Category: Nonsense

Making Up Stuff

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There are house elves in my basement. My therapist says this is a delusion. But, she’s not here at night when they clatter around in the kitchen making noise. My partner rolls her eyes. 

What makes them think the elves are not real? This is totally likely, aside from the fact that we have no basement and no decent place for an elf to set up housekeeping or raise a family. I ask you, how can dishes get done and meals cooked while I stay in bed dreaming? My therapist thinks it’s my partner and my partner agrees. They’re deluded. 

Tennis Anyone?

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At night, she played tennis. It started innocently enough. It was raining and she couldn’t sleep. She took a few balls and thwacked them against the back wall of the garage. Retrieved them from under the car. The next night, she parked on the street. Next, she moved the workbench to the side yard. And so on and so on until she had the garage replaced with an enclosed tennis court. 

Her roommate was surprised. “Did you check with the landlord?” 

“About what?”

“Putting in a tennis court.”

“It’s a garage, a better version.”

“How?”

“It has a tennis court.”

Radish, Rabbits, Rapping Redux

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Rapping rabbits, reaping radish,
Ruddy, spicy, earthy, raffish.
Crunchy red, dicey tribe,
Nibbles, wiggles, saucy vibe.

Hey, yeah, whatcha saw,
In the garden, giant maw.
Open, rapping, tails snapping,
Radish beat and bunny dapping.

Dig it, dig it, from the soil,
Dig that radish, toil, toil.
Little claws feed little maws.
Eat the beat, cure the blahs.

Hey haw, whatcha saw?
Peter Rabbit in a brawl,
Fists be punchy, throw a paw.
Gonna call em, call the law.

Sirens sound a red alert.
Sirens scream one damn loud blurt.
Leave the fields, hop the fence,
Dude don’t owe no recompense.


The Perfect Pet Cow

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Ellie groped for a pitcher to hold her morning milk. The pitcher felt warm. It moved and mooed when she touched it. It had the same fresh smell of country lanes that had attracted Ellie’s attention as she browsed the housewares aisle of the local thrift store. The pitcher had been only five dollars. She thought she might be asleep.

Overnight, the pitcher became a cow. She fed it salad and built a small platform with a hole in the center for the cow to stand on. She placed her tea cup under the center hole and squirted in milk.

Red Riding Hood, Through the Dewey Decimal System

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When Red Riding Hood arrived at 823.8 Carroll, she knew she’d lost her way. The hatter invited her for tea, but seemed too mad to give directions to Grandma’s house. He liked to make things complicated. She dead-reckoned into the 500 section where a path led to an oversized book with a European temperate rain forest template at the back.

Mammals- 589 was permanently closed. She took a detour. Soon after, she found a wolf. They walked through Berlitz, chatting in multiple languages, and arrived at 398.209 where they located Grandmother’s cottage.

“Do you play chess,” Grandmother asked, pouring tea.

Zombies and Nonsense with a Long A.

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Long A words draped the fissures in its skin,
ape and grape, not apple, artichoke, crass. 
The Zombie roamed, eh, traipsed, across acres,
acres of cultivated plant nations. 
Date palms waved their fronds in hollow desert.

Zombie detected alien cave ants. 
Pained by the damage these aggravating
beasts confabulate, Zombie baited, waited, laid
waste to a spate of ant infested crates.
It’s cause: annihilate stealth arthropods.

Exhausted, strained brain Zombie made a lake,
baked a cake, took a stake. Ate dates from plates
that estimate, cogitate, integrate. 
Zombie screamed, brayed, raised an alarm, hungry
it was for repetitive chaining brains.

Fox in the Henhouse

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The judge banged her gavel, more in frustration than to bring order to the court. The charge: attempted chaos. The jury had heard from Chicken Little who alleged the sky was falling. The police claimed Fox spread the rumor subliminally on his bedtime story podcast. He then lay in wait around the corner from the henhouse, where he assaulted Little. Big Old Fox denied having done any such thing.

Little cackled, “We will all perish.”

Fox asserted she was crazy. Ugly, too.

The judge adjusted her spectacles and searched among her papers. “We have a process. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”

From: Vogon Ministry of Culture

By Tom Povey CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=78506711

To: Monica Flash Fiction

RE: Poetry posts

Honorable Ms. Fiction,

It has come to our attention that you publish poetry on your Escherous blog. How absolutely! Your poems are most spiraling and uniform. Consider this an invitation, no, a summons. Reality, under threat of death appear at the Grafitete Amphitheater of Doomicile for a command (no pun intended) performative.

A Vogon ship will be at your door on the day of cerebration promptly at midnight. Bring poetry to fill many hours. Bring copies of your latest book. Do you have a latest book? Publish one.

Apologies to Douglas Adams.

The Green M&M isn’t Tucker’s First Toon Love

Cosplayers at the 2022 Phoenix Fan Fusion
Wikimedia Commons photo by Gage Skidmore

Two M&Ms walk into a bar. The green one, the sexy lady, is accompanied by a tough blue peanut.

There’s a commentator at the counter with a rabbit on his arm. “Look at them heels.”

Blue Guy sizes him up. “Who you calling a heel?” He gets ready to swing.

“Heels, I like heels.” He’s pointing like crazy at the floor.

“The shoes? Ever tried to walk in them,” Sexy Lady asks.

“You trading them in? I want an exclusive.”

Jessica Rabbit frowns. “Tucker Baby, I’m feeling excluded.”

The commentator says, “Don’t be a Looney Toon, think of the ratings.”

Dragon Games

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Drago hated the taste of princesses. So when his friend, Ash, promised to introduce him to one if he promised not to eat her, he agreed.

She smelled like the forest. Quite delicious. But he’d promised.

“The river is a good place to meet,” Drago said. “I mean, in case I burp.”

Ash said, “Drago….” at the same time the princess said, “Don’t you dare!”

“I’ll only fart.”

“Bet you can’t fart as many times as me,” said the princess.

Princess farts are disgusting. Drago held his breath. He flapped his wings, ascending to the heavens. He turned to stars.