This third part of Revenge of Strange and Crappy Short Story Bonanza puts emphasis on the Crappy.
Between a Rock and a Star
In between two cardboard boxes stood The Nick Vega. The box on his right contained all his earthly possessions: one pair blue jeans, eight black t-shirts, four pair white socks, his high school geometry textbook, and a broken watch. The box on his left contained all his unearthly possessions: one soul, one prayer, and several thousand dreams. He liked the left-hand box best because it weighed less.
"Leaving already?" Maybe Donald Bartholemew asked. "You've only been here two weeks."
"Time for me to be moving on," Nick explained. "Thank you kindly for allowing me the use of your couch, Maybe Donald. But I feel it best to get while the getting is more or less good."
"Suit yourself. Want some coffee before you leave?"
"Mighty kind of you, sir."
After ten minutes of silently drinking coffee in Maybe Donald's kitchen, they were joined by Maybe Donald's wife, Some Kind of Jessica. The Nick's boxes were the only things around that even vaguely resembled chairs, so she and Maybe Donald were forced to share the left-hand box.
"I think my head is shrinking," Some Kind of Jessica said as she felt the perimeter of her skull. "It's smaller."
"Smaller than what?" Maybe Donald quipped.
"This is serious," Some Kind of Jessica snapped. "I know it's shrinking. My glasses keep sliding down my nose. They've never done that before."
"Are you sure your head is shrinking?" The Nick asked. "Maybe your glasses are growing."
"Didn't I tell you to leave last month?" Some Kind of Jessica joked.
"And I did," The Nick observed.
"But here you are, leaving again," Some Kind of Jessica observed right back.
"Do you want some help moving your boxes?" Maybe Donald asked. "I'll drive you to wherever you're staying next."
"I'd appreciate it," The Nick said.
Maybe Donald rose to get his car keys. As he did the lid of the left-hand box collapsed and Some Kind of Jessica fell inside it.
"My soul!" The Nick cried. "You'll crush my..." He sneezed before completing the sentence.
When he recovered he was no longer in Maybe Donald's kitchen. Instead, he was in a very small, unwindowed office. The Nick now sat in a comfortable suede-covered chair, in front of an oak desk, in front of a man sitting in a corduroy-covered chair. The office was tidy, as it only contained one small stack of files on the desk and a potted plant in a corner. The strange man, who was previously reading one of the files, looked up at The Nick.
"You're late," the strange man said.
"I am?"
"No. Just fooling around. You know, lighten the mood and all."
"Oh."
"Yeah, no one ever laughs at that. Well, no bother, since it doesn't change why we're here."
"Why are we here?"
"Alright, look. Here's the deal: I've done this a million times before. How many times have you done this?"
"None, to my knowledge."
"Exactly. So I know what you're going to ask. You're going to ask the same questions everyone else asks. 'Who are you?' 'Where am I?' 'Why am I here?' So, in the interest of making this easier on me, just shut up and let me explain."
"But where am I?"
"Okay, kid, look. What am I wearing?"
"A suit. And a tie."
"And what are you wearing?"
"Jeans and a t-shirt?"
"And where are we?"
"In an office."
"Whose office?"
"Yours?"
"Exactly. So, since I'm dressed in a suit and we're sitting in my office, doesn't it stand to reason that I'm a businessman?"
"Well... sure."
"And it's a proven fact that businessmen are more important than everyone else. So let's just make it clear right now that I'm in charge, okay? Now shut up and listen. See, as it stands right now, you're dead. But the thing is, you didn't bring a soul with you."
"I'm dead?"
"That's what I just said. Anyway, without a soul, you can't go anywhere. We got nothing to judge you on. So I need you to explain where it is."
"It's in my box. That's where I kept it."
"In a box?"
"Yes."
"You can't put your soul in a box."
"Why not?"
"Against the rules. See, when you're in the womb, your soul is..."
"I wasn't in a womb."
"You weren't?"
"No. I was cloned."
"From whom?"
"Hitler."
"...Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, kid." The strange man reached underneath the desk, pulled out a stamp, and violently slammed it on one of the files. He then handed the file to The Nick. "Enjoy your eternity in Hell. Check-in room is down the hall."
Between a Rock and a Star
In between two cardboard boxes stood The Nick Vega. The box on his right contained all his earthly possessions: one pair blue jeans, eight black t-shirts, four pair white socks, his high school geometry textbook, and a broken watch. The box on his left contained all his unearthly possessions: one soul, one prayer, and several thousand dreams. He liked the left-hand box best because it weighed less.
"Leaving already?" Maybe Donald Bartholemew asked. "You've only been here two weeks."
"Time for me to be moving on," Nick explained. "Thank you kindly for allowing me the use of your couch, Maybe Donald. But I feel it best to get while the getting is more or less good."
"Suit yourself. Want some coffee before you leave?"
"Mighty kind of you, sir."
After ten minutes of silently drinking coffee in Maybe Donald's kitchen, they were joined by Maybe Donald's wife, Some Kind of Jessica. The Nick's boxes were the only things around that even vaguely resembled chairs, so she and Maybe Donald were forced to share the left-hand box.
"I think my head is shrinking," Some Kind of Jessica said as she felt the perimeter of her skull. "It's smaller."
"Smaller than what?" Maybe Donald quipped.
"This is serious," Some Kind of Jessica snapped. "I know it's shrinking. My glasses keep sliding down my nose. They've never done that before."
"Are you sure your head is shrinking?" The Nick asked. "Maybe your glasses are growing."
"Didn't I tell you to leave last month?" Some Kind of Jessica joked.
"And I did," The Nick observed.
"But here you are, leaving again," Some Kind of Jessica observed right back.
"Do you want some help moving your boxes?" Maybe Donald asked. "I'll drive you to wherever you're staying next."
"I'd appreciate it," The Nick said.
Maybe Donald rose to get his car keys. As he did the lid of the left-hand box collapsed and Some Kind of Jessica fell inside it.
"My soul!" The Nick cried. "You'll crush my..." He sneezed before completing the sentence.
When he recovered he was no longer in Maybe Donald's kitchen. Instead, he was in a very small, unwindowed office. The Nick now sat in a comfortable suede-covered chair, in front of an oak desk, in front of a man sitting in a corduroy-covered chair. The office was tidy, as it only contained one small stack of files on the desk and a potted plant in a corner. The strange man, who was previously reading one of the files, looked up at The Nick.
"You're late," the strange man said.
"I am?"
"No. Just fooling around. You know, lighten the mood and all."
"Oh."
"Yeah, no one ever laughs at that. Well, no bother, since it doesn't change why we're here."
"Why are we here?"
"Alright, look. Here's the deal: I've done this a million times before. How many times have you done this?"
"None, to my knowledge."
"Exactly. So I know what you're going to ask. You're going to ask the same questions everyone else asks. 'Who are you?' 'Where am I?' 'Why am I here?' So, in the interest of making this easier on me, just shut up and let me explain."
"But where am I?"
"Okay, kid, look. What am I wearing?"
"A suit. And a tie."
"And what are you wearing?"
"Jeans and a t-shirt?"
"And where are we?"
"In an office."
"Whose office?"
"Yours?"
"Exactly. So, since I'm dressed in a suit and we're sitting in my office, doesn't it stand to reason that I'm a businessman?"
"Well... sure."
"And it's a proven fact that businessmen are more important than everyone else. So let's just make it clear right now that I'm in charge, okay? Now shut up and listen. See, as it stands right now, you're dead. But the thing is, you didn't bring a soul with you."
"I'm dead?"
"That's what I just said. Anyway, without a soul, you can't go anywhere. We got nothing to judge you on. So I need you to explain where it is."
"It's in my box. That's where I kept it."
"In a box?"
"Yes."
"You can't put your soul in a box."
"Why not?"
"Against the rules. See, when you're in the womb, your soul is..."
"I wasn't in a womb."
"You weren't?"
"No. I was cloned."
"From whom?"
"Hitler."
"...Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, kid." The strange man reached underneath the desk, pulled out a stamp, and violently slammed it on one of the files. He then handed the file to The Nick. "Enjoy your eternity in Hell. Check-in room is down the hall."
Thanks for the birthday Tenacious D , by the way.