So I grabbed my most recent copy, and looked up that Air Force base.  Besides all the information on who was based there and what planes they had, there was the mundane stuff like the address as well as the phone and probably fax numbers.  It was the strangest feeling to know that – during an attack on the country – I could have called the place the President had been, an hour ago. 

Probably just a couple of weeks before, I found out about a poetry group that met each month at a local bookstore.  Their scheduled meeting was that evening, and I had planned to check them out.  I went, in large part, just hoping to be with other people.  But of course the meeting was canceled, so I just wandered around the bookstore for a bit before going back home.  Where I watched the news until 2 or 3 the next morning before finally going to bed.

As I said, I was just a schmuck who watched it on TV.  For what it’s worth, I now have only a slightly fuzzy record of that day.