Writing

Mud in your eye, here

The ‘Mud in your eye bandit’ always screamed “Here’s mud in your eye!” before actually throwing mud in your eye. He said he stood for radical honesty. Really, he just liked throwing mud in people’s eyes.

 

Poems about monsters, cake, and coconuts

There may be monsters in the lake/their image is placed upon a cake/people come from far and wide/their belief in monsters they can’t decide/what they know, they know, yes, in haste/they all agree they enjoy the monster’s taste/its fearsome visage in red and green/I do believe it’s faux buttercream.

Some find it appalling/coconuts are falling/the moment one rises from bed/but that’s just how coconuts get ahead.

sadness machines and camels

This Black Friday one could find excellent deals on those little machines that measure sadness.
Why would one build or purchase a machine which measures sadness? Because otherwise one would have sadness without measure.

I’m a tragedian. But, in my defense, I do write delightful poems about Arabian one-humped camels.

If I met a dromedary/ I would never make him carry/ packs or parcels here nor there/ nor set him up with a polar bear.

http://davidraffin.com

 

The evil twin conundrum

Evil twins are unhappy about the loss of half their potential. They never feel as evil as they could have been. This feeling of inadequacy makes them more evil, as the result is they try harder. As their plans get more intricate therein lies the flaw. The chance for failure grows exponentially. Begin again at the start of the paragraph. This is the evil twin conundrum.

http://davidraffin.com 

A haircut story

A few years ago I got a haircut at a home salon which advertised with a homemade sign planted at the side of the driveway.
I was sat in the chair and prepped. She started cutting. Within seconds she attempted small talk.
“So, you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” I said.
“Why not!” she said loudly. “Are you the gay?”

That is my friend Jodi‘s favorite story about me getting a haircut. But, in all fairness, it may be my only story about me getting a haircut.

(see also this story about a robot barber)

When I was but a lad.

An excerpt from Shards, WIP.

When I was but a lad. My cat killed a rat. The rat was left outside the door. I stepped outside the door, wearing no shoes, and ended up with the rat attached to the bottom of my foot. I hopped about on one foot. The other foot, with rat attached, hanging in the air. The rat, dead though it was, would not let go.