Ornery Short Stories by Jimi Benedict

Story One

Once I told a boss, "I'm taking vacation... for...(pause) ever" and walked out. I told all the other factory grunts on their smoke breaks to kiss my ass, and I smacked it as I walked away.

I feel the smacking ass part was a little gay. If I could redo the whole situation, I would have probably chosen to do the walking away without looking back, two hands in the air flipping birds. Much more macho...

Smacking your own ass is only awesome if you are a hot girl.

Story Two

When there is a rumbling, rumbling, rumbling at my ear's tympanic chamber,
My only wish, a giant hand, flick the motorcycle! from whence rumbles the clatter.

ALT VERSION

When I hear a crappy ass car or motorcycle drive by with a loud obnoxious muffler, I wish a big hand would come out the sky and flick the shit out of the car into oblivion.

For cars with big booming bass that makes my heart irregularly palpitate, I wish for a giant foot come crashing down like an earthquake on them, though irony of the earthquake sound would be lost on the passengers because they would be crushed.

Story Three

I used to work with a very attractive girl with whom I seemed to share a mutual attraction. Then one day I noticed a baby picture, and her putting on medicinal cream on a cold sore. Jimmy doesnt like babies and the herpe. Unfortunate that I am so picky... Woe, Shall I ever be single!

Story Four

I hate you internet. I hate you.

Story Five

I bought 450 Thread Count Sheets today at Target.

For $9.48.

Flat and Fitted with Two Pillowcases.

Yeah... That's a hot deal.

Story Six

When I go walking on the greenway by myself, I wish I had a friend to tag along with me.

Not because I'm lonely, but because sometimes there are awesomely huge dog turds, and I always think to myself, "Man, what a photo op!" If only I had a friend with a digital camera that could take a picture of me squattin over this thing...

(Sometimes I fancy that in the woods, instead of a dog, it is a mighty mighty dinosaur roaming about dropping its dung...)

Story Seven

I feel like I almost killed my little brother when we were younger, but I confronted him about the incident, it seems he has FORTUNATELY repressed it DEEP within his memory and does not recall it. I have apologized several times over a decade later.

That's why he gets good presents for Christmas and Birthdays.

Story Eight

I am truly ashamed of only a few things in my life. The commonality involves girls and/or drunkenness.

*The previous statement doesn't automatically insinuate promiscuity. Moreover, something much more embarrassing/humiliating IMO. Although the story is better left as a cliffhanger, I had to clarify to put my parents at ease about my morality.

Sexual morality that is, as it's obvious I have no qualms with a stiff drink or ten.

Story Nine

I was being photographed once for a moderately popular local about town newszine. I had never been professionally photographed for a publication, so I did what I saw mostly of at the time which was to look like a broody angry or perturbed fellow. After a few clicks, the photographer gave me a look and said, "Uhhhhh...."

And I laughed outloud and said, "Stop trying to look like Im a badass? Look at me, Im a badass, Im going to whoop your ass!"

"Much better," he said.

I hate being quoted. It serves to prove one's inability to be accountable, and also sometimes makes one sound like a pansy.