Here, at the fifth precinct, my partner and I investigate the improper use of grammar. We take our jobs seriously. With advanced degrees in both Criminal Justice and English, we seek to rid the world of abuses of the English language. Continue reading “Weapons of Mass Instruction”
The cleaning lady in my office wants me dead. I have no physical proof or a motive for this yet, just keen observation. It’s best that I present you with the evidence and allow you to draw your own conclusions. Continue reading “Calendar Concerns”
I think I speak for my outdoor trash cans when I say that they have no intention of ever being scary. They stand there, tucked between the adjoining corner of my backyard fencing, bleakly colored tan and gray. In fact, they are quite content to stay in the yard, only being moved on the eve of trash day. They require very little. Continue reading “Trash Can Containment”
The microwave won’t tell you that you accidentally added two additional zeroes to the timer. Coffee needs 30 seconds to heat up, not half an hour. Inevitably, you’ll hit “start” and move on to other things, intending to come back shortly to collect your warm coffee. After several minutes, it will dawn on you that the microwave shouldn’t still be rotating your java. As you hurriedly rush to the microwave and open the door, the carnage in front of you is not hard to miss. Continue reading “The Coffee Catastrophe of 2017”
The other day, I received an urgent phone call from the Antarctic immortal, Emilio. At first, I dismissed this as a prank call. Oftentimes, Emilio drinks a very strong homemade brew and then calls us up, pretending to be famous historical figures from the past. I suspect that when he finds himself in these drunken stupors, he fails to realize that we are the immortals and not the famous people we once knew, who are long gone. Continue reading “Immortal Intervention”
Mere mortals complain of many things that the immortal doesn’t even recognize as inconveniences.
The other day, I was firmly entrenched in the middle of a line at the Motor Vehicle Administration. This line snaked around fourteen rope stanchions, extending beyond the front door before making a sharp left and ranging into the next County. Continue reading “Immortally Yours Part II: This Time it’s Personal”
Don’t get too excited. There are seven of us. One for each continent. Obviously.
We gather every June, at Devil’s Island, for our annual meeting. We selected this island purely for the irony of it all. Our Australian representative thought Easter Island would be equally as ironic, but he’s an idiot and majority rules. Besides, we didn’t want anyone to mistake our immortality for anything religious. It’s purely scientific. Continue reading “Immortally Yours”