“Stop” has become
a swear word to you.
And “let’s go,”
makes me cringe.
I should never have started
teaching you to drive.
funny
Jus’ another day at the farm
It all started when Billy took it on hisself to drive the tractor. I told him again and again, stay off the damn tractor. But would he listen? A’course not.
I was doin’ my work, ya know, muckin’ out stalls when I heard the darn thing drive away. Now you might say I shouldn’a left it runnin’. An’ I prolly shouldn’a left it sittin’ with all them boxes stacked up beside it. He wouldn’a bin able to get up there if I hadn’a done that. But he was determined.
An’ what’s the first thing he did once the machine started rollin’? ‘At’s right. Straight for Bessie. He’s had it in for that cow since he first got here.
So now I got m’self a dilemma. Do I shoot Billy? Or do I jus’ leave him be an’ hope he doesn’ get ahold of the tractor again? ‘Coz there’s still Rosemarie to worry about. An’ she’s my best milker.
Nope, I think I’ll jus’ take Billy out to the back forty and put an end to him. Too bad though. I was gettin’ kinda fond’a that goat.
Growin’ Up ‘n’ Misunderstandin’
“But Mama, I wanna see him again. He loves me!”
“You are not goin’ out with that kid, and that’s final.”
“You don’t understand! He’s the peach fuzz on my cherry pie! He’s the whipped toppin’ on my sundae!”
“I never! That’s ‘xactly why you’re not seein’ him again! Talkin’ like that to your own mother!”
“But… but… I’ll die without him!”
“Nonsense! There’s other goats in the barn.”
“Don’t you mean ‘fish in the sea’?”
“Fish? I thought we were talking ’bout Billy! You mean Johnny? Sure, you can go out with him.”
Altar-ation
Now I sit me down to rest
I hope to get this off my chest
If the kids’ screaming doesn’t stop
I swear to God, I’ll blow my top
A Resignation
Dear Boss,
I’m writing to let you know that it is with regret that I hand in my resignation. I no longer feel comfortable doing my job.
It started with Simmons at the water cooler. He told me that Marsha is sleeping with Johnson, but she wants it kept quiet because her husband might find out.
As Chief Gossip and Director of Jokes, I’m afraid I’m unable to restrain myself. Considering Marsha’s mouthful of jagged, dangerous-looking braces and Johnson’s wooden leg, I’m sure you can understand my predicament.
It’s been a pleasure working with you, particularly during the big printer-blow-up incident of ’13. I heard, due to a miracle of modern medicine, they actually managed to sew Thompson’s testicles back on. Still, the plaque we hung in the printer room is an excellent reminder for everyone why it’s not a good idea to photocopy one’s posterior.
I wish you all the best in the future.
Sincerely,
Bozo
How many times?
“How many times do I have to tell you to put your shoes away?” or, “How many times do have to tell you, don’t leave the door open, the dog’ll get out?”
I heard it every day, growing up. You’d think I’da learnt. But no.
Now, fifty years later, Mom’s gone and so’s the dog. With my shoes.
Prompted by the Daily Post with today’s word, Countless.
Quest for a Good Life
I remember picking up the keys at the lawyer’s office, opening the front door, and walking in for the first time, my dog, Buster, at my side. I finally owned my own house. It was just going to be the two of us.
I had my mom look after the pup for a few days and I got my brother to help me move stuff in. My mom didn’t like the idea of me, a single woman, living alone, but it was what I wanted. I was strong enough to help my brother lift all the furniture, after all. And I had my hound.
I’d been living there for about a week before I started to get really annoyed with Buster. If he wasn’t outside trying to dig a hole under the shed, he was whining at the back door to get out there. Finally I got my brother to come over with a shovel and help me dig out whatever Buster was trying to get at.
And what do you know? Dead bodies.
So I had a choice. Contact the authorities and lose my house until they finished their investigation–it could be a year!–or drag the bodies out and rebury them so the dog couldn’t find them. I decided on the latter. Which would have been fine if they hadn’t come back to life.
Now my life is all zombies, all the time. They come in and raid my fridge in the middle of the night, I keep finding the occasional limb under my bed – Buster! – and every single morning as I’m getting in the car to go to work it’s, “Hey Julia! How ’bout them brains? When are we gonna get them yummy brains for dinner?”
All I wanted was a nice quiet life in my own house. Maybe Mom was right.
Wanted: grammarian
50yo WASP male seeks female aged 20-65 for serious relationship.
The lady I’m looking for must be outgoing, fun-loving, faithful, and committed. Must love beards, and be okay with a man who limps, has one arm, has one good eye, and flies. Must love planes and fish. Must have good grammar.
Murder in 2016
The doorbell’s ring had an ominous tone. It was with trepidation that I opened it; the bright sunlight burned my retinas, and it took a moment for the two policemen at my door to come into focus.
“Yes?” My voice shook.
“Are you Mr. James Miller?”
“I am.”
“Are you familiar with the name,” the officer looked down at his notepad and then back up to me, “Greta Miller?”
“She’s my great-aunt on my mother’s side. Is she okay?”
“I’m sorry to inform you, Mr. Miller, your aunt has passed away. We have you listed as her sole survivor.”
I felt my face crumple as I cried, “I killed her!”
The two officers moved quickly to handcuff me. “What did you do with the gun, Mr. Miller?” one of them asked.
“Gun? What gun? I posted a meme on Facebook that guaranteed me a fortune – and now Aunt Greta has gone and left me her all her money!”
“Is… that how you killed her, Sir?”
“I DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD WORK!!!” I’d never felt so distraught in my life.
Happy Acres, 50 years later
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” Hannah read the sticker pasted over the Happy Acres sign at the end of the long, dusty driveway. She knew she’d been here before, but she didn’t remember why.
“Dad said there were hookers here,” said her husband, Jessie.
“Well, they’d better be male strippers, ‘coz if they’re female, you’re not gonna last long.”
“Pfft,” Jessie scoffed. They got back in the car and headed up the lane way to check themselves in.
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Tuesday Use It In A Sentence is fun! This week’s word is “abandon.” Try it out! The link to join in is here.
Linda G. Hill 