Archive for the ‘Jonathan Wood’ Category
Careful…
Wednesday, February 11th, 2009
DISCLAIMER: The story below uses the names of real celebrities. If you think any of the events portrayed even vaguely resemble real events, please contact me—I have a magic lamp to sell you.
Eventually they found me. The media. I figured they would sooner or later, what with everything that had been going on. So I explained to them about the lamp, and about the genie and the three wishes. And I explained about how my first impulse had been to wish for the general selfish things that everyone thinks of, but then how I’d thought about it a bit and done what I think most people would really do if they’d been in that situation.
First I wished for lasting world peace.
Second, I wished for the eradication of all diseases and ailments.
“What about the third wish?” asked Dan Rather, who seemed to be the ringleader.
“I haven’t decided what to do with it yet,” I said. Which was true.
Things got rather ugly after that.
Matt Lauer started smashing my stuff with a baseball bat he’d brought. Crash. Crash. Crash.
“You better wish it back, you bastard!” Keith Olberman shouted.
Bill O’Reilly was sobbing into his hands, just repeating “I’m doing pet detective segments,” over and over.
“Wish it back!” They took up the chant, started advancing on me. “Wish it back!”
“You have any idea what you’ve done to my ratings?” Larry King had a knife.
In retrospect, of course, I should have turned them all into chickens or something, made them feel inner peace. I don’t know exactly, something. But I panicked. Katie Couric had a very vicious looking cleaver and kept letting out short yelps. And, yeah, I panicked. And I put it all back.
So that’s how that all went down, and how things all got messed up so bad again. Of course, nobody in the news is letting me get my story out, which is why I’m putting it here. I guess I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I guess I wanted someone to know.
The Gun Overheats
Thursday, January 29th, 2009
It’s Friday, and something’s gone awry again, preventing you from seeing the cool story Mr. Lundberg has prepared for you. Please bear with us while we attempt to exorcise whatever computerological demons are afflicting us on a weekly basis.
Day 1724
The Gun overheats in the sun. Not fired once and still it overheats.
Beyond the city, the salt plains shimmer.
Maintenance comes and re-wires the coolant systems. Bart pisses himself when the plasma system creaks and they all run screaming. It’s been doing that since the third summer of the siege.
Day 1745
“They’re not coming,” Bart says.
We do this about once a month. “If They weren’t coming, we wouldn’t be here,” I say. I go through the motions. There’s piss all else to do.
Day 1756
Battery 87 explodes today. I think this is it; it’s on at last. I jump into the seat, start the engines. Then we get the stand down order. Just a malfunction. Coolant failure.
Day 1764
Water rations cut again. Bart’s pissed. He says we’re the military. We should get concessions. I pray They come today, that They end this siege.
But They don’t come.
Day 1787
Officer inspection today. Bart gets it for the state of his uniform. I’ve been warning him for two weeks. Water rations aren’t treating him well. It’s tough for those with kids in the city. I get that. But we’ve still got to show we’re better than Them.
Day 1796
“They’re not coming.”
“If They weren’t coming, we wouldn’t be here.”
“You’re not listening to me!” Bart is close enough for me to smell his breath, sour and thick. “I mean, have you ever even seen Them? All I ever see through this scope is dust, and dirt, and salt. All I ever see is the barrel of this gun pointing at empty ground. I never even targeted a bird. Because They ain’t coming!”
Day 1797
Bart’s not here today.
Day 1798
I hear in the barracks–Bart’s been caught trying to cut the cooling systems. Bart’s working for Them, officer’s say. Bart’s to be shot at noon.
I sit by the Gun and strain my ears. I think I hear the first shots I’ve heard this whole war.
Day 1799
Bart was right. They’re not coming.
It’s hot today. I’m overheating. I unbutton my shirt. I look through the scopes. I see the dirt, see the dust, see the salt. And then I see a bird, its wing broken, scuffing on the floor.
I keep the sights on that bird, lying there, waiting to die. I open fire.