Once My Looks Go, I've Got Nothing

                When Disneyland announced its plans to reopen in a reduced capacity for California residents after a lengthy COVID closure, I couldn't help but think that said reopening might prove to be a truly unforgettable experience due to a confluence of circumstances unique to this place and time. For starters, the limited number of guests allowed at the park was sure to result in shorter wait times for the park's attractions, even taking into account that some of them (like the Matterhorn Bobsleds) would be out of commission. I was also very curious to see firsthand how the park would change its operations to accommodate current public safety restrictions. Of course, I was excited at the possibility of visiting the newest, Star Wars -themed land, which had not been open on my last visit, and of experiencing rides that I had either so far missed (the Cars racers ride in California Adventure comes to mind) or that had been changed/upgraded in the interim (like the Haunted

This story follows the events of my debut novel, Henry Garrison, St. Dante's Savior . You don't need to have read the novel for this to make sense (at least, I don't think so), but it certainly doesn't hurt. Hope you enjoy my first short fiction in quite a while! The heavenly aromas of Thanksgiving wafted into Henry Garrison's nostrils, enrapturing him with their particular blend of herbaceous seasonal delights. The savory fragrance of the freshly-brined turkey, the comforting perfume of warm sage in the stuffing, the buttery bouquet of mashed potatoes. And to top it all off, the uniquely tantalizing scent of the big bowl of- Henry's mind snapped back to reality as Ms. Tegg's monotonous recitation of the day's economics lesson hit an unexpected peak as she reached the topic of incentives. Something approaching joy filled her voice as she discussed remuneration, and it was very distracting. The wall clock read 2:47 PM. Each whispered tick represented

         I awaken with a simple desire: to pick up where I left off in Final Fantasy III . I am finally getting around to playing the game, two years after its initial release, in the fallow period before I get my Nintendo 64 for Christmas. I am borrowing my friend's copy, as well as a gargantuan strategy guide he has downloaded from the primordial internet that is approximately the size of the FBI's file on the John F. Kennedy assassination. These few late autumn days off from school give me the precious time I need to take on this adventure that some say lasts upwards of a hundred hours. I have spent the last several wandering back and forth through a small patch of forest fighting dinosaurs.      I'm still adjusting to my environment. Just a few months ago, my family moved on up from our mobile home of ten years to a two-story townhouse on the other side of the city. Though I'm still rather annoyed that we never went back to retrieve the rest of my belongings as

Between my screeds about Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and my critically acclaimed novel , people sometimes forget that I am quite an accomplished comedy writer. I mean, it takes a certain level of talent to create public access television for literal years (let's not speculate on specifically what level that is). In addition to chortle-inducing articles for this blog and my hilarious off-off-Broadway musical comedy Oh, Bridget! , I once wrote a screenplay for a sitcom pilot that my father described as "kind of funny, in places." Why am I telling you all this? Well, you see, I have recently taken it upon myself to begin another intensive comedy proyecto , and I have come to realize in the course of working on it that I could get a twofer going and turn it into a lesson for you, my loyal and enraptured audience. A real master class in comedy, if you will. Allow me to explain. Comedy, much like open heart surgery, is quite difficult. But you know what they say: spl

I have spent the last few weeks tirelessly laboring on a thorough Yelp review for a local Popeye's Louisiana Kitchen. I feel my work is important enough that I would like to share it with my blog readers as well. However, since I know my readers are busy people, I've cut away all the fluff and excerpted the most salient material here. I apologize if some of you find this intensely disturbing. I should have known I was in for a rough time when I pull into the Popeye's parking lot. There are no parking spots within easy walking distance except for a single space directly in front of the restaurant. Now, normally this would be ideal, but the space is clearly marked "20 Minute Parking." So great, now I'm in a race against time! Asking me to divine the future and somehow predict how long I'm going to be at Popeye's is a fool's errand, so right from the beginning I'm acutely aware of the fact that I'm going to have to rush my meal and watch

  A Whopper of an Error Given how well the previous day's excursion into the more touristy sections of Tokyo had gone, it seemed like a good idea to continue along that path on Wednesday. As such, Sheila and I planned to go visit the Imperial Palace in the Chiyoda ward of Tokyo. I mean, how often do you get to see something like that? We don't even have an emperor in America, at least according to Wikipedia. Before we set out to Chiyoda, though, we needed to fuel up for the day ahead. We decided to have a nutritious breakfast at Burger King; after all, as the old adage goes, you are what you eat, and what better to be than a king? And if there is one single word to describe how I felt ordering some breakfast hot dogs, it would be "regal." Or at least briefly regal, until I realized that the cashier gave us change for a 1,000 yen bill when I had in fact handed her 10,000. At that point, you could say I was fairly nonplussed. Even when both parties are fluent in