If one of my teammates was a communist, it would be difficult to be around him, especially if he used code words like “comrade.” When I’m changing before the game, I don’t want the guy in the locker next to me thinking about how he wants to eliminate the power of the bourgeoisie in order to create a dictatorship of the proletarian. That would just creep the hell out of me.

If one of my teammates was a robot, that would definitely make things difficult. Here I am with my flesh and bone, and there he is made of shiny titanium or whatever. I wouldn’t blame him for being titanium… I realize that’s just the way he was constructed… but still, talk about uncomfortable. A cyborg might be okay, though. Still a difficult situation, but at least we’d have a little something in common.

If one of my teammates was a big Beatles fan, it would make things fairly uncomfortable for me. Being around Beatles fans makes me nervous for some reason. It’s not that I think they’re going to turn me into a raging Beatlemaniac. I mean, there’s probably zero chance of something like that happening, right? Either way, it makes me worry about the comfort factor.

If one of my teammates was the legendary Bigfoot, I’d be pretty uncomfortable because he’s known for walking around naked. The locker room is full of naked guys, but a naked Bigfoot would be different somehow.

If one of my teammates was a critically-acclaimed TV series on AMC, I’d be uncomfortable even if I had to admit I was just a tiny bit curious.

If one of my teammates was a space alien who wanted to enslave the human race, that would make things extremely difficult. I like humans. No, I love ‘em. Absolutely love ‘em. And there he’d be, sitting right next to me in the dugout, feeling the exact opposite way about humans. Un-freaking-comfortable.

If one of my teammates was a gay space alien, I’d be perfectly fine with that because in this case he wouldn’t be here to conquer us, so why worry, and also sometimes I just think it might be kind of cool to have a space alien for a friend.

Illustrations courtesy of The Library of Congress

April 21: At approximately 4 p.m., it was widely reported throughout town that tiny drops of water had begun to fall from the sky. The bizarre phenomenon lasted only a few minutes, but left streets and other surfaces covered with an eerie wetness. Many took this as an ominous sign of the approaching end times and were only comforted hours later by a common rain of frogs.

May 6: Funeral services were held today for Martha Pendleton, 63, who often awakens to find herself in the morgue. However, the deceased failed to inexplicably rise during the services at Weirdsville Funeral Home or the subsequent burial, making for a rather long, boring afternoon.

May 23: Daniel Chase, 29, was struck by lightning in his front yard and awoke in Weirdsville Hospital three days later with no special abilities or mental powers. Doctors are calling his recovery “normal” and estimate that he will be able to walk and feed himself within the next 10 to 12 years.

June 15: Told by several people in town that he looked different somehow, Gavin Belmont, 44, revealed that he had stopped wearing his usual beard of bees and was instead sporting a beard composed of what he called “facial hair.” Some charged that Mr. Belmont had gone Hollywood, while others, more sympathetic, believed he was simply going through a mid-life crisis.

August 10: Charles Lester, 56, was driving along Old Cemetery Road when he spotted the ghost of a young lady in flowing white, who flagged him down and begged for a ride to an elegant ball she was late for. Lester obliged, feeling sad that fate would forever deny her wish: but instead of uncannily vanishing from the passenger seat, the female specter pulled out a knife, forced Lester to pull over, and drove off with his Chevy Impala. Police questioned several of the town’s ghost hitchhikers, but could make no progress in the case until the perpetrator was picked up 50 miles away in Forest Spring after knocking off a liquor store.

August 19: A meteorite plunged through the atmosphere and did not smash through the roof of Jonathon Ferris, 35, who is regularly hit on the head by falling space debris while taking a bath. The meteorite instead landed in a meadow over half a mile away, injuring no one, causing no damage, and pushing Mr. Ferris into the depths of an existential crisis.

September 3: Franklin Monroe, 41, divorced his wife of eight years: a Border Collie named Betsy: and married an actual human woman. He and Betsy remain friendly.

September 15: While cleaning his pistol, Mark Dansforth, 39, accidentally discharged the weapon, failing to hit a burglar who just happened to be sneaking through his window at the time. Nor did the bullet hit Mr. Dansforth’s two-timing wife, or a framed picture of his mother-in-law, or his own foot, or any other object or person that could conceivably turn this into a strangely humorous anecdote. The burglar fled immediately after the incident, and all parties will try again tomorrow.

Illustration by Hallie Bateman

Big Science Fiction Movie IV (May 25)

It’s been nearly a decade since Big Science Fiction Movie III came out, and no one was looking for another sequel — but here it comes anyway. Because you saw the first three films in the series, you’ll feel obligated to immediately go see this one out of some warped sense of completion, instead of simply waiting for the DVD. For that reason, you can look forward to Big Science Fiction Movie V, coming to a theater near you in summer, 2021.

Move Based On Old TV Show (June 8)

All your favorite characters are back in this big-screen adaptation of the barely-remembered ‘80s TV series. Explosions will occur much more frequently than they used to, and on a larger, more expensive scale. In tribute to the original show, Aging TV Star Who Hasn’t Had A Job In Thirty Years makes a fun cameo, so remember to sit through all eight minutes of the closing credits for a brief glimpse of him.

Yet Another Gross-Out Comedy (June 15)

On the heels of Original Gross-Out Comedy, Sort Of A Rip-off of Original Gross-Out Comedy and Completely Blatant Rip-Off of Original Gross-Out Comedy comes this newest entry in the genre. Look for plenty of foul language, over-the-top situations, and at least one particularly disgusting scene involving a hot air balloon, a political rally, and a bodily fluid.

Hugely Popular Superhero’s Second Movie (June 22)

Two years ago, Hugely Popular Superhero’s First Movie set records for largest opening weekend and most cases of CGI-induced seizure. This sequel will continue laying out Hugely Popular Superhero’s fascinating origin story, which was about one-quarter complete by the end of the first film.

Ridiculous Action Movie (June 29)

After years of declining popularity, Muscular Movie Star Who Is Too Old To Be Completely Believable In The Role returns to the character that made him famous and finds that he must once again kill lots of bad guys for some reason. Will his talent for shooting big guns and mumbling quips lure in enough nostalgic forty-somethings to re-ignite his career, or will he be forced to go back to starring in homoerotic, exercise-machine infomercials? Hopefully, both.

Stuffy Drama (July 13)

Big-budget spectaculars rule every summer movie season, but there’s always one film where everyone sits around talking, while the whole time nothing is blowing up. Sometimes the actors wear period costumes. Sometimes not. This is that film. Fortunately, it will vanish from theaters in a week and save you the momentary unpleasantness of noticing the lobby poster.

Somewhat Familiar Superhero: The Movie (July 27)

Class B Superhero Known Mostly To Comic Book Fanatics finally gets a chance to shine in his first feature film, in which he faces off against his archnemesis Vaguely Familiar Super Villain. Expect not-quite-mainstream thrills galore.

Remake of Near-Classic Movie (August 3)

It’s been twenty years, so it was time for Remake of Near-Classic Movie, even though the original isn’t dated in the slightest. Just pretend this new version doesn’t exist. (Warning: If you do go to see it, you’ll automatically hate the original, because newer is always better.)

Movie Based On Old Board Game (August 10)

When this project was originally announced, movie fans were skeptical. Many of the finest achievements in film have been based on video games and children’s toys — but how can anything of value be inspired by an old board game? Answer: It can’t. However, the movie does attain a certain level of credibility thanks to Respectable Aging Movie Star, who accepted a large paycheck to play Military Authority Figure and damage his career. Featuring an up-and-coming cast of semi-recognizable TV and pop stars, and plenty of explosions, Movie Based On Old Board Game comes to magnificent new life, as only the best two-hour, 250-million-dollar commercials can.

Boring Romantic Comedy (August 24)

Will Pretty Yet Quirky Actress and Blandly Handsome Terrible Actor ever come to their senses and realize they’re perfect for each other? Who cares? Expect a highly sentimental conclusion and at least nine scenes involving a bodily fluid.

Illustration by Hallie Bateman

Please behave responsibly when standing near the bottomless pit. No shoving or roughhousing. Do not pretend to push your friend into the pit and then grab the back of his shirt and pull him backward.

The bottomless pit is not a trash bin. Please dispose of all waste in the clearly marked receptacles.

Please refrain from ironically using the term “bottomless pit of despair.” It’s getting old.

Do not throw coins into the pit. It is not a wishing well; it is an eerie and some say unnatural phenomenon that appears to defy all earthly laws. Then again, that would also seem to describe any wishing well. Go ahead and throw the coins.

Do not attempt to jump over the pit unless you’ve gotten a good running start.

Do not drop handwritten messages into the pit in an attempt to communicate with people in China, the denizens of Hell, or the Mole People. Scientific analysis has determined that the pit does not lead to any of those places, but does not rule out the possibility that it could be a vortex leading to another dimension. So please address all correspondence accordingly.

You may hear a strange voice whispering in your ear to, “Jump! Jump in and end it all!” Don’t fall for it. That voice is coming from Doug, one of our eternally bored attendants.

Do not throw your car keys to someone standing on the other side of the pit unless that person is a good driver with a healthy respect for other people’s property.

Chest-kicking someone into the pit in a re-enactment of that famous scene from the movie 300 is highly discouraged, unless you can deliver the line “This… is… Sparta!” in a moderately amusing way.

Please note: When you stare into the bottomless pit, the bottomless pit stares back at you.

When, despite all of these precautions, you still manage to fall into the pit, please do not shriek as you plummet to whatever dark fate awaits you. Ghostly echoes of your scream can reach the surface for several days afterward, and this can put a damper on everyone else’s enthusiasm when viewing the pit.

Failure to comply with any of these rules may result in a barrier of thin twine being erected around the pit.

Illustration by Madeleine Flores

Explanation: Possibly you’ve eaten something you shouldn’t have. Try making healthier food choices, and being less judgmental.

You swerve your car in front of me so quickly that I have to slam on the brakes. Suddenly your windows slide up and down uncontrollably and your radio tunes itself to a country-western station. Smoke seeps from underneath your hood and you shudder to a stop. As I slowly swing around you, I do that thing where I scratch the side of my head with my middle finger — just subtle enough so that you can’t really tell if I’m sending you a message or not. But you know I am.

Explanation: If it wasn’t for the smoke, I’d say it was an electrical problem, but I’ve never really been a car guy.

At the gym, you decline to wipe your disgusting sweat off the machine you’ve just finished using, even though you can see me waiting my turn. Walking off toward the showers, you have the strange sensation of being sharply slapped upside the head. Twenty feet behind you, I flash a smug grin.

Explanation: You failed to go through the recommended cool-down phase of your workout. Probably a muscle cramp or something.

At the movies, you’re eating your popcorn a bit too loudly in the row behind me. Suddenly you find that some inexplicable force is clamped around your jaw, preventing you from chewing. This is when I turn around to face you and slowly raise my finger to my lips in a creepy shushing motion. Your eyes widen with dawning terror, and you begin to sob deep in the back of your throat and thrash in desperation, and generally become an annoyance to everyone sitting around you. And yet the manager comes and asks me to leave the theater.

Explanation: I had snuck in through the rear exit during the previews.

You knock on my door and try to sell me candy bars or magazine subscriptions, or whatever it is you’re peddling. Weren’t you the same kid who was just here last week? Didn’t I say no then, too? Suddenly a horrible image forces itself into your mind, a prophetic vision warning you that I’m the living embodiment of pure evil with bizarre paranormal abilities that have gradually made me go mad with power, and that you had better leave right away, before something truly terrible can happen. The vision fades as abruptly as it arrived…then I threaten to call the cops if you come back again, and slam the door in your face.

Explanation: That vision was all yours. I’d never use my mind powers on a little kid. I’m not a complete monster, you know. Still, don’t forget what I said about the cops.

“With no rain or even clouds to warn him of the danger, death came literally out of the blue Thursday to a self-employed landscaper. The killer was a powerful bolt of lightning that cracked through perfectly clear skies.” – The Miami Herald

Q: I don’t think I’ve ever heard of dry lightning before. What is it?

A: It’s a very rare and strange phenomenon in which lightning strikes out of a cloudless sky. A bolt from the blue, as they say. Think of a bear that pounces on you out of nowhere as you’re walking through the woods. Now imagine you’re not strolling through the woods but say, cleaning out your refrigerator… and a bear pounces on you out of nowhere. That’s dry lightning. Of course, that’s a highly metaphorical way to put it. In more technological terms, it’s easier to just say God wants you dead.

Q: So what are some of the best ways to avoid getting hit by dry lightning?

A: I don’t think you were listening. If the Almighty wants you dead, it’s going to happen. Lightning will appear out of a sunny sky and fry you where you stand.

Q: Oh, I assumed you were just kidding around.

A: I never kid about dry lightning. Dry lightning is serious business. And if I’m being totally honest, kind of spooky.

Q: Look, I’m sure in the old days people resorted to superstition on the rare occasions when such a thing happened. But now there are advanced, scientific methods we can use to measure weather conditions.

A: I wouldn’t be so overconfident in your precious “science” if I were you. Maybe that’s how you got on His wrong side in the first place. Has that ever occurred to you?

Q: Listen, is there anyone else around who might be able to help me? Maybe someone with a meteorological background?

A: Let me ask you a question. Why are you so interested in dry lightning if you weren’t already paranoid that God was out to get you?

Q: I saw it mentioned in a news story and was curious about it. That’s all.

A: I wouldn’t be so curious about your precious “news stories” if I were you. Maybe that’s how you got on His wrong side in the first—

Q: All right, enough of that. I’m going to assume that avoiding dry lightning is a lot like avoiding regular lightning. A person should get indoors as fast as possible, stay out of fields and swimming pools, and keep away from tall trees.

A: No, not a person. Just you. You should do all those things. Not that any of it will help.

Q: Okay, then what if I run and take shelter in my car? I know that cars are safe from lightning because of the rubber tires.

A: Sure, you’ll be safe in your car… but how long do you think you can stay in there? Remember, you’re not waiting out a thunderstorm, you’re waiting out God’s wrath.

Q: Let’s say you’re right about all of this, and I’ll get zapped the instant I leave the car. I can get my meals from the drive-through. I can get gas at a full-service station. I have my laptop and enough room to sleep comfortably. I can stay in here forever if I have to.

A: Oh, you’ll have to.

Q: So that’s it, then? No hope at all?

A: Afraid not.

Q: What did I do to get God so angry at me?

A: I have no idea. That’s between you and Him. I can only answer theological questions as they pertain to the very rare and strange phenomenon known as dry lightning.

Q: Speaking of strange phenomena, a bear just appeared in my back seat, seemingly out of nowhere. What should I do?

A: Sorry, I can’t help you there, either. Despite referencing a bear earlier, my expertise is limited, as I said, to dry lightning. But please feel free to consult the Bears FAQ, and have a nice day.

Photo by Bo Insogna

Take heart, fellow New Englanders. Winter is on its last legs and we can rejoice in the early, tentative signs of spring: the strengthening sun, the returning birds, and the fact that I’m not currently throwing a snowball in your face.

As we do every year, we tried at first to embrace the winter by skiing and skating and sledding — but these diversions soon grew stale and it became apparent that we’d only make it through this long, trying season if some of us were firing densely-packed projectiles and others of us were being struck by them.

I’m sure we’d all agree that time went by faster, that things were much less boring, living in that heightened state of tension, anxiously wondering from which direction the next snow “grenade” would fly — into our faces, our chests, our groins — but knowing deep in our hearts that with each new explosive thump against the side of someone’s head, spring was getting just a little bit closer.

What was once a tedious slog along the sidewalk or through a mini-mall parking lot became, almost magically, a nerve-rattling game of cat and mouse, particularly for our senior citizens. True, it may have always ended badly for the mouse, but let’s not forget that sometimes the cat forgot to take his gloves and as a result his fingers got pretty numb — a fate he gladly suffered to keep your veins surging with adrenaline and mild annoyance.

How many times were dreary days momentarily brightened in this manner? How many shrieks of surprise and feverish giggles and shouted profanities rang out over the snowy landscape? Too many to count. And to dwell on. Because luckily, we in these parts are a hardy breed: not the type to complain about things we have no control over, or to file class-action lawsuits. No, we are eternal optimists who strive to see the positive side in everything, which is why we’re already turning our thoughts toward fair-weather activities such as golf, gardening, and letting bygones be bygones.

That’s not to say, of course, that spring is officially here. The snow is just about gone — and unfortunately what’s left isn’t conducive to making good snowballs — but the ground is extremely wet and muddy, and will be for weeks to come. With the light at the end of the tunnel so close yet so far, this time of year can in some ways be the most taxing of all on our collective patience. And with that in mind, I’m certain we’ll continue to keep our chins up, to not complain if the occasional mud ball should slam into us, but instead be confident that with each new dirty thump against the back of someone’s head, one of us is just a little less bored than he would be otherwise.

Illustrations by Brad Jonas

It’s become disturbingly clear that many of you seem incapable of grasping office politics, or the subtleties of the aggressive rhetoric that goes along with it.

For instance, last week I said that Gary seemed to be helping himself to other people’s soda in the break room, and that we must “take back our refrigerator.” Yet I certainly didn’t want someone to booby trap the handle, so that when Gary went to get his bag lunch, he received a mild electric shock. I was simply implying that he be banned from the break room for a period of no less than two months, and that one of you ladies might want to think about filing a sexual harassment complaint.

When I declared there was no doubt that upper management had led us into an unwinnable rivalry with the accounting firm across town by showing us misleading pie charts and bar graphs, I didn’t mean they should be fired — only that we shouldn’t feel guilty about helping ourselves to office supplies, or kidnapping the CEO’s poodle and demanding a hefty ransom.

During Wednesday morning’s carpool, I was blatantly cut off and immediately remarked that the “tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of jackasses who drive gray Honda Civics,” I was by no means suggesting that one of my passengers should wait until I pulled up beside the aforementioned jackass at the next red light, then leap out of the car and slash his tire. A simple flip of the bird would have been enough, and maybe one of you could have hocked a loogie onto his window for emphasis.

When I sneered at Paul and mentioned “second floor remedies,” it wasn’t a call to drag him down to the second-floor restroom and dunk his head in the toilet. I merely meant he was acting like a jerk who might benefit from visiting that therapist on Two. Besides, there are perfectly functional toilets right here on Five, aren’t there?

Last Thursday, I noted that the office seemed to be getting increasingly warm throughout the day, and that anyone who disagreed was a willfully ignorant caveman who preferred superstition over the science of thermostats. Don’t misinterpret that as me calling you a Neanderthal. Technically, it would be more accurate to say Cro-Magnon.

And finally, when I got up on my desk earlier today and gave a rousing speech about how we should rise up against our oppressors in management, overthrow them, take over the rest of the fifth floor, and then the entire building itself, I wasn’t calling for some kind of revolution. Not at all. Anyone who thinks that is evidently reading way too much into this, and should just forget everything I said. The rest of you please meet me in the stairwell in five minutes. Bring scissors, paper weights, fountain pens, and anything else that could conceivably be used as a weapon. I want to talk to you about sports or something.

Photo by @mjb

If you’re reading this, I’m dead.

You might ask why I’d bother to write a farewell letter before going out for a simple bike ride, but I had a strange premonition that I wouldn’t be coming back, due either to a serious fall, or a collision with a reckless driver, or, more likely, some form of bear attack. (There’s a patch of woods on Castle Road just large enough to harbor a ravenous bear, so I assume that’ll be the spot where my number comes up.)

If you’re wondering why I still intend to go riding, all I can say is that I refuse to live in fear. You have to go out there and take life by the horns, even if that means going for a leisurely ride around the neighborhood on a pleasant summer evening and pedaling extra hard past the woods on Castle Road.

My love and affection to you all.

Dear Friends,

If you’re reading this, I never made it back from work. I can only surmise that my car broke down during my commute, and while peering helplessly under the hood, I was savagely mauled and subsequently devoured by a bear… or quite possibly an entire family of bears.

This news may come as quite a shock to you, but not to me, which is why I had this note prepared in anticipation of my grisly fate. (That wasn’t meant as a pun; although the Griz represents a constant danger, I feel it’s far more likely to be a black or brown bear that ultimately feasts on me.)

You see, the route to the office takes me along several country roads, which, as any wildlife expert will tell you, are far more likely to be the site of a bear attack than a more urban setting, such as a town square or freeway off-ramp. But I needed no wildlife expert to tell me something terrible was going to happen today, and that the terrible something would involve a rampaging bear.

I’d like to take this opportunity to let each and every one of you know just how much you mean to me, that you must not take anything for granted in this life, and that I’ve always sort of suspected, deep down, I would end up suffering a horrific, bear-related death.

Dear Friends,

If you’re reading this, it means I was set upon by a bear while attempting to take my trash to the curb. (It’s common knowledge that bears will seek out scraps of food from the garbage, and that, if they get the chance, will pounce on anyone with a Hefty bag in his hands, even if that person heard a twig snap somewhere and is sprinting back to the house as fast as possible.)

Please don’t grieve for me. I knew the risks, yet chose to take life by the horns and carry out that trash knowing full well it spelled certain doom.

Dear Friends,

If you’re reading this, I’m dead.

You didn’t know it, but some time ago I came across three separate wildlife documentaries in less than a week, and for a while there I’d been obsessed about encountering a man-eating bear. I even went to the extreme of writing farewell letters each and every time I left the house, which were to be read upon the event of my inevitable death by bear. Thinking back on it, it all seems so incredibly foolish, and paranoid, and even a bit funny, now that I’ve been ripped to shreds by a ferocious mountain lion.

Illustrations by Hallie Bateman

Several high-profile filmmakers were attached to the project at different points, but all ended up passing due to scheduling conflicts or a fear that crotch shots had gone out of style in favor of face plants, skateboard tumbles, and escalator rides gone horribly, horribly wrong.

In an effort to maintain secrecy regarding the production, copies of the script — as well as call sheets, t-shirts, hats and buttons — were labeled with the misleading title Man Gets Nailed in Goodies with Baseball Bat.

Two different endings were shot: one in which Victim unwittingly stands too close to Golfer as he swings the club, and another in which Victim is waiting in an endless line at the DMV when a nine-iron comes flying into the scene out of nowhere. Hesitant studio executives balked at the latter, claiming it was too Kafkaesque and that audiences wouldn’t be able to relate.

Although the initial plan was to shoot against a painted backdrop, the director later insisted they film on location at Louie’s Pitch ‘n Putt. Already nervous execs predicted disaster when the movie subsequently went over budget by $14.

To make matters worse, principal photography ran long by nearly twenty minutes, causing several of the locals playing behind the crew to yell rude things and demand that they be allowed to play through.

The original actor who played Victim had to be replaced because he couldn’t stop from flinching, take after take, an instant before receiving the crotch shot. No one can seem to remember his name or, for that matter, the name of the actor who took over the role.

After preview audiences complained that the ending was too abrupt, a six-second epilogue was hastily written and shot in which Golfer laughs hysterically and Victim painfully mutters his now famous catchphrase before blacking out from the pain.

It was extremely difficult to get the mechanical shark to work properly, and the director was forced to work around it — a creative challenge that resulted in the film coming out significantly different from what was originally planned.

If you look closely, you’ll notice a shadowy figure wandering in the background of the scene. Rumors allege that this is the ghost of a golfer who was struck and killed by lightning more than 30 years ago, and that he’s doomed to roam the course for all eternity. This is true.

The movie studio wanted nothing to do with the finished product and refused to distribute it, so the director signed up at YouTube and the rest is history. Within a month, the movie had been viewed 800,000 times and linked by several prominent blogs, setting a new standard in the genre of mindless crotch humor.

A director’s cut, using the alternate ending, was uploaded just last week and isn’t faring nearly as well. Devastation69 called it “Sucktastic…go slink off and die,” while MrHappyPants remarked that, although it was a noble experiment, ultimately it was too Kafkaesque and he couldn’t relate.