Monday, October 23, 2017
Impromptu
Her son, Mel, loved it!
Not so, daughters.
Misty spoke for both women.
“Hey! Around here, Myself and Lynn
already hafta claw the whores off our
boyfriends around here! We don't need
any whacko Mom!”
The Examiner ultimately concurred, after waiting
for the Ethel Mermanesque solo to stop. “Amazing!
That could be C over C at the end!”
That could be C over C at the end!”
“THERE'S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW BUSINESS! ...and no harm done, Ma’am,” defended Mel.
“Can’t agree there, Young Man. Wildly
Inappropriate at this hearing, as it would
be in church, temple, funeral home…”
Where, of course, plans are set, and
anomalies unwelcome.
Labels: Church, dementia, Family, funeral home, hearing, insane singing, insanity, Show Business, Temple
Monday, March 17, 2014
Disabled Testimony
The Hearing
-Not a dry eye...!
-Whose bright notion was it to...?
-Your minority chair. They go for the personal, rather
than ideas. This guy lost everything!
-Well, is it news that somebody gets burned? Somebody wins,
somebody loses. All systems work this way–-when they’re
ALLOWED to work, that is.
-From my angle in the room, I didn’t at first realize he had
one arm.
-Jerking off requires just the one. He most likely has pecker
plumb wore out: no work for almost a year.
-Will you vote for unemployment pay extension then?
-Hell no! Tell that half a crybaby twit two things: one, wrench up
from his beloved recliner and go out and get a job! Two, I’m
personally gonna shove it up his ass down the hallway and out
the fuckin door!
-Why so violent?
-I’m a Republican! And we’ve done nothing but eat Lefty shit!
Well, no more!
Labels: handicapped, hearing, lefty, Republican, Unemployment Compensation
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Seedy Bond
One of those higher chains where the furniture waxed,
and the food matches.
"Tell Ed..." begins the older man.
"that the gray goose is dead," adds the younger.
The former's next whispered line gets stepped on by a woman
in a dress hugely flowered. She hears acutely, a family trait.
"Count feathers for a bed," he almost gets out as she blurts
"Espionage!"
Both men laugh. Nervously. The older softpedals: "Just a folk
song, Ma'm."
They leave shortly, separately.
The younger texts midwestern.
The older answers lard.
Labels: CIA, code, folk, hearing, operators, secret
Monday, January 20, 2014
Working
Blind Justice
Bell apologized to Supervisor Reddly. It was a foolish mistake,
a brain fart, but trivial. And he caught it quickly, and corrected it.
Evidently not so trivial, since a guard appeared, and Bell was
told to fill the proffered cardboard box and walk out with him.
“That’s not a firing mistake! Nowhere near! Did he ask you to
blow him and you refuse?”
Bell didn’t know how his friend, Chunks, came up with things!
But Chunks wasn’t to be deterred. “They count on nice guys
doing nothing. Well, not this time!”
Soon he was on the phone with National Overall Personnel,
and his intense drama got a hearing scheduled in three months.
At the hearing, a completely different charge was read out,
which was okay with Bell, since he had forgotten the original one.
His two attorneys, male and female, had negotiated the change.
The complant, when detailed, involved one, Carruthers, at a
different work locale in another city.
He whispered this mistake to the attorneys, who told him they
were going to let it slide, since this Carruthers was very active
socially, and volunteered for everything. That would sound
good in Bell’s defense.
He forgot most of what he heard in the three day procedure,
and the government lawyers were sarcastic as to his
misty answers.
His male advocate asserted: “Mr Carruthers has lost his mind
due to the cruel and baseless and entirely erroneous charges
feloniously leveled against him. The Red Cross and Salvation
Army and scores of others will experience a great loss if he
cannot recover.”
His female lawyer acted out a drama where a bum is rescued
near a Salvation Army Kettle, and becomes the mayor of an
Alaskan town. She shivered in carrying out both parts:
Kettle Attendant and bum.
The room enthusiastically applauded, and she bowed shyly.
The Judge called for order, but she, too, was crying.
Bell won the case and was reinstated, but at Carruthers’ job
in the bottling plant. The foreman there, Rip Kelley, laughed
“What the fuck’s the difference what anybody’s called?”
Bell, though, was somewhat sad that the real Carruthers had
been disappeared.
“Hey! Luck of the draw!” Chunks told him. “Besides, they’ll
probably get a young guy marked for periodic eradication, and
plug him in as you. So everybody wins!”
“Not Carruthers. "
“He has gone to a happier place!” Wasn’t that the crap
the leaders once peddled in the dark ages? Anyway, what’s
the difference? Today’s shit just as bad! By the way, what’s
your first name?”
“Rensselaer.”
“Oh? Fancy-shmantsy! Gonna start wearing Calvin Klein
underpanties?”
Labels: Calvin Klein, firing, hearing, identity, job
