Last night when he went to sleep, the banks were solvent and his money was safe. Today...not so much. Could be that this Cypress thing got out of hand, but that's the least of his worries. Because that strange noise he just heard coming from his living room turned out to be the cat snorting blow off a dead hooker's ass. And if word gets out about this, it could affect his membership status at the country club. Upon seeing him, the cat darts away towards the litterbox followed by a loud crashing sound. En route, he grabs his revolver. Can't be too careful. What a hell of a mess. Litter's everywhere and there's no sign of the cat. That's when the war started. Bombs fell and powerful explosions close by shook his house. Forget the cat, blow, and the rotting hooker, he's got bigger issues now. Someone's gone and invaded and nobody, including him, thought it could happen today. Especially today. It's garbage day and now there's an invasion. The neighborhood, hell, probably the whole damn city is being bombed back to the stone age. A quick glance at the television showed thousands of paratroopers and a massive veil of smoke. Just then, the power went out. He turned to look out his back window and what he saw threw him into a complete panic. Paratroopers were landing everywhere, including in his yard. But these soldiers were different… they were cats! Cats armed with AK-47s! His revolver slipped out of his hand and down to the floor with a soft thud. It would be useless now anyway. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com

I have this recurring nightmare that Sir Anthony Hopkins is coming over for dinner. In the dream, I tell my wife about our guest and she freaks. 'You've invited Hannibal over? We're out of fava beans and the house is a mess. I hate when you do this.' she says. 'I better get ready,' I tell her. Then I grab my Glock from out of the bedroom. She follows me, 'You stupid fool! Guns can't hurt him!' she exclaims as she picks up a pair of shoes from the floor. 'How about I pour some whisky on him and then light it?' I reply as I search for the spare magazine and bullets. 'Fire won't stop him. This is Hannibal! Nothing we have will affect him!' she insists. OK, now I'm getting scared. He'll be here in just a few minutes and I don't know what to do. I don't even know if I really invited him. For a brief moment, I consider that our neighbor Buzz Aldrin could come over and help us. Hell, he's been on the moon, that's got to count for something. But he's out of town this week. Figures. Now I'm in panic mode. Wait. There's Holly! Holly's our pet velociraptor. She's a real bitch and I think she's in heat which makes her even more dangerous. We've had her for a couple of years and we're pretty attached so my guess is that she'll be more than willing to protect us from our dinner guest. Then it hits me... Sir Anthony Hopkins versus a pissed off velociraptor. Who would win? This is gonna be one hell of a fight. I tell my wife to get the video camera because this shit is about to go viral. Beep! Beep! Beep! The fucking alarm goes off and I wake up. This happens every time. Guess I'll never know. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com

They spared no expense in cleaning up the toxic spill and were pretty sure that they got it all. But they were proven wrong when something happened just a few miles downstream at the local dog park. It was a beautiful spring day when this thing slimed its way, for lack of a better description, out of the water. It looked like a 5 pound bag of gelatinous pus, but it was friendly and well-mannered. It even became pals with many of the dogs and especially with the Nelson's collie. The two were inseparable, playing together like they had been life-long litter mates. It seemed to try really hard to act like a dog and people began to throw it treats which it happily enjoyed. They named it Clyde. But just as Clyde started to attract friends from all over, something strange happened. Though nobody is sure of the exact cause, it may have been a reaction of Clyde to the sun and its UV rays. The combination of detritus, sea ooze, toxic waste and other unknown elements began to change over time. The result was a rancid smell strong enough to trigger powerful, convulsive gag reflexes. Even the Nelson's collie couldn't take being near it anymore. Life became very lonely for Clyde. Born from the unholy combination of toxic waste and muck, it oozed it's way back into the water leaving a snail trail of slimy stench behind. Nobody knows what became of Clyde, though it is suspected of having something to do with last Summer's catastrophic fish kill. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com

It's Friday afternoon and I'm just about to wrap up my first week working at the florist shop. The customers are generally nice and my coworkers are easy to get along with. Things are going pretty well. In walks a professionally-dressed, middle aged woman. She called earlier this morning wanting a pretty flower arrangement for a party she's having tonight. 'Here you go ma'am. I made this one myself and I added a little something special for you.' I say. 'Thank you so much.' she says. 'Oh smell it, you'll love the gentle fragrances,' I tell her. She leans in to enjoy the scent. Then her eyes open wide and her skin quickly turns to a pale grey. She lets out a howling shriek and releases the arrangement. The whole thing falls to the floor and breaks sending flowers, baby's breath, and shards of glass all over. 'OH MY GOD!!' she screams. There is a brief second of complete silence and this nice lady instantly becomes catatonic. Just then I blurt out, 'HA HA DUDE, YOU'VE BEEN FETUS-ED!!!! Turn and look at the camera, right over there!' And, again there was no camera. I'm still working on my idea for a reality show pilot, but it's not going as well as I had anticipated. I've just been fired and now I'm all out of pig fetuses... again. Well, there's always tomorrow. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com

This is strange and I'm shocked to say the least. But there it is, floating in my coffee... and I know it shouldn't be there. Now I've got to get the waiter's attention and let him know about it. Boy is he gonna be surprised. I mean, it's not every day that one of these finds it's way into a hot beverage. A toenail? Fly? Contact lens? Frog? Hair? None of the above, not this time. 'Excuse me, waiter. There's a fetus in my coffee.' I said it loud enough for several other tables to hear. Now I've got his attention and I'm greeted with an immediate look of surprise disgust. But there it is, and now the waiter sees it. A fetus is in my coffee! It's a big one too, taking up most of the possible volume of my cup, sparing little room for the warm black liquid. 'Sorry sir, I'll get the manager', he says and off he goes... quickly. Next the manager shows up. He's stumbling for words and all apologetic. Of course my breakfast is on the house. Now the manager has to figure out how to dispose of said cup o' fetus. He's hesitant to touch the thing and really, I don't blame him. He extends his hand, pensively reaching for the cup.... Just then I blurt out, 'HA HA, DUDE, YOU'VE BEEN FETUS-ED!!!! Turn and look at the camera, right over there!' Actually, there was no camera. This was just my idea for a reality show pilot. It hasn't gone over too well. This is the third time I've been kicked out of a restaurant today. I'm out of cash. And, now I'm all out of pig fetuses. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com

The brothers had been arguing for hours and were just about to come to blows. It was all over the meaning of a song's lyrics. The older one thought the song was a protest against nuclear war and how devastating it could be. The younger one disagreed and countered that the song was about the growing abyss between the rich and the poor and how terrible poverty was. They went around in circles each making a case for their side. And they focused on what they believed were the pivotal lines of the song 'I beat you to the punch / Then your Mom made me lunch'. This, they both agreed was where the true essence of the song's meaning resided. The older one thought that this told of how a preemptive strike rendered the other side helpless, but really caused both sides to lose the war. The younger brother perceived that it was how the rich owned everything and forced the poor to work for them at a slave's wage. What both the brothers didn't realize was that this song was in fact a country song disguised as a brutal death metal love ballad. The song was actually about how this guy had his wife leave him on the same day that his dog died. Also, to top things off, his truck was stolen, the factory closed and he was let go from his job. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com

Bill hadn't seen a spider that big since Nam. Back then, he handled the situation by first screaming like a schoolgirl, then lobbing a grenade into the latrine where the arachnid resided. Maybe it was 2 grenades. Anyway, after the explosion leveled the structure, Bill emptied 4 magazines from his M16 before the rifle jammed. He had to be sure though, so he snagged Lance's shotgun and fired 6 or so shells of buckshot into the smoldering mess. It was probably dead. But today, Bill doesn't have any grenades or an M16. Plus he's much older and hopefully wiser. Nevertheless he's scared as hell and this spider has caused a Nam flashback of the worst kind. The safety of his family was on the line and Bill had to act quickly. First came the ear ripping shriek. Then he ran for his dresser drawer where he kept the '45. Racing back to the bathroom he detoured to the liquor cabinet where he grabbed a half-full bottle of his favorite scotch. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he twisted the top off the bottle. He took a swig, then ripped his shirt and stuffed a small shred of the cloth into the bottle. Reaching in his pants pocket, he pulled out his lighter and lit the rag. Now came the moment of truth. Bill leaned into the doorway of the bathroom and threw the flaming bottle inside where it shattered against the toilet. Fire quickly engulfed the bathroom. He then rapid fired his '45 and screamed, 'Die you fucking bastard'! It was now time to evacuate as the fire was spreading fast. Some weeks later, in the rubble that was once Bill's house, and egg sack burst open. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com

Oh, she loved him long time and Rob was about to pay the price. Coach had warned him about sleeping with unclean women. But this was Thailand and Rob was stupid drunk. Now his crotch was ablaze with itching and burning. The crabs must have already had babies. That was fast! He figured a quick trip to the walk-in clinic and things would be taken care of then he'd be ready for the big game. But these crabs were resistant and time was running short. 'Damn the cheap booze and loose whores', he thought. The flight home was something he'd rather forget. He spent most of the time in the toilet scratching his junk. One week later, all he had to show from his first trip abroad was an intense burning sensation and a palm sized pot-metal Buddha. So much for booking early. But really, who's to blame here? Then the credit card bill arrived. It was huge, much bigger than Rob had anticipated. Where was he going to come up with that kind of cash? If he'd only listened to his Coach. Oh, and he should have paid more attention to the horned toad who told him to go South to Mexico. None of this would have ever happened if he just listened. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com

It's been 45 years and my parents are still pissed at me. It all started with a family rite of passage that goes back several generations. When I was just six weeks old, my parents decided that I was ready. They lovingly secured me in my baby car seat and off we went. Driving for hours, we finally ended up at our destination. Cold and dark, they put me out on the side of the road in a remote location. I think I remember that they smiled at me or something. From then on, I was on my own. Hours later, they arrived back home. Happy and joyous, they were probably planning to hit the bedroom where they would make my baby sister. But it was not to be. They opened the door and got the shock of their lives: I was there! Yes, at just six weeks old and unable to walk or even read a map, I beat them home. Years later, my parents confronted me: they wanted to know exactly how I got back before they did. I mean, they had a car and I was just a baby. What the hell? My answer to them was in the form of a question and it pissed them off even more. I asked, 'Do you believe that you having a car, or object permanence has anything to do with you being able to beat me...in this place? You think that's air you're breathing now'? email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com

Ralph has been on the fritz lately. Short for Random Access non-Linear People Helper, Ralph units have been in service for the past decade or so and they can trace their lineage all the way back to the ill-fated Project Derpbot (Digitally Enhanced Robot Person). Technology has come a long way, however, there are still a few minor bugs such as I am currently experiencing with my Ralph unit. Last night I found the cat stuffed in the dryer along with the ion flow being intentionally reversed. Also, the food modulator had been reprogramed to spew out only a reddish brown paste. Now, Ralph just limps around in circles leaking oil and making synthetic 'gurgling' noises. Tech support tells me that this is a common firmware issue or possibly a downloaded virus but in either case it's easily resolved. However, I'm a little suspicious. I remember that last year the Nelson's across the street had to put their Ralph unit down because it was acting strangely. And from what I understand, Ralph units have a self-destruct bypass located deep inside their software master root files. Once accessed, it can be very difficult to dispose of a malfunctioning Ralph. Something tells me this is going to be messy. Maybe I should have just gotten a dog. email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com