Category Archives: short story

Cambria Plants the Obama Avocado Tree

Cambria Park located in Cambria Californai

Charles:  I agree there needs to be more than two lonely picnic tables at the park on Bridge Street.  Does Cambria have the budget for a tank, anti-aircraft guns or a fighter jet?  There’s nothing more thrilling than making a homemade avocado veggie sandwich next to a tank.  I pulverize the sandwich like a tank blowing up an Iraqi citizen home.  Yummmm

weapons in park tank brandon follett



weapons in park guns brandon follett

Sally:  I take guys to parks with weapons.  I make up a little love basket consisting of wine and cheese.  I get my date all drunk underneath the anti-aircraft gun.  Weapons get the men in the mood to conquer and dominate- that’s how I like it.

Betty:  There’s not enough money in the budget to purchase fancy killing machines like tanks or anti-aircraft guns.  Maybe Cambrians can rally around a project where the community will donate knives, guns, and lead pipes.  Granted, these weapons aren’t as glamorous as a tank that can obliterate a hospital or a fighter jet that can light a village and forest on fire with napalm.   As seen by the Sandy Hook Mass murder the proper hand held weapon can sure leave a lot of people dead!!!!! Bang Bang Slash Slash Thump Thump.

The crowd cheers. Hands point finger guns at each other.  Arms make thumping and slashing motions.

Jim:  I love the idea of guns, knives, and lead pipes in the park.  Except the Cambria budget can’t afford the orange cones and yellow tape to make the area safe.  What if a person trips over a lead pipe in the park?  That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.

general sherman tree sequoia national park

Jack:  Okay Okay at this time physical weapons do not seem like a viable option.  Why don’t we plant a tree named after a violent person.  For example the largest tree in the world goes by the name General Sherman, found in the National Sequoia Park.  General William Tecumseh Sherman fought theAmericans in the south.  He is credited with the scorched Earth policy that is used today in such places as Darfur.

This wonderfully violent man also had a tank named after him called the M4 Sherman.  This version of the General killed plenty of Germans and Japanese.

The crowd, “Hurray for the General!”

charles manson fanclub

Bob raises his hand,  “I think we should plant a tree named after Charlie Manson.  He’s a relevant killer who still lives in California.”

Karen: “I have been a huge fan since 1969.  I respect Mr. Manson’s style of leadership, music and his commitment to fans.  He mails a hand written response to every fan letter.  However I think I speak for the majority of Cambrians when I tell you we should only glorify legalized murder.”

The crowd cheers and yells, “Legalized Murder!”

Karen:  “I nominate President Obama.  He has set a new standard for legalized murder.  He bombs and kills civilians with out declaring war.  He assassinated four US citizens,  one under the age of 18.  I’m surprised there are not more trees named after him.  Grab your shovels, kitchen compost and worm castings!!!!!  Who’s ready to do a little gardening?”

The crowd cheers unanimously, “Let’s garden!!!!”.

Later that afternoon the Cambrian citizens look lovingly at the new President Obama avocado tree.  The avocado tree was chosen in honor of Michelle Obama’s commitment to healthy living through food.

The Cambrian Obama Avocado Tree does not bring in as many tourists as the General Sherman or help children develop climbing skills and nurture their imagination like a tank does.  However, all the harvested avocados are donated to families in the Head Start program.



Jean’s Plan to NOT become an Unplanned Grandmother

South Street Cafe Bennington Vermont

Jean walks into the South Street Cafe. Her best friend, Shirley, sits on the couch with a look of frustration. Her calming tea can not calm this situation. Shirley recognizes the look she saw 20 years ago. She sits down and hugs her friend.

Jean: “How far along are you?”

Shirley: “It’s not me. Billy got his college girlfriend pregnant. I’m not going to raise the child. I don’t get it. I made sure condoms were available. On our walks, I point out the young unhappy 20 year old boys pushing baby strollers. I repeatedly told him how many Grateful Dead shows I gave up to raise him and how many Built to Spill shows he will miss if there’s an accident. What could I have done differently?”

Shirley might not be an unplanned grandma if she had bought Built to Spill condoms instead of U2 condoms.  Billy hates U2!!!

Shirley might not be an unplanned grandma if she had bought Built to Spill condoms instead of U2 condoms. Billy hates U2!!!

Jean: “You can put out as many condoms as you want but if you don’t know what type of flavor she likes or the right type of color he likes, the condoms will only collect dust. As far as pointing out pregnant 20 year olds, children can’t grasp the cause and effect. Walk onto a college campus and check out the freshmen in line for a credit card. Unless you are in the room when the kids are getting it on, you can’t guarantee they’ll practice safe sex. To ensure that I don’t become an unplanned grandma, I regulate my son’s testosterone levels. For instance, do you stock your refrigerator with lots of cabbage and broccoli?

Billy and his girlfriend eat a black bean burger, with sauerkraut, avocado, and tomato.  A disaster waiting to happen!

Billy and his girlfriend eat a black bean burger, with sauerkraut, avocado, and tomato. A disaster waiting to happen!

Shirley: “Yes, in fact Billy and his girl friend love black bean burgers with lots of sauerkraut and avocado with a side dish of goat yogurt, raisins and figs for dessert.”

Jean: “Oh my!!!” Don’t tell me he also likes free range eggs and mushrooms?”

Shirley: “He loves mushrooms!!!! Yesterday he begged me to make him an omelet with my neighbor’s chicken eggs and insisted that the mushrooms and spinach be sautéed in garlic and olive oil.”

Jean: “Jesus Christ, Shirley what are you thinking? I’m surprised half the women in Bennington, VT aren’t knocked up because of your careless cooking! Here are some basic guidelines to help keep this situation to only one unplanned baby. Foods with B-vitamins, vitamin-D, vitamin-E, zinc, monounsaturated fats increase testosterone. Cruciferous vegetables help decrease estrogen levels. Next time Billy says, “Hey mom can I make us a broccoli couscous casserole,” I would respond why don’t you microwave some tater tots and smother them in high fructose corn syrup ketchup. You see, processed food with lots of sugar is the best way to keep your son’s testosterone levels low. Also keep in mind exercise increases testosterone. Every time my son suggests going on a bicycle ride or walk to the grocery store I insist that he takes the car.”

Shirley: “Are you serious? You govern Jack’s sex drive by regulating his testosterone levels through food and exercise? Does this really work?”

Jean: “Yes, I’ll prove it. Remember how horny Jack was when I fed him healthy food and didn’t let him use my car?”

Shirley: “I do. You were on a first name basis with the folks at Planned Parenthood.”

Jean gets out her iPhone. She dials Jack’s number.

Jean: “Jack, did you see the McDonalds breakfast money I put out by the TV remote control. Oh good. You drove, right? Cool. Well, I’m here with Shirley. We’re sitting at the South Street Cafe.  The cafe is playing 80’s Madonna right now over the speakers. The song Erotic just ended. Oh you wouldn’t believe who sat down beside us. That cute barista with the long brown hair and the long long legs. She asked how you are doing. You should come down. The smiley barista doesn’t start her shift for another hour. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee. Really you would rather sit on the couch, finish your fries, and surf Facebook. Good boy!”

The End

Don’t become an unplanned grandmother.  Educate yourself on what foods not to feed your son:

David Bowie, Funny Mirrors, and a Veggie Burrito at the Old Stone Station

old stone station Cambria California

The Old Stone Station became a place of refuge for John

At John’s funeral, friends and family dropped fresh cut flowers into the grave. Willy walked to the edge where the casket lay.  He tightly squeezed a David Bowie t-shirt before relaxing his hands.  Willy let the Ziggy Startdust t-shirt fall into the grave.

Clyde asked perplexed, “What are you doing?”

Old Stone Station David Bowie

Willie replied, “John loved David Bowie.  Remember how many times he went to the men’s restroom at the Old Stone Station Restaurant?”

A year ago, Willie, Clyde, and John met on a sunny day on the deck of the Old Stone Station. They each planned on enjoying the best Mexican food served on Friday. Ironically, they all ordered veggie burritos. The three of them quickly realized this serendipitous moment. Conversations began and three tables became one. A Friday veggie burrito tradition began.

Like a digital clock with a strong battery, Willie, Clyde, and John showed up at the same time every Friday and ordered the same veggie burrito.  The tradition changed when John’s wife left him for a young stud and the L.A. city life.  Depressed, John began to eat 1.5 burritos, than 2 burritos in one sitting.  Willie and Clyde were amazed by John’s overwhelming burrito consumption.

Old stone Station veggie burrito Cambria California

John developed deadly feelings for black beans

John replied in a condescending snarky voice, “How can a person not eat two of a these remarkable creations!  The flavors of the beans, sauces, fresh ingredients, veggie burger and cheese make me forget myself.  I am no longer John who gave 20 years of my life to a woman who didn’t appreciate it.  At the Old Stone Station I am simply a tongue who doesn’t need love – only a burrito.”

The guys noticed John use the bathroom more frequently and lose weight.

One day when John left to the restroom, Clyde asked Willie, “Do you think it’s weird John’s bladder has gotten smaller since his divorce?”

The last known photo of John

The last known photo of John

Willie, “I don’t think his bladder has gotten smaller.   He frequently uses the restroom because the carnival fees to enjoy a circus mirror in private is ridiculous.  At the Old Stone Station the price of the mirror is included in the price of the meal.  He can laugh and laugh as long as he purchases something.  John’s a huge David Bowie fan. He told the restaurant owner he wants first dibs on the David Bowie shirt in the bathroom.  Notice how he looks at the burritos and mutters the lyric, “Oh you pretty thing your driving your mamas and papas insane.”  I’m a huge Paul McCartney fan.  I would pretend to pee a lot more if a Paul McCartney t-shirt hung in the bathroom.”

John heard most of their conversation and paused before returning. He could not let his friends know of his burrito addiction. He decided to mask his bulimia by becoming a David Bowie fan.

The madness turned John into a David Bowie burrito eater.

The madness turned John into a David Bowie burrito eater.

A month of Fridays passed.  John looked more skinny and unhealthy.

Clyde finely addressed the elephant in the room, “John, what’s wrong with you.  You have grown into the body of 17 year old girl who wants to be a model.”

John snapped, “I look like David Bowie on heroine.”

John went to the bathroom muttering a David Bowie song.

Clyde said, “Willie I have a crazy thought.  Did you see how fast John ferociously devoured his burrito?  He reminds me of my cat, Henrietta. She can eat a can of canned cat food like John can scarf down a burrito. When she can’t eat anymore she sneaks off and pukes up her food.  Do you notice how John eats and eats then leaves to go to the bathroom?  Does John remind you of my cat?”

Willie, “I’ve never met Henrietta but I do know John reminds me of David Bowie on heroine.”

The End.

John's now in Happy Burrito heaven.

John’s now in Happy Burrito heaven.

Old Stone Station
713 Main St.
Cambria, CA 93428

Special thanks to Gillian Rowley’s edits.  Check out her blog Allergy Bites

Welfare Walking

The beach in this area cannot be accessed by private land. It’s not fair that only the welfare walkers can enjoy the beach.

“Oh, no,” I think as I walk past the public bathroom. “I didn’t take my morning shit.  I hate it when I get distracted. Now there’s an uncomfortable pressure in my bowels and something brown pushing for freedom.”

Earlier this morning Buddy wrote on Facebook, “I’m fatigued from working lots of hours with only a little rest to watch a sports game. I feel like a limp hot dog after working ten hours to support the Democratic lazy welfare folks.”

Buddy got me thinking about my own lifestyle.  Maybe I need to be more accountable for my actions.  I don’t want to add to my overweight, over stressed friend’s poor health.  I have a job, pay taxes, and do not live off the government in the hand to mouth sense, but I’m a big fan of former Idaho Democratic Senator Frank Church and former Idaho House of Representative Nicole LeFavor.  Right there that’s a big red flag.  Somehow I must be mooching off the system, making my friend work extra hours.  There’s got to be something I can improve on.  Then it dawned on me.  Maybe Buddy is overweight because he won’t compromise his Republican small government principles for his health.  A simple example would be state owned land or state funded projects that people walk on.    Buddy always reminds me that the benefits of small government are greater than the practices of Democratic big government.  I’m sure this applies to over-bloated big government expensive walking budgets.  Just as I decided to revise my walking habits, the Colvils drove by.

The Colvils live up the road from me.  I am one of three or four of their closest neighbors.  They own a large swath of land between the East Village and West Village.  The property has a conservation easement and there are miles of established trails surrounded by a barbed wire fence.

I frantically waved at the Colvils. They stopped.

“Hey Mr. Colvils, this is Mark, your neighbor down the street.  I’m going to go on a  Republican walk.    I need to find some private property big enough to get the heart rate going.  My home is right across the street from your forest.    Now I know a lot of Republicans who can’t afford miles of private land for walking rent a small piece of property at the gym called a treadmill.  I find that TV’s and walls cannot soothe my soul like the sight of a deer or a living forest.   I promise to keep on the established trails.  I’ll even pay you a couple of bucks for wear and tear on the forest.”

Mr. Colvils looks irritated.  “Leave my miles of forest alone.  If I catch you on my forest I’ll have you arrested.” He drives away.

Disappointed after the Colvils conversation I decided to head out on my walk.  I got to the edge of my white picket fence gate.  I reached out with my big toe.  I hesitated.  I figured as soon as it touched the public sidewalk, I would crumple over in guilt and be ravaged by unpatriotic emotions like a baptist with a broken down car who walks into a bowling alley to use the pay phone.  The baptist knows his guardian angel will leave him at the door but he wants to get home to see his family.  I stepped onto the sidewalk.  Surprisingly my big toe didn’t burst into flames and I didn’t start sobbing about being a bad bad Republican sinner.

This brings us back to that uncomfortable feeling in my bowels which now takes on the animal spirit of a turtle.   I walk into the nearest shop.  The bathroom sign reads: “for paying customers only.” I pull out my wallet.  I have $30 cash plus my debit card.   I buy an Americano handed to me in a to go cup.  The destruction of a tree and $2.50 is well spent for a privatized shit even though the public bathrooms are free and a disposable cup would not have been wasted.

Continuing the walk I notice some garbage.  I am not going to throw it away in the public trash can but choose to carry it home to dispose of in a patriotic American fashion.  The three beer bottles and one used condom become cumbersome.  I see a Romney Ryan sign in a yard.  My initial reaction is, “Thank God for a Republican walker.”  I knock on the door.  I  hear several locks unlock.

“Hello, I noticed your sign.  I too am a Republican walker.  I don’t want to burden the taxpayer with three empty beer bottles and one used condom.  Can I give you this trash to be disposed of in a privatized manner?”

The woman glances at me, then at the condom and back at her five blonde blue-eyed children.  In a nervous tone she says, “If you don’t get off my property I’m going to call the cops.”

I drop the the trash and run.

At the beach big waves are breaking and the harbor seals are barking.  I’m tired.  I want to sit down on the public bench or stretch out on the public sand.  The only private space I can find is a restaurant that luckily has a deck with an ocean view.  I look over the menu and see that there is nothing organic or local.  I decide to get a baked potato because Idaho is a Republican state.  I don’t understand why big farms tend to vote Republican.  Big farms are synonymous with big government support.   Shouldn’t agribusiness farms support the Democratic Party?  Small local farms are synonymous with no government or small government.  Republican walking is one thing but I don’t know if I’m ready to eat a big agribusiness Republican diet.    I’m just going to enjoy my potato and hope that the cheese and sour cream covers up the taste of fertilizer, pesticides, GMOs, hormones, antibiotics, and illegal migrant workers.

I leave the beach disappointed.  The beach in this area cannot be accessed by private land.  My feet miss the feel of the sand and the splash of the water.  There’s got to be some way for a one-percenter to buy up some oceanfront property, then charge us ninety-nine percenters a small fee to walk on their beach.  It’s not fair that only the welfare walkers can enjoy the beaches in this area.

I start my trek home midday underneath the blazing sun.  I become insanely thirsty for some water.  I stop at the gas station convenience store.  A bottle of flavored water costs three dollars.  Refreshed, I round the corner to see a family in nice Gap clothes, obviously lower-middle class.  They are lined up in front of the public drinking fountain.  I mutter, “Fucking free loaders.  They can afford Gap clothes and probably have cable TV but can’t buy water.  That woman, who calls herself a mother, needs to get her tubes tied if she can’t provide water for her kids without government assistance.  It’s that family’s welfare walking antics and a socialist-leaning walking government that is destroying this country.”

I yell,  “Victory to the Republican walker!” as I march down the street.