John is writing a story about a person writing a story about a person whose name is not known. In the stories, the plot is based on the proposition that if the person fails to discover the name of the person whose name is not known, then the person whose name is not known kills the person who fails to discover the name. One day the person who doesn’t know the name meets the person whose name is not known. "What’s my name?" asks the person whose name is not known. "I don’t know," replies the person who does not know the name. "It’s John, fool!" he says, killing the person who has failed to discover the name. "Ah yes," says he, before he dies, "but now is the end of the story, John, and it is you who are no more!" by Jack © Copyright S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.
name is not known
peculiar diseases
Mysterious doctors treat mysterious ailments and peculiar diseases, including but by no means limited to: Housemaid's Knee, Nutcracker's Jaw, Wanker's Wrist, Quackenburger's Dropsy, Vociferous Benedectine Disorder, Penile Flaccidosis, Wandering Gaulbladder, Weeping Nipple Syndrome, Horrendis Flatulensis, Frankenfurter's Teratogenetic Orchidomia, Botoxicosoid Epidermal Failure, Hog-snout Syndrome, Thrush, Sparrow, and of course virulent Monday-itis.
© Copyright S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.
kidding, kids and kidneys
JonJon Johnson and his gnaw-wegian friend, Gnawman, decided to ignaw their promise to JonJon’s father, Doctor Jonathan Johnson, not to enter the laboratory in the gnawth wing of the egnawmous old house where the Johnsons lived. The laboratory was where Doctor Johnson, disregarding the gnawms of his profession, performed ugnawthodox experiments to find ways to help JonJon’s sister Gnawma, repair the kidney damage she had suffered as a result of her agnawrexia. The two gnawty little boys waited until the sound of Doctor Johnson’s sgnawring told them the coast was clear. At midnight they entered the laboratory, full of excitement and exuberance. Unfortunately, in the dark they knocked over a rack of bottles containing dangerous chemicals. The bottles broke and the chemicals combined to create a cloud of toxic gas. The boys snuffled and sgnawted as the gas entered their nostrils. Soon they both felt very gnawseous. Awoken by the noise, Doctor Johnson arrived, switched on the lights, and opened the windows to dispel the poison gas. “I’m very disappointed,” Doctor Johnson said to Jonjon, “Clearly neither you gnaw your gnawdic friend feel that the gnawmal rules apply to you.” “But Dad, we thought we heard a burglar, but it must have been a rat, gnawing the table so it fell over,” said JonJon. “How ugnawriginal,” replied Doctor Johnson, “That’s the feeblest excuse I’ve ever heard. You’ve broken your promise. You’ve behaved dishognawrably. You are both ignawrant little boys. This is not a mignaw mistake. You have jeopardised your sister’s recovery. All my research has been for gnawt, thanks to you.” At that moment, the phone rang. It was the hospital calling to advise that a suitable kidney dognaw had been found. Doctor Johnson bundled Gnawma into the car and drove to the hospital. There was little traffic but it seemed to take an ignawdinately long time to get there. After the transplant, Gnawma made a full recovery. At the end of the holidays, Gnawman returned to Gnaw-way. A year or so later he read in the newspaper that Doctor Johnson had invented a new method of dialysis. The newspaper cost Gnawman 10 Krognaw, (gnawrse currency). © Copyright S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.
Strangest Jobs in History
- de-dagger: One who removes balls (dags) of dried shit from the fleece around the arseholes of sheep. A specialised agricultural discipline, the leading exponents in which hail mainly from Australia and New Zealand (where men are men and sheep are nervous).
gallstone trader: A certified practitioner usually with accreditation permitting buy and/or sell activities on gallstone trading floors under the aegis of the Global Body Parts Exchange (GLOBOPARTEX).
- butcher's dwarf: Once a lucrative and respected profession, nowadays practised only in remote parts of Kazakhstan. Required skills include removal of bloodstained sawdust.
- chicken whisperer: See "Ludwig, Brunhilde, Osbert and Depravity--a history of the von Cuckenhagen clan".
- map colourer: See "Jobs, jibes and jube-jubes: Encyclopaedia of mental illness, chapter 73, mathematical madness, section iii, map colouring".
Strangest Jobs in History is based on data obtained via face to face interviews. Thanks to everyone who generously gave of their time and knowledge to help make Strangest Jobs a reality.
© Copyright S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.
wrath of grapes
Basil was running out of thyme, so he didn't brush his hair. Not that he had much--his shiny, bald dome was parsley covered. "Holy crap, look at that mango," smirked Gus to the others. After Basil had weed he washed his hands then joined his friends. He was surprised to see Gus had his arm around Rose, Basil's ex-girlfriend. "Hey Rose," said Basil, "How ya bean? Having funGus? Lettuce have a drink. What's your poison? Usual?" "Root beer, and make that a double," said Meg. "You're such a nutmeg," said Basil, "C'mon, I'll need some help carrying. Lettuce go up to the barley." When Lee and Basil got back, Rose and Gus were embracing passionately. "Look at the pear of you," said Basil, putting the drinks down. "Not leaving us mushroom, are you? Thanks very mulch!" "Squash in here next to me," said Meg. Basil and Lee squeezed themselves in. "Didn't you know they got engaged? Show us the ring, Rose," said Meg. Rose disentangled herself from Gus and held out her hand for inspection. "Two and half carrots," she said proudly. "Amaizing," said Basil trying hard not to reveal his true feelings, but failing. "Whassamatter Baz," said Gus, "Don't be such a grinch." "I yam what I yam," replied Basil, "but at least mine's a longan!" "Oh yeah? Says who?" "Sesame," snarled Basil, "yew make me sycamore I look at yew!" At that point began a sequince of events they would all have cause to regret in the future. "Get a grip, the both of you," shouted Meg above the background noise, "thistle clear your head!" Then she emptied a glass of icy water into Gus's face. "You beech!" he screamed. Lurching to his feet he aimed a punch at Basil but missed and toppled over, hitting his head on the edge of the table. It was many years later that Meg and Rosemary were able to meet for a conciliatory coffee. "How is he?" asked Meg. "Getting better, slowly," she replied, "but there are still some daisy can't even get out of bed. Has to take apple every half hour for the pain. The physio's coming over tomarrow so that'll help." "I'm berry, berry sorry, Rose, truly I am," said Meg. After that, there was not much more to be said. They finished their coffees in chilli silence and went their separate ways. © Copyright S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.
Arriving at the pub he saw his friends Rosemary, Gus, Meg and Lee at a corner table but he desperately had to pea so he headed straight for the gents.
scapegoat
His name was Godfrey. His friends called him "Goat". He had busted out of prison a few days earlier. Since his escape Goat had been on the lamb, coppers dogging his every move. It was driving him batty. He yearned for a gnawmal life, but he'd never toad the line for long enough to settle down. It was raining heavily as he made his way to where his girlfriend Gwyneth and her sister Anna lived. Godfrey knocked on the door. No response. Standing in the rain, he knocked again. Still nothing. He smelled a rat. It was all very fishy but what choice did he have? Finally, after shouting himself horse, the door opened. "Come on in out of the reindeer," said Gwyneth. "Hey Gwin, what kept ya," said Godfrey, "I was beginning to suspect fowl play." He followed her into the house. Anna was on the phone. "Quit yakking," said Godfrey to Anna, "I gotta make a call. Important business." Turning to Gwyneth he said, "Hey Gwin, throw some steaks on the gorilla, I'm ravenous." Then he went to the bathroom to freshen up. Anna got off the phone. "He's got some nerve," she said to Gwyneth, "swanning around like he owns the place. 'Important business' ...what a load of bull! Eel never treat ya right, jus' like I always said. I don't know how you can bear it. In fact, there's something I've been meaning to tell ya…" Godfrey came out of the bathroom, then called his sidekick, JoJo. "Hey JoJo," he said, "Let's talk turkey. I'm on the lamb and I need some bucks. How much is in the kitty?" "Not much, Goat, I've had some expenses…" "Don't you monkey around with me! You can duck and weave all you like but I know you still got 10 grand from that last job. That otter do it. Meet me in the usual place tomorrow at nine." Putting down the phone Godfrey was startled to see Gwyneth pointing a gun at him. "You filthy cheetah!" she screamed, "Anna's tole me all about it…" "She's lion, Gwin," said Godfrey, "she's conning you, I swear." Gwyneth suspected Anna was lion. Had annaconda? Maybe, maybe not. She wasn't sure. Either she'd been condor she hadn't. Godfrey sensed she was beginning to have her doubts. Then he had an idea. "Pick up that penGuin, and write this down," he said, wanting to tell her the PIN of his secret Swiss bank account. But by then the police had arrived. They entered the house and read Goat his rights. He listened with a sheepish grin on his face. Then they cuffed him and led him away. © Copyright S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.
by the rivers of Babble On
"Morning all, hope we are all well and having fun today on this bright and sunny morn," said the Multiverse to zer parts. "Not bad, thanks Lord, all things considered, under the circumstances," responded a few of the parts. "Has anyone seen my Son anywhere?" asked the Multiverse, aka God aka Everything That Is (ETI). "Not in ages," responded sum of ETI's parts, "nor even aeons, or eras, nor even a couple thousand years or so, Lord, to be precise." "No, no, not that son, the other one, the udder brudder, you know… Lucifer, the Fallen, the Evil One… that one." "That one is always with us, Lord," replied some of the parts, "and making a bit of a nuisance of himself, Lord, to tell the truth." "Mmm," mused ETI, "Why didn't you tell me this before? The little Beast should have been home aeons ago. I specifically told him to come straight home from Evil School!" "We tried telling you, Lord, but you were otherwise engaged," said a brave little part. "Say, what?!" "Tried calling you, Lord, quite a large number of times, but just got your voicemail, so I figured you'd popped out for a coffee and doughnut." "Why didn't you leave a message?" asked ETI. "Gosh, Lord," said the part, "I did leave a message, several in fact. But don't you already know that, what with the omniscience and all?" "Well, you see, here’s the thing" said ETI, "I don't want to instruct you in the meaning of your own words, tried that once before in Babble On, by the rivers of, but you see, being omniscient doesn't mean that I know everything. It means I know everything there is to know." "Um... if you say so, Lord," asked the confused little part, "But what's the difference between knowing everything and knowing everything there is to know? Lord?" "If you don't know now you never will," replied ETI, "but I'll give you a hint: the difference is a similar difference to that which applies between the All and the One." "Well that's just clear as mud," said the part, "thanks heaps Lord, you've been a great help." "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," replied ETI, subsuming the One into the All. © Copyright S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.
