Three Stories

Orange Ashtray


Or would it be orange tray? That sounds like a tray of oranges, but these aren’t oranges, they’re ashes. I burned the oranges with the orange tip of my cigarette. Orange plus orange equals fire, more orange, but then fire turns to ash, gray. Gray is not as nice as orange, but things don’t always have to be nice I suppose.




***




A Lesson on the Values of Not Being Picky


The trees are eating the buildings. Or maybe the buildings are eating the trees, I can’t tell from here. Either way I don’t like it. Didn’t their mothers ever tell them it’s rude to eat your neighbors? Unless, of course, your neighbors are green vegetables, in which case you really have no choice. Green vegetables are evil and must be destroyed. Everyone knows that.



***



Emily Post



The trees are stabbing the sky. Not the trees with leaves, they are just cuddling. The trees without leaves are the ones being so violent towards such a lovely blue sky. At first, this seemed quite impolite, for those trees to be poking the sky with their nakedness. Now, it seems obvious how very impolite the sky has been to those trees. He snatched away their pretty green sweaters and they just want them back. The sky thinks he can be a bully because he’s so much bigger, and the trees don’t understand that the only way to respond to a bully is not to respond. Maybe I should tell them, but I won’t, because that would only make them fell stupid, which would be very impolite of me.