Toy for Christmas

Home is far, the flight was too expensive, thought Kev. He weighted his options. As Christmas approached a sense of solitude invaded him. He hated this time of the year, everyone left town to visit their relatives. What's there to do? He looked at his phone and browsed through the address-book entries: Adela, out of town, Peter, out of town, Sonia, same. Everybody's out but the usual suspects. Sighing he dialed Bosh, old Bosh.
"Wassup Kev"
"Not much, wadalluduin for Christmas?"
"Tradition calls. Get together at the Old Tabern. You coming?"
"Not sure, was thinking about visiting a friend."
"Sounds more like crashing to me."
"Sorta, just a thought."
"See you at the Tabern round eight."
"OK."

He remembered his childhood toys, waiting for that special toy--Christmas seemed to take forever to arrive, and then sort through the gifts, the usual ugly socks, the pants he didn't care about, grown up shirts. He needed the clothes but couldn't care less. The special toy kept him awake for many days. When he finally got around it, he jumped in joy, and went outside to show it off. The other kids were out there playing. Skates, bicycles, soccer balls, actions figures, you name it. But that was a long time ago. He couldn't get a toy anymore, he was all grown up, no more toys, real world, real people, real pain in the butt.

White Christmas? No. It rarely snows in Austin. It was a perfect Christmas eve... perfect for fall, not for winter. He looked outside the window, it was dark already. More cars than usual parked outside his house; a faint laugh. Where all this people come from? He took his coat, got into his car and drove to the Tabern where his "extended family" waited for him. Extended as in, extended hangovers and extended tequila shots. He hanged out there almost everyday hoping to find the girl of his dreams. It was futile, only the casual one night stand that left him feel "hungoveremptyIregretwhatIdidlastnight".

As he was approaching the Tabern he had an idea: why not a toy? why not wish for a toy? A special kind of toy. He quickly went back to his house, once there he wrote a letter:

Dear Santa (?)
I've been an OK citizen, I work, I go to the bar with my friends, and live a peaceful life. It's been a while since I wrote you a letter but it's never too late to want something. When I was a kid I used to write you about action figures, well, this time I want something special, something very important: I want companion. I feel so lonely that most nights I feel like crying. I miss the company, the laughter, the discussions, the sound, the voice of another human being.
Sincerely,
Kev.

He read the letter and a tear rolled down his face, that followed by anger. He took the letter and threw into the garbage can. I'm so stupid, so, so, stupid. Santa Claus, yeah, right. His face covered with tears of loneliness, sadness, and frustration. Suddenly, the sound of a loud crash. People yelling. He quickly went outside to see his car destroyed--a small car smashed on his car's side; somebody trapped inside. He opened the small car's door: blood on the steering wheel, and a unconscious girl inside it. The strong alcohol smell inundated the scene. She woke up and said, "Please don't tell them."
"Don't tell them what?" replied Kev.
"What just happened."
"Are you OK?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Let me call an ambulance."
"No! They'll take me to jail."
"Why?"
"DUI. Is this your house? Can I lay down for a while?"
A dilemma, what to do? He decided to help her, "OK."

They walked inside the house. Kev phoned to a friend so the cars would be taken care of. She lie down on the sofa.
"What's your name?" asked Kev.
"Amelia," she said.
"You feeling better?"
"Yes."
"You got a small cut in your arm. I'll bring the first aid kit."
"Thanks, you are so nice."
"Do you want me to call somebody?"
"No, everybody is out of town."

Kev left and brought the first aid kit, right then he noticed how beautiful she was. He cleaned the bound, put a band-aid, and said, "It's Christmas eve, as a matter of fact it's almost midnight. Where were you going?"
"I was just driving around, I went to a bar, drank a lot, and was just... you know... driving..."
"I think I know what you mean."

No more words, they stayed there looking at the fireplace, hypnotized, and, like that, they fell asleep.

No exception, the next morning they were both hungover, but this time it was a different type of hangover, the feeling happy hangover, the non-empty hangover. Amelia opened her eyes, it took her a second to realize where she was, smiling, she said, "Good morning."
The best way to wake up, greeted by Amelia's smile, Kev replied "Good morning."

A toy? After all, I got my wish granted! thought Kev.

Language Lessons

Hello kiddos! Today we are going to show you a simple story told by four different "persons" in four different languages. Let me introduce them:

  Billy - The American guy, he's about ten, and loves dogs.

  Catalina - The cute Mexican girl. She's 18, and loves cats.

  Panny - The British dog, he has good manners and likes dog tea.

  Gatocat - He's bilingual--speaks English-cat and Spanish-Cat.

Billy: Once upon a time there was dog name Fufu,

Catalina: Había una vez un perro llamado Fufu,
Panny: Woof woof, woof --- (dogs don't name themselves, they distinguish each other by their behind odor).
Gatocat: Meow, meow, miau, miau--remember, he's bilingual.

Billy: Fufu was sad because he was going to get fixed.
Catalina: Fufu estaba triste porque le iban a cortar los blanquillos.
Panny: Woof, woof?--he barked.
Gatocat: Miau, meow!--Cats love to hear dog fixing stories.

Billy: His owner took him to the veterinarian.
Catalina: Su dueño lo llevó con el veterinario.
Panny: Woo--he can say no more. Did the cat eat his tongue?
Gatocat: MIAAAAAAAAAU, MEOW--He's getting a little bit too excited.

Billy: And he lived happily ever after.
Catalina: Y vivió muy feliz por el resto de sus días, aún y cuando se quedó sin blanquillos.
Panny: --no comment.
Gatocat: Purring--Cigarette anyone?

Ninety minutes a day

"A waste of time, that's what I used to think," said Steve, "but I found something very interesting."
Puzzled, Harry asked, "What's a waste of time?"
"Driving."
"Driving? Just like that?"
"Driving to work. 45 minutes each way, 90 minutes a day. Imagine what you could do--I mean, I could be exercising, well I'm kinda lazy, or I could spend more time with my wife--not that we have too much in common, we don't even like the same books, movies, or TV shows. I guess I could watch TV but that would be a waste of time as well--you know what I mean, don't you?"
Harry was a little lost, too much information, "Not sure. You said you found something interesting?"
Smiling, Steve replied, "People."
"People?"
"Yeah, people--you know..."
"What about people?"
"I started to pay attention to people on the street. Have you noticed them?"
"Sorta. What's interesting about them?"
Steve eyes lit, "You don't even know. Pay close attention to people, you'll find a surprise or two. I noticed this kid, he walks with a backpack, I suppose he's going to school which is not that close, then I wondered about his parents, are they at work and can't take him to school? What if it was my kid, would I let them walk to school even if it's raining? I felt compelled to take him to school but, me? The middle age man? That doesn't sound right--" Steve smile disappeared, "So, every day I see him walking to school, I guess that's alright."
Harry sighed, "Well, that's how it goes. What other people did you see?"
"Old people, retired, I guess. There's a traffic light, it always turn red when I get there. That's where I see her; she's pretty, late 70s. She's always sweeping--she lives in an old house. House is kept clean and nice. Does she live alone? I've never noticed anybody else. I guess, she must've been popular when she was young."
"Why do you say that?"
"She's pretty, must've been gorgeous when she was younger--does she have any kids? Grandkids? Is she a widower? But, she's always there, sweeping, looking at the floor, like searching for a lost ring or something."
"Where do you get these ideas? I mean, for what I was able to gather people have the same routines: go to work, school, clean house, etc. What's interesting about that?"
Surprised, Steve said, "Don't you get it?"
"No."
"It's not about routine, it's about life. People's lives. We do things that are repetitive, routine as you call it. However, if you pay attention you'll find there's more to life. Notice it, enjoy it, live it."
"You are crazy."
"Yeah, crazy, but no longer bored."

The Darkest Night

The air hit us in the face and made us blush, the exposed parts of our faces were frozen; we stayed there, looking at each other in total darkness. It was a starless night, the sky hid its light in a mantle of dense clouds... black clouds... sinister clouds. She trembled anticipating something terrible. I tried to console her but she didn't budge. Frozen tears came out of her eyes--I knew she used her sixth sense, that sense that only women possess.

We had to move on, we couldn't wait there. I turned on the lamp, the weak light lit a narrow cobblestone road surrounded by trees. The night sounds interrupted the sepulchral silence. We walked a few steps, suddenly we saw him, he took us by surprise. Black as night, he waited for his victim, patiently. When he saw us, he came out of his hideaway and jumped. His claws nailed inside her left arm, the skin flew and the bone got exposed--a river of blood cover her clothes. I stayed there, paralyzed, watching at the massacre, yet couldn't do a thing. When she dropped to the floor I knew it was my turn. I ran and a massive load hit my back and made me tumble. I hit the floor and immediately adopted the fetal position. A comfortable position I had before I was born--the perfect position to see life's last light.

On Vacation

"I was on vacation," said Mr. X.
"Vacation? I mean, vacation, vacation? As in vacation?" said Mr. Y.
"Yeah, 'twas fun, partied all night long and ate like a pig."
"Pigs eat crap and weird stuff," replied Mr. Y with a wrinkled nose.
"It's just a figure of speech. We ate a lot."
"What kinda food?"
"Mexican, Mexican, Mexican, and Mexican. Did I mention Mexican?"
"Very funny, I'm not that stupid." Mr Y turned a little red.
"Didn't say that, no labels here," said Mr X sorta apologizing.

Always fighting, they could never get along. Sighing, Mr. X went back to its place, right between Mr. E and Miss. I. Dragging its feet Mr. Y went back to its old house where Mr. U waited for him.

The wall smiled proudly, she wore travel posters from all sorts of countries. Proud Mr. X lived in "Mexico," while Mr. Y lived in the old "Yugoslavia."

Mistery Disney

Have you ever wondered about the real story behind Disney Characters?

What's the relationship between Donald and Daisy?
Why do the nephews live with Donald?
Are these nephews his children?
Are these nephews Daisy's children?
Are these nephews Donald's and Daisy's children? Did Daisy refuse to take care of them?
Are these nephews uncle Scrooge's mistake? Is somebody from his staff involved? Is Daisy involved?

Are Goofy and Clarabelle dating?
Can dogs date cows?
If a dog and a cow had a son: would it look like Goofy's nephew?

Are Mickey and Minnie dating?
Is the nephew their son?
Is the nephew Minnie's mishap?
Is Goofy involved?
Can dogs date mice?

Does Pete date anybody?
Where did his nephew come from?

Is there a parent somewhere?
Do they live in the land of uncles and nephews?
Do they live in the land of automatic reproduction?
If you are a parent in this land:
  Are you forced to declare your children nephews?
  Are guys forced to take care of the children-nephews?
  Are you forced to date forever?

Tired Writing

Heard it on the street (maybe it was on the web): the best writing is done when tired. Can you believe this? I mean, if your brain is dead and want to write something deep, what would you write about? How about this, "The deepness of the deep ocean reached the profound waters of the long and dark deep." Is this deep enough? How about something like this, "Dillon the cat said 'meow,' the she-cats loved it and replied, 'meow, meow.' and that turned Dillon on. He danced the cat dance until they melted--little did they know, he had already been fixed. 'Meow, meow, meow.'"--this is what I call being brain dead, two neurons writing, one falling sleep.

Creative Moments

Creative people get ideas at unexpected times in unexpected places. However, at one point, these places become repetitive. The following are some of the most relevant (in reverse order of magnitude):
-Driving: while driving down to work my brain goes to lala land and boom! New idea!
-Watching sports: second inning, home 0-0 visitors, there's a discussion on the pitching mound... mount? Mount Everest? Discussion? Fight? Gun shots! Idea!
-Meetings: "This way we can solve the problem X by introducing Y and Z smaller problems." Fixing problems with problems? X, Y, Z? Conflict between letters X, Y and Z! Bingo!
-Listening to endless monologue: "Today I ate a hamburger, not any type of hamburger, but a cheeseburger. At first I thought it was just another regular burger but, oh boy!, this one came with cheese, and not only that bla bla bla bla--," deaf ears, deaf brain, wandering... Idea! Oh, yeah!
-The loo: guess where I thought about this idea? Duh, yeah?

New Bed

"I'm excited," said Peter.
"Why?" replied Tony.
"I bought a bed yesterday. I'll get it today."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, and it has SAC and TOES."
"What's SAC and TOES?"
"Support Automated Control and Typical Orientation Estimated Sleep. And there's more, this bed also has PUK, CACA and STINC"
"Wow! You must be happy... err... I think... Your bed can PUK and CACA the SAC when TOES STINC. Sounds great!"

Confuso Advice

Confuso, the Mexican wiseman, spreaded his wisdom, “The night is dark. Beware of the darkness as it’s hard to see.”

The disciple asked, “That’s a deep thought. What do you really mean?”

Wrinkling his forehead Confuso replied, “The night is dark. Beware of the darkness as it’s hard to see.”

“Is this a metaphore?”

“No, it’s dark! Bring a lamp or somethin’, I can’t see a thing!”

Busy Street

“There were 35,726 cars today,” said the street.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” said the traffic light.

“No.”

“I do. I’m the master. I can stop cars at will.”

Stretching, the street said, “Oh, yeah? So, there’s no master computer controlling you? Is it?”

“Well… that’s different… I mean.”

“You mean nothing, you are a slave. On the other hand I’m free: I can count as many cars as I want,” said the street proudly.

The traffic light realized the street was right, You are a slave... you are a slave… you are a slave… It became sad, and then sadder. It couldn’t switch colors and got stuck in yellow, blinking slowly.

Oopsy! The street thought, realizing it made a cruel comment.

Crash! Bonk! Kaput! The cars crashed. Without the light, traffic became a mess—total chaos. The traffic light suddenly knew it had a purpose in life: to control cars and avoid crashes. It was in control! And that made it happy.

The next day the street said, “I counted 38,674 cars. What a busy day!”

“And I blinked 2,365 times!“ replied the traffic light enthusiastically.

Flatto

It's a beautiful day in Flatto--you can see as far as the eye can reach. Flatto, as its name depicts, is the flattest city on the face of the earth; its inhabitants are proud of it, old Bobbie says, "It ain't get better than this: the oven heat summers and the frozen popsicle winters are hot and cold." You can tell he's proud as he shows a yellow-black-spotted smile (with a missing tooth, or two... make that seven).

Fall is the best time of the year at Flatto: everybody talks about the annual Fall Flatto Fair. Held once a year and for a limited time--it runs for only three months. Great gross eating contests are the highlight, where the usual winner is 'Skinny Joe.' At his mere 350 pounds, he's capable of inhaling a ton of junk food in less than ten minutes. Not only that, he's also the fastest barfer in town! He can unload a belly loaded to its full capacity in less than a minute.

One of Flatto's most distinguished inhabitants is Mr. Ran 'Loco' Chero. Mr. Chero is amazing as he plays the best 'My way' banjo version ever. The town's favorite is the tumbleweed watching contest: the best players can watch tumbleweeds for several days at a time. It's fascinating!

So many things to do! If you are planning vacations we encourage you to visit this charming little town.

Flatto... Where thumbleweeds and junk food sorround you with their luscious stuff.

About Watches

Do watches watch?
Can you watch them?
Can you wash them?
Do watches keep time?
Can time keep watching?
Can you keep time by watching watches?
Are clocks related to watches?
Can a clock watch a watch?
Can a watch ask the clock to keep time?
Can a watch do time when it misbehaves?
Do watches waste their time?
Can watches go to waste?
Are watches a waste?

All Ears

Lefty, the left ear, said, “I think I’m bigger than you.”

Unhappy, Righty, the right ear, said “No, you are not. Besides you are all waxy.”

“Waxy? I shower everyday. Look at you! You have hairs coming out of you. Yuck!”

“Waxy, waxy, nah, nah, nah.”

Turning red, Lefty tried to punch Righty, but his efforts were in vain –Righty was too far away.

Seeing this mess, Cerebro, the brain, said, “Enough kiddos! Behave!” That didn’t slowed them down:

“Waxy, waxy, waxy.”

“Hairy, hairy, hairy.”

Sighing, Cerebro thought, It’s always the same, they never listen.

THE END

The incredible story of the beautiful butterfly that wanted to reach the sky, get to outer space, and grab a Star

SHE COULDN'T.

THE END

Old Mouse

"You are so arrogant," said the mouse.

"And you are so old. What mouse in the XXI century is still wired?" said the monitor. The keyboard looked at the monitor with evil eyes.

"Kids! Behave, show good manners," said the computer.

A day in the office: mouse dragging, monitor blinking, keyboard smiling, and computer thinking. Tired, the old mouse literally dragged its non-existent feet to bed, I wish I was a Mexican tooth mouse*. At least they make kids happy. He thought.

*Equivalent to the tooth fairy, but not as hot.

His owner never cleaned him --dirty old mouse they'd said. With a few weeks left to live, old mouse decided to live at the edge. What could he do? Scratching his right button, he thought, I should become a F1 car racer, but I don't know how to drive... Can I climb a mountain? I don't think I have enough wire. Damn wireless mice! But he couldn't think of anything good, his scroll wheel spinned in a sign of despair. Time to go bed...

A new day: Mr. old mouse woke up with a big yawn -he slept soundly. Full of energy he did his morning exercises, "One, move the wire to the left, Two, to the right, Three, spin you wheel, Four, two button click." In better shape than ever, he waited to be used; his owner usually showed up around 11am --not the hardest worker in the office, if you ask me.

The melted clock, he believed Dalí designed him, yelled "11am".

"Are you guys ready?" Said the computer.

"Whatever Brainac," said the rest.

Señor Owner (he asked us to hide his super-secret identity) had a surprise in a box. What could it be? Everybody wondered and Don Owner put his hand inside and took something out: blue... glossy... shiny (glossy is shiny, isn't it?, duh, yeah?)... rectangular... sexy curves... Old mouse could not believe his eyes as the spanking brand new she-mouse flew in the sky.

"Hi, I'm Bluemousa."

"Hola Mamacita. I'm old mouse, but my friends call me old mouse," said old mouse blushing as his red light lit --his back read 'Made in Mexico.'

"Hi Ole' mouse. I'm sorry to tell you this, but"

"Whatever you say Mamacita. I'll do whatever you want, I'm your slave."

"Good! I'm glad. Now I can replace you without feeling bad."

"What the...? Who? You? But... but..." and Mr. old mouse couldn't talk anymore. Did the cat eat his tongue?

Yanked, his wire floated in the air and went to the floor. Old mouse cried, how could he be discarded is such an ugly way? Feeling sadder than ever, he jumped off the desk, but he didn't hit the floor: his wire connector got stuck between the keyboard and the monitor.

In the end he choked and died at the edge, just the way he wanted!

THE END