The media gasped as the scientist pulled the sheet away from his newest invention: Dan the Android.
"What’s it do?"
"How smart is it?"
"Yeah, how smart is it? Tell us already!"
They yelled and they hollered, like hounds begging for scraps. The scientist smiled and he said to them, “this is Dan the Android. This is the most sophisticated, the smartest machine on earth. Would you like a demonstration?” The scientist smiled again.
"Yes, oh god, yes!"
"Make it do something!"
"Please, oh god, turn it on!"
They all yelled for the demonstration and so the scientist hit the big red button on Dan’s chest and his eyes lit up and he spoke, “Hello. I’m Dan.” The crowd was awed. “Make him do something,” one yelled and so the scientist asked for someone’s iPhone. From the left a small boy ran up and gave the shiny, beautiful rectangle to the scientist and the scientist then said to them, “watch this.” And he smiled.
4 days ago
He placed the phone in Dan the Android’s hands and the scientist said, “go ahead, ask him a question.” One man shouted out, “What did the “T” in James T. Kirk stand for!” Dan furrowed his thick, black fibrous brow and he said, “Not really sure. Lemme check.” And then the demonstration began in earnest.
And there was gasping. There was an “oh my” and there was a “no way.” One particularly incredulous fellow asked “what kind of street magic is this then?” The effect could not be denied. Dan said, “It’s Tiberius. Yeah, right here, it says Tiberius.”
Now only one question remained: “how?”
And the scientist told them: “After years of research, we’ve developed a machine that can utilize a smart phone more quickly and more accurately than any human being on earth. There was Deep Blue dethroning Kasparov, there was Watson laying waste to Ken Jennings and here now we see Dan, the next step in machine evolution. You can ask him anything and you will see the stunning display you just witnessed time after time after time. The future is here.”
"Hey, what’s he doing," yelled a member of the press. The scientist turned around and taking a moment to apprehend the scene, he turned back to the assembly and said, "looks like he’s sending a text message. Dan is quite adept at the use of a smart phone…whether it’s an iPhone, a Samsung, Android…hmm." The scientist stopped his lecture and put his hand into his pocket. He pulled out his phone and he smiled; he told the press, "well, looks like Dan texted me. Let’s see what he had to say." The smiling scientist read: "Hey I’m lonely over here. God I wanna be inside of you." And there next to the smiling Dan stood the less amused, not at all smiling scientist.
Before I had even left the enchanted little store tucked away in that dreary little alley, I made my first wish on the shriveled monkey paw: “I wish that my worst enemy would die right now.” I chuckled to myself at the thought of his demise as I turned onto the main sidewalk and just then a truck barreled into me pinning me against the wall. I could feel and hear the bones crunch and a stream of blood exploded out of my innards and up through my mouth. Oh, oh no.
2 weeks ago
Before the crushing weight of the truck ended my conscious life, I said, “truly, I am my own worst enemy. Oh, how could it be anyone else?” And then I gazed up and through the spider-web cracked windshield and saw the blood-soaked, pulpy face of the driver and it was him, my worst enemy and I was a little disappointed.
After being elected President of the United States of America, on the very day I was to take my oath, I put my hand up and I sad, “wait a second.” I then to turned to the assembled mass and produced one pair of Groucho Glasses, nose, mustache, and all. I then placed them on my face and I said, “Excuse me, but, uh, but I wouldn’t lead any country that’d have me as a President.”
They were baffled yes, but then I removed the glasses and resigned, effectively making my term the shortest on record at officially zero days. You can’t beat that.
2 weeks ago
Guess I’m getting my very first “smart phone” tomorrow. I’m thinking of keeping my old phone active and leaving it as a business-only line.
2 weeks ago
My voice mail will read: “Hello, you’ve reached Carlos Segundo, Jr., CEO of Sleep Management Inc. If you’ve recently bought the “You Snooze, You Lose” weight loss pillow and are calling about the neck rash, dizziness, or other CPS-related symptoms, please consult the website; otherwise, please leave a message after the beep.”
"The doctors say you’re getting worse, you know," the chubby little priest told the pale, weak Carlos. "Perhaps you should reconsider," he continued.
Carlos said to him, “I lived my life as an atheist and I’d much prefer to die as one.”
"Ah, but you can never be so certain, can you? I mean, can you truly know? What’s the worst that could happen if you pray, just this one time, just before you go," the priest begged Carlos.
Pensively biting his lower lip, Carlos asked the priest, “and if there’s a god, there’s very likely a devil too, right?” The priest nodded his head affirmatively. “You know, I may have to reconsider after all,” Carlos said.
The priest beamed at Carlos’ change of heart and he said, “may I lead you?” Carlos shook his head and he told the priest that he thought it might be more sincere if it came straight from him. The priest couldn’t argue with this logic, so Carlos began his prayer:
"Dear Satan, you know I never believed in you for real, but I did sing your praises and defend your cause when the opportunity presented itself— if only for the fun of it, if only to get a rise out of the Christians. So, when I get to Hell, I’d ask that maybe you go easier on me than the others. Thanks a lot in advance."
And then Carlos died. The end.
3 weeks ago
An excerpt from the epilogue in Hunting Harry: How I Killed Harry Potter and His Network of Spell-Casters
3 weeks ago
"All the spilled blood and all the heads allow us to quantify my deeds and to parcel them out into chapters, into sentences, into words. But I imagine so many of you are left grasping, wanting something more. Behind every great ghoul, there must be some secret. So, very well, reader, I’ll tell you my secret. My mother was a simple woman with simple tastes and she would frequent pubs and bring home strange men, but I cannot begrudge her for that— I am here because of it! But one of those men, my father, was the villainous wizard Voldemort.
'Lies,' you shout, but I assure, like all great bigots, the only thing he was better at doing than hating was fucking and throwing away the thing he hated. So there went my mother and there went little mudblood me; but we suffered a little less than some secrets he tried to keep, didn't we?
So was I a spurned child who wanted to prove to my father that I was worthy of his attention and his love? No, I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t love my father— in fact I hated him. That’s why I killed Harry Potter: to show him what great deeds a mudblood was capable of. All your wands and all your spells and incantations and your pathetic army, you ghoulish barbarian and it wasn’t enough. You lost. He killed you. I sit here and I am avenged and mother- dear, dear, mother- your honor is restored. But you, father? You can rot and I will swim in the blood of your enemies and there I will drown your memory.”
An excerpt from the chapter ‘The Burning Death of Hermione Granger’ in Hunting Harry: How I Killed Harry Potter and His Network of Spell-Casters
3 weeks ago
"She sat bound and gagged in the driver’s seat of the car and flinched when I emptied the petrol on her. I took a step back and extended my arms out to my sides and I bowed; ‘my apologies, sorceress, but on such short notice, this is as traditional as it is going to get.’ I threw the jerry can into the back seat and I lit a match. The light cast by the tiny fire caused her tears to shimmer in the darkness and I said to her, ‘don’t cry, dear. After all, the Bible tells us: don’t suffer a witch to live. Didn’t they teach you any theology at that school of yours?’ And then I set the car on fire and walked away.
Later when they found the body, the only method they had to identify the the charred remains was through dental records, but on account of her bewitched smile, it was no use. So they buried her a Bloggs and to this day, Hermione Granger is still technically out there, casting spells and whatnot. But this isn’t truly the case; I assure you, she is very much dead.”
An excerpt from the chapter ‘The Suicide-Execution of Ronnie-Boy Weasley’ in Hunting Harry: How I Killed Harry Potter and His Network of Spell-Casters
"I had deduced correctly that Ron Weasley was a closeted homosexual and harbored a secret love for Harry Potter. Unfortunately at this stage, they had all gone underground; however, I knew one way arouse Ronnie-Boy to action: I had spread the rumor that Harry’s silence was on account of his secret capture and execution. Naturally Weasley would pursue the man who murdered his secret love; naturally he would pursue me."
And further on into the chapter:
3 weeks ago
"I whistled a little and sang a tune I wrote myself while waiting in the boiler room of the Kings Hotel in London. When Weasly appeared, armed with a switch blade and a wand, I thrust the tip of a broomstick into his solar plexus and he dropped both and he gasped for air. I continued my song for him:
your head’s aflame.
Made a fool
by my little game.
He was dressed as a janitor and it amused me, so I said to him, ‘you know, Mr. Weasley, hiding oneself in a costume is a wonderful way to maintain, let’s say, proper appearances— a good way to hide yourself. However, one must always be careful when one wears a disguise, Weasley; because sometimes the closet the disguise comes out of tells us all we need to know.’
His lips trembled and he asked me if I was going to tell Hermione and I assured him she already knew. This was a lie of course, since I had no clue where she was, but the damage was done. I left a few feet of rope for Ronnie-Boy and exited the hotel. When they found him, he was hanging, of all places, in a closet.”
An excerpt from the final chapter in Hunting Harry: How I Killed Harry Potter and His Network of Spell-Casters
3 weeks ago
"I recall the moment I finally cornered Harry Potter in a grimy London restroom. He was gutshot and leaning against a shit-spackled toilet divider and I said to him, ‘a curious game of Quidditch we’re playing here, isn’t it, Mr. Potter.’ He spat at me and I saw his snapped wand sitting in a puddle of puke and piss next his fractured arm. ‘Quite a spill you’ve taken, Harry,’ I told him and then I reminded him of that one marvelous game he played so many years ago, when he was just a youth. I put the gun underneath his chin and I said, ‘do you remember, Harry, when you tracked the Snitch like a wild animal and then you fell upon it and emerged, the winged prey in your maw? Of course you remember, Potter, and here you are now, my Snitch and I will devour you the same.’ Of course, my orders were to bring him back alive, but allowances could be made in the event that he was hostile. So I shot Harry through his stupid little scar and I lied to my bosses; I told them, ‘he was going for his wand.’"