This Is a Book - Demetri Martin [27]
Similarly, when I described getting the flu, going to the dentist, and having to refinish my basement as all “worse than sex,” I was being truthful.
Of course, now I realize that pretty much everything is worse than sex. I feel silly about even making that sort of comparison. Thankfully, after hving sex with so many wonderful, adventurous, creative, and flexible women (who were not Cheryl), I can see how very, very wrong I was in the past.
I hope that clears things up and that all of you can understand where I was coming from.
And, Cheryl, if you’re reading this, I hope you’re doing well. I’m doing great, though not better than sex.
Short Stories
Years ago, when he was 91, Stan thought he was going to die. Now, approaching 114, he knew it was going to happen. Jet skiing was a bad idea, he thought, as his arms flew off his body.
The detective sniffed the surface of the chair. Just then, a woman walked into the study.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
The detective looked at her and replied, “The killer is lactose intolerant.”
Neil aimed and fired. As the duck exploded into tiny bits, the men stared in stunned silence. Then Walt said, “That’s the third decoy you’ve shot today, you idiot.”
When the stripper jumped out of the giant cake, everyone got excited. But then when she jumped into the regular-size cake, everyone got confused.
The shepherd fell asleep again. But who could blame him? He had been counting sheep all day.
Mary Brown was a shy woman, who spoke little and rarely made eye contact with anyone. She lived in a small yellow house at the end of Maple Street, which was where she made her jam and kept her sex slaves.
“New Mexico,” declared Bill. “We’re headed there and we’re never coming back.”
“Oh,” Isabelle replied, her eyes glassy with tears. Then she said, “Bill?”
“Yes?” said Bill, gazing off toward the horizon.
“You’re already in New Mexico.”
Bill turned and looked at her. “Oh,” he replied.
He smiled sadly, then said, “Christ. I don’t know how to read maps at all.”
The developers erected the house on old Indian burial grounds. And soon the angry spirits of the long-departed warriors stirred and rose up and unleashed their fury on the building. This was not really a problem, though, because the house was a haunted house, in an amusement park. If anything, it helped business. When the Indian spirits discovered this they were very irritated and really bummed out.
“It’s not enough to care,” explained Barbara. “You have to stop shooting people with that BB gun of yours.” Somehow Zeke knew she was right.
Time had not been kind to Gregory. And why should she have been? He had teased her from the first moment they met. “ ‘Time’? What kind of a name is that for a woman?” he had said.
The lovers embraced each other. Neither said a word. It was hard to speak with so much popcorn in their mouths.
Everybody knew that you should never provoke a rattlesnake, much less tie it into a bow. But that didn’t stop Judd. What did stop him was the rattlesnake.
Frustrating Uses of Etc.
“I’m looking forward to our date. Why don’t you pick me up at my parents’ house. Here’s how you get there: Take Route 95 North, after you go through the second toll, get into the left lane, etc.”
“Honey, I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but while you were away I got a little drunk with my ex, Bob, and his friend, Tyrone. Then we started to play-wrestle, etc.”
“I, Frank, take you, Marianne, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, etc.”
“If you ever want to see your son alive again, then do exactly as I say. First, you are to meet me behind the abandoned shopping mall alone at midnight. Bring a briefcase, etc.”