Gallstones

Ernie Shmouse failed to get into medical school, so despite deep ideological opposition, he attended a school for naturopathic medicine, and became a bored, certified ND.

“My doctor says I have gallstones, and that I should have surgery,” Tabitha said, “but I just don’t believe in surgery.”

“Sure. Surgery,” Ernie drew air quotes.

“What?”

“It doesn’t exist.”

“What?”

“Anyway, I have some snake oil for gallstones. Eat nothing but apples for five days, and then drink lots of lemon juice mixed with olive oil. You’ll be cured after your morning tinkle. Or maybe you won’t, and you really just need surgery.”

First Contact

“Greetings, Earthlings!” One handsomely rugged alien proclaimed, brushing sandy blonde hair out of his face, and stepping down from his interplanetary vehicle.

“Are you fr..from the future?” The President stuttered.

“Time travel’s impossible,” a tall, slender female alien responded. “We come from another planet.”

Stunned, the President asked, “How can that be? You look exactly li...like us.”

The two extremely attractive aliens shared a look and replied, “actually, we look much better than you, but that’s only because we’ve discovered the secret to timeless beauty, and for just 12 easy payments of $29.95, you can discover that secret, too.”

Probiotics

After consuming several gallons of summer berry probiotic yogurt, Hanson was curled in a ball on his bed contemplating the tragic urge to consume without constraint when mired in misery.

“You are completely infertile,” the doctor had said.

“There isn’t anything I can do? If I don’t get my wife pregnant, she’ll leave me. I’m basically just a turkey baster to her.”

“Well, some people recommend special diets. But there’s no scientific evidence to support any of it.”

And thus Hanson found himself feeling like he had eaten cement instead of yogurt, and considering the point at which probiotics became conbiotics.

Wonder and Discovery

The wedding had passed without a hitch, and the honeymoon was over. Now he was alone for the first time since they were together, and as co-workers all around him buzzed like crickets, the full weight of his decision came to bear upon him. There was a little less wonder in his world now, a little less discovery.

“Do you think I should’ve waited a little longer to get married?” He asked the co-worker next to him.

His co-worker gave him an exasperated look and, as bullets whizzed past their heads, he yelled, “Iraqi soldiers are shooting at you, Private! Shoot back!”

Rumours

When the police declared that Troy was no longer a person of interest in the murder of Carlos Silva, rumours about the mysterious circumstances of Carlos' death began to circulate among the students of their high school. None, however, was as powerful as the story of a vengeful freshman who executed perfectly his plan to have his bully executed.

When Paula––Carlos’ girlfriend, and fellow bully––was found stabbed to death in her bedroom, the student body were sure that Troy had done it. When the police, again, cleared him of any wrongdoing, the high school buzzed in fear and excitement.