If I could put another section on my website, it would be “The Many Rejected Stories,” and, brothers, it would be massive. This is one such rejected story.
See, a while ago – I think my junior, senior year at UT – I was fixated on getting something published in something related to McSweeney’s. I was convinced that if “Aaron Simon” appeared in the table of contents of that magazine – or its internet offspring – would turn me into an overnight millionaire. I managed to delude myself so much that I worked it into the story “Rocks and Hot Dogs.” The first draft had a throwaway line that read something like, “He managed to make a living selling short stories.” My fiction prof at the time, Margaret Lazarus Dean, helpfully scrawled, “No, he couldn’t…” in the margin, and my illusions about writing as a way to make money money were shattered.
Anyway. During that deluge, I was writing a piece of flash fiction a day, and one of the pieces was what you’re about to read. It was rejected within a day, but, hey, their loss, right?
PHILISTINE 1: Hey Samson! Nice hair!
PHILISTINE 2: Yeah, how long does it take you to get ready in the morning, you fucking guido?
SAMSON: I… My hair is… RAAAAAAAAUGH! [Samson braids his hair tightly, then kills the Philistines with his hair.]
PHILISTINE 1: Hey Samson, heard you’re chieftain of the Jews!
PHILISTINE 2: Yeah, how’d you get that job, stupid? Voter intimidation?
SAMSON: What’s ‘intimidation’? RAAAAAAAAAAUGH! [Samson plucks two birds out of the sky, lights them on fire, flings the birds down the Philistines’ throats.]
PHILISTINE: Hey Samson the Jew! When’re you going to play me a song on the lyre?
SAMSON: I can’t play music! RAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! [Samson rips the man’s spine out through his throat.]
PHILISTINE 1: Hey Samson! What is it with you and our women?
PHILISTINE 2: Yeah, Israelite women too mannish for you?
SAMSON: No…! You and your… mother said… RAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! [Samson picks up a passing lion, swings it around like a discus, and flings it at the two Philistines.]
PHILISTINE: Hey Samson the Blind! What’s the matter? Can’t see?
SAMSON: You know damn well I can’t! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! [Samson pulls down a temple, killing 3,000 Philistines.]
PHILISTINE 1: Hey Samson! Heard your mistress Delilah gave up your secret!
PHILISTINE 2: What’s up with that, Samson? Can’t please a Philistine woman enough?
SAMSON: Why don’t you just leave me alone?
PHILISTINE 2: Aw, Samson’s gonna cry!
PHILISTINE 1: Gonna cry, Sammy? Gonna run to your momma?
SAMSON: I… you… my mom is… RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! [Samson pulls out a picture of his mother, folds it several times, and slices the Philistines’ throats with it.]
PHILISTINE 1: Hey Samson! How many more farms you gonna burn down using foxes?
PHILISTINE 2: Yeah Samson, ever heard of animal rights?
SAMSON: I… animal rights are a complicated political issue and I feel bad about my past actions!
PHILISTINE 1: Wow, that was surprisingly intelligent.
SAMSON: Why, thank you.
[An uncomfortable silence passes between the Philistines and Samson. Minutes pass before a donkey passes between the two. Bored, Samson kills the donkey, rips off its jawbone, and kills the two Philistines with it.]