Author Steve Murphy dares to step where no humorist has stepped before in his compilation of hilarious short stories, jokes, sketches, and illustrations that he is sure will either make him rich or get him killed.
In these stories, Murphy satirizes a children's author as he is put on the stand and drilled about his questionable book titles by an attorney who speaks in italics; shares pick-up lines tailored for a polygamist; offers life lessons from a pee-wee football coach-a former steroid user who is not afraid of anyone; and provides proof that men really can multitask by sharing the unedited thoughts of one such man as he visualizes a better future while taking a bath.
Get Rich or Die Trying captures one man's absurd sensibilities as he encourages others to share in the joy of laughter and the craziness of life.
|Product dimensions:||5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.22(d)|
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Get Rich or Die Trying
By Steve Murphy
Abbott PressCopyright © 2014 Steve Murphy
All rights reserved.
| Lame Horse |
It broke my heart to see the boy weep, but there was no way around it. Even though he loved his horse, he was going to have to shoot it. His horse had gotten lame.
I handed him the loaded shotgun, but he threw it to the ground. His love for his horse had clouded his better judgment, and he couldn't accept that the animal was suffering. So I led him into the barn, where the poor horse was lying, and let him see for himself.
"I went out for seafood last night, and ordered the clownfish. It tasted a little funny."
There was no denying it. The horse was lame.
I stepped outside the barn and left the boy alone for a final moment with his stallion. The bond between a farm boy and his horse was unbreakable, and I knew how hard it was to say goodbye. But I hoped he could take comfort from his memories of the animal: galloping through the meadow, drinking from the stream, and resting in the shade of the mighty oak tree. Those were experiences that shaped a boy's life.
"I lost my glasses, and I can't look for them until I find them."
I leaned on the fence and gazed out into the pasture, remembering the first time I had shot a horse. It was a lesson every farm boy had to learn, an essential part of his journey into farm manhood. I had loved that horse too.
"Did you hear about the midget psychic who escaped from prison? He's a small medium at large."
For a moment the boy's sadness overwhelmed me, and I considered sparing him the pain and shooting the horse myself. But a commotion from the barn interrupted that sentiment, so I grabbed the shotgun and went back inside.
As it turns out, the shotgun wasn't necessary. I found the poor stallion lying on its side, in a pool of thick crimson-red. The boy had pelted it to death with rotten tomatoes.
"Hey Dad, what has 4 legs and flies? A dead horse."
I stopped letting the boy around horses after that. Later, he took to words and numbers, and grew up into a man of accounts.
I eventually retired, and sold the farm to Monsanto Inc. for harvesting scheisty corn. I spent the rest of my days on a small plot of land, rocking in my chair and watching the sunset. And I never shot another horse again. From that day forward, I just let them die, in pain.
| Censorship and the Law |
After a short recess for lunch, we resumed right on schedule. Judge Wapner was known for his punctuality.
"Mr. Bentley, your witness." I thanked the Judge and walked confidently out onto the floor. I wasn't nervous; this case was open and shut.
"Mr. Perrault, you are in fact the author of the acclaimed novel, Puss in Boots, are you not?"
Perrault sighed. I could tell he was getting tired of answering that question.
"Yes, I am the author."
"And this novel, Puss in Boots, is a novel intended for children, correct?"
Asking and answering a question was a tactic I'd picked up when I dropped out of law school. I didn't even need witnesses anymore.
"Yes. I'm a children's author, exclusively."
"I see. So Mr. Perrault, as a children's author, you would never consider writing anything pornographic, would you?"
"No, I most certainly would not."
"Mr. Perrault, I have here several of your published novels. Could I trouble you to explain to the court the supposedly non-pornographic plots of these novels?"
I grabbed one of Perrault's books that I had piled in the shape of a pyramid, and held it up for the whole court to see. The Egyptians ruled an empire; I ruled the courtroom.
"This novel is called Cock in Sneakers. What's this novel about?"
"A common rooster, with an uncommon pair of Air Jordans."
"How about this one, titled Ass in Blades?"
"It's about a donkey who yearns to Rollerblade down the Chiléan coast, and discovers he's not the only donkey with such ass-pirations."
"How about Hooters in Hush Puppies? What's that about?"
"Owls who wear slippers! Have you ever seen such a thing?"
Perrault's geniality was very convincing, but being French didn't mean anything to me. I had a secret weapon.
"Well Mr. Perrault, if your novels are in fact children's novels, and non-pornographic, why are they posted to the website Foot-Fetishist.com?"
Perrault gasped, like I knew he would. He wasn't expecting me to know about the Internet.
"Look, I can't control what people do with my novels after they buy them. That's a problem with society, not censorship. And anyway, Foot-Fetishist.com is a member's-only site. Not everyone can see it ..."
* * *
It didn't take long for the jury to deliberate, and Judge Wapner was duly impressed with their efficiency. They unanimously convicted Perrault, and Wapner gave him twenty-five years without parole. Such is the power of a lawyer who speaks in Italics.
Soon after the trial, I went and visited Perrault in jail, to make sure there were no hard feelings. He refused to meet with me, but I did get to leave him a gift. A pair of children's shoes.
| Past Aprils |
APRIL: Why are you sitting in the dark, Jim?
JIM: I was just looking at some pictures.
APRIL: You're looking at my pictures.
JIM: This one is my favourite. You look real good in it. But I can't figure out who this lucky guy standing next to you is.
APRIL: You know who it is, Jim. Leonardo was an old friend of mine.
JIM: Just an old friend?
APRIL: This isn't fair Jim. I don't bring up your past.
JIM: I never slept with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.
| The Captain's Baggage |
He was at the head of the boat, extended over the bow, leading the Jolly Roger through the lonely night sea. I didn't expect to see the Commandant when I stumbled drunkenly out onto the deck, as Captain Hook usually retired to his quarters quite early. Anything to escape the stink of us degenerate pirates who sailed his ship.
"Evening, Smee" he said. "Lovely night for a cigar, isn't it?" At first, I thought Hook was boasting about his smoking Cohiba merely to remind me of the meaninglessness of my life. So I was taken aback when he offered me a Cohiba of my own.
In the six years that I had served him, Hook had never offered me, or any other shipmate, anything. He had also refused to save my life one time, so I was wary about accepting his generous, cancerous gift. However, that night Hook's demeanor was slightly askew, and as vague as that notion was, it justified smoking that fine, Cuban cigar.
"Thank you Captain." He chopped the stogie and lit it for me, then took a moment to inhale on his own cigar. It was long and thoughtful, and after the wretched coughing fit that followed, he spoke again. I could tell he wanted these words to have meaning.
"You know Smee, they didn't always call me Captain Hook ..."
25 YEARS EARLIER – On the Neverland Sea
The jovial Pirate bumbled out onto the deck as fast as his mania could take him, indifferent to the dangerous potential he wielded in his hands.
"HEY, CAPTAIN HAND! CATCH THIS SWORD!"
Captain Hand didn't turn around in time to understand the senseless request, but the shimmering saber that plummeted down from the air and sliced through his wrist clarified it for him.
He stared at his hand, now leisurely lying about the deck, enjoying its independence, and didn't know what to make of it. One thing was certain: Captain Hand would never be the same again.
I blew a thick stream of smoke in front of my face to temporarily hide my shock. Suddenly things made a lot more sense.
Hook was silent again, which made me uncomfortable. I suspected he now regretted privileging me with his deepest secrets, and was contemplating burning the tongue out of my mouth. But I endured his silence gallantly, for I was sure he had more to say.
"If I never grew up, I'd still have my hand attached." He spat out one last burst of tobacco smoke, and tossed the butt of his Cohiba into the ocean. Then, he rummaged through his pocket and fished something out, brandishing it in the moonlight like a trophy he had won.
"Smee, I want you to have this." It was purple and shriveled with time, but still quite clearly a dismembered hand.
I thanked him graciously for the honor, but he didn't give the hand over right away. Instead, his eyes grew wide, and his lips curled into a smile. He spoke directly to the hand, and waggled it:
"This is Smee, my right-hand man."
"Let me give you a hand with that cigar."
"Alright handsome, hand over the hand!"
Then he crammed the rotting hand deep into my pocket. The mushy, rotting flesh soaked the lining of my pantaloons.
"Smee, when I find Peter Pan, I'm going to gut him."
Hook headed back to his quarters, leaving his hand and I to roam the boat like lost spirits in the ghostly night. Suddenly my cigar tasted rancid, so I fed it to the ocean and headed in for bed, acutely aware of what I had been doing with my life.
After that mission, Smee returned to the mainland and became a Priest. He opened an orphanage and devoted his life to helping the children of Neverland grow up. Captain Hook/Hand was murderized to smithereens by a cannonball.
| Polygamy |
"So, do you come here often? How about you? And you? What about you?"
* * *
"Wait, are you four the Spice Girls?"
* * *
"I'd buy you a drink, but the bar only lets me get two at a time."
* * *
"We have enough people for a game of Mario Kart. And I have the special steering wheel controllers."
* * *
"My Elantra seats five."
* * *
"You gals ever played leap frog?"
* * *
"I'm moving apartments tomorrow, so I could use some extra boxes."
* * *
"What's 276? 69 x 4."
* * *
"You're like Gillette: the best a man can get. And one of those razors with four blades."
* * *
"I don't believe in monogamy, but in your case, I'd make an exception. But my three other wives wouldn't."
* * *
"You'll be the oldest wife."
* * *
"I'd make you number one in my rotation."
* * *
"Your crazy Father is going to make you marry me anyway."
* * *
"I'm marrying my high school sweethearts. One in each grade."
* * *
— "And if anyone opposes this holy union, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace."
— "I oppose this Union! But only with Wife #2. The others wives are okay."
— "Are you suggesting he only marry 3 wives? Have some respect, this is a church!
* * *
"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride ... You may now kiss the bride ... You may now kiss the bride ... You may now kiss the bride ... Are we good? I lost count."
* * *
"That was such a beautiful speech. What a great reception we're having. Now let's hear from Bridesmaid number 17 ..."
* * *
"Alright Ladies, it's time to catch a bouquet! No pushing now, there's enough bouquets for everyone."
* * *
"We're going to Disneyland for our honeymoon! But you 3 have to pretend to be my Daughters, because I got a family rate. You're young enough to be my Daughters, so we should have no problem."
* * *
"It's not you, it's me. And wife number 2, and 4."
* * *
"I have something to tell the 4 of you: I've been seeing someone else."
* * *
"We split up because she was having an affair. With one of my other wives."
* * *
"She took me for everything! A 4th of my house, a 4th of my car, a 4th of my manhood ..."
* * *
"Kids, your Mommy and I are getting a divorce. It's not because we don't love you. It's because your 3 other mommies don't."
* * *
"She left me and won't let me see our 11 kids! What if my other wives get the same idea? I couldn't bear the thought of losing my 26 other kids ..."
* * *
"The kids were supposed to move in with their mother, but I couldn't remember which kids were hers."
* * *
"We have shared custody. I keep her in custody, and she gets to see the kids."
* * *
"It's hard to split up when you still love each other. But it's a slow economy, so I had to downsize."
* * *
"It's hard letting go. I realized yesterday I was still wearing all four wedding rings. It's time to start bending my ring-finger again."
* * *
"I'm going out tonight to meet some new people, at the 1/4-singles bar."
| For Corn's Sake |
— Andrew, please tell all of your friends to leave the cornfield. You kids should really be in school.
— We're Children of the Corn now, Father.
— We found the VHS tape in your treehouse, Andrew. We told you never to watch VHS tapes.
— The Corn hath revealed itself to the Children.
— I'm sorry kids, but you'll have to finish up your game now. All of the adults are here and we have to get back to work harvesting the corn.
— The Children will care for the Corn.
— We'd love to play too, but the adults have to get the corn ready and sell it, because it's our job. It's how we put corn on your plates.
— The trucks have been diverted. The movie theatres are dealing with us.
— The movie theatres? Don't be silly Andrew. The movie theatres only deal with Reddenbock——
— Reddenbocker is dead.
— OH MY GOD IT'S REDDENBOCKER'S HEAD! AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!
— The Corn hath freed the Children.
— What have you kids done?! Reddenbocker had all the connections! He was the only one who could sell the corn!
— The Corn knoweth your lies. The adults will exploit the Corn no longer.
— Please children! Harvesting the corn is the only way to make a living in Cornville!
— Tony told us about the genetically modified organisms. You haven't been sharing the corn-spoils with your Children.
— No, it's not like that! You kids don't want to eat Frosted Flakes, they're grrrrrros!
— You feast on tortillas and flautas, but feed your Children cob soup.
— Cob soup is nutritious and delicious!
— Now there's a new crop in Cornville ...
— Andrew, why is little Billy driving the corn harvester towards us?!
— ... It's called: Adult.
— NO DON'T HARVEST US! AAAHHHH!!!!! AAHHH!!!! AHH!!! H!! !
* * *
— All the adults are dead Andrew. What should we do next?
— You have to ask Tommy. He's the youngest child, so he's the King.
— Tommy accidentally died. We forgot to feed him again.
— That's the third King this week! Fine: pack up all the adult-meat and get it ready to ship to France. I'm going to ordain a new King. Who's the youngest now?
— Issac. He's 5.
— Goddamn that's old for a King.
| Natural Selection |
~ accentus Hibernia ~
O'Flanagan consumated his PowerPoint presentation and charmingly smiled. This was his best idea yet.
"Do yoose have any questions?"
The Chief snarled, and illegally smoked his cigar. He wasn't Irish a'tall.
"Let me get this straight, O'Flanagan: You're suggesting a new, anti-terrorist 'strategy', where we allow Terrorists to complete their suicide bombing missions."
O'Flanagan's eyes twinkled.
"Yes Sir. I thought of it me-self."
The Chief's armpits sweated.
"O'Flanagan, how will allowing Terrorists to blow up their bombs help us defeat terrorism?!"
O' Flanagan remembered his Father.
"Ah-sure, they'll eventually run out of terrorists."
| Gender Free |
"Ms. Winterbottom? Hi, I'm John Smith and this is my wife Jane."
"Hi, nice to meet you. Thank you both for coming. I wanted to meet with you because I'm a little concerned about Robin. Robin's been having some difficulties at school."
"What kind of difficulties?"
"Well, Robin doesn't seem to know if he is a boy, or she is a girl."
"Oh, that's not a difficulty Ms. Winterbottom, Robin isn't supposed to know. My wife and I decided to raise Robin without gender, so Robin wouldn't be harmed by society's sexist expectations."
"I see. Does Robin talk to you about school very much?"
CLASSROOM – 9:12 AM
Look everyone, Robin's pants are wet again!
I don't know which bathroom to use.
MORNING RECESS – 10:36 AM
Let's play soccer!
Girls versus Boys!
Robin plays Ref!
LUNCH – 12:21 PM
I can't invite you to my slumber party unless you tell my Mom what you are.
GYMNASIUM – 1:17 PM
It's time to get changed for gym class.
Excerpted from Get Rich or Die Trying by Steve Murphy. Copyright © 2014 Steve Murphy. Excerpted by permission of Abbott Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
ContentsLame Horse, 1,
Censorship and the Law, 3,
Past Aprils, 5,
The Captain's Baggage, 6,
For Corn's Sake, 14,
Natural Selection, 18,
Gender Free, 19,
The Benefits of Football, 21,
Visualize Your Future, 24,
Lime Rickey's, 27,
The Pager, 28,
I Took It, 38,
Get a Job, 39,
Get Rich or Die Trying, 41,
Keep It Simple, 43,
Shady Characters, 44,
Grim Job, 45,
Stress Management, 48,
Self Esteem, 50,
Billy The Kid, 52,
Accept Responsibility, 53,
Mona Lisa Smile, 54,
Going For Coffee, 56,
Knute Choppa, 58,
Thieving of the Zeus Knutes, 59,
Back Too Early, 60,
Special Abilities, 61,
Hostage Video, 65,
Succeed at Job Interviewing, 68,
First Contact, 69,
Memo Addict, 72,
Fight for Your Rights, 74,
Loco Rights, 77,
Government Funding, 78,
About The Author, 83,
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Really great compilation of short stories and everything comedy! Really enjoyed the read. It was fun and original with an interesting satirical spin on a wide variety of hilarious topics. Definitely recommend.