Sicko With No Intentions

Posted on February 24, 2018 by sungmokoo

Don’t lend cats money. Image Source

What sort of stupid name is that?” asked Astral Projection out loud, even though he was obviously alone. His face obscured by a failing newspaper, he continued to prattle. “What sort of name is Dingus? Dingus O’Hara? That can’t be right. It’s… it’s too moronic.” He put down the paper with the impact of disgust; his eyes darted across the dingy kitchenette following a trail of nothing to the garbage can, to where the cat used to eat. He suffered from a mild condition commonly known as cat vision flashback. It is the imaginary peripheral vision, an instinctive blur etched forever from owning and being conditioned by a cat.

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Three Scandals Ago

Posted on February 23, 2018 by sungmokoo

“We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious loss of hair on many sides, on many sides.” Image Source

Dear current president of the United States, Donald Trump,

Before I ask my question, I would like to commend you on finally acknowledging your hair-challenged scalp. It’s nice that you are expanding your repertoire of bullying, lying, blaming, no-colluding/really colluding, groping, tweeting, and golfing. Self-deprecation must be difficult for you, especially with those small hands, smaller brain and that microscopic black withering thing that pumps blood through your body. I found that you’re actual quote, “I try like hell to hide that bald spot,” could have been better. Here’s a suggestion: Bad hair day? More like, bad hair life. Lock her up.

You’re welcome.

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⑤ I Hear You

Posted on February 22, 2018 by sungmokoo

Judge Rho-Bot X-14 is tough, but fair.

Judge Rho-Bot X-14 slammed her shiny silver gavel fist, soon after there was order in the court.

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This Story Will Change Your Mind

Posted on February 21, 2018 by sungmokoo

Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to adjust some of these lobes to fulfill my new role in life.

The following story is not intended to be humorous. Keep in mind, if you laugh, it’s on you, shame on you, because I have given you this warning. Trust me, this is the most difficult thing I have ever written. It has finally gotten through my thick head that these are serious times and I want to contribute change for the betterment of our divided nation. Originally, I thought my tilted point of view helps society, but it turns out my attempts at “humor”, especially all the failing, just further divides us. I will let the entertainers entertain, the pundits pund, the comedians comedy, while I delve into the horrifying underbelly of truth. And I know what you’re probably saying just after, “Shut the fuck up you arrogant jackass,” and that’s “Seriously, shut the fuck up.”

I pity myself for spewing stupid ha ha words in search of approval in the currency of stupid laughter. It is meaningless. This is not the time. It is time to be as serious as a Russian heart attack, which is to say Russians, not all of them, but a lot of them, tend to be more somber than Americans, case in point, Yakov Smirnoff. I rest my case. Yakov Smirnoff is a Soviet-born “comedian”, “actor”, and “writer”. After emigrating to the United States in 1977, like a flu virus, he spread his “comedy” and many of us got sick.

I do not want to be that guy who can’t answer his son when he asks, “Hey dad, you were an active citizen when all this b.s. went down, why didn’t you do anything?” Sadly, this would be my response. “I was blogging and writing quirky stories for an audience of fifty or so.” And how painful is it when your son looks through you like you’re nothing but the encrusted burnt cheese on aluminum foil after reheating a pizza? I don’t want to know this answer. That is why I have written this flash fiction manifesto. I would gladly give up one hundred likes if I can change one mind. With that, I present the story I believe may change your life. It changed mine.

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