Painted Shut: A short short story

In April, Shelly left him.
In June, he inadvertently painted the windows shut.

Baked Cookies: A Story Told in Three Perspectives

I stood outside the burning house swaying in the wind. Sweat gathered in my brow, slowly sliding down the side of my face. I watched absentmindedly as the cops and firefighters rushed around my property. I tried to get my thoughts in order, replaying the events in my head. I knew I had some explaining to do.

I started drinking. Early. Vodka, cheap stuff you get on the bottom shelf of the shadiest liquor stores in town. I smoked some weed too, but I don’t think there is really need to share that tidbit with the police. I wanted cookies so I decided to make some cookies.

I remember, now, where it all went wrong. I tried baking them in the George Foremen Grill. I guess a neighbor dialed 911 when they saw the smoke billowing from my house. When the firefighters banged on my door, my response was to open the door slightly and apologize to them.

You think this is a good idea. No. You know it is. You’ve been drinking all day, it’s your day off man, why not. You’ve smoked a little bit of marijuana, and now you want something sweet to go with it. Go for you, you deserve it.

You remember that you have some cookie dough in the freezer. No need to thaw it. Just throw it on the Foreman grill. You’ll be fine. Ignore the smoke coming off the grill; that just means that it’s working.

By the time you realize you’re in trouble, it’s too late. You try to whip the fire out with a dish towel, but you are too intoxicated for the task. You turn to the door when you hear banging. You open the door to see a firefighter.

“I’m sorry about the mess.” You say and close the door. Before you realize what is happening, you are being dragged out of the house by the firemen.

Florida Man put the bong down by the sink and coughed out a puff of smoke. He was blurry eyed and nauseous. He picked up the bottle of vodka that he had been drinking from and chugged down a huge swallow.

He began to rummage through the pantry, he was drunk, high, and hungry. He found a bag of potato chip, half empty and opened. The chips were stale. Florida Man was craving something sweet.

“Cookies.” Florida Man said. “I want some cookies.”

He pulled the cookie dough out of the freezer considered the oven. He decided that it would take too long to bake in the oven so he plugged in the George Foreman Grill, thinking this would cook them quicker. 

Later Florida Man stood outside his home explaining what happened to police.

History Schmistory or: How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Dog

            We have all heard that if we do not know our history, then we are doomed to repeat it. Some of us heed that warning better than others. History is a fascinating place to get lost in. There is a vast array of stories that can either give you hope or make you realize that human beings are probably just garbage. This is one: A story anyway. I hope you like it.

            In 1924, the Soviet Union approved the use of dogs in combat. They were given a variety of tasks to perform, from locating mines and missing people to transporting medicine or food, even injured soldiers. They assisted in rescue operations and combat operations.

            There was even a special dog school created especially to train dogs for these tasks. Eventually, up to twelve more schools were created. The problem here though is that there were no dog trainers, so the Soviets did the next best thing. They hired circus trainers, police dog trainers, and hunters that had some experience training dogs. Leading scientists at the time were brought in to create a sort of dog training curriculum.

            Sometime in the 1930s, someone said: hey I got an idea, let's put bombs on dogs. The weirder thing is that someone else, presumably with a bit more clout, said: brilliant idea. Now grab that bottle of vodka, Yuri is going to fist fight that bear.

            The first idea was that the dogs would carry mines strap to their backs with a harness under a specified stationary target. The dog would then release the mine by using its teeth to pull a releasing belt and voila. The tank is blown up and dog returns to sender. The problem, as you can probably guess, was that this concept was too complicated for the dogs to master. The dogs would perform well with just one target, but when the target or location changed, the dogs just didn’t know what to do so they would just come back with bombs strapped to their bodies and blow their own dudes up.
            Obviously, that wasn't going to work for the Soviets so they blew the dogs up instead. They no longer tried to train the dogs the complicated process of releasing a mine. One dog, one mine, one tank blown to smithereens. Dog also. 

            The training regimen continued to produce failure. The idea had to be amended. Rather than having the dogs go under one specific tank, the dogs were trained to go under any enemy tank on the battlefield. They did this by keeping the dogs hungry and then putting food under a static tank. First without the engine running. They slowly started changing the scenario by running the tank’s engines. They began to fire weapons. The idea was to train the dogs to run under the tanks. It was crucial for the dogs to go under the tank. The underside of the tank is the weakest part.

            By 1941, the German army was making their advance on the eastern front. The first group of dog bombs was deployed that summer. 30 dogs and 40 trainers were going to win the war.

            Except the initial deployment was a bit fussy, to say the least. The dogs had been trained to go under static tanks. Never moving tanks. Never tanks that were firing their guns. 

            Some of the more stubborn dogs would trail the tanks, waiting for them to stop so it could duck underneath. These dogs were usually shot by Germans.  

            The huge cannon blasts firing from the enemy tanks scared the dogs, which would jump in trenches with Russian soldiers for cover; killing the Russian soldiers. To prevent this from happening, the dogs had to be shot, usually by their trainers, who didn’t want to work with the dogs anymore after having to shoot them.

            Only 4 of the first 30 dogs managed to explode in the vicinity of a German tank.

            Once again, the trainers went back to the drawing board. The dog bombs were now trained to duck under moving Soviet tanks. The reason the first dogs weren’t trained using this method was simply to save fuel.

            This caused a new problem though. Russian tanks ran on diesel. German tanks on gasoline. When the next group of dog bombs entered the battlefield. They sought out and subsequently blew up the familiar Soviet tanks.

            The program continued until 1942. The success of the dog bombs is uncertain. Claims were made that more than 300 German tanks were destroyed using the dog bombs, but this is believed to be justification for the dog program. There are some reports of success though, such as 16 dogs disabling a dozen tanks after they had broken the Soviet lines. In another battle, dog bombs were responsible for destroying 5 tanks.    

            One thing that is certain though, history is fucking weird, man.