Category Archives: Stories

Calm Down There, Astronaut

I’m trying to watch this otherwise wonderful documentary on the cosmos but every time they cut to this one Astronomer Philip, he starts giving his Hollywood scripted doomsday scenarios about an asteroid hitting Earth, or the Sun exploding like a Supernova… Christ Almighty Philip! Can I just learn about space without all the Hollywood shtick?

And of course they’ve got CGI special effects to illustrate his wild scenarios in full detail – because learning about the Universe isn’t fascinating enough without footage of NYC getting blown the fuck up by an angry Quasar. In fact, if they took out all the scenes of recognizable landmarks being vaporized, the documentary would be nothing but intro credits and one hour of Astro-Philip talking to himself in the dark. Now that the shuttle program is grounded, I’m sure he just sits around mission control all day, calculating how far a Pulsar could flip a school bus or something.


I can assume his bosses in Houston won’t let him on the space station either. He’s a little too buggy-eyed to be trusted up there – I’m sure he’d try snorting Adderall off of the control panel and end up steering it towards the Sun. That’s probably why he’s on the Discovery channel instead of in orbit; it keeps him occupied when he’s not scraping the rust off of old shuttle parts.


On the Engine

I’m currently a firefighter intern stationed at Engine 3 in downtown San Francisco. They are the busiest engine company in the entire country averaging over 10,000 calls per year. Our primary coverage area is a squalid 50 square block neighborhood called the Tenderloin; the largest drug ghetto in the United States. Crack. Feces. Meth. Vomit. Needles. Stabbings. Blood. Shootings. Alcoholics. Urine. Bodies. Glass. Noise. Mayhem. As much as you can handle.

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We never get a call to rescue a group of swollen titty’d sorority chicks stuck in an elevator. No way. We only get patients whose sex is a mystery until you cut off their piss-soaked pants with trauma shears. Patients rotting from the inside out from a lifetime’s worth of drugs, booze and stupidity. They stand on the corner all day shooting up and assaulting each other, and when one of them drops, we get the call.

Monday morning we ran 17 calls before lunch. Most departments are considered busy if they run that many in a week. I had chugged a Monster Energy drink before we pulled out of the engine bay on our first run. 5 back-to-back calls later – I had that nagging pain in the abdomen, where if I knelt down too quickly I’d leak a little. My angry bladder eventually found relief – lesson learned. The medic I work along side tells me to never kneel down beside a patient as I had done earlier, “around here you’ll end up with a syringe in your kneecap”. Two lessons learned.

The day progresses: I’m crawling into the back of a smashed up sedan to stabilize a driver’s neck, Naloxone vaporized into the nostrils to revive a heroin overdose, pouring water into the eyes of a pepper-sprayed, spitting tranny. Alcohol poisoning, chest pains, pediatric seizure, sliced fingers, allergic reaction… never a dull moment.

Some apartments we’re called to, you literally have to shovel your way through garbage just to get to them. Yesterday this old codger fell in his apartment and had been laying there for almost 2 days, he owned a huge tropical parrot caged in the corner. During the fall, his dentures must have flown out of his mouth and into an adjacent flower pot filled of dead stems and dirt… or that’s where he keeps them. the crew doesn’t miss a beat.  Get a set of vitals, put him on a stretcher, feed the bird, away we go.

Another call was a DOA (dead on arrival) – that is to say, if we had arrived 4 days ago. He had started to decompose around his face, blood pooling in the extremities, the apartment was rank with biology; his patient little dog sat confused by his side while we hooked up EKG leads. The TV still on, broadcasting the Olympics. We notify the coroner, call PD, call animal control, on to the next. Unfortunately, these eerie scenes will probably replace fond memories of being on a beautiful beach in Ko Chang with my lady or something. The brain is just like the bladder, it can only hold in so much before it causes pain. You’ve gotta find a release or go crazy. Writing is like kneeling down – leaking a little.

Crouching Tranny, Hidden Butter

I didn’t get much sleep last night. I woke up at 2 am to the repetitive chant of some hoarse tranny hooker encouraging her pimp to “Get him Daddy! Get him Daddy!” 

Over and over and over until I finally got up. STFU Tranny! Thrashing out of my sheets, I jumped out of bed to see what the fuss was about and lo and behold, it was some pimp swinging a pipe toward some other pimp. Standard Saturday night recreation. In these instances I usually keep a half stick of unsalted Land-o-Lakes butter on hand to throw down on the street creatures that keep me up, but alas, I used the last of it on some lemon pepper salmon for dinner – it was delicious.

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Butter is my preferred weapon when dealing with loud hookers and street noise. The last time I tried to use a water balloon the fucking thing exploded against the window frame and completely soaked me – standing there shirtless in wet boxers – not my proudest moment. So from now on it’s strictly butter. Even if frozen, it won’t crack any skulls like sweet potatoes, and if I can get it to smack down within a few feet of them they usually scatter like roaches.

How To: Win a Fight in a Coffee Shop

If you’ve spent anytime in coffee shops here in San Francisco, you no doubt have been asked by a total stranger if you would “watch their stuff for a second”. It’s a fairly common occurrence and unless you’re a total shit-wipe the answer is always yes. Yes ma’am, I will watch your coffee, your bagel, and your $2100.00 Macbook Pro with the 15-inch, scrotum-tickling, crystal-clear retina display – no problem. 

But have you ever really thought about what saying yes involves? Have you ever pondered the reality of some 350lb. whiskey-soaked meat head lunging towards a total stranger’s stunningly beautiful 15-inch Macbook Pro with the hair-raising, nipple hardening, 5 million pixel retina display?

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The Greatest Story Ever Told

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This guy Brian at work must have the most interesting stories any human being has ever told. The brilliant plot structure and character development are of pure genius. His wonderful narratives rival those of The Epic of Gilgamesh!

Move over Gilgamesh, Brian’s in town and he had like fuckin’ 6 shots of tequila and like fuckin’ 35 beers last night. And according to him: there were like these chicks at this table and he was all like fuckin’ buying them shots and he like got up to take a piss and fuckin’ came back and they all left and then he saw them drinking at this other bar across the street like an hour later!

Absolutely riveting Brian. Thank you.

Keychain Commotion

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Area residents are searching for answers tonight after a man entered a quiet café with an obnoxious set of keys attached to his belt loop via carabiner late this afternoon.

Cafe patrons were forced to stop typing their emails and look up over their laptops to observe the jangling ruckus as the perpetrator stirred nonfat soy milk into his shade grown Ethiopian fair trade organic double shot latte.

Residents say ‘hatred and disgust’ were palpable during the tense moments inside the quiet café as the smug suspect browsed the gluten-free pastries.

“He didn’t appear to be a janitor or building superintendent, just a bunch of loud jangly keys for no reason” – cafe manager

Local authorities say the self-satisfied suspect and his waxed mustache fled the scene on fixed gear bicycle. They will continue to canvas the area throughout the evening.

Kidnapping Prince

Oh shut-up! The handcuffs’ll come off when you start cooperating and stop whimpering like a wet poodle! Now get against the wall and don’t say another damn word!

Here’s a moist towelette, wipe off that charcoal smudge you call a mustache. Yea bullshit it’s real, wipe it off! I said get against the wall! Quit moving around all weird and herky-jerky, this is no time for spin moves and dancing, THIS IS SERIOUS!

Now before I start breaking every bone in your effeminate, monkey-like body I’m… QUIT POINTING AT ME AND THRUSTING YOUR HIPS AROUND LIKE THAT! Don’t you understand I’m about to hurt you!? THIS IS A KIDNAPPING DAMMIT!

My whole life I’ve been plagued by your feigned mystique, your rapidly changing name and slightly bothersome cranial shape. Your ever-morphing wispy facial hair designs makes a grown man want to sling poo at the walls!

What’s that? You think I have pretty eyes? Well thank you. Maybe we can loosen those restraints a little… wait a minute I’m not falling for your slimy charm monkey boy!

Get back against the wall and quit trying to touch my face!