Category Archives: Humorous

With God On My Side

“Now I lay me down to sleep . . .” I mumbled.

It was bedtime and here I was, another mildly fatigued, upwardly mobile, young professional praying against the side of his bed, fetchingly arrayed in wine-red pajamas and white deerskin slippers. “I pray the Lord my soul to keep. . .” etc., etc. etc.

It was the usual last-thing-before-I-sleep bedtime prayer and I was positioning myself to make a few minor requests.

“. . . I wanted to thank you for all the good stuff in my life,” I offered God, “…especially for last month’s 7.6 percent annualized return on my investments. I still can’t believe it, given how the economy is still struggling.”

Now came the subtle shift . . .

“But, you know . . . there’s one itsy-bitsy area where I could use a little more help: my career. More specifically, I could use a little boost in the acceleration, if you know what I mean . . . ”

Next thing that happened was quite noteworthy, because God Himself interrupted me to reply, “No I don’t know what you mean, Paul Steven! I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. Boost in the acceleration! Who prays to God for a boost in the acceleration? Please make your request again, but this time speak more plainly.”

Well, yes, that was strange. God doesn’t, as a rule, talk to me when I talk to Him. As far as I can remember, this was the first time and it made me uncomfortable. Put yourself in my place: I could accidentally say the wrong thing to God and whoof!, before I knew it, I’d be some lower-order slave scrubbing porta-potties in Purgatory.

God’s voice was thin, and whiny—sort of like Pee Wee Herman’s—rising disembodied from the black grilled heating register on my bedroom floor. Most times, warm air came up through the grill; but this night it was the Voice Of God.

I was a little embarrassed about being more explicit with my prayer, but I didn’t have much choice.

“To be blunt,” I said, whispering tightly into prayer-clasped hands, “you know how I’m competing with Cindy Washburn for the Creative Director’s job, and how she’s done such balls-out work on the Kritter Litter ad account . . . ?

“Yes . . . ?” God replied. “And so . . . ?”

Still whispering, I asked, through awkward pauses, “Well, I’d like you . . . you know . . . to do something . . . to Cindy . . . so she doesn’t win the CD gig. Something small, not too damaging. Nothing like a car accident or a Nancy Kerrigan, but maybe she could suddenly develop a horrible rash, or maybe sales of Kritter Litter could fall through the floor . . . something like that. (Listen to me telling you your job!) is that specific enough?”

“Perfectly!” God answered with brisk efficiency. “I’d be happy to cover Cindy in a really repulsive, red rash but unfortunately you have too many reality-altering prayers already in process. I’m not sure I can add another one to the list until we clean up some of the others.”

“What others?” I asked, surprised.

“What others!?!” God exclaimed. “Where do I start? How about with Angela Firehouse? Surely you haven’t forgotten Angela Firehouse with whom you fell in love, and at whom you prayed me direct the charms of cupid’s arrows on your behalf. You remember now?”

“Vaguely,” I softly replied.

“You no doubt recall she is currently the wife of Edgar Firehouse, and that both the Firehouses currently live in the house next door to yours.”

“I know where they live.”

“Good Heavens, Paul Steven,” God added gleefully, “she’s your neighbor’s wife!”

“I’m a happily married man,” I countered. “I wouldn’t have done anything wrong had you given me the chance, which you didn’t, thanks a lot!”

“Hey, I tried,” God snapped back. “The lady wasn’t interested. She must have been praying for the strength to resist your charms. Besides, it’s a Universal Law that everyone gets what they deserve. You, she, even those thousands of terrorists you prayed for me to slaughter, which I’m still working on (just so you know). It’s not easy destroying entire subsets of the population and, besides, I never pretended to be good with details . . .”

That’s interesting! God talking to me like some insurance salesman confronting the enormity of his ignorance.

God continued, almost petulantly, “Now I have to add in the body rash you want inflicted on Cindy Washburn . . .”

“Will you do it for me?” I asked eagerly.

“I told you, everybody gets what they deserve,” God said with a peevish snort. “If Cindy deserves a rash, she’ll get the rash she deserves. Get it?”

“You’re a strange kind of God,” I offer. “Not like the God they taught me about in Sunday School. Don’t take this personally, but you seem rather shallow and petty-minded. Whoever heard of God being so easily bored and so quick to get angry? Instead of helping me resist my weaker nature, You seem happy to pander to its weaknesses.

“Just think about it!” I exclaimed. “I prayed for you to kill off thousands of Islamist extremists and you never once mentioned a thing to me about loving my neighbor or about how wrong it would be to take a human life. And whenever I pray for personal gain at someone’s else expense, You jump right to it, and never point out my selfishness. You’re a strange God, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Hey, Paul Steven,” the Voice replied, coming up through the vent. “I thought you’d figure it out by now . . .”

“Yes . . . ?”

“Everybody gets the God they deserve.”

Tales Of The Book Part Eleven


“HOW TO TRAIN A ROCK”

The first thing one notices about rocks is they are essentially quiet creatures. Adverse to long discourses or extended bouts of conversation, they nevertheless are quite engaged in life. Constantly pondering the deepest and densest of life’s mysteries, thereby distracted to an apparent state of inertia, they are thought to be dull companions and highly unsuited to racquet sports or most other forms of physical activity.

Here at the International Rock Training Institute we have discovered, and proven, I believe, that rocks are far more capable and sentient than we humans generally believe. In fact, it’s the rocks’ very ability to conceal their considerable capabilities from the general population that underscores the scope of their hidden powers.

So, what to expect when you bring home one of these seemingly inanimate creatures as a pet?

Expect love. Lots of love. Pound for pound, there isn’t a more loving, open-hearted creature than a rock, though they can be fickle at times. Until recently it was thought rocks heated up in the sun because of the sun’s rays. After much research, we now know their rising temperatures are psycho-romantic reactions. Rocks tenderly exhibiting warm feelings for their cousin, the Sun. Similar to the way their temperatures will flare-up when they’re with their masters. Unfortunately, such displays of affection often go unnoticed, leading to a deep-seated fear of rejection and humiliation in most mature rocks.

As unfortunate as that may sound, this fear of rejection will prove an important tool in helping you train a rock of your own. A simple example will prove the point.

Let us pretend we are training a rock to keep us company while watching TV in the evenings. Right off, most of us would make the mistake of placing the rock on a nearby chair or perhaps on the TV itself.

Ask yourself, could you watch TV if you were sitting on top of the TV? Of course you couldn’t. And neither could a rock.

As for the chair, it demoralizes the intimacy-starved rock to be placed so far away from you. It derails the very trust and intimacy you were seeking to instill. Far better to place your rock on a nearby coffee table at the beginning of the training cycle. The idea being, of course, to gradually inch the rock closer to you on successive evenings. By tantalizing the trainee rock with your increasing proximity, you enflame its desire for closeness, and will soon find not only a docile rock sitting on your lap, but a companionable one as well.

The majority of rocks that visit the International Rock Training Institute come here for our “Good Companions” curriculum, which trains rocks for companionable relationships with all types of masters except toddlers, who need to be first trained not to eat rocks or stick them in their playmates’ eyes. We also offer a curriculum focused on “Security” for rocks being channeled into careers as Watchrocks or, possibly, projectiles.

Training a rock requires, well, rocklike patience. Much like human beings, rocks form impressions and psychological patterns in their early years that help shape their entire lives going forward. These impressionable “teen” rocks should be treated with great care and with great tolerance for their periodic mood swings and narcissistic bingeing. Should you discover you’re in possession of a teen rock rather than a mature one, don’t expect to win its trust anytime soon.

Unfortunately, we won’t have time this week to discuss “strays”, the wild, untamable rocks you find scattered most everywhere. Suffice it to say, many of the wild stories one hears about these highly independent rocks are true. They are unstable creatures to say the least. Unfriendly, sharply cunning and not very trustworthy. I would not want a stray rock living in my home, not even with my children fully grown and out of the house.

More about strays later on. For now, I’ll close this week’s “A Rock’s Throw” by inviting you, as always, to send me your questions about rocks and their proper training. Again, I must sternly request you do NOT send me the rocks themselves. And whoever threw that rock through the Institute’s lab window yesterday, I should warn you your rock has already conveyed your vital information to the police who are now on their way.

I forgot to mention, rocks are notoriously disloyal.

The above is the eponymous story from the collection, “How To Train A Rock” by Paul Steven Stone, available on Amazon.com. For more information, go to HowToTrainARock. com, or the author’s site at PaulStevenStone.com.

Tales Of The Book Part Five

Lo Galluccio Reviews “Refractions of Love”

‘Refractions of Love’ is the Second Rock Trick in “How To Train A Rock” by Paul Steven Stone, available on Amazon.com. To learn more about Lo Galluccio, Boston area poet, writer, songstress and avant garde performer, go to www.logalluccio.weebly.com or logalluccio@blogspot.com

Tales Of The Book Part One


NASA CALLS “HOW TO TRAIN A ROCK”
AN ESSENTIAL FOR ASTRONAUTS

Places Groundbreaking Book
In Astronaut’s Survival Kit

CAPE CANAVERAL—Officials at this NASA launch station recently declared “How To Train A Rock”, a collection of Short Insights and Fiction Flights written by Paul Steven Stone, an essential ingredient in the Astronaut’s Survival Kit. The kit, first developed by NASA in response to the fatiguing effects of ultra-boring space flights, is made up mostly of books and DVD’s.

“We added The Rock Training Book because it offered our astronauts something they could use to survive the long endless night of flying in space,” explained Jeffrey Sloane, NASA public management director. “The book offers its readers fifty journeys into the world of creative expression. Fifty short ‘stories’ that shine a light on the essential madness of life’s enterprises. Light that illuminates laughter, insight and emotion in copious quantities.”

Argenon Fortnip, the space shuttle’s on-board chef, expressed a view that many at this major Florida tourist attraction share, “Hey kiss my a&%! It aint no none of your business nohow. If people on my flying f&*%ing ‘space diner’ want to read “How To Train A F&*%ing Rock” thats no none of your business neither.”

Lance Armstrong, NASA’s newest celebrity astronaut, was quoted as saying, “I don’t know what they’re talking about. Far as I can tell, this is just another sneaky way Paul Steven Stone is foisting his book “How To Train A Rock” onto a weary, unprotected population of habitual readers.

“I’ll prove it,” Armstrong went on to say. “Just watch. Somehow, before this news story ends, Paul Steven Stone will manage to mention that you can purchase “How To Train A Rock” on Amazon.com.”

“He might even suggest you can check it out at HowToTrainARock.com.”

Or So It Seems—The Novel

Or So It Seems a novel by Paul Steven Stone
Part odyssey, part oddball adventure, “Or So It Seems” offers a breathtaking look at one man’s spiritual journey.
A growing legion of fans are applauding “Or So It Seems”, taking it to their hearts like earlier generations embraced “Catcher In The Rye” and “Catch-22”. In Paul Peterson, the novel’s narrator, we are given a comically tragic hero beset by divorce, single parenthood and the difficulties of living a simple life in a complex universe. It’s Peterson’s search for answers to the mysteries of his life that powers and accelerates this fantastic adventure.
Never before has a novel so effortlessly—and humorously—synthesized Eastern philosophy into a palatable feast for the Western mind.
To learn more about this unique novel, visit OrSoItSeems.info.