Again, I wrote this a few months ago.


The landlocked pirate of Portales, New Mexico


I’m a pirate all right, isn’t it clear? Look at this long and nappy black beard, it still has crumbs in it from the battered fish sticks that I had for lunch. Perhaps you didn’t notice this eye-patch that I have to wear, it’s true that I don’t need it per say, and often times I change it from my left to my right eye, but that is only because it gets itchy and uncomfortable. But I’ll tell you right now that that does not make me any less of a pirate. In fact, did you notice my leg? No, not the right one, but the left one. Well, of course they would look the same to you. My left leg is my sea leg. I’ve always had problems with my balance; I had a real bad ear infection as a child. My left leg tends to wobble a lot as I walk; it shows people the effects of pirating. Would you like to see me take a walk around my yard? It is very entertaining to children and adults a like. Fine! I wasn’t planning on showing you anyway. Punks like you have no respect for pirates these days. What do you mean where is my ship? I guess you don’t see very well, it’s over there in the driveway. It may look like a Buick to you, but I can assure you that that is one of the greatest of pirate land-vessels every made. Perhaps you didn’t notice the skull and cross-bone bumper sticker on the trunk. That clearly states that that vehicle is to be used for pirating purposes only. Why is my wife driving away in it? That’s a stupid question, she has been given permission to go to the store and pillage it. I hope she remembers to get some Fig Newton’s, I love those things. Oh, so you don’t think I speak like a pirate. Well, you should have been here yesterday when I gave the mailman a good cussing out. If that no good mailman delivers my publishers clearing house to the neighbors again, I’m gonna talk to his supervisor. Have I even been to the ocean? That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard, in fact I don’t think that I need to answer anymore of your questions. I think that it would be best if you just told me how much I owe you for the Thin Mints and the Tag Alongs and you went on your way. That’s what I thought, now don’t knock over any of my lawn gnomes and make sure you close the gate. I swear, these girl scouts are getting more and more mouthy every year.

Markham (August 2007)

This was a little short story I wrote a couple months ago I liked it. Let me know what you think.




To be Stoic


I awoke feeling very stoic today, of course being a man of very limited intelligence I had to get a dictionary and look up what stoic meant. Once again owing to the fact that I have quite a small mind I did not fully comprehend the definition of stoic. As best as I could tell, it had something to do with gargoyles. Now, I do not have a great love for gargoyles, but when you wake-up feeling a certain way, I feel that it is best to act that way until the feeling passes. One might ask, “how is that you can feel and then act like a gargoyle”? This is indeed the question that I asked myself, I thought back to my days in school and all that I had learned of gargoyles. Sadly I did not remember much, I ran in circles hoping that the exercise would stimulate the part of my brain where I stored information about gargoyles. This was a fruitless endeavor though. I could think of very little in regards to gargoyles. I knew that they were on churches and more often then not they were quite ugly, generally speaking of course. I knew of several local churches that I could hang out at, but there was this issue of becoming ugly. While I was not blessed with much of a mind, I was given the gift of slightly above average looks. It would not be an easy task to make myself as ugly as a gargoyle, but I was up to a challenge. Challenges can be very fun, I find that they make me feel that I’ve done something great when I accomplish them, however, I feel pathetic and down-trodden when I do not rise to the challenge. Maybe that’s why I quit playing with Rubik’s cubes.
I placed a grey trench-coat over my broad shoulders; I used cardboard and an old headband to attach horns to my slightly balding head. I spent nearly an hour staring in the mirror practicing my gargoyle face, I twisted it at all kinds of angles. I crossed my eyes, flared my nostrils, and stuck my tongue out as though I was wild. With a minor adjustment to my costume, I added a pitch-fork, which was actually part of my salad tongs, I felt ready to meet the world. Truly, no better gargoyle could be portrayed. As I stood by the door ready to head to the nearest church, a strange feeling came upon me; it was a sense of accomplishment. I had risen to the challenge and became the stoic gargoyle that I felt inside. But I no longer felt stoic, I now had a feeling of self-actualization. Looks like I need my dictionary again.

Markham (Aug 16. 2007)