THESE ARE THOUGHTS

1. If the oceans were filled with soda, would the fish float?

2. Sitting is the only activity which requires more effort to half-ass. 

3. If you were paid a buck every time you spoke with a fake accent, would you be rich or would you have friends? 

4. Do earthworms bury their dead aboveground?

5. If French Fries and Belgian Waffles were people, would they speak the same language?

6. There’s a huge difference between being pissed off and being pissed on.

7. Are balloons the only products whose prices drop upon inflation?

8. If the moon is made of 4.53 billion-year-old cheese, shouldn’t we be happy that we can’t breathe in space?

9. People who live in glasshouses really shouldn’t.

10. Skull tattoos are a cool way of showing people what you’d look like in a hundred years.

11. Feelings are like farts – the longer you hold them in, the worse they get.

12. If Tom and Jerry was made into a real-life movie, it would not be suitable for children.

THE ALMIGHTY AGRICULTURIST

Once upon a time, in a village far, far away, there lived a farmer. The farmer tilled a small piece of land, making just enough money to feed himself. He led a simple life, so a thin wallet didn’t matter much. In fact, he only ever spent in excess when it came to his single major vice – smoking. He smoked a pack a day, often substituting entire meals for some coffee and a cigarette. He knew it was unhealthy, but as long as it didn’t affect his ability on the farm, he had no intention of quitting.

Every week, the farmer visited the local market to pick up groceries. One time, he arrived at the market a bit too early in the morning, when very few shops were open. He picked up whatever he could find, but couldn’t replenish his stock of cigarettes. He looked all over, but none of his usual shopping haunts were open. Just as he was about to leave the market, dejected, he noticed an old lady from the corner of his eye. She sat near a makeshift shop, with no signboard. She had shiny, silvery hair that was so dishevelled that it hid her eyes. He had never seen her or her little store before. 

When he reached her tiny platform, he saw that she only sold cigarettes, though none of them were labelled. Cigarettes are cigarettes, he thought. He bought his share and left.

He returned to the farm and got ready to start work. Before setting out in the blazing heat, he decided to take a quick puff. He took several drags from one of the new smokes, dropped the butt on the ground, and stomped it out. It was time for work.

Later that afternoon, he took a break for a bite, and some respite from the merciless sun. Just outside his door, he noticed a sapling about knee-high. He never planted anything near his house, and he knew for a fact that it wasn’t there before.

Then it dawned on him. 

The sapling was in the exact same spot where he smoked his morning ciggie. The farmer struck gold with one careless, little act of littering. He suddenly felt a lot less hungry, and a lot more curious. He grabbed a bunch of the new cigarettes, smoked the hunger pangs away, and strategically planted the butts. By the evening, he had an entire orchard of trees; trees that bore individually wrapped, exquisitely flavoured cigarettes.

The next day, he visited the market way too early again, in the hopes of finding the old lady – which he did. She was sitting in the exact same spot, wearing the exact same clothes, with what he could only assume was the exact same look in her eyes. This morning she wasn’t selling cigarettes, though. She was selling lighters. Without a moment’s hesitation, he bought her entire stock. It was a huge investment, no doubt, but something about all this just felt so right. The old lady handed him her business card, and off he went.

He returned and immediately planted the lighters in what little soil he had left on his farm. By evening, trees upon which grew multi-coloured lighters emerged. The brand extension was complete. Without wasting a second to appreciate the fruits of his labour, the enterprising farmer began to make a few phone calls. First, he contacted a few vendors and sold several batches of cigarettes and lighters. Second, he called his neighbours and bought all the adjacent patches of land with the money he had just earned. Finally, he called the old lady and placed an order to be delivered the next day. 

He went to bed that night, knowing that business was about to pick up.

The next morning, a consignment of fire extinguishers arrived at his doorstep, just as he had ordered. The wise farmer understood the huge potential for accidents on his farm, and he definitely didn’t want his business to go up in smoke. He had to exercise utmost precaution. 

He planted them right away.

By mid-afternoon, the people of the nearby towns clamoured at his gateway, wanting in on this farming revolution. The farmer knew his expanding business needed more manpower, and hired each and every one of them.

Knowing that he had able hands on deck, the farmer decided to take a few managerial decisions about the future of his business. He made one last call to his venerable supplier and called it a night.

The next morning, another container arrived. And the next morning, yet another.

By evening teatime, the farmer had pretty much everything growing on trees – cars, umbrellas, lightbulbs, potatoes, computers, you name it. He now operated entire continents of land, and had entire countries of people working for him. What started as a little marlburrow was now a thriving industry.

The next day, he signed a contract with a certain Mr. Claus, earning the right to supply Christmas gifts to the world. His autobiography, Money Does Grow on Trees, became an instant bestseller. His operations now extended across the planet. Everyone was happy. Everything was perfect.

On the seventh day, the farmer rested.

The End.

BLOOD RUNS THICKER THAN MILK

“Please, let me go! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again. I promise. Please! My family needs me!”

“You should have thought about them before betraying me, Porky. You made your bed of spaghetti. Now go lie in it. Take him to the butcher, boys!”

“No! No, wait! Don’t do this! Please! Nooooooo!”

———

The pig’s desperate squeals had barely ceased to echo, when a loud hack brought silence to the barn. 

Without so much as a wince, Mama turned to her son and asked, “Moorio, you have a light?”

Running a cattle crime family was stressful business. Evil never sleeps, and this mafia matriarch wouldn’t either.

“Well, that’s one less swine on our payroll.” 

Moorio smiled. As her eldest calf and Head of Operations, his job was to make sure Mama got whatever she wanted done.

“Speaking of which, have the asses over at accounts finally tallied our financials?”

He nodded.

“Good, good. What is organised crime without good accounting…”

Mama took a good, long drag and tossed the butt in the hay.

“Light me another, Moo – thanks. So, any updates for me?”

“Nothing, Mama. Things are running smoothly,” he replied, breaking his silence.

“Good, good,” she said, staring at the green pastures outside the barn window.

“Actually, uh, there is one thing I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Tell me.”

“This might irritate you, so please hear me out completely first.”

“Tell me.”

Moorio shuffled near the barn window. “Uh, okay. Yesterday we had a few guests on the farm. They called themselves ‘talent scouts’. “

“Were they any trouble?” Mama asked, breaking her gaze to look at him.

“No, no, not at all. They said they were just here looking for, uh, handsome cattle.”

“What for?” she impatiently responded, screwing up her eyes.

“There’s this dairy company that’s looking for a model.”

“Hmm. Did they find anyone they like?”

“Yes,” he replied apprehensively. 

“I’m sure you told them to get lost,” she said dismissively, “your job is to stay here with me.”

“Well –“

“Well?”

Moorio took her hooves in his and smiled nervously. 

“They said it was a chance to be the face of an international dairy brand. An international dairy brand, Ma! I couldn’t possibly say no.”

Mama was having none of it: “You couldn’t have possibly said no? What the hell?” 

“I know, uh, this isn’t what you wanted to hear – “

“Shut up, Moo. You’re staying with me, and taking over the day I retire, and that’s final. Tell these ‘talent scouts’ and everyone else to take a hike.”

“No, Mama, hear me out. This is a great opportunity for me... Please understand.”

“No, you understand! The grass always looks greener on the other side. You can’t be so selfish, Moorio! Your duty lies with your family! You can’t let anything else distract you.” 

“But Mama, my face will be on dairy products around the world! I’ll be in supermarkets, TVs, magazines – I’ll be famous! We will be famous!”

“Don’t be foolish, Moo. Your becoming famous won’t help any of us.”

“Ma, I thought you’d want me to be happy…”

Mama blatantly ignored him and began pacing up and down. She was heartbroken and livid.

“They called me handsome, Ma… They said I could be a ‘supermarket superstar’,” he whimpered, relentlessly.

“Damn it, Moo! I trusted you!” she erupted, stubbing her cigarette on his forehead. “Not so handsome now, are you?!”

“Maaaa!” Moorio yelled in pain.

“Just shut up, you ungrateful fool! Move on!” she bellowed, drowning out his cries.

Moorio took a minute to gather himself. He had heard enough. “Alright Ma, I will move on. I’m out of here.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“To hell with you!” Moorio, still smarting from the burn on his face, stormed towards the barn door. 

“Stop him!”

The slew of thugs who guarded the door rose and grabbed him by the limbs.

“Moorio, you’ll go where I tell you to.” Mama said, walking up to him.

“Hands off me! Let me go!” he spat, struggling to escape his own henchmules.

“Have it your way, superstar! Go bless the supermarkets of the world with your presence! Let them all get a piece of you!” 

“What?!”

“That’s right, Moo, the slaughterhouse awaits. Tell the butcher I said hi.”

“No Ma! Don’t do this! Mama! Noooooo!”

Mama watched in stoic silence as they dragged her son into the darkness. She turned away, and lit herself a cigarette. A solitary tear ran down her cold, hardened face.

——— 

Epilogue:

“Oy mate, another cheeseburger for me!”

“Sure thing. I’ll just throw it on the grill.”

Sizzle.

THE CURSE OF THE CANINES

“It all began about 50 years ago. You see, 50 years ago, my grandfather was the most well-respected man in his town. As someone who had plenty, he made sure to give plenty to whoever came knocking at his door. There wasn’t a soul, human or animal, that hadn’t been touched by Grandad’s compassion and philanthropy.

But as you know – life is filled with plot twists and potholes. And something happened one night that would change the course of my family’s history. That night, as Grandad was driving back home after a long day of work, he unsuspectingly dozed off at the wheel. A loud yelp woke him up, and the sight of a blood-soaked carcass lying on his windscreen nearly gave him a heart attack. He leapt out of the car and discovered the body of a stray dog that was barely, just barely, alive. Before Grandad could say or do a thing, the hound looked straight into his soul with eyes that burned with rage, and uttered the unholy words that would ring in the ears of my family for years to come: ‘Just as you have taken the life of an innocent dog, may you – and everything and everyone you love – be destroyed by the wrath of my brothers and sisters.’ My grandfather shook in fear as the canine unleashed a spine-chilling howl and breathed its last.

Over the next few days, Grandad became a nervous wreck. He didn’t sleep, he could barely string a sentence together, and he feared the very sight of a dog on the streets. Fortunately or unfortunately for him, he met his end soon enough. As he was driving home from work one evening, a pack of rabid dogs surrounded his vehicle. One of them smashed through the window and dragged him out. The others pounced on his prone body and ripped him apart, leaving the world with one less kind man and one more bloody mess.

But the curse didn’t end there.

Several years later, my mother, God bless her soul, had moved far away from her hometown. She was living a happy life with my father and me, a babe in arms. My mother was brave. It had been a long time since Grandad’s death, and she strongly believed that everything was going to be alright again. In fact, just to compensate for the years of fear that cast their dark shadow upon my lineage, she decided to adopt a cute little puppy. We loved the tiny pooch. But as time passed, our puppy grew into a beast with a mean streak. Despite our best efforts, aggression festered within its little heart.

A few years ago, on a day that I’ll never forget, it turned on us.

I watched helplessly as our very own pet sunk its teeth into my father’s arm, before attacking my mother and devouring her alive. Daddy grabbed me and ran out of the house. We took the first thing smoking out of town, and began life anew.

That was how I learned, at a very young age, that I ought to never love. Everything my father and I loved, we lost. The curse of the canines chased us wherever we went.

And that brings me to where I am today, standing before you, begging for forgiveness. You see, I forgot the lesson that I kept with me for so long – I forgot that I should never love. Last night, as I looked at your mathematics assignment, I felt joy. I doted over each and every one of the problems, giving them as much attention as they gave me happiness. I found bliss in a place I least expected it.

And now that I have divulged the secret of my family’s curse to you, I sincerely hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me when I tell you the truth – ma’am, a dog ate my homework.” 

THE RETURN OF THE DAREDEVIL COW

RUNAWAY ROMANCE: DISH ELOPES WITH SPOON

No one can forget the celebrity scandal that made the front page of the national newspaper on February 17th, 1994. The disappearance, rumours and subsequent reappearance of the popular couple made news for years to come. 

But what everybody seems to forget is that on page 14 of the very same newspaper, nestled between the classifieds and an advertisement for men’s underwear, was a single column detailing a death-defying feat: the Daredevil Cow had successfully jumped over the moon. 

The Daredevil Cow never forgot, though. And she never forgave the media either. What should have been a frivolous write-up relegated to the gossip columns had stolen her thunder. In a fit of rage, she announced her retirement and disappeared from the public eye. While everyone involved in her grand stunt moved on with their lives, she became a recluse. She lost touch with her family and friends. Some of them entered the fast food industry and found homes in a better place. Others became models in dairy advertisements, and never returned from the lush Swiss meadows. 

Twenty years passed, and she was all alone now.

After all those years and all that sadness, she understood that her time was nearly up. But she also knew that she didn’t want to go out with a whimper. She knew that she still had one last stunt left in her. On an impulse, she called her agent and announced that she was coming out of retirement. The Daredevil Cow would have one last blaze of glory – by jumping over the sun. 

The days following her announcement were filled with hype and fanfare. Some thought she was stupid, while others saw this as a suicide mission; but there wasn’t a soul who wasn’t eager to see her attempt this giant feat. 

The Daredevil Cow was well aware of how important this stunt was. This would be her lasting impression on the world. During her illustrious career as a stunt cow, she had back-flipped over an insurmountable volcano. She had been shot across the continents as a cannonball. She had even scaled Mount Everest on a unicycle. But none of these gigs would be as memorable as her last hurrah.

She imagined, reimagined, estimated and predicted the jump over and over in her head. A tiny miscalculation would land her right in the Sun’s molten surface, and she wasn’t too pleased at the thought of ending up in a Martian’s hamburger. Of course, she also understood that if she gave up now, she wouldn’t have the courage to show her face to the world again. She had to fight the odds and make it back alive.

On the day of the big jump, the Daredevil Cow was ready. She strapped on her helmet, took a deep breath and slowly walked up the runway. The cat began to play her euphoric theme song on his fiddle. She stopped, and turned to the audience, filled with excited and hopeful faces. Suddenly, she let out a mighty moo and exploded down the ramp at a blistering pace. With a giant leap, she soared across the sky, leaving a cow-shaped hole in the clouds, and in everyone’s hearts. 

The Daredevil Cow was sun-bound.

As she entered the stratosphere, the deafening cheers went quiet. Everything was silent, but the brave bovine could hear her own blood roaring in her ears. She darted and weaved past floating space debris, making her way closer and closer to the sun. Finally, the target was in sight. She closed her eyes and followed her trajectory all the way around the enormous ball of fire. A few long hours later, she was alive, just a bit toasty, but most importantly, successful.

The Daredevil Cow was jubilant. As she began her descent back down to Earth, she slowly came to terms with her monumental feat, realising that she had achieved what no one had. She knew that she was the best damn stunt cow this galaxy had ever seen.

When she burst through the clouds, she could feel the adulation in the air. She crashed smack dab in the middle of the runway, before emerging out of the crater to applause. Then, without saying a word, she charged headlong into the horizon, never to be seen again.

The Daredevil Cow did end up making the front page the next day, but she didn’t care anymore. Her legacy was cemented.