My Death

This is a country you only hear about when there is a failed coup or a 7.2 magnitude earthquake or all the whales have syphilis. Most days I feel as if hundreds of tiny worms with razor teeth are whittling my bones. People who have seen me grab onto a wall to keep from falling down in pain sometimes suggest I try heat or special creams. I thank them just to be polite. Meanwhile, a figure in a long black coat lurking nearby sucks on a cigarette, then expels a mouthful of smoke like the monster in a fairy tale.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's chapbook Famous Long Ago is forthcoming from Laughing Ronin Press.

Mathematical Calamity

Calamity followed him everywhere. His primary school was destroyed in a tornado. His middle school suffered an earthquake. His high school burned down in an electrical fire.

As the catastrophes mounted, journalists and theologians began looking at the pattern and noticed him at its center. They speculated he was a malevolent hell-spawn.

It wasn't until his death at the age of one hundred and seven, a four-time widower and the survivor of several plane crashes, two world wars, and the nuclear holocaust, that a mathematician finally made the proper assessment.

Ralph Warner was officially the luckiest man to ever live.

I Can't Tell If Jason's Being Sarcastic At The End

On the day you were born, Jason, you nearly died.

I know, Dad. You've told me a million times.

Sure. But did I tell you the part where you and your mother fell 30 stories?

Yes, just as the truck full of pillows drove by.

Right. Well, what about the earthquake?

Yeah, that too. I get it. I was super lucky to survive.

I'm sorry. Anyway, I wanted you to have this for your graduation. It's the grenade that marine accidentally dropped into your baby basket. It was a dud.

Wow. I didn't know that part of the story. Thanks, Dad.

The Daily Theme from Figment for March 8, 2012

Talisman transformation: Tell the story of how an ordinary object becomes a person's lucky charm.