Episode 9: Wisconsin is for Dads! with Tyler Jackson

Fuzzy People, Podcasts

Join us with Tyler Jackson of Late Late Breakfast, as we talk about the games of his show at the Hideout, learn about the desert with Tony’s cousin Jason Melville, personify the Midwestern States, take on the Darkside (Skittles), and conjure up animal names for famous comedians! Also, the next sentence of Haymaker is finally revealed!

Note: The Battle at Pratt Beach has already happened. It was bright and sandy and nobody wins in war, particularly the socks – so wet and so sandy.

Rock n’ Roll Ice Cream Truck – Part 1: Summer Ice Dreams

Fiction, Microfiction Mondays, Stories

I’ll roll it through my street for the very first time, blasting the shit out of Grand Funk Railroad. Everyone will lower their sunglasses in awe, and my ice cream truck will rock so loudly, it’ll shatter their aviators, but I’ve got some ice cream to make it all cooler!

/

Derek will be so impressed: “Yo man, that’s a really cool truck! Must’ve cost all the pennies you had, especially with that baller sound system!”

Tom will just wanna know: “She’s gotta have a name, so what do you call her?” 

I’ll give them this look as if the name just came to me right then-and-there and say “Well, I think I’ll call it the Johnny B. Goode Humor!” 

\

ALL the girls will crowd my truck, but because I’m an ice cream gentleman, I won’t suggest popsicles. Perfect Summer Girl will write her name & number on a wrapper and it won’t even be a joke, especially when she turns to give me ‘that look,’ like “it’s not even a joke.”

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On the tail end of his lunch break, Dave leaned against the hotdog shack, transfixed by the same old ice cream truck across the street, just gathering dust-and-rust in the field by some old house. He stood up and nodded as he wiped his hands of excess poppy seeds, and grabbed a phone out of his pocket to finally call the number on the truck’s “For Sale” sign.

 Richard Kniazuk

get. a. job. hippie.

Fiction, Microfiction Mondays, Stories

Nobody ever believes the most parsimonious explanation.  Sometimes reality is much stranger than the speculative, though we rarely believe it.  But what I am going to say is true.  If you go far enough down the right county route, assuming you do not miss the turn-off through the woods, you’ll find it.  I’m humble enough to admit I had to go and see for myself.  But they were fuckin’ right.   Get to the right petting zoo, and if they like the taste of your silver, they’ll totally let you make out with the giraffe.

Anonymous

Beard Al Yankovic

Fiction, Microfiction Mondays, Stories

He would always come into the coffee shop at 12:34pm. He ordered a black coffee, sat in the same corner and mumbled to himself. I always wondered why his beard was so long and scraggly. My guess is that it was for holding secrets. Not just the secret of “I don’t have a chin,” either. I believe that he was a siphon. A pinch in the fabric where stuff leaked through. The secrets of the inky black nothing that we know is there but try to forget about. I think it bubbled up from the depths and out of his mouth straight into his beard. My coworkers told me continuously to “Shut the fuck up about it.” I had to know though. When I asked he just said, “It’s a depression beard, man.” So, I was right.

Jesse Nicolaus

Milkshake Tree

Fiction, Microfiction Mondays, Poetry, Stories

Last year I went to the farmers market.

An old man gave me a sapling. Just gave it to me.

He claimed he was a mage.

I planted it in my backyard. I named that tree because it was in fact magic

and I have a strong respect for magic.

It was a milkshake tree so I named it White Privilege.

Every Spring I would till ice cream into the soil. And every day I’ll water it with

whole milk and love for the next 25 years.

In hopes that one day my children and their children will know how

sweet and delicious

White Privilege makes milkshakes.

Jesse Nicolaus

Blockbusted

Fiction, Microfiction Mondays, Stories

The parking lot lights gave off enough for the guys to peer through the dusty windows and the old video drop-off slot. They could see that the aisles of shelves where they once found great N64 games and the newest movies were long empty, and the blue countertops had lost their greasy sheen to grime after three long years of this old Blockbuster being shut down.

“Why are we even checking the front door? Aleks, did you test out the backdoor last time you were around here?” Kevin asked as he and then Kyle shook the front doors to no avail.

“Nah, it’s spooky back there and there aren’t any lights,” Aleks said, “and I don’t wanna get fucked up or butt-hurt by whatever dumbass kids that live around here.”

They walked around back to the alley, spotted the backdoor, and jostled it without any luck. Then, with the strength of his Serbian ancestors and the impaired judgement of a guy who just guzzled a flask of Ol Grandad, Aleks slurrfully yelled “Blockbusted!” as he smashed the doorknob clear off with a loose cinderblock he found on the ground.

Without any reservations or much afterthought of what just happened, Kevin, Kyle, and Aleks gently pushed the creaking door open, finding themselves once again inside the place that gave them so much joy as kids, but now stood as a dusty testament of a truly bygone time. As they carefully went down the aisles, Kyle gave out an old familiar call to check out what he had just discovered: One unlabeled Blockbuster VHS tape case, with the weight of a tape still inside.

With an anxious Kevin and Aleks at his side, Kyle cracked it open to find a copy of The Expendables 3.

“Wait,” Aleks paused with unease, “they stopped releasing new movies on VHS a long, long time ago…and this movie hasn’t even come out yet…”

Richard Kniazuk

Bummerplanetoid

Fiction, Microfiction Mondays, Stories

I came to this fountain with my parental figures when I was 32 cycles. I don’t remember much except that we weren’t allowed to swim. We drank of it’s crystals and I didn’t thirst for 4 cycles. When I decided to bring my own brood to this wonderful place it was a different story. Not only did the jump permit cost a heinous amount, but there was nowhere in orbit from which to embark! I mean, talk about a tourist trap. The color of the planet itself had darkened to a deep grey. I turned back and decided to take my brood elsewhere. They would not be drinking the tainted crystals of this forsaken planetoid. Maybe I should take them to this petting zoo planet that I keep hearing about?

Chup Chuwanananana     0 Star review – Yelp Multiverse

Jesse Nicolaus