Thursday, April 12, 2018
Paying the Fee
or How a Huge Breakfast Saved Me!
but killed my parents.
...this last a sad tale dominating social
media, but most people had given up
the indigestible fiber toast responsible,
so the latest fear is dated.
But our most famous proverb lives still!
To live you must pay the FEE!
FEE=Fear of Everything Eventually.
Our pal, Murphsy, exempted by virtue
of having his yellowing hand on the
elaborate handle of Death’s Door!
Something he ate or didn’t?
The wrong pill?
Or the right one in excess?
Who knows?
But somewhere in the media flood
of medical disaster is an answer!
So, we pay attention and pass all
insane cues as to cures to our
dying friend.
Hey! Forget it all! Nation Day is
coming, our blowup, blowoff time!
When our conquerors thrown out
on their fat asses!
To hear them tell it, how they fled
incorrigible us.
What the hell! Most of us combine
the two unstable races.
Anyway, the clothing “fashions” this
year even more garishly tasteless.
Cost-saving for us, since we’ll
need them for Murphsy’s funeral.Labels: collective terror, fear, hysteria, medical hysteria, paranoia, patriotism, taste
Saturday, April 30, 2016
The Dangers of Kidding Around
Harpy’s old weird Grandfather insisted on sitting
on Mark’s lap.
Then he made Mark sit on his with reedy coaxing.
“But I’m afraid I’ll break you down!”
He just about did before sliding off.
We were all laughing like hell by then. Subsequently, Mark sat on all our laps.
General hysteria.
Atmosphere turned with Hobart.
“Jesus! Hobart! I didn’t know you cared!”
We tried to rip off Hobart’s pants to show the evidence, but both men escaped into a closet and locked it from the inside.
Gang never the same after that.
Labels: friends, hysteria, queer, sex, sexual play
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Queen of Summer and Her Court
Deodorant Failing!
And the bridesmaids’ dresses, of a kind of semi-florescent
salmon, were soaking through with sweat!
Oak Juntsley went to the minister. “Crank up the A/C! I’ll pay
extra, you cheap ecclesiastical son of a bitch!”
Just before the ceremony, old Dr Andernathy went to the car
for a blanket for his Cecille, who had once synchronized swum
in a justly forgotten Olympics.
The bride turned tremblingly beautiful. Groom leaned into her
to support. The double rings proved difficult, what with icy
fingers.
Fortunately, the reception outdoors: the smothering humidly
a positive tonic by then.
A tottering Oak finally offered a toast to the minister, who
then repeated word for word his message about forgiveness
in marriage--his wife, already drunk, sneered so, she had to
be eased behind the caterer’s tent.
Labels: A/C, bride, bridesmaid, heat, hysteria, marriage, minister, wedding
