Thursday, May 15, 2025

The Small Penis Blues by Don Taco

 The Small Penis Blues by Don Taco


 I have a little penis

it tells me what to do

sometimes it makes me happy

sometimes it makes me blue


somehow I'm advertising

it on my pickup truck

I didn't want to do that

I just wanted to


forget all my troubles

and get on with my life

I'm mad at all my neighbors

I haven't got a wife


I'm rude and I'm impulsive

and I was out of line

I guess I brought it on myself

by ruining her sign


I've got a nasty temper when

I don't get what I want

but I should not have tangled with

that woman, she's a 


calculating vengeful sort

no forgive or forget

she really got the best of me

it's on the internet

Tuesday, May 13, 2025

A Bad Decision by Mike Freeman

A Bad Decision

By Mike Freeman


Two-a-day workouts are common for swimmers and water polo players in high school and college. Servite High School is no exception. Our only time off occurs on Sundays and game days.

We are up at 5 a.m. and drive around picking up teammates to start workouts in the pool by 6 a.m. We finish 85 minutes later, take a quick shower, and pile into our cars to drive to school several miles away. We almost always find time to stop at a Winchell's donut shop to get a few donuts and a Coke. This stop-off to school is more important than arriving at class on time.

Tired from working out, our eyes stinging with pool chlorine, and our blood sugar counts off the charts, we begin our grand learning experience at our first class. As the morning progresses, we emerge from our stupor to join our classmates in learning and lunch.

We finish sixth-period class, load up our cars with teammates, and head to afternoon practice.

Only seniors are allowed to sit in the front seat of the cars. Juniors receive that privilege only when no other seniors are present. All underclassmen must sit in the back. Occasionally, freshmen are thrown in the trunk.

After a couple of hours of working out, we drop off our teammates at their houses and head home to eat our body weight in food at family dinners. Then we have "homework optional" time before going to bed.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

One warm summer night, just before starting our senior year, a group of us were wondering what to do. Mike, Tim, and I were members of the water polo and swim teams. Rick wasn’t; he was a varsity cheerleader. Idle time for aquatic team members typically does not end well. We were hoping Rick would keep us out of trouble. He failed.

Our high school football team was going through their hell week workouts and sleeping overnight in the gym. We heard they were complaining about two-a-day workouts. This did not move our hearts. There was no empathy. It inspired us to take action.

We decide to wait until the football players go to sleep. We sneak into the gym through a side door right by the coach's office. The other Mike chickens out at the last moment and abandons our adventure. Was this a moment of cowardice or wisdom?

The coaches did not see or hear us as we tiptoe past their door. We run through the gym amongst all the exhausted, whiny, sleeping football players, making as much noise as we can.

We wake all of them up. As we sprint through the dark gym, we aim toward the door on the opposing side, leaving a wake of tired, grumpy football players behind us, desperately trying to figure out what is happening.

Rick places his hand on the exit door handles and pushes the doors open a few inches. So far, everything is going exactly the way we hoped and planned. I am ecstatic!

“Ka-chang!” go the doors as they stop opening due to a chain wrapped around their handles.

“#@$&%#!” I think.

They offer no escape!

Like a couple of trapped rats, we creep along the wall to the front entrance of the gym. The gym's darkness and confusion provide diminishing protection. The doors are also chained from the inside!

The only escape is through the door we came in... on the other side of the gym... with a swarm of angry, motivated-to-hurt-someone football players... to go through!

“Get them, boys!” I hear several of the football players yell out.

“Let’s kill them!” other players reply with enthusiasm.

There is chaos. My colleagues and I make the horrific decision to try to escape through the door we came in. We start running in that direction.

Bam! Tim, who is leading our way to the exit door, all of a sudden goes sideways as two massive human bodies hit him.

“They have had too much tackle practice,” I think.

Crunch! Rick is taken down painfully as he vainly tries to run between colliding bodies.

Having seen my two brave compatriots go down, I decide to stop running and start hiding to avoid violence. I conceal myself behind a large banner against the wall, praying that I become invisible.

“One of them just hid behind the banner!” a voice in the dark cries out.

I run from behind the banner and attempt to weave through a sea of shadowy figures.

“Maybe they will think I am one of them,” I think with unrealistic optimism.

I zigzag toward the exit door. My hope starts to soar. I can see a clear path. I turn on the afterburners and sprint toward my door of freedom. Only a few more steps to go.

“I might make it!” I start to think.

My turning-invisible prayer is rejected out of hand by God.

A few short feet from my door of liberty, someone grabs me by the collar and jerks me backward, bringing me down to the ground.

“I got one of them!” a voice from behind exclaims with glee.

The pandemonium starts to die down as the football players take the three of us into the coach’s office. The coaches are more upset than the football players. With bloodshot eyes and a scowling voice, they ask for the team captains to come to their office. The captains arrive.

We are all members of the same tight-knit senior class. Any hope for a painless outcome free of significant consequences is quickly evaporating. The mood in the room is tense, vengeful, and dark.

“What do you want to do with them?” the coaches ask.

The three of us hang our heads down, waiting for the firing squad of team captains to pull their triggers. Death would be too easy of an out considering what we had done to them.

“This was a bad decision and plan,” I think. 
“What were we thinking?” I continue. 
“Rick should have talked us out of doing this!” I feebly rationalize.

A few seconds pass. A few of the coaches start getting paddles out of their desk drawers. In those days, students would receive swats to encourage improvement in behavior and attitude. Nightmarish visions of getting paddled by the coaches till sunrise flow through my brain.

The captains confer.

“Let them go,” they murmur.

The only ones more shocked than the four of us are the football coaches.

“Get out of here,” the coaches instruct us.

They did not have to say it twice. The three of us vanished into the night as quickly as possible, stunned and joyfully delirious.

School started the following week. I ran into one of the football captains and had to ask him why they let us go.

“We were so tired, we just wanted to go back to sleep,” he said.

Wow!

Our bad decision results in a blindside outcome. We were blessed by unexpected mercy. Should we learn something from this?

Have you ever been the recipient of unexpected mercy? Should we practice it with others in our lives?

Thursday, May 8, 2025

Business getting done

 Business getting done

by Ricki T Thues


The tradeshow exhibit office is alive with sound. The wide-format printer whirrs as the paper feed rustles and rolls. Salesmen pitch the newest booth design on their telephones in a persistent monologue, persuasive and impatient at once. Designers squeak markers on drawing boards. My assistant taps his pen on an estimate form. Blended with the rhythm of the business is the ring of telephones, the shuffle of feet and the booming interruption of a PA page. Behind it all is the low hum of woodworking equipment penetrating through the wall that separates us from the shop.


The one-room front office is part of the warehouse. High ceilings and concrete walls bounce conversations off and around the partitions that separate the departments and employees.


Malcolm and lead designer Charity are looking for common ground as they design the Microsoft exhibit for an upcoming CES show.


“Look Charity. The booth is in the shape of an “M” and an “S” when you look down on the model.”

“That’s silly. No one except the lighting riggers at the show will ever see that.”

“The client will see it when Barney pitches the model. MS stands for Microsoft!”

“Duh… I know what MS stands for. I think it’s stupid.”

“Fine. Have it your way. Maybe something seen from ground level will work.”


Malcolm drops his drawing pad to the table with a slap and walks over to the coffee nook. I walk casually over to fill my cup.


Malcolm is grumbling. “She is always right. Not her idea and it's silly… stupid.”

“What’s wrong M?”

“She never thinks out of the box. I wish she’d budge every so often. Charity oughta have some charity. My idea’s a winner.”

“I overheard your idea. Don’t think we’ve ever built a booth in the shape of a logo. You might be right about pitching a model in that shape. Draw up an alternative. Maybe she’ll change her mind about the overhead view.”

Shaking his head, Malcolm returns to his drawing board.


“Thomas to the foreman’s office,” blasts the PA.

I hurry over to Ben’s office hoping to answer his questions.


“What brand of laminate did you estimate for the Allergan front walls?”

“That pattern is Formica.”

“Charity said she wants an Abet Laminati pattern. It’s four times as expensive.”

“That’s not how it was bid. We have to give the client what they bought. Put on the Formica.”

“It’s your call Tom.”


Charity stomps into my office.


“What the hell!”

“What’s the problem Charity?

“You told Ben not to use the laminate I specified.”

“It’s not your original spec or what we sold.”

“I don’t care. The Abet will look so much better.”

“Sorry. You might want to let this one go. It is very expensive.”

“I’m going to Freddy’s office and see what he says.”

“OK. Let’s go.”


Charity almost runs out of my office space toward the owners’ offices. I follow with a measured step. When I knock on the door and enter, Charity is already bending Freddy’s ear.


“What a day this has been. First Malcolm tried to force a design down my throat, then Tom switched my laminate spec for a cheaper finish. Something has to be done!”


Freddy looks up at me, a pained expression on his face.


“Why did you change the finish?

“The Formica was what Charity originally spec’d and what Barney sold. The new pattern on 10 walls will cost an extra $2000.”

“That’s money out of our profit Charity. Why is this change necessary?”

“The Abet will complement the style of the booth and make it so much more inviting to Allergan’s clients.”

“Think about that before we sell an exhibit next time. This time we won’t be spending the money.”


Charity turns on her heel without a word and pushes through the door. The hinge springs slam the door behind her.


Freddy shakes his head.

“I don’t know what to do about her.”

“She’s an excellent designer and has a real artistic sense. She could be more tolerant of other ideas though.”

“She said that Malcolm forced a design idea on her. Do you know anything about that?”

“I spoke to Malcolm in the coffee room. He was very upset. He has this unconventional idea to make the Microsoft booth in the shape of an MS as seen from above. He thought it would wow the client when they looked down on the model. We’ve never done that before.”

“That is clever. I would have asked Charity why she wouldn’t let Malcolm run with it if she hadn’t stormed out of here.”

“Malcolm said because the MS can’t be seen from the show floor, she said it was a stupid idea.”

“There are no stupid ideas. Only ones that have not been tried. I must have a serious talk with her.”

I got serious then. “Freddy, I will be OK with Charity over the laminate spat. She will forget about it and I already have. I suggested that Malcolm draw up an alternative to the MS design and let Charity decide which she likes. I think there is still a chance they will work it out.”

“OK Tom. I want to be at that meeting. Maybe I can encourage her to open her mind a little.”

“Great idea Freddy. Charity is worth keeping and so is Malcolm.”


It is the next day and Malcolm has finished the new design. I overhear him asking Charity for a meeting. I pick up my phone and let Freddy know when the meeting will be.


At the design area conference table Malcolm has spread out the new drawings.

“Here is my other idea for the Microsoft booth.”

Charity is leafing through the stack of drawings. Freddy enters the area.


“How’s it going with my favorite artists?”

Malcolm says, “Good.”

Charity makes a small huffing sound.

“What is this? asks Freddy.

Malcolm smiles, picks up the ground view rendering and says, “This is my Microsoft design. It has an open, inviting entrance that funnels clients into the sales offices.”

“These are nice,” says Charity. She is uncharacteristically quiet.

Freddy posits, “Didn’t I see you working on another design the other day? Something that looked like the Microsoft logo?”

Malcolm’s eyes light up. He rushes to his drawing station and grabs a stack of illustrations.

“This one is the Microsoft logo, MS, when seen from above.”

“No one will see that at the Convention Center,” muses Freddy.

“I know, but think of the model we will build. Barney is going to love pitching their logo to them.”


Freddy reaches over to the conference phone and pages Barney to the meeting.

Everyone likes Barney. He is the quintessential, charming salesman.


“What a beautiful day. How are my design peeps?”

Charity smiles. Malcolm gives him an enthusiastic “Great!”


Freddy reaches in and pushes the two stacks of renderings into neat piles.

“Take a look at these two Microsoft designs and tell us what you think, Barney.”

“Okey Doke,” he says as he begins thumbing through the stacks.


Barney begins with the conventional design. He is savvy and likes the welcoming entrance. He turns his attention to the logo design.

“This is really cool. I’ve never seen this idea.”

“You can’t see the logo from the show floor,” says Charity.

“Yes, but can you imagine the looks on the buyer’s face when they see the shape of their logo on the model? This is a winner. I can’t wait to pitch this.”

“We thought you might like it, but wanted to give you a choice,” says Charity.

Freddy gives Malcolm a knowing look which he returns with a sly smile.

“Keep up the great work,” says Barney as he turns and leaves the design space.


The sound of the room reasserts itself. Its melodic hum is punctuated with the sounds of business getting done.

The Airplane by Paul Delgado

                                                                The Airplane                                                  by Paul Delgad...