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Ax

That shark was a big surprise, wasn’t it? Fortunately, it didn’t break the windshield. At least I’ve had my rabies vaccination. The only symptoms I’ve had so far, is some tingling in my skull. Hey, what do you feel is the best place for birds to be? Of course, that’s only a supposition. I say you’ve just got to be sure not to squeeze too tightly. Besides, it’s ten times easier if you use an ax.

Satellite Office Employee-of-the-Month Award?

My friends ask me if I’ve had an eyelift, and I tell them, No, I’ve always had compound eyes. By the way, what are the laws against impersonating an extraterrestrial insect? Despite wearing these six-legged jorts and my Long Live Carl Sagan t-shirt, I’m really just an average guy doing his average job, or slightly below. Nevertheless, I’m taking care of business. I’m doing my due diligence. I’m keeping my eyes on the ball. I mean, if I wasn’t wearing these dual-lens trifocals with the genuine velociraptor leather frames, would I ever be named The Venusian Employee of the Month? Now, there’s no doubt.

Inspired by Ernest Hemingway

Sipping my cucumber-infused spa water before today’s wrestling match, I’m someone who appreciates a good excuse. Of course, I wouldn’t want to chew off more than I can bite, but I love the songs of Earnest Hemingway. They’re rough-and-tumble, like a donnybrook in the rumpus room, or a canoe ride across Wigwam Lake while wearing horseshoes on my rabbits’ feet. Kind of manly. Yesterday, armed with only my bare hands and my Parisian ballet slippers, I won the BigTime boxing match by dispatching my rowdy rival. The prize money was so paltry—merely a couple of hundred million— I gave it back.

Mine. All Mine.

My dentist says I must eat more candy. He’s an entrepreneur with designs on catastrophic success. As for me, when you’re in my house you don’t exactly feel you’re visiting Versailles, although I have rather flirtatious eyebrows and wear red-heeled brogues. C’est dommage, mon ami. Fortunately, I’m not romantically involved with any of my houseplants. That’s not my cup of tea. Sure, they’ve overgrown their customary heights—especially the carnivorous cobra lilies— but who am I to impose an arbitrary limit on their sunny aspirations. Besides, I think we’ve had enough TV shows about rich people and their stary designs. The moon belongs to all of us. So, sit back my little love snake. Tonight, you will be mine. All mine.

About the artist

Brad Rose was born and raised in Los Angeles and lives in Boston. He is the author of eight collections of poetry and flash fiction: Or Words to that Effect, I Wouldn’t Say That, Exactly, Lucky Animals, No. Wait. I Can Explain, Pink X-Ray, de/tonations, and Momentary Turbulence. Brad is also the author of seven poetry chapbooks, among them, Democracy of Secrets, An Evil Twin is Always in Good Company, and Funny You Should Ask. His website is www.bradrosepoetry.com.