Wednesday, June 28, 2017

 

When women get together to laugh,


more wisdom
as to Life before
they separate.

Is that because
there’s space
by taking

out the bragging?

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Tuesday, June 27, 2017

 

First, do no good


(Wait for laughs)

Our Republican Health Bill
only harms 22 million.

But, we'd like to help!

What part of Go Fuck Yourself!
do you Reeking-Reecans not
understand?

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Monday, June 26, 2017

 

-Abduction?


Don't be ridiculous! They asked
me, I went.

-Who did?

-A...trio. Speaking all together. Singing, sort of.
Well, both.

-Odd!

-I agree. But, really, the only odd moment.

-A normal adventure? Come off it!

-Very much so. So forget the tabloid stuff.
I wasn't examined or probed or violated.

-Then why did they...?

-Never know. When I walked around
the ship I heard whispers of
dark eyes, flashing etc.

-Gypsy?

-There are Rumanians way back. Plus,
I’m hardly a pale beauty.

-More about the ship?

-Was given a flight chair, but
it had no seatbelt or anything.
Gravity held me there I guess.

Anyway, I could walk anywhere,
but the nuclear area which was
signed danger in the ways similar
to here.

-Did you get onto the flight deck?

-Didn't have to. The Captain came
to me, and more than once. He
smoozed around the whole ship.
 

-Barked commands anyway?

-Through hand signals. Subtle stuff...
which I can't say for my Wily E Coyote 

Pajamas.

-A hit with the interstellar gang?

-Nothing ever funnier!

-So they were amused? The ship ran on?
You weren't raped or anything? Where's
the story?

-None. I told you.

-How long were...?

-After, they dropped me here in a weird
vehicle badged as Chevvie. And the
front door lock snapped open by magic,
I walked into the groaning house where
you could hear sleeping like wind through
shutters.

-Time?

-My clock radio showed about an hour elapsed.
But they had said I had spent a whole night and
the next morning.

-Uh huh? Let's go back a bit and...

-No way! Show's over!

-Ah hah! Something not right! Still makes
you queasy!

-No more than usual.


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Sunday, June 25, 2017

 

Humble Pie,


Sliced Thrice

-Famed in song and story!

-For your humility.

-I blush!

-Don't! Others set the table,
and you moved the plates and
cutlery around.

-Looking pleasant.

-Or faking it.

-Skip the humble in the next life?

-Wouldn't hurt to blow your own
horn once in a while.

-What, blow? Just the merest tootle!

-Let us know you're human.

-So I should have balanced off...?

-Couldn't help yourself!

-Too much power in humility!

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Saturday, June 24, 2017

 

The “There” There


Tresh and Habney

-The answer is in the dirt!

-Is it? You mean I been wasting
my time looking elsewhere? Clouds?
Infinity? Bosuns?

-Ben Hogan said that. About golf.

-Well, he knew about that.

-Uh, practice. Hit a million balls!

-From the dirt?

-Where else?

-He was smart. But I like it in Washington!

-Dirt there?

-Been known.

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Friday, June 23, 2017

 

Ongoing


The heat has gone
mad of itself,
a rager.

All the ACs explode.
People awake soaked.
Somehow, more aged.

Everything outside and in
stinks.

Sun looks doubled.

Sky, metal rubbed.

No one complains,
too shaken.

A woman dies catch-
ing her breath.

Soon, many do.

Corpses pile up and all
too exhausted to try
doing anything about it.

Roger tells Sissy, “Let’s just
jump on the pile.”

Lovers!

But they expire
trying to climb.

No sky then.
Sun horizon
to horizon.

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Thursday, June 22, 2017

 

Hohenzollern Anthonys


Tells you his first name
after Kings, his second the
great Roman General and
Lover!

“But plural there, since one of me
not enough for the ravenous
women of today’s world!”

A joke.

You escape! And aforementioned
hungry females laugh scornfully.

Such a man heads for modern disaster.

The first serious manifestation when
he's fired. The new management team
delegates a fresh vice-president to
give plural-boy the word.

Laurel Inglesby Cartz brings the
articulate, and even scientific,
case to a small, special office.

When she finishes, flushed,
instead of hearing an Angel Chord,
she discovers he's asleep.

He explains that it's so messy,
fatigues him, and suggests they
clean it together.


Miss Neat Freak agrees.

Anyway, she discovers what all the
ridiculing distaffs and Personnel
Solomons have missed: Character.

Decides then and there, so sick she
of usual male-female falderal.

Three adoring little daughters later...

Uh huh, yup, she had fired him, and
then hired him for the long run.


Cornball enough for you?

“Wait till they're teens,” you warn.
“At least one will tell him to go
fuck himself!”

To a truly loving man, won't happen.

Oh well, enough of this variety of
impossible story!

Just...maybe...he succeeds because
he's not too bright?


Possibly. But cleverness too often
outshone by natural maturity.

But. Generally. How YOU doing,
Smartass?

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