A Perfect One-Liner

Comedy

To my mind there’s nothing wrong with being a perfectionist….
….but they’d probably find something

I’m not fat….
….but my 100 meter dash record is about 54 meters

People told me not to smear glue on my hands before going to the firing range….
….but I’m sticking to my guns.

My girlfriend asked me to name all my sexual partners in order….
….I probably should have stopped when I got to her name

Dad, how do stars die?….
….Usually an overdose

Did you know the first French fries weren’t cooked in France?….
….they were cooked in Greece

What’s black and rhymes with snoop?…
….Dr. Dre

My top 3 assumptions when the doorbell rings….
….1 – a murderer
….2 – police telling me my wife and kids were killed in a crash
….3 – delivery of that book on positive thinking I ordered

Why was the archaeologist so depressed?….
….because his life was in ruins

I just saw an Apple store being robbed….
….so the policed called me as an I-witness

These days, the ‘grade’ in ‘Catholic grade school’….
….is a lot like the ‘grade’ in ‘weapons grade uranium.’

I was telling some sheep jokes the other day…
….but none of them laughed, and one ran away saying ‘baa’.

I just burned 2000 calories….
….that’s the last time I leave brownies in the oven while I nap

How do Mexicans feel about Trump’s wall?….
….they’ll get over it

If I died right now….
….my life would be complete

I wonder what Eli Whitney’s Cotton Gin tasted like….

It cost me $500 to fly economy class, and what a waste of money….
….I still know nothing about economics

I’m against gay marriage….
….for the same reason I’m against straight marriage.

What gets bigger the more you take from it?….
….the lower class

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Everything Ended Perfectly

Aghast

For any of my readers who might be in the Southern Ontario region – I suggest you take a few steps back for a couple of weeks. If the Karma Balancing Equation is correct, my house should get struck by a medium-sized meteor soon.

All 3 puppies

Daughter LadyRyl recently got to go for her first plane trip. The crazy cat lady also breeds Chihuahuas.   The daughter has been fostering a female for her, and recently oversaw the delivery of four cute little puppies.

She has had a long-distance friend for almost 18 years – almost since before there was an Internet. She Facebooked photos, and Skyped with the friend, showing off the wee dogs.  They’ve often spoken about getting together, but they’re 500 miles apart.

Alug & Tara

Alug (a look), with Tara, new, much older sister

The friend was entranced by one little male, and decided to add him to her menagerie – then her 7 kids would have 7 pets. Ryl decided that the time had come, and offered to deliver him by hand.  The friend lives a 2-hour drive east of Thunder Bay, ON, and offered to pick her up there and house her for five days.

She has blogged about the flight up, and plans to detail her stay. If you haven’t already, you might link over and have a look.  She had a wonderful visit, although, halfway through, the new main bridge on the Trans-Canada Highway,  between her and the airport, popped a rivet and got a bit bent out of shape.  Crews had it at least usable by the time she left.

Nipigon Bridge

She paid for her own flight. Cat-lady offered to drive her to and from the Toronto airport.  It’s the least she could do.  She’d have had to drive down once, and pay to have the dog shipped, whereas, the daughter took the puppy as carry-on luggage.

It’s a two hour flight home, and it’s a two hour drive from the cat-lady’s home. Just as daughter was getting ready to board her plane, cat-lady texted her.  The storm that was blowing down from the north had reached her.  She got to the highway, and visibility was ZERO.

We got a desperate text. Was our weather still clear??  Could we pick her up at the airport??  Of course!  Where and when?

I’ve been past the Toronto Airport, but never actually entered.  We got some things ready and took off.  Obscured lane markings and a bit of blowing snow made the trip a little longer than the usual one hour.  So did the fact that I left the highway one ramp too soon, driving up the airport’s ass-end, across the top, and back down, coming at the entrance from the wrong direction.

Pulling in off the street, I was suddenly on a Disneyworld ride – roads and ramps and bumper cars, oh my. In the dark!  In a snowstorm!  Where’s the signs?  Where’s the parking.  If I’m not careful, I’ll drive to Disneyworld, rather than fly there!

I followed a previous suggestion, made by the son. He describes it as Zen driving.  Find a car that looks like it knows where you’re going, and follow it.  Those two that just cut me off – they look like they’re going to pick someone up.  Sure enough, they both pull up a poorly marked ramp, and lead me into a parking garage.

Soon, I’m in a handicap spot, ten feet from an entrance. This opens to an overhead concourse, where we can look down on (in both senses) the chaos at the main entrance.  The daughter texted that she was landing, and that her plane would be a D-Gate #111.  Her one checked bag would unload at baggage carousel #9.

As we enter, signs say that Gates A – C are waayyy down there.  Gate D is right around this corner, an easy hobble for the wife and her two crutches.  However, carousel 9 is two football fields away.  With no seating on the upper level, we go down the escalator and take seats beside carousel 1.

Another text tells us that daughter’s plane was 10 minutes early, and the plane at ramp #111 is 10 minutes late leaving. They will unload onto the tarmac, and send luggage to carousel 1, since it’s the closest.

Soon, an airport employee delivers daughter and her carry-ons, in a wheelchair. We grab her checked bag and head for the car.  All done in just under an hour, we pay the outrageous $10 parking fee, and quickly hit Highway 401.

A bit more snow on the way home, a bit less wind drifting.  Traffic moves smoothly.  We’re home safely in an hour.  Where’s the snotty GPS?  Where’s the bumper-to-bumper traffic?  Where’s the getting lost and having to stop and ask some rag-head for directions?  Where’s something to rant about?  Karma’s up to something!  I’ll probably get lost going to the supermarket, but, Everything Ended Perfectly!  😀

 

 

Flash Fiction #79

Snoopy

PHOTO PROMPT © Melanie Greenwood

Snoopy

Here’s the World War I ace on his way to the aerodrome for dawn patrol. Ah, the lads have his Sopwith Camel ready to go.  It will be a cold flight, so first we taxi through the drive-thru at Drunken Donuts for a hot cocoa, then it’s into the air, to search for the Red Baron.

The day is crisp and clear. Flying is great.  Be sure to check above and behind so that the Red Baron doesn’t sneak out of the rising sun….

Flashing lights???!

Why no, Officer, I was paying attention to traffic. How fast was I going?

***

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

 

 

Come Fly With Me

Another story has appeared in the newspaper which raises more questions than it answers.  Four young people have been killed in a fairly local plane crash.  They all worked for Bombardier Aerospace Industries in Toronto.  The pilot was a 20-year-old male, who was so good a pilot that he had his licence to fly commercial aircraft.  With him, he had a 19-year-old female, a 22-year-old male and a 24-year-old man.

They all drove up to Kitchener, from Toronto, and rented a new, reliable Cessna 132 from the local airport.  There’s where the first question arises.  With three airports within a fifteen-minute to half-hour drive, north of Toronto, why did they drive an hour and a half to Kitchener, to rent a plane?

They told the rental agent that they wanted to fly over Toronto and Niagara Falls.  Again, if they wanted to see Toronto from the air, why not rent a plane near Toronto?  Toronto is east, Niagara Falls is south-east from here.  They crashed on a farm fifty miles north and west of here.  What in Hell were they doing up there?  A resident from the crash area stated that small planes use the uncrowded sky up there to practice “emergency manoeuvres”.  Why would a pilot who already had a commercial licence, need to practice emergency manoeuvres in a small plane?  Was he just showing off?

Witnesses say that the plane was spinning down.  The engine would race and then slow, and it and a strong wind would slow the spiral, but then it would pick up speed again.  The plane did not swoop in and leave a swath of destruction in the farmer’s field.  From the overhead photo, it appears to have smacked down on its belly on five-foot tall corn, so gently that one wing was barely snapped off.

I would wonder about a plane-crash that gentle, killing all four occupants, but I have personally witnessed two car crashes which showed just how capricious fate can be.  I watched a car go off the outside of a banked curve one night.  It tumbled corner over corner, seven times.  A four-door hard-top, with all the windows down, it left an unbelted passenger behind without a scratch, as the open window rolled away from him.  There also wasn’t an injury among the other two riders, or any of the 48 bottles of beer they had in the car.  It came to rest leaning against a little maple tree no bigger than my thumb, at the top of a riverbank, 75 feet above the water.

On the other hand, I witnessed a delicate little rear-end collision one day, so soft that the radiator in the rear car wasn’t even damaged.  Unfortunately, the passenger in the front car was killed.  Apparently he was leaning forward, just enough, and at just the right angle that the impact whip-lashed his neck, and without the headrest to support him, the impact snapped his spine.

This is a strange little case.  Did one of the passengers panic when the emergency actions started?  Did someone get thrown against the controls?  Several official agencies are investigating.  It may take a while, but I suspect that, like the Negro, mysteriously stabbed to death in the park, sooner or later we’ll get enough information to at least make an educated guess.

With the wife’s inhalant allergies, our trips are restricted to places we can drive to.  I have only flown twice in my life.  Once we went out to the local airport for the annual air show, and found that, for $20 apiece, we could have a half-hour flight in a fifty-seater, around the cities.  I was the last to board on one flight, and wound up jammed in the last seat in the tail, with no porthole to see out of.  I managed to get a bit of a look through the window ahead of me.  Good thing it only cost twenty bucks.  It was about as exciting as riding around in a shipping container.

The other flight I had, was a bit longer, and in a little four-seater quite similar to the one that just crashed.  The president of the small company I worked for was a plane-nut.  He was the president of the local flying club.  He didn’t own the plane, but could use it whenever no-one else had it, for the cost of fuel.

He had a potential customer and his wife, that he wanted to impress, and had promised them an airplane ride.  He expected me to share his passion for flying, and voluntold me that I would be coming along on the flight after work.  The flight lasted two hours, and, at least I got to ride up front in the co-pilot’s seat, with a good view.  We flew south, out over the coast of Lake Erie, turned around and flew back.  I got to see the Nanticoke Nuclear Power station from the air.  I think it’s illegal to fly directly over it.

Halfway home, he *suggested* that I take the controls for a few minutes.  I demurred, but this was a man who didn’t take no for an answer, so I wound up flying the plane for about fifteen minutes.  It’s like when your Dad took the car out on the highway, and let you sit in his lap and steer.  Oh yeah, with seatbelts and traffic cops, we don’t do that anymore.  The controls were light and easy.  Despite my initial misgivings, I really enjoyed it, but like many other things in my life, finances put it out of my reach.