WriteOnTheRock

How To Start A Home Business In a Foreign Country

    Magdelena stood in the doorway, framed by the rising sun, and said, “Would you like to go with me to visit Uncle?”
    “Oh, yes,” I replied, not wanting to pass up any opportunity for cultural enrichment.
    I put on my shoes and started down the path with her.
    “Uh… I should tell you…” she began, and then trailed off.
    “Yes? What is it?”
    “Well, you see… Uncle is, ah… well, you know… dead. I hope you don’t mind.”
    “Not at all,” I reassured her. “I like meeting dead people—they are so… so…

What The Government Thinks About Mushrooms

    “I can’t breathe too good in my house,” the young woman complained.
    “And why would that be?” I asked.
    “Because of the mushrooms.”
    “Mushrooms. Hmmm. Uh… can you tell me… well… just how the mushrooms interfere with your breathing?”
    “They have pores.”
    “Pores? Oh, you mean, spores?”
    “That’s what I said. Pores. They have pores.”
    “And where might these mushrooms be?”
    “Behind my

What You Need To Know About Babies

    My new bike was several sizes too big for me, but my father said I would grow into it. He didn’t say how long that would take, so I worked it out—I don’t remember exactly how—and concluded that

How To Draw A Ship

    When I was little, I drew ships. I was good at ships. The view was

The Monopod Sage

    “Me too!” the little old man insisted, using up two of the dozen or so English words he knew. He slid off the examining table onto his only leg and bounced . . .

The Truth About Old Tires

“They don’t look like old tires to me,” she observed.

“See?” I said, showing her the

Those Elderly Nuns!

    “Fine little unit,” the used car salesman assured me. “Owned by an elderly nun who only drove it to church.”

    I’ve had several fine little units, most of them previously owned by elderly nuns, and

California?

    It was May 24, and after eight months of winter, the temperature finally rose to minus ten. Children emerged from their tiny houses to 

What To Do With All Those Words

    The application form said, “Describe yourself in fifty words or less.”

Dear Dr. Smith

Dear Dr. Smith

    During our recent telephone encounter, I couldn’t help but wonder (although it may have been just my imagination) if you were ever-so-slightly unhappy about something. It’s difficult to put my finger on it exactly, but I think it was a phrase you used—"you incompetent idiot"—that first started me wondering. I quickly dismissed the thought, knowing, as I do, that you have an impeccable reputation for congeniality and diplomacy. But then, when you invited me to your office for a lobotomy . . .