Twice As Lucky Fibbing Friday

Pensitivity101 has thrown up her hands in resignation and wonderment at how I continue to sneak past her guard-Corgis, and purloin yet another list of prompts for creative mendacity.
(Trade secret: I quietly read to them from The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night-Time, as a bed-time story, and they doze right off.)

  1. What is meant by jumping bail?

He is Christian Bale’s irreligious cousin, Atheist Bail.  (The Immigration Department spelled their name differently, when they immigrated here separately, from Inner Slobovia.)  He is the Track and Field Wunderkind at his high school, with his long, powerful legs.  He competes in long jump, high jump, hop-step-and-jump, and finishes his afternoon workout with a few laps of hurdles.

  1. What is a skipping rope?

The United States still has several states with the death penalty.  If you kill somebody, we’ll kill you back.  In Texas, if you kill a police officer, they have installed an express lane.  The State of Utah, full of loving, religious Mormons, offers the condemned prisoner a choice – hanging, or firing squad.  If you choose the firing squad, that’s skipping rope.

  1. What is a sickly hue?

One of my cats has allergies, and is not above hacking up a bile-encrusted hairball in the middle of the night.  When I stepped on one, getting out of bed one morning, I said to the wife, “I must remember to put on my slippers.” until the morning I found one – by squeamish touch – in a slipper.  A sickly hue was the look on my face that day.

  1. What is cooking the books?

In an effort to be relevant as a wife and mother, providing food for her family, the wife purchased cookbook after cookbook – The Betty Crocker Cookbook, The Joy Of Cooking, The Canadian Cookbook, Food That Really Schmecks, The International Cookbook.

Over the years, we have enjoyed a spicy beef stew from Kenya, Scottish shepherds’ pie, French onion soup and tourtiere, perogies from the Ukraine, hot and sour soup, and beef and broccoli stir-fry, vindaloo beef, and tandoori chicken from India, Greek tarragon chicken and rice, Mexican beef fiesta, and Louisiana shrimp Creole.

As she aged, she grew weaker – more apathetic.  More and more, the preparation of meals fell to me.  I couldn’t produce the fancier dishes.  There was one more book that I found invaluable, 365 Ground Meat Recipes – meatloaf, pork burgers with sautéed onions, hamburger goulash, hamburger stroganoff, curried hamburger, spaghetti Bolognaise, chili con carne, sloppy Joes, chili fries, ground chicken or turkey egg Fu yung, and ground lamb gyros/doners.  Bon appetite.  😀

  1. What is a microwave?

It was the minuscule, almost subliminal, acknowledgement of my existence, from him, when I ran into my Baptist minister at the liquor store.

  1. What is meant by passing the buck?

This is a habit that Canadians have developed since our government stopped printing one-dollar and two-dollar bills, and replaced them with large, clunky coins.  Small change isn’t all that small anymore.  If you’re not careful, it’s easy to acquire a pocket or purse so full, that a limp can be induced.

While Canadians in general have embraced debit and credit cards, many of us make sure to lighten our load by paying for small purchases with these albatrosses Loonies.  And some genius has been minting and passing counterfeit Toonies, with seals instead of polar bears, and some zombie guy instead of Lizzie the Twooth.  https://ottawa.citynews.ca/police-beat/police-investigating-counterfeit-toonies-found-at-hawkesbury-store-4949995

  1. What are air kisses?

Hopefully, they’re the only kind you get, while COVID and Omicron are putting tag-team arm- ass-locks on us.  The Glitterati out in Hollywood have been practicing for this for years.  They’re a lot like online sex.  You can have a thunderous orgasm – even if no one else is in the room.

  1. What is meant by shooting one’s mouth off?

A female Arizona newspaper columnist was assigned to interview the oldest man in the county – 106 years.  She asked him what he attributed his long life to.  He told her that he mixed a little gunpowder with his cereal each morning, and suggested that she try it.  She did so for years, finally dying at 96.  She left behind four children, eight grandchildren, twelve great-grandchildren, and a 24 foot crater where the crematorium used to be.

  1. What does a dentist do?

He’s a guy like my neighbor Bob, operating a vehicle in a crowded parking lot.  The local Association of Auto-Body Shops have voted him their favorite driver, three years in a row.

  1. What is a ruff?

That’s Dennis the Menace’s dog!  Am I the only one old enough to remember?   😕

Prepared For Humor

During a company-held workshop on emergencies, the instructor asked, “What would you do if you received a letter-bomb?”
I said, “Write ‘Return to sender’.”

***

A doctor that had been seeing an 80-year-old woman for most of her life finally retired.  At her next checkup, the new doctor told her to bring a list of all the medicines that had been prescribed for her.  As the doctor was looking through these his eyes grew wide as he realized Grandma had a prescription for birth control pills.
“Mrs. Smith, do you realize these are birth control pills?”
“Yes, they help me sleep at night.”
“Mrs. Smith, I assure you there is absolutely nothing in these that could possibly help you sleep!”
She reached out and patted the young doctor’s knee and said, “Yes, dear, I know that.  But every morning, I grind one up and mix it in the glass of orange juice that my 16-year-old Granddaughter drinks.  And believe me it definitely helps me sleep at night.”
You gotta love Grandmas!

***

 A man was riding on a full bus minding his own business when the gorgeous woman next to him started to breast-feed her baby.  The baby wouldn’t take it so she said, “Come on sweetie, eat it all up or I’ll have to give it to this nice man next to us.”
Five minutes later the baby was still not feeding, so she said, “Come on, honey.  Take it or I’ll give it to this nice man here.”  A few minutes later the anxious man blurted out, “Come on kid.  Make up your mind!  I was supposed to get off four stops ago!”

***

Students in an advanced Biology class were taking their mid-term exam.  The last question was, ‘Name seven advantages of Mother’s Milk.’  The question was worth 70 points or none at all.  One student was hard put to think of seven advantages.  He wrote:
1) It is perfect formula for the child.
2) It provides immunity against several diseases.
3) It is always the right temperature.
4) It is inexpensive.
5) It bonds the child to mother and vice versa.
6) It is always available as needed.
And then the student was stuck.  Finally, in desperation, just before the bell rang indicating the end of the test he wrote:
7) It comes in two attractive containers and it’s high enough off the ground where the cat can’t get it.
He got an A+.

***

A woman and her 12-year-old son were riding in a taxi in Detroit.  It was raining and all the prostitutes were standing under awnings.
“Mom,” said the boy, “what are all those women doing?”
“They’re waiting for their husbands to get off work,” she replied.
The taxi driver turns around and says, “Geez lady, why don’t you tell him the truth?  They’re hookers, boy!  They have sex with men for money.”
The little boy’s eyes get wide and he says, “Is that true Mom?”
His mother, glaring hard at the driver, answers “Yes.”
After a few minutes the kid asks, “Mom, if those women have babies, what happens to them?”
She said, “Most of them become taxi drivers.”

***

An elderly, but hardy cattleman from Texas once told a young female neighbor that if she wanted to live a long life, the secret was to sprinkle a pinch of gunpowder on her oatmeal each morning.  She did this religiously and lived to the ripe old age of 103.  She left behind 14 children, 30 grandchildren, 21 great-grandchildren, five great-great-grandchildren and a 40-foot HOLE where the crematorium used to be.

***

 

British One-Liners

Do UK websites….
….Use biscuits instead of cookies?

Dear Naps….
….I’m sorry I was a jerk to you as a kid.

I used to cough to hide my farts….
….Now I fart to hide my coughs.

Becoming a vegetarian….
….Was a big missed steak.

Cremation is my last chance….
….For a smoking, hot body.

87% of gym members….
….Don’t know it’s closed.

There are three things that never lie….
….Children, drunks, and yoga pants.

I wish I was as thin….
….As my patience.

My school bully still takes my lunch money….
….On the upside, he makes great fries.

I’m in a band called Dyslexia….
….We just released our Greatest Shit album.

I have a step-ladder….
….I never knew my real ladder.

Boeing has invented an invisible airplane….
….I don’t see that taking off.

Bigfoot is sometimes confused with Sasquatch….
….Yeti never complains.

My wife told me to put ketchup on the shopping list….
….Now we can’t read the list.

I don’t worry about being driven to drink….
….I worry about being driven home

Can those attending tonight’s Kinky Sex Anonymous meeting….
….Please use the rear entrance?

I asked 100 women what shampoo they preferred….
….Almost all of them asked, “How the Hell did you get in here?”

I went to a rave for blind people….
….And danced like no-one was watching.

I was never a very photogenic person….
….When everyone else said ‘Cheese,’ I said ‘Where?’

No matter how low I set the bar….
….Some people roll right under it.

The only substitute for good manners….
….Is fast reflexes.

I applied for a job as a waiter….
….I have a lot to bring to the table.

I put a wooden desk and a blackboard in my den….
….I think it makes the place look classy.

If glassblowers inhale….
….Do they get a pane in the stomach?

Some people are so narrow-minded….
….That their ears rub together.

Don’t challenge Death to a pillow fight….
….Unless you’re ready for the Reaper cushions.

***

Milestone:  This is my 1500th published post.

Flash Fiction #248

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

THE MALE MUST GO THROUGH

The late, great, Bob Bryant.

Well, the only thing he was great at, was being late.  He was born almost two weeks after his due date, and never caught up.

He was late for breakfast, late for classes, late to get his drivers’ licence, and late for his senior prom.  His Mother told him that he’d be late for his own funeral.  If he’d shuffled his feet faster, he’d have been on the sidewalk, instead of shuffling off to Buffalo, in front of that bus.

Here he was, returning from the crematorium.  With COVID-delayed postal delivery, Mom would be right.

***

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

Ode To Contessa

 

SDC10926

Contessa – my little one – my Missy – my Lady Cat – my gravatar partner – the one who happily, excitedly, ran to greet me each day as I left the bedroom – has died, and I cried like a baby!

It was not unexpected, but it was no less painful. A retired breeder, she was with us just over 5 years.  She was 16 years old, but many Bengals live to be 20.  She was supposed to be the wife’s cat, but she adopted me and kept me in line just like she did the dog.

A couple of years ago, she developed some sneezing, coughing and wheezing. It was feline asthma.  The vet warned that, when we lost her, it would probably be to breathing problems.  Month by month, the coughing grew more common.

About a month ago, she caught a head cold. Nose was stuffed up and runny.  From February last year, to her vet appointment this year, she dropped from 8 pounds, to seven.  Whether because she felt poorly, or just couldn’t smell her soft food, she stopped eating.  By the time we got her to the vet again, she was down to 5 pounds.

SDC10169

He gave us some antibiotic, and some high-calorie food. We got the medicine in, but not the food.  When Bengals stop eating, it’s almost impossible to break the cycle.  They will starve themselves.  She spent a week in the computer room, taking the occasional sip of water.  She finally came out and collapsed on the carpet in front of the bathroom door.  The end seemed inevitable.

As I sat in the living-room, reading, I suddenly realized that she’d dragged herself downstairs and was on the floor at my feet. I like to think that she wanted to be near me at the end.  Minute by minute, her breaths became shallower.  I hoped that she would quietly, painlessly drift off.

I had called the daughter and asked what to do with her when she passed. Daughter said that, as soon as I was sure she was gone, to seal her in a plastic bag and put her in the freezer, until a decision could be made – burial with a marker in the back flower garden, or cremated, and her ashes returned?

I’d had a long, hard day with the wife in the hospital for a knee replacement. I left a plastic bag and a note for the son.  I tried to go to bed at my usual 5:00 A.M., but I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t leave the problem to the unsuspecting son.  Besides, if she wanted to be with me, the least I could do is be there for her at the end.

I put clothes back on and went and sat beside her, occasionally stroking her. I couldn’t read.  I couldn’t think.  I alternated between the chair, and pacing the floor, cursing Fate and the Universe, and crying.  It seemed each breath was a little shallower than the last.  At one point she raised her head to look at me.  I want to believe that she was making sure that I was still with her and was comforted.  Then she sank back down and I thought that had been her last breath.  A couple of minutes later, she shook her ears and moved her head.

Around 6:00 AM, she seemed to spasm. Her front legs didn’t work, but she used her hindquarters to scoot a couple of feet across the floor.  I was afraid that she was in distress.  I rushed upstairs to the computer.  Our vet is 15 miles away, and doesn’t open till eight, but there’s an animal hospital a mile down the road which opens at 7:30.  I could take her there as soon as the son gets home with the car, to have them end any pain.

Around 6:20, she rear-leg drove herself over into a corner, behind a scratching post. Cats want to die alone, with dignity.  She managed to flip herself over onto her chest and tummy.  She lowered her face, her mouth and nose into the carpet, and….

I lay beside her, gently touching and stroking her, and crying my eyes out. When the son got home, we bagged and froze her.  Next week, when the wife can walk, we’ll take her to our vet’s.  The price for a job-lot cremation is $25.  A single-animal cremation, with her ashes returned is $200.  The son says he’ll split the cost.  We’ve done it for the others.  Honor says that we shall do it for her.

I don’t know how such a small, little lady managed to occupy such a large part of our hearts and lives. She was definitely part of our weird family.  Like any human relative or friend, she will be sorely missed, and never forgotten.  I/we thank you, my regal little Countess.  Be at peace!

SDC11016

***

I composed this post later in the morning that it happened, to help myself deal with her passing. Thank you for reading my very personal tale of loss.  I’ll be back soon with something a bit more up-beat.   🙂

Hop To It!

grasshopper

A grasshopper walks into a bar, pulls up a stool,
and orders a beer.

The bartender pours him a tall, frothy mug and
says “You know… we have a drink named after you…”

To which the grasshopper replies, “You have a
drink named Bob?”

***

One day, after a man had his annual
physical, the doctor came out and said,
“You had a great checkup. Is there
anything that you’d like to talk about
or ask me?”

“Well,” he said, “I was thinking about
getting a vasectomy.”

“That’s a pretty big decision. Have you
talked it over with your family?”

“Yeah, and they’re in favor 15 to 2.”

***
Q.  The maker doesn’t want it; the buyer doesn’t
use it; and the user doesn’t see it. What is it?

A.  A coffin.

***

A father asked his young son if he knew about the
birds and the bees. “I don’t want to know!” the
boy exploded, bursting into tears. Confused, his
father asked the youngster what was wrong.

Oh Pop,” the boy sobbed, “for me there was no Santa
Claus at age six, no Easter bunny at age seven, no
tooth fairy at age eight and no stork at ten. And
if you’re telling me now that grownups don’t
really fuck, I’ve got nothing left to believe in!”

***

Mommy, Mommy! What’s an orgasm?
I don’t know dear, ask your father.

***

After several years of marriage, Debbie’s husband,
Mike, died suddenly. According to his wishes, Debbie had his body
cremated and placed the remains in a small urn. Several weeks later,
Debbie came home wearing a full-length mink coat and an eight-carat
diamond ring. She went into the living room, removed the urn from
the mantel and carefully tapped Mike’s ashes into a small dish on the coffee table.

“Mike, my beloved Mike,” she began, “I wish to talk to you. Mike, do you remember, for several years you promised me a mink coat? Well, here it is, Mike. Do you like it?” “And, Mike,” she continued, “Do you remember, for several years you promised me a diamond ring?  Yes?  You remember?  Here it is, Mike.  Do you like it?” “Well,” Debbie exclaimed, puffing Mike’s ashes into the air, “There’s that blow job I was promising you.”

 

April A To Z – By way of G

April Challenge

I’ve gone and got to G.  What shall I gab about?   I’ve got it!

Letter G

GUNS, GOD AND GRAVESTONES

Any of you who may feel that all three of the above are connected, haven’t been paying attention to the filing system inside my head.

Colt 1911

I don’t give a shit what the Nervous-Nellie, conservative, reactionary do-gooders claim. Guns don’t kill people! Guns don’t kill people any more than hammers build houses.  People kill people when the wrong people get ahold of guns.  I know of guns that are older than I am, and the only thing they’ve ever done is put holes in pieces of paper.

The wrong people get hold of guns when gutless Gus thinks he hears a burglar, and hides a rifle under the bed, and his 4-year-old ‘pretends’ to shoot the neighbor kid – when an armed Security Guard is too lazy to store his gun in his house, or at least in his car’s trunk, and lets his girlfriend and her 6-year-old use the car, and it slides out from under the front seat – when a lady shopper leaves a loaded, cocked pistol in her purse, next to her child in a shopping cart.

We don’t need ‘Gun Control.’ We need people control! We need  background checks, waiting periods, licensing, gun handling and storage safety training, and – instead of emotional, hand-wringing histrionics – an ongoing campaign like we have for smoking in public, or drunk driving, to get people to think, (Could happen) and take their guns, and their control of them, seriously.

OH GOD

God is!….And all the rest of you are wrong.

In the beginning, God created Man – and immediately, every Man created the God which best suited his selfish needs and mistaken beliefs.

The Muslim God is different from the Jewish God.   The Jewish God is not the same as the Christian God.  The Roman Catholic God is not the same as the God of the Greek Orthodox Church – and neither is the same as the Russian Orthodox God.

The Catholic God differs from the Protestant God, and the God of each of over 42,000 Protestant sects varies widely and wildly from the Catholics’– and from each other. In every case, at least one of them must be wrong.

‘Your God’ is a mean, vicious, vengeful, violent God, who would torture me for eternity for respecting all humans and their rights, even if some of them are gay, whereas ‘my God’ is loving, forgiving and inclusive.

The God of the insecure egotists, ‘sees every sparrow fall,’ but they fail to notice that the Bible doesn’t say anything about Him actually doing anything about it. If a greater being created the universe, It is not the God of the egotists’ dreams. It regards this little ball of rock called Earth like an ant-farm, mildly interesting at times, but not worth interfering with, no matter how much they vainly pray.

None of us have enough brains to know what an infinite ‘God’ thinks and wants, but too many of us also don’t have enough brains to keep our mouth shut, and prove our ignorance.

ENGRAVED IN STONE

I’m not going to get stoned – even though it sometimes looks like I am, when I write.

My maternal grandparents lie side-by-side in a double plot, in the old section of my home-town cemetery. Someone in the family must have had some money.  A four-foot high white marble obelisk sits on a sandstone plinth at their heads, with all biographical data professionally and artistically carved in.

Ever the prepared planner, my Mother arranged and paid for all funeral details long before she and Dad died. They (which may mean she) opted for cremation.  They purchased a single plot, and had their urns buried at each of the top corners.  There’s room for four more urns – two on the sides, and two at the bottom.

In the new cemetery section, the rule is that all gravestones must be flush with the earth, for ease of groundskeeping. They put two small sandstone slabs (about 8” square) over the urns, with only their names, and the word ‘husband’ or ‘wife’, no dates of birth or death.

Not exactly welcoming the inevitable, but like Mom, knowing that it should be planned for, I recently had a conversation with my younger brother. Since there’s room at Mom and Dad’s plot, did he plan to be cremated and buried with them?

No more religious than I am, he surprised me with a vehement refusal. No cremation for him!  He plans to be buried the old-fashioned way – embalming, body in a coffin, coffin in the ground.  He’s going to buy a single plot, and have a stone about a quarter of the surface area laid over him.

Like my Mother, I am not a believer in physical resurrection. I also want to be cremated.  The whole process, from beginning to end (actually, from my ending, to the delivery of the urn by Amazon drone) is about $2000/$2500.

I see no reason to rob my heirs of what little I can leave them, by purchasing a plot of land I don’t need, and a chunk of stone that, eventually, no-one will visit. I will be given, probably to my daughter, as a bagful of bonemeal fertilizer that she can sprinkle in her garden, and I will be resurrected as a rosebush, or a lilac tree. (Although, with my luck, I’ll come back as crabgrass.)  That’s the true ‘Circle of Life!’