Clarity Matters

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Two eager young people dressed in bright pink approached David.

“Excuse me, would like to donate to cancer?” asked one of the pink clad youths.

David examined them both carefully. “I’m sorry. I don’t support cancer.”

Both their jaws dropped in horror. “You don’t?”

“Absolutely. I want cancer eradicated, not supported,” explained David.

“That’s what we want, too,” said the other youth.

“But that’s not what you said,” said David.

The two looked at each other. “What do you mean?”

“You asked if I want to donate to cancer. That’s the opposite of what you really want,” said David.

“You know what we mean,” complained the first young person.

David sighed. “I really don’t. I can’t read your mind. I can only go by what you say.”

The two fundraisers shuffled angrily. The first young person huffed. “Do you want to give us money to help fight cancer or not?”

David looked up and wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather give to an organization I know, thanks.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

David smiled. “Clarity in communication matters.”

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The Weird Language

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“Hey Al, did you ever think that English is a weird language?” said Jose.

“I heard that it’s one of the hardest languages to learn,” replied Al.

“Try this: I’ll spell a word and you pronounce it. Y-E-S,” said Jose.

“Yes.”

“Okay, Now pronounce this: E-Y-E-S,” said Jose.

“Eyes? That doesn’t make sense,” chuckled Al.

“I know, right? What about C-O-W?”

“Cow.”

“N-O-W.”

“Now.”

“S-N-O-W,” spelled Jose.

Al laughed. “Snow.”

From across the room, Sondra shouted, “Don’t say that! It’s a swear word!”

Al and Jose exchanged confused looks.

“What, snow?” asked Jose.

Sondra covered her ears. “Stop saying that! You’re gonna jinx us. I hate the cold.”

“We live in Canada. You can’t get away from it,” said Al.

“Yeah. Winter’s coming. It’s gonna snow whether you want it or not,” added Jose.

“Triggered! I’m being triggered!,” cried Sondra as she ran out of the room.

Al turned to Jose. “The english language isn’t the only weird thing around here.”

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The Nearsighted Pipsqueak Axiom

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The meeting with the lawyer had not gone well at all. Andrew sat at the Human Beanery coffee shop, staring into space. He set his glasses on the table and rubbed his eyes to the point of tears. The city looked as out of focus as he felt.

“Hey you!”

The indeterminate voice seemed far off. Within a matter of seconds, he was confronted by a Goliath standing on the other side of the window.

“You looking at my wife?” demanded the Goliath.

Andrew’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“You little pervert! Wait right there!”

The Goliath stomped over to the door of the coffee shop, nearly ripping it off it’s hinges. Andrew’s eyes darted around the restaurant, but hiding places were scare.

“I wasn’t looking at your wife,” stammered Andrew.

“What were you looking at then?” demanded the fuming giant.

“Nothing. I can’t see anything without my glasses. Everything’s a blur.”

This forced the Goliath to hesitate. Andrew could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. “Then why were you staring?” he eventually asked.

“I was just thinking.”

“Well,” said the Goliath. “Do it somewhere else. I don’t want some pipsqueak stalking my wife.”

Andrew threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“That’s right,” said the Goliath as he stormed away.

Andrew slumped down on his seat. He nodded his head in solemn understanding of a powerful discovery. In life, there is nothing so bad that it can’t get a little worse.

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Bossy Cellphones

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Brice held up his phone to Wendy.

“What am I looking at?” she asked.

“My phone is telling me what to do. See? The weather report. It’s telling me to wear a coat and to take care,” said Brice.

“What can I say? You’re phone likes you.”

“Or it’s just bossy,” said Brice. He stuck his phone back in his pocket. “I’m tired of being told what to do.”

“Don’t be so sensitive,” dismissed Wendy.

“You’re doing it now, too.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I realized something about advertisers. If I listen to them, I’m not sexy enough, I smell, my clothes aren’t cool, I need more stuff to make me fulfilled and satisfied. It’s a total con job. I hate it,” said Brice.

“Then don’t watch ads.”

“How do you get away from them? They’re everywhere.”

Wendy shrugged. “You have a real First World Problem on your hands.”

“You think this only happens if first world countries? It’s like a cloud of consumerism covering the globe.”

Wendy laughed. “Whatever this is, it’s turning you into a poet. I like it.”

“I’m serious,” said Brice as he stamped his foot.

“Your skin is way too thin. Hey! It’s turing me into a poet, too!”

“I can’t talk to you about anything,” grumbled Brice.

“You’re cute when you’re indignant,” said Wendy with a coy smile.

Brice’s expression softened. “I guess it isn’t all that bad.”

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Compost Dreams

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Emil dreamed he was being drowned in water. He fought against some unknown force, struggling for breath. When he could no longer fight, he was brought back to the surface. He was given only a few seconds of relief before being held under water again.

Amazingly, his mind calmed down and his terror disappeared. For the first time he felt a scrubbing across his body. A giant hand grasped him by the foot and pulled him fully out of the water.

“I think it’s clean enough,” said an unknown, yet familiar voice.

“You gotta really clean these things. They’re bacteria factories,” said another voice.

“It’ll be fine once it’s cooked.”

“How do we skin these?”

“Grab it by the legs and pull it. The skin will rip right open.”

“Wait, what?!?” yelled Emil.

“I was gonna just use a vegetable peeler.”

“No!” shouted Emil.

“You gotta admit, it’s a weird looking vegetable.”

“Somebody help me,” whimpered Emil.

Emil was tossed into a bowl filled with flour. He landed in a white cloud. When he looked over the lip, he recognized the giants for the first time. One was, Anna, his wife. The other was his sister Suzy.

He scrambled over the side and fell to the floor. A dog sauntered up and picked him up in it’s mouth. Emil figured this would be the end.

“Rex! Drop it,” said Anna.

The dog dropped Emil and licked his lips.

“We can’t eat this now,” said Anna.

She picked him up and threw him into the compost bin. He was surrounded by bits of carrot shavings, potato peelings and one celery stalk. He instantly devoured a piece of carrot. It was a great relief that he was no longer in danger.

This feeling was short lived, because he was dumped in a composter outside. Now he was surrounded by beetles twice his size. One grabbed him by it’s mandibles and shook him violently.

Emil woke up in a cold sweat. Anna rolled over in bed and rested her hand on his arm.

“Are you excited about the cooking class tomorrow?” she asked.

Emil turned away from his wife. “Something like that,” he said.

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Gynophobia

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A spider the size of a quarter crept its way down the living room wall behind Amelie. It took an hour to make it’s way from the ceiling down to the highest cushion of the sofa. Chip watched it’s progress as the two decompressed after a long day of work.

As Amelie was sharing about the latest office romance, Chip grabbed a tissue and reached behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, with irritation.

Chip crushed the spider with an audible crunch.

Amelie jumped up from her seat. “What was that?”

“A spider,” replied Chip.

“Kill it. Kill it,” she urged.

“I already got it. Wanna see?”

“Ew! No. That’s disgusting. Get rid of it,” she said.

“I watched it for about an hour,” said Chip.

“And you waited ’til now to squish it?”

“It wasn’t bothering anyone before.”

“It’s a spider. They’re creepy and ugly. What if it jumped on me?” asked Amelie. She shivered at the thought.

“I don’t think they do that,” said Chip.

“Some do. Was it big?”

Chip made a circle with his fingers. “About that size.”

Amelie’s eyes grew big. “It was huge! I can’t believe we have monsters living in our house.”

“You’re overreacting. Besides, I’m here to protect you,” said Chip.

“Great job you’re doing. You just sat there as it plotted against me,” said Amelie.

“I don’t think they’re that malevolent.”

“How do you know? Are you a spider psychologist? No. You don’t have any idea what it was thinking. It was probably figuring out where to bite me,” said Amelie.

“You know, the next time I kill a spider, I’ll make sure not to tell you,” said Chip.

“Why? So you can be in cahoots with it? I’m not even safe in my own home.”

“Don’t be so irrational. I killed it,” said Chip.

Amelie crossed her arms and sulked. “I’m not irrational.”

“Then you won’t mind killing the spider behind you,” said Chip.

Amelie steamed and ran from the room. From behind the wall she yelled at Chip, “A fear of things that can kill you is completely natural.”

“If that’s the case, then why isn’t there a phobia of women?” mumbled Chip.

“I heard that,” Amelie called out.

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Genius At Work

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Taking a sip of coffee, Dennis winced in pain and grabbed his cheek.

“What’s wrong?” asked Alice.

“Toothache,” replied Dennis.

“You should go to my dentist. He’s a genius,” suggested Alice.

“That’s a term people use too frivolously,” said Dennis.

“Not only do you doubt me, you use big words to do it,” said Alice.

“It’s just that everyone’s a genius now. Can a dentist really be a genius? They can be competent, effective, maybe even bright. But a genius? Has he altered dentistry in some way?”

Alice curled her lip. “That toothache certainly brought out your inner grouch. But since you asked, yes. A dentist can be a genius. It can be applied to any field.”

“Really?” scoffed Dennis. “You’re saying someone can be a genius in the field of washing dishes or delivering papers? How about the genius at changing the oil in my car?”

“Why not? The world of intelligence is larger than you know,” said Alice.

Dennis took a deep breath and calmed down. “I guess you have a point.”

“Of course I do,” declared Alice. “I’m practically a genius myself.”

“In what field are you a genius?”

“Logic and the art of persuasion.”

Dennis frowned. “You think with all these geniuses around the world wouldn’t be as stupid as it is.”

“Go to my dentist. Things will look better when your mouth doesn’t hurt,” said Alice.

“Maybe you’re right,” said Dennis. “I’ll go see if my dentist has an opening this afternoon.”

Alice watched Dennis leave the room. She smiled. “See? I am a genius.”

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