Lawyer talk
“[On the phone.] Yes. Yes. Yes, with extra sauce and cheese. [Hangs up]”
“Sauce and cheese? I take it you were ordering a pizza.”
“No, I was talking to my lawyer.”
“Your lawyer??? Why were you talking about sauce and cheese, then?”
“I was teaching my lawyer how to order a pizza.”
The alien abduction
“I came as fast as I could. I was curling my hair when central called.”
“That explains the hair curlers still in your hair.”
“What have we here?”
“By the looks of it, an abduction.”
“Ah. You know what they say, right?”
“No, what do they say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was hoping *you* would know. Anyhow, is that the victim’s underwear, on the floor?”
“Yes. Judging by the content of the toilet, she was abducted by aliens in mid-shit.”
“How do you figure?”
“Look at the floaters, and there is no toilet paper in the bowl.”
“No, I mean, how do you figure it was aliens?”
“Look at what they left behind.”
“That’s alien alright. I can’t read the writing.”
“You’re looking at my notepad. Look at this, here.”
“The latest issue of Aliens Abducting Women Mid-Shit. It’s a bit on the nose, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I’ll show you. [Holds mirror.] See that booger on your nose?”
“You’re right. It is right on my nose. Thanks for the heads-up. I’m going to have to go see my dermatologist before it multiplies.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“How do you figure?”
“It looks too young. Probably does not know multiplication yet.”
“Hang on. I’ve got to take this call. [Picks up phone.] Yes. Yes. It was an abduction. Yes. [Hangs up.]”
“You were on the phone with the coroner, I take it.”
“No, I was ordering a pizza from the flower shop.”
#TheDailyIsotope #AutisticWriters #microfiction #aliens #AlienAbduction
The Alfredo sauce tastes funny…
“Oh, waiter!”
“Yes.”
“I’m not satisfied with this Alfredo sauce.”
“Oh. Let me taste it. […] It tastes like perfectly fine Alfredo sauce to me.”
“It does? To me this tastes like my husband.”
“Your husband?”
“Yes, husband. I mean I do like the taste of my husband, but Alfredo sauce should not taste like him.”
“You like the taste of your husband?”
“Yes, I do kiss him every day.”
“Is that your husband there?”
“Yes. It is.”
“Don’t you see the issue?”
“What issue?”
“He’s a block of Parmigiano cheese!”
“No, no, no… He would have told me if it were the case.”
“Let’s try something. [To the husband:] Sir?”
“…”
“Sir?”
“…”
“See. He’s not reacting. That’s because he’s a block of Parmigiano cheese.”
“Okay, bucko! Now, you’re just insulting us. I’ve told you he’s not a block of Parmigiano cheese.”
“What is he, then?”
“A block of Romano cheese.”
“Aha! There’s Romano cheese in the Alfredo sauce!”
The cat burglar
“I was kissing a cow when central called. I came as fast as I could.”
“I see. That explains the smell.”
“What smell?”
“You smell like a cow.”
“Oh. That’s not the cow.”
“What is it, then?”
“My deodorant.”
“What fragrance are you using that smells so bad?”
“Barnyard Animal. Why?”
“It figures.”
“Anyway, what do we have here?”
“A burglar was killed.”
“Is that the burglar?”
“Yes. It is the cat you see on the floor, bleeding from a gunshot wound.”
“A *cat* burglar then…”
“You know what they say?”
“A cat in the hand is worth two in the bush?”
“No. Why would this apply here?? What they say is curiosity killed the cat.”
“Okay. How do you figure this applies in this case?”
“Look at his face.”
“Ah, yes, that’s the most curious case of resting hamster face I’ve ever seen.”
“Yes, that’s what killed him.”
“But how?”
“I think curiosity works slowly, more like an amoeba going after a shark than like lightning fellating a tree.”
“Fellating a tree???”
“I mean felling a tree. Anyway, you laugh at the amoeba but slowly, slowly it does its work and kills the shark. And then who has the last laugh?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not the shark. That’s for sure… because it is dead.”
The leading cause of death
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, doctor.”
“How are you doing?”
“It’s probably best not to tarry. I’m parked in the metered zone. Give it to me straight, doctor. How much time do I have left?”
“Let me get the right visual aid. Ah… yes. You see this display with the time ticking down?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the time you have left.”
“Shit! That’s less than five minutes!”
“I’m very sorry.”
“I won’t even have time to put my things in order.”
“Wait, what???”
“If I’m going to die, I need to put my things in order.”
“Who said anything about you dying so soon?”
“You said my time is being counted down by this display.”
“Oh. Yes. That’s the time you have left on your parking spot. I thought that’s what you meant.”
“Oooohhhh… ha ha. So I get to live then?”
“For a while, yes.”
“Say, you’ve never told me what I have.”
“Oh, yes. You’re not going to die within the next five minutes, but you do have a terminal condition.”
“Shit… what condition?”
“You have an acute case of being alive.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, did you know that being alive is the leading cause of death, not only in this country, but everywhere on the planet?”
“So I won’t die soon?”
“No, you’ll die of ocular burnout 10 years from now.”
“Ocular burnout? What is it?”
“That’s top secret, I’m afraid. At any rate, you’ll live long enough to pay the parking ticket that will be automatically generated for you, just… about… now, according to my display.”
Of tigers and krakens…
[Knock at door]
“[Cracks the door open] Yes, what is it?”
“Pest control. I’m coming to take care of the tigers.”
“The tigers?”
“Yes.”
“I find hard to believe that you take care of tigers.”
“Here is our flier. Look at that list.”
“Cockroaches… Mice… Chupacabras… Krakens… Ha, yes, tigers. It is on your list.”
“The building’s management has specifically asked us to take care of tigers. They want to make sure that no tigers bother you.”
“Well, that seems to be legit. Do come in.”
“Thank you.”
“I have to tell you though. I’ve been here three years, and I haven’t seen any tigers.”
“Oh?”
“In fact, I don’t think there are tigers in this entire country… Well, except in zoos.”
“You never know when a tiger will escape from a zoo, hitch a ride in a taxi and show up at your doorstep. As one might say, better safe than sorry.”
“I suppose, but I think you’re wasting your time with tiger prevention.”
“Now, you should clear the living room.”
“Why?”
“Those tigers are big fellas. The trap will take your entire living room.”
“Really? There are no tigers here! Your trap is pointless. Hmm… say, can I interest you in taking care of Krakens?”
“Krakens? Where?”
“I saw a couple of them last week behind the fridge.”
“Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Oh, boy! You know what this means?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I get to use the nukes!”
“Nukes! How does this fit with better safe than sorry????”
I'm going to say it. If you're not following the sole author of The Daily Isotope, this fount of nonsense, you're.... you're a better person than I am.
And it ain't just the edible talking.
Shhh....
Shut up stupid edible!
He died doing what he loves best
“I came as fast as I could. I was frying air when central called.”
“Frying air?”
“Yes.”
“How do you fry air?”
“You know how a hair drier dries hair? An air fryer fries air. I got a new air fryer. It fries air to a crisp.”
“I see. Your grammatical logic is impeccable.”
“So what happened here?”
“A murder.”
“And I suppose that this is our victim, lying on the floor, covered in blood?”
“No, that’s Sergeant Fox, resting after a mishap with a ketchup bottle. The victim is over here.”
“Ah. What does the coroner say?”
“Apparently, our victim died doing he loves best.”
“And what’s that?”
“Masturbating.”
“Ah, yes, that would explain the hand down the pants, and the ridiculous smile on his face.”
“No, I’m afraid that’s a congenital feature.”
“You mean to tell me that this man was born with his hand down his pants? It must have been a difficult birth.”
“No, I’m talking about his face.”
“Yes, babies are born with a face. Nothing special about this.”
“I’m actually talking about his facial expression.”
“How do you figure that it is congenital?”
“For one thing, the smile was not momentary, look at his badge. [Shows the badge.]”
“Good god! This man has the worst case of resting clown face that I have ever seen. But how do you know it was congenital? It could have been the result of plastic surgery gone wrong.”
“Look at this. Forensics reconstructed the man’s face as a child.”
“Ah yes, even as a child, he looked like a cartoon clown.”
“And look at this. Forensics even reconstructed the man’s dog.”
“A balloon dog! A balloon dog for a clown checks out.”
“Forensics also reconstructed the man’s wife.”
“What gives? I see a blank piece of paper.”
“Exactly. He never married.”
“I see.”
“The kicker is that his wife looks exactly like his goat. Look!”
“You’re showing me the same piece of paper.”
“Yes, that’s because he never had a goat either.”
A deadly combination
“I came as soon as I could. I was in the middle of surgery when central called.”
“I see.”
“[Phone rings.] Hold on! I’ve got to take this. [Picks up the cellphone.] “Yes. Yes. Let me know if the patient’s state changes, and remember the hydration. [Hangs up.]”
“How’s the patient?”
“As dead as when I left him.”
“Dead? Why do you need him hydrated?”
“Oh, I don’t need him hydrated. I was reminding the nurse to drink water. I don’t want to go back home to a dead patient and a dead nurse.”
“Home? Your home is equipped for surgery?”
“Yes, my home is complete with solarium, jacuzzi, batcave, and an OR.”
“I also did not know you were a doctor besides being a police officer.”
“I’m just an amateur. I learned my craft by reading the back of cereal boxes.”
“But there is no medical information on the back of cereal boxes.”
“Indeed, that’s why I call myself an amateur. Anyhow, what happened here?”
“An armed robbery, but the perpetrator was killed.”
“Is that the perpetrator on the floor bleeding from a gunshot would to the head, and not breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Look at that attire!”
“You know what they say?”
“What do they say?”
“Dress for the job you are seeking.”
“Well, by the looks of it, this criminal wanted a job as a clown circus.”
“True. Though he has a serious case of accountant face.”
“Yeah, the attire of a clown, and the face of an accountant. That’s a deadly combination if I’ve ever seen one.”
“How do you figure? We’re still alive.”
“Yes, but our victim is dead.”
“I see.”
A surprise in every box.
“Is this the Department of Formal Complaints?”
“No, this is the Department of Informal Complaints.”
“Oh, but the sign on the door says…”
“I was joking. This, indeed, is the Department of Formal Complaints. There is no such thing as a Department of Informal Complaints. That would be bonkers.”
“Ah. Well, I’d like to submit a formal complaint. Hmm… no, I wouldn’t *like* to submit it. ‘Like’ is the wrong word. I would be displeased to submit… That does not sound quite right either.”
“You want to submit a formal complaint, right?”
“That’s it.”
“What is it about?”
“Your boxes of cereal claim that there is a surprise in every box.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I opened my box, looked for the surprise, and found a turd.”
“Go on.”
“And it wasn’t just a turd, it was a third of turd.”
“A turd of a turd? I find that hard to believe. Our turds do not produce other turds.”
“No, not a turd of a turd. A third of a turd. How shall I put it? One over three of a turd.”
“Oh, a third of a turd. Would you have liked a whole turd?”
“We’re going astray here. What kind of a surprise is a turd?”
“Well, were you surprised?”
“Sure. I expected something like a toy, or some knick-knack.”
“Okay, so the writing on the box is truthful. There was a surprise in your box.”
“That’s your stance?”
“Yes, I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“I see.”
“This is the wrong department for such activity. You want the Department of Making Mountains Out of Molehills, next door.”
“[Picks up phone and dials.]”
“Who are you calling?”
“The Department of Farcical Situations.”
“Why?”
“To report this situation!”
#TheDailyIsotope #AutisticWriters #turd
#AutisticWriters #TheDailyIsotope #turd
Your Autistic Life
Your Autistic Life 