Magnetic Fishing


As soon as Brenda entered her parents house, her mom announced, “You need to speak to your father.”

“Why, is he gardening in the backyard in his underwear again?” replied Brenda.

“He’s taken up a new hobby,” said her mother.

“Is it like the time he tried squirrel rustling?”

“Not quite. He’s taken up magnetic fishing.”

Brenda ponder this a moment. “Can you catch fish with magnets?”

“Of course not. He’s throwing magnets in the river to catch anything metal,” scoffed Brenda’s mother.

“Okay, that’s odd. Why would he do this?”

“He claims it’s no different than using a metal detector on a beach, except it’s under water.”

“What does he find?”

“What do you think? Rusty metal.”

Brenda shrugged and shook her head. “It sounds innocent enough.”

“Oh no. Not you too. He videos himself doing it and puts it on the internet. He’s got followers,” said Brenda’s mother.

“At least he’s not under your feet all the time.”

That gave Brenda’s mother pause. “I guess that’s true.”

“And they say that people who don’t have a hobby when they retire tend to waste away,” reasoned Brenda.

Brenda’s mother sat at the kitchen table with a sinister expression and took a sit of her tea. “It gives us more mother daughter time, too.”

Brenda eyes widened. “Then again, you two really don’t spend enough time together.”

“Better go talk to him,” said Brenda’s mother with a sly grin.

Brenda turned for the door. “I’ll go talk to him.”

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An Apocryphal History of Curling in America


It’s common knowledge among curling enthusiasts that the primary tool of the trade for many years was the corn broom. Since corn is indigenous to North America, the corn broom can properly described as a uniquely western addition to the Scottish past time.

Another popular user of corn brooms? Witches. In fact, the corn broom proved to be a useful aid in the immunity of their lifestyle. Suspicious villagers who spied on the small bands were surprised to witness random acts of curling practiced in the nearby forests and glades.

One unfortunate group of witches once forgot to bring curling stones to complement their ruse, resulting in an unfortunate incident in Massachusetts. Other witch bands learned from their mistake and began to actually play the game before growing crowds of enthusiastic villagers.

This was how curling made it’s earliest inroads in the American colonies. Or perhaps not. Who’s to say, really? Walk with purpose, write with authority and someone will believe you.

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Four Seasons


Ainsley was at the door, ready to leave, when Butler called out from the down the hall.

“It’s cold today. Only going up to minus 4,” he said.

The statement made Ainsley sigh. “I know, I heard. I hate this weather. Most people don’t live like this you know.”

“Like how?”

“Most people live in hot weather,” said Ainsley.

“I like having four seasons,” said Butler.

“It’s not normal to freeze yourself like this.” complained Ainsley.

“What’s normal? It’s all about what you’re used to,” said Butler.

“Well then, I want to be used to a warm, sunny beach, twelve months of the year.”

“I bet people who live like that wish they could see snow,” suggested Butler.

“Are you nuts? Who’d want that?”

“People who’ve never experienced it before. For them it’d be new and exciting,” said Butler.

“They can have it. Better yet, if that’s what they want, we can trade places,” said Ainsley.

“You’d miss the snow,” said Butler.

“Not bloody likely.”

“Well, you’d miss me, because I’m not doing that. I like each season as it comes,” said Butler.

“Then you better make sure I stay warm.”

Butler wrapped his arms around Ainsley and held her tight. “Absolutely,” he said. “That’s the best part of winter.”

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A Sound Future


“We’re in serious trouble,” exclaimed Janet. She tossed her retirement portfolio across the kitchen table.

“What wrong now?” asked Phil. He opened the fridge in search of a snack.

“According to my calculations, we’ll be able to retire when we’re ninety-seven.”

Phil held up a weird looking fruit. “Why’d you buy a passionfruit? How d’you even eat this?” he asked.

Janet glared at her husband. “Thanks for taking this so seriously.”

“Look, it’ll all work out. By the time we reach retirement age, the social system will’ve already collapsed.”

“Then how will it work out?” cried Janet.

Phil sat at the table next to his beleaguered spouse. He took a bite of the passionfruit and hurt his teeth.

“You cut off the top and scoop out the innards with a spoon,” explained Janet.

“No wonder it hasn’t replaced the apple in popularity. Like I was saying, we need to think outside the box.”

“The only box we’ll have at that point will be cardboard,” lamented Janet.

“Hardly. The world’s going deaf. Loud music, earbuds and stuff are taking their toll.”

“That helps us how?” asked Janet.

“Millions will need hearing aids,” declared Phil.


“Those same people will still want to use their earbuds to listen to music.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“The point is, how can they use ear buds and hearing aids at the same time? Add bluetooth. We patent the idea as intellectual property, then we sell it for a fortune. Retirement crisis solved,” proclaimed Phil.

Janet sat up in her chair and marvelled at her husband. “I gotta admit, it’s a great idea. Too bad it’s already been done.”

Phil laughed. “What’re you saying?”

Janet grabbed her phone and searched bluetooth hearing aids. Thousands of results came up. “See?”

“Aw man,” said Phil. “I thought I had something.”

She placed her arm around Phil’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “At least I have something.”

“What?” said a dejected Phil.

“A ridiculously optimistic partner.”

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The New Season


With a deep sigh Trevor turned off the TV. The room went black.

“What’s wrong?” asked Natalie.

“That’s it. The season’s over,” lamented Trevor.

“Are the playoffs done?”

“We didn’t make the playoffs. We only won two games,” said Trevor.

Natalie laughed. “Why do you cheer for them? You should pick a better team. They’re terrible.”

“You don’t give up on them when they’re losing. It’s about loyalty,” explained Trevor.

Natalie shook her head. “That’s so lame. You’re pathetic.”

“You better appreciate loyalty. It’s the only reason I stay with you,” said Trevor.

There was a pause between them, like the stillness of wind before the fury of a storm. It was epic. Earth was scorched. Old wounds were reopened. Bridges were burned.

When the dust settled, the only thing Trevor had left was his team. It was the beginning of the happiest period of his life.

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Filthy Cellphones


Brady was typing furiously on his computer and didn’t even notice Kimberly approach.

In an attempt to surprise, she pounced. “Whatcha doin’?” she asked, giving him a squeeze.

He never lost focus on the screen. “Wanna know what’s really scary? Cell phones,” replied Brady.

“Where’d that come from?”

“I did some research. People eat with them. They use them on the toilet. That’s disgusting. Then they them it to their faces.” Brady shivered at the thought.

“I never thought about it before,” admitted Kimberly.

“Bacteria, e coli and feces are practically plastered on every surface, it’s a portable cesspool,” said Brady.

“And why would you research this?”

“Tomorrow’s the beginning of NaNoWriMo. I’m getting ready,”

Kimberly frowned. “I hate it when you speak in riddles.”

Brady shook his head disapprovingly. “November is National Novel Writing Month.”

“So you’re going to write a story about poo phones?”

“No. That’s just a small part. It’s call ‘The Importance of Being Excretal’. It’s a about…”

“Don’t tell me. I’ll read it when it’s finished,” said Kimberly.

Brady looked sternly at his fiancee. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Kimberly sought a hasty retreat. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said, then slipped out of the door.

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The Great Distraction

Makalu vom Everest

Bruce was reading the label of the drain cleaner he was buying when the next available cashier opened up. He shuffled over, still attempting to decipher the fine print on the bottle.

“Do you need a bag today?” asked the cashier.

Bruce looked up to see the largest pimple he’d ever seen. It was like a snowcapped peak on a bright red Everest bursting from the top of the cashier’s nose. Bruce was so startled, he forgot the question.

“Pardon?” asked Bruce.

“Do you want a bag?” asked the cashier.

Bruce followed the movement of the zit. It looked like an emergency beacon.

“No, I’m good,” replied Bruce. He tried to look away, but the blemish was mesmerizing.

At one point, the cashier rubbed his nose. Bruce took a step back, wondering if the volcano would erupt. The cashier gave his customer a concerned look.

“I thought I forgot something,” lied Bruce.

“No problem. Should I put this aside?” asked the cashier.

“Nah. Ring it through,” replied Bruce. He was either going to leave or he was going to reach over and squeeze the cashier’s zit.

Finally, the transaction was finished. Bruce grabbed his drain cleaner, then turned to leave.

“Excuse me,” said the cashier, pointing to his nose. “I just gotta tell you, there’s a booger in your left nostril.”

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