Cool!
"Cool," said God.
"In the beginning…," said the computer.
God clicked ‘Start’.
Earth cooled.
Man came.
Money.
Cars.
"Neat," said God.
Pollution, wars.
Saddam launched the bomb.
"Start new game?" asked the computer.
The President was about to retaliate…
God hit ‘Enter’.
"In the beginning…," said the computer.By Doug Long Phone/Fax: (514) 221-2102 E-mail: doug@douglong.com
COPYRIGHT © 1998 BizNet Communications . All rights reserved.
Busy Times For The One-Minute Manager
"Have a seat, Bob, this’ll only take a
minute."
"What’s it about, Boss?"
"It’s about your work on the Crocker presentation, Bob. Great work, very
creative!"
"Thanks, Boss."
"My pleasure, Bob. Always happy to praise, but we didn’t win the account, so
you’re fired.
"Sally…? Would you show Bob out and send Elizabeth in?"
By Doug Long Phone/Fax: (514) 221-2102 E-mail:
doug@douglong.com
COPYRIGHT © 1998 BizNet Communications Inc.. All rights reserved.
The Fool Who Invented Kissing
He clubbed her and dragged her off to the cave.
She hated him.
He washed her face, untied her, and gave her the last meat from the fire.
That was better.
Hungry himself, he licked her greasy fingers, then her face. His lips brushed hers,
paused, touched again.
Tomorrow, he would kill meat for her.
By Doug Long Phone/Fax: (514) 221-2102 E-mail:
doug@douglong.com
COPYRIGHT © 1998 BizNet Communications Inc.. All rights reserved.
The Family Farm
Five generations of Burkhardts lived and died here.
Their tombstones overlook the pond.
Mary and I (the new owners) are renovating the kitchen when three translucent figures
appear.
"Welcome and keep up the good work," they chorus, before floating through the
solid, stone wall.
Startled, Mary grips my arm. "And if we don’t?" she gasps.
By Doug Long Phone/Fax: (514) 221-2102 E-mail:
doug@douglong.com
COPYRIGHT © 1998 BizNet Communications Inc.. All rights reserved.
Mom Knows Best
"You’ve lost weight, Mom."
"Got to watch my figure for Dad."
"You’re 82, Mom. Dad’s dead. You need to eat!"
"Don’t harp at me, sonny Jim. Your Mom knows best."
A month later, Jim asks: "What’d she die of?"
"Malnutrition," the doctor replies, "weren’t you looking after
her?"
"Did the best I could," Jim shrugs.
By Doug Long Phone/Fax: (514) 221-2102 E-mail:
doug@douglong.com
COPYRIGHT © 1998 BizNet Communications Inc.. All rights reserved.
Hilda Isn't Coming
Hilda wasn’t coming. He was sure of that now as
he rocked on the porch in the muggy Florida air.
"Hilda isn’t coming," he whispered.
He whistled in the dark, then rocked himself to sleep.
He was dreaming of Hilda when she hit, flattening his house and roaring through town at
180 miles per hour.
By Doug Long Phone/Fax: (514)
221-2102 E-mail:doug@douglong.com
COPYRIGHT © 1998 BizNet Communications. All rights reserved.
