funny

Olympic Texting – 100 word drabble

“Okay, Mary, the players are neck in neck and coming to the finish line. Who will win the race for fastest text message?”

“Tommy’s in the lead now, Frank, with, ‘OMG SRSLY?'”

“And now it’s Gina with ‘WYSIWYG!'”

“They’re dead even! Time is running out!”

“What’s that? Did Tommy just… No! He was quick on his, ‘WTF’ but he forgot his punctuation! The judges aren’t going to like this.”

“You’re right, Frank. Especially the German judge.”

“It’s down to the wire. Gina’s has to come up with… She did it!”

“‘PMSL!’ For the win!”

“Gina is our new gold medalist!”

Maybe Dying

“I’m sorry, Marsha,” the doctor said as he sat back in his chair, behind his massive, expensive-looking desk. “There may be nothing I can do.”

“But… You’ve GOT to do something! I’m dying here!” Marsha gripped the arms of her own seat and lifted herself off it a few inches in agitation.

“Well let me see.” The doctor sat up, stared down his nose through his bifocals and flipped through a folder that lay on his desk. “There is something. But it’s going to take some money.”

“I’ll do anything! I’ll even go down to the bank for you myself!”

“Fine,” said the doctor. “Get me three cases of your Girl Guide cookies. I’ll give you a cheque.” He closed the folder. “Damned mothers and their little girls,” he muttered under his breath.

Maybe

A Serious Joke

Pauly’s nerves threatened to cause his dinner to reappear as the tip of the knife pierced the skin on his throat.

“You couldn’t tell a joke if your life depended on it, could you?” the Master of Ceremonies asked.

Pauly should have known better than to enter Richard Bachman’s “The Funny Man” contest.

***
“Joke” is the one-word prompt on The Daily Post.

Painting is Hard Work

It was late December and all the elves were busy painting eggs when Santa came stomping into the factory.

“Shut down the production lines!” Santa bellowed from the middle of the floor.

“What for?” asked the grumpy foreman elf.

“The Easter Bunnies have overestimated their order again. We won’t be needing them.”

A groan went out somewhere in the back corner and from the front line, an Easter egg came rocketing through the air and hit Santa smack dab in the forehead.

Thus began the great Easter egg food fight of the century. When it was over and the last of the elves were leaving the factory after sweeping up the mess, someone commented that it was lucky the eggs were hollow, though it would have been more satisfying if they weren’t.

And that’s how Creme Eggs were invented.

***

Paint is the prompt word of the day at The Daily Post.

#SoCS – The Dog Days

I want to accept,
except accepting means
having to walk away
from having to walk
a mile in somebody else’s shoes
and let’s be honest here:
shoes don’t fit me.
I’m a dog, you see
although my owner thinks
I’m soft
I really don’t need
those rain boots she
keeps shoving on my feet
and the rain hat and cape?
Give me a break!
How does any
self-respecting dog
go out dressed like a human
and not expect
the other dogs not
to laugh?
Is that the front door?
My leash?
My… oh no, don’t tell me it’s raining…
I want to accept,
except accepting means
having to walk away
from a walk…
The shame!!

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This unexpected poem is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click here and join in! https://lindaghill.com/2016/08/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-aug-616/

Profound

The job posting was a juicy one. One that I wasn’t qualified for, admittedly, but I wanted it so bad. I’d already asked around and no one else in my department had applied. So, I thought, what the hell?

I filled out the application and lied about having taken the university courses they required the successful applicant to have. But sure enough, a notice was posted a week later that someone else had gotten the job.

The bulletin read: Pro found.

Damn it.

Profound is the word of the day on The Daily Post.

Crisis?

“Hey, Brother! Where you bound?

I’m off to America. For breakfast.

“I hear there’s a crisis going on over there.”

“Crisis? What crisis?”

“Oh, it’s the crime of the century, some say.”

“You don’t say!”

“Mmhm. But then again, some things never change.”

“True enough. Some things are indelibly stamped.”

“Well, if you decide to go anyway, enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll do my best. Though now that you’ve mentioned the crisis, my may take a walk in the woods by myself, to think it over.”

“Yes, well. Sometimes we come to mistaken conclusions, even in the quietest moments.”

The Daily Post word of the day: Crisis.

drive, a haiku

driving happily
top down, wind in hair, I smile
between teeth, dead bugs

Drive

#SoCS – Unpredictable

If I wrote a story about you,
I would use words like “mystic” and “crazy.”

I would get a hand from the gods
because the gods are my friends.

I could choose a few anecdotes –
ones that would make people laugh.

I might bake a cake and call it you,
just so I can share you with my other friends.

If I clap my hands and you come running,
I will praise you, my friend, for that means you love me too.

I might circle the globe with you,
and we might just have fun.

Even though you’re afraid of heights
and I don’t need a plane to fly.

We could ride elephants and catch heffalumps:
it’s the Pooh thing to do.

And when we get home with all our treasures
we will place them on shelves and forget they exist.

If my enthusiasm for you dies,
I will probably die.

If I decide suddenly that I shan’t drive you to the airport when you need to go
(because that’s what friends do)
you might disown me, but I’d deserve it.

And if the water of my endless ocean of devotion for you dries up,
I will be left with a salty taste in my mouth.

But chances are that’s the worst case scenario,
because you’re as crazy as I am, and us crazies need to stick together.

If I wrote a story about you,
then it would definitely include me.

This is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday, because it’s totally stream of consciousness writing and it contains this week’s prompt, “if/then.”

This is part of The Daily Post because it was totally Unpredictable.

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One Bad Step

You may be wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today. Please, settle down–yes, you in the back! Calm down!–and allow me to explain.

No matter the length of the journey, whether it be an epic one or a trip to the corner store, each begins with a single step. As did mine. My epic journey began like any other. I awoke, brushed my teeth, and set out. I made it all the way to the car before I realized I had forgotten my car keys!

You in the back! I’m not going to tell you again! So I went back into the house for the keys, but the phone was ringing. I went to answer it in case it was important. Because you know, I was heading out on an epic, year-long journey! It turned out to be someone selling time-shares. Imagine that! So I hung up and off I went again.

I waited the proper time at the airport – got a coffee, that sort of thing. It wasn’t until it was time to head to the gate that I realized I’d put my plane ticket down when I ran to answer the phone!

So that is why I’m here, talking to you a mere three hours and forty-five minutes after I embarked on my epic year-long journey. I shall attempt to go again next month, and when I get to the secret location to which I’m going, I will purchase your gold, with the money you have entrusted to me, and return with it a year from the time I leave. Yes I know! The man in the back would like his money returned to him now, but I’m afraid…

What do you mean, you all want your money back? Hey! Get off me! I… ahh!!!