Sex Education

One day Joey asked his grandmother how old she
was. His grandmother said that you should never
ask a woman her age. Later on Joey asked his
grandmother again. And his grandmother still
wouldn’t tell him.

When his grandmother was
making dinner, Joey came in the kitchen and said,
“I know how old you are grandma. You are 61 years
old.” His grandmother asked, “How did you find
out?” Joey said, “I looked on your driver’s
license. Except I didn’t understand one thing.

You failed sex?”

****

The new hooker just finished her first trick, when
she came down the street, the seasoned veterans
gathered around to hear the details.

She said “Well, he was a big muscular handsome sailor.”

“Well, what did he want you to do?” they all asked.

She said, “I told him a straight lay would be $100,
but he didn’t have that much.”

Then she told him, “Oral sex would be $75, but he
didn’t have that much either.”

“Finally I asked him, well how much money do you have?”
He only had $25.

The new hooker said, “Well, for $25 all I can do
is service you by hand.”

He agreed and after getting the $ straight,
she said “He pulled it out and I put one hand on
it, and then a second hand above the first and
then the first hand above the second hand.”

“Oh my god” they all exclaimed, “It must have been
huge, then what did you do?”

“I loaned him $75!” she exclaimed.

****

As he was quietly watching television at home,
a chap hears a sound on the roof of his house
and rushes out to investigate. Seeing it was a
fair sized gorilla tearing the shingles off his
home he promptly calls up the local zoo
authorities to inform them one of their animals
had escaped. He is reassured that a gorilla
recovering unit is on the way and to remain calm.

A few minutes later, an old beat up truck,
displaying the Gorilla recovery unit logo on its
panels, pulls up to the house. The elderly driver
proceeds to remove from the back of the truck, a
Chihuahua dog, a pair of handcuffs, a ladder, a
baseball bat and a 12 gauge shotgun. Puzzled on
how this lone elderly was to solve the problem of
the gorilla, which had by now torn half the roof
apart, the chap asked him how he will go about
doing this.

As he hands him over the 12 gauge
shotgun, the zoo employee explains the plan:
‘First I’ll climb up there with the ladder, then
I approach the gorilla and knock him off the roof,
using the baseball bat. As soon as the gorilla
hits the ground, the specially trained Chihuahua
dog will attack its private parts.’

‘When I get back on the ground, the gorilla will
have lowered its hands to its groin area to
protect itself thus making it easy for me to slip
on the handcuffs.’ ‘Then, I lead him to the
truck, lock him up and take him back to the zoo.’

Amazed at the procedure, the somewhat startled
house-owner asks why he was handed the 12 gauge
shotgun?

‘Well… ‘explains the experienced gorilla
retriever, ‘It’s just a precaution, should things
not go exactly as planned. In the unlikely event
that once I’m on the roof, the gorilla knocks me off
with the baseball bat.

Shoot the dog!!!!’

 

Flash Fiction #22

unidentifiable-on-a-stick

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Purrfect

Hi Mom.

I’m fine – a little sleepy and tired, but I’m fine.

Since Ricky turned three, he’s been really active. I need to keep a close eye on him.

The only time I get to do housework is when he’s asleep.

We got that rescue cat for him, that I told you about, from the pound.

It’s a grey and black male, almost a year old, very patient and loving with him, even when he treats it rough. – – –

Mom! Gotta go; I’ll call you back….

RICKY! It’s okay to pet the kitty – but not with your sucker!

 

 

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site, and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Sorry that I’m a little late this week – for those who noticed, or cared.  I’m planning a road trip, and we just celebrated four birthdays in one party.  🙂

 

The Fellowship Of The Blog – Prologue

SDC10926

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is where it all begins. No, no, not with the cat!  She’s the intelligent and sane one of this dingbat-ic duo.  This plot was hatched from the depths of Archon’s psychotic psyche.  Once upon a time, he heard that AFrankAngle had driven across a good chunk of Ohio, to visit commenter-supreme and newly-hatched blogger, John Erickson.

Disenchanted with the quality of the Detroit knife show, to use as an excuse to visit the United States, I noticed that there will be a show at the Pritchard-Laughlin Center, in Cambridge, Ohio, in mid-October. Cambridge is in Erickson’s back yard. The wife and I attended two years in a row, some years back, before we knew of the existence of the lost Illinois boy.  Would he accept a visit? Would he (and Mrs. E.) like to visit the three-ended bridge in nearby Zanesville?  Would they like to accompany us to the knife show?

Then came the discovery of Cordelia’s Mom, a new-ish blogger from the Buffalo area. She gave me a blog-award, and I wrote an acceptance post for it.  If I’m going to Ohio, I will want to cross the border at Buffalo.  When Mom heard of this, she was thrilled with the idea of us stopping in for a quick visit.

I titled my humorous (?) post, Sunshine and Lollipops. She commented that I had delivered the sunshine, but where were her lollipops?  I resolved to obtain some lollipops for her, and daughter and fellow blogger, Cordelia, who claims to have called it quits.

I had hoped to have the wife along on this trip, but medical restrictions forced her to direct me to take the son, Shimoniac, along. Just imagine, a father-son/mother-daughter, four-way blog fest.  I had considered continuing over to Cincinnati, with the thought of perhaps taking John E./Mrs. John E. back, for a visit to the Angular blogger if possible.  Aside from “Cincinnati Chili” for me, there is a paddle-wheel boat, Ohio River tour, including under a smaller, but older-brother version of the Brooklyn Bridge, which the wife would have loved.

I even wondered about trying to talk BrainRants into joining us in Cinci, but it was a ten-hour drive from KC, and I don’t think Rants could have got an excuse slip, even to visit the Illi-noisy one. But then came the “Great Move.”  Would it be possible for two or more of us to impinge on Washington, DC, without a Homeland Security raid??! Herding cats??!  This was beginning to look more like juggling cats!  I don’t know how Machiavelli did it.

AFrankAngle has shown some mild curiosity and interest in knife shows, so I have invited him to join us in Cambridge, if John’s medical condition allows visitors and voyages. I don’t know what the final results on any of these options will be as I format this draft.  I will probably have to edit before posting.  It may all fall through, and son and I will just wander a strange country for a few days – if we can even convince the border guards to let us enter on such a flimsy excuse.

This batty idea has been flapping around in my belfry for over a year. Over the past couple of years, we have replaced all the windows in the house, then had the roof re-shingled, and the garage and main entry doors replaced – all on a retiree’s income.  Now the paved driveway is disintegrating, and we have contracted to have it redone.  The wife worried that, as much as I want this trip, perhaps we can’t afford it.

Since I have everything I need or want, or that gift-givers can afford, for my last birthday the grandson, now receiving a decent wage at his welding apprenticeship placement, offered up to $500, toward any knife I wished to buy. What a darling boy!

At my age, it doesn’t make sense to acquire a knife just for display. I’d sooner be able to look at and appreciate many different knives, so we made a deal that he would partially fund this expedition, I would return with many photos and fanciful tales, and he would be given credit.  Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a big hand for ThornSmith!  (No link because, while he has a handle, he has yet to set up his own blog site.)

Since the son gets to join in on the trip, he’s also offered to help pay for it. I’m pretty sure we can swing it without having to sell junk bonds.  It’ll be fun – even if only part of it works out.  Stop by later for Episode One, to see if Archon learns to control The Force.    😕

Minutia IV

During the recent Provincial election, I saw two high school students vandalizing an election sign at the side of the road. I know they were high school students because they were wearing the red plaid kilts of the nearby Catholic school.  That’s right ladies and germs, two teenage, female, Catholic students, kicking the shit out of a sign of some candidate who they, and presumably their parents, disapprove of.

Defacing election signs is a federal offence! That’s how Charley Manson got his start.  He obtained a blank Department of Interior check, and made it out to himself for $5, and did time in a federal prison.  Once released, he broke into a Post Office and stole the “leave a penny” tray, netting 98 cents, and did time in a federal prison.

Released again, he convinced a young female to “work” for him, transported her across a State line to provide her services, ran right into the Mann Act, and did more time in a federal prison.  So, if you’d like your Good Christian daughter to be Charley’s girlfriend in prison, send her to a Catholic School and urge her to freely express her political opinions.

We used to hang a bird feeder on the fence near the back of the property. The birds we attracted would eat seeds like sunflower, but would throw on the ground, all the millet.  As a result, I have about 200 square feet of lawn that’s millet plants.  It’s soft, it’s green, it covers, but it’s not grass!

The wife planted a couple of chive plants in a small bed just beyond. Over the years, the chive has seeded itself further and further into this bed of millet. I mowed the lawn the other day, and when I reached this area, it smelled like I had a gasoline-powered salad shooter.

I have found two new ways to irritate telemarketers. They’re easy to identify.  The phone rings, I pick it up and say Hello, nothing happens for a second or two, then suddenly the line opens on their end and you can hear30 or 40 voices babbling in the background, and somebody starts to say, Hello, Hello??, usually in a Paki accent.

Previously, when this happens, I just say nothing and make a game of how many desperate Hellos I get before they finally hang up.  Recently, two cats climbed into my recliner and poured a bucket of soporific on me, and we all had an hour’s nap.  I awoke, partly because I had to pee, but more urgently, because the plate of nachos I had for lunch, c/w refried beans, was starting to rock and roll in my digestive tract.

Just as I decided I could extend the nap another half hour, the phone rang, and I got to hear “Kevin” (Gupta) babble. Too tired to even reach to hang the phone up, I just laid it face down on my stomach, and let him talk to my borborygmus – Hello? (rumble, rumble) Hello? (gurgle, gurgle).  After a while he went away, and I pushed Off.  Now I worry that my stomach may have ordered something from him in Paki, and I’ll receive a lifetime supply of curried chicken and basmati rice.

More recently, I was in the kitchen, trying to accomplish two simultaneous chores and arguing with a cat who wanted to drink from the filtered faucet, Meow, Meow, Meow. In the midst of all this, suddenly the phone rang, and I was treated to “Kevin’s” brother “David” (Sanjit).  As soon as Mr. Hello came on the line, I laid the phone, face-up on the table in front of the thirsty cat and let him explain, Hello….Meow, Meow, Hello??….Meow, Meow!  Let Paki “David” figure out how the cat answered the phone.

There is a shortage of doctors in Ontario. Most doctors are turning away potential patients.  Recently, I heard the female brains behind the Money Mill,  advertising on the radio.  Here, slightly paraphrased, is what I heard.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Packrat. I operate a cosmetic clinic in Cambridge.  Other clinics have estheticians and technicians.  If you’d like to safely increase your beauty, please come to our clinic.  We have only doctors and nurses.  None of them is actually trained in cosmetology.

We have Internists with queasy stomachs, Pediatricians unable to treat children any longer because of convictions and restraining orders, and Ob/Gyns who were too lazy to get out of bed to deliver babies. You are guaranteed to lose weight because all of them have been extensively trained in surgically extracting every last dollar from your wallet.”

We recently attended the Free Thinkers meeting at the new venue. While the food, choices, price and access are all good, I am not thrilled with the room.  It’s all flat, hard, walls and windows.  The reverberations quickly raise the noise level to intolerable.  I took along the son, daughter, grandson and fiancée.

Since I can talk to any of them, any time I want, when I entered, I quickly sat on the far side of the table next to a new female. It turned out that the reason she had attended was that she was angling for the Liberal nomination in the next Provincial election, and was out shaking babies and kissing hands, as well as taking the measure of various local groups.

Perhaps because it was me sitting beside her, but she was surprised and impressed at the depth and breadth of knowledge of politics, history, psychology, sociology and religion. This was not a group that she could bullshit to.

She wants to work to oust the Federal Conservatives, “Because they’ve had their time.” without offering any other reason or alternative. Like the Religionists, it’s because, “We’re entitled – and they’re not.”