Tag Archives: Humour

Outdoor exercise

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We decided to go swimming.

Last day of summer! Let’s take advantage of this heat, we said.

So we went to the lake.

 

Nobody was in the water.

It was a cesspool.

Fluffy brown-streaked foam collected at the shore

Four feet wide.

As if the lake was a giant boiling cauldron of broth

But someone had neglected to skim the gathering proteins off the surface.

Or maybe the sand decided to have a shampoo

But passed out from the heat

Before it finished rinsing.

The lap lane ropes

Normally cordoning off the deepest area

Had desperately pulled themselves from their tethers

And morphed from a 50 yard rectangle

Into a pathetic oblong.

Even out deep,

The water was soggily crusted with dead insects, pollen,

And gray mysteries.

 

We looked at it

While summer’s warmth punched us repeatedly in the back of the head.

We decided to run instead.

 

We walked

We ran

We sweated.

The sun soldered our clothes to our skin.

The humidity held its slimy palms

Over our noses and mouths

As we miserably carried it

On an endless, sweaty piggyback ride.

 

Our reward, we decided,

Was an ice cream treat.

It melted so fast

We had to drink the last of it.

 

Sayonara, summer

You had your last hurrah

And my god

We’re ready for fall now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To My Phone

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O phone

You aren’t much of a muse.

You correct my spelling

To something I neither expect

Nor want.

You are too helpful

With your auto capitalization

And your flat, buttonless keyboard.

Yet I continue to use you

As my primary writing tool

Because it is so convenient

To lay on my back in bed

And hold you up

When I write.

That is

Until I drop you

On my face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Garlic breath

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“Kiss me,” she said.

He wasn’t sure. He could smell the garlic from here, and it wasn’t pretty.

“I have an idea,” he said, leaning away. “How about we whip up some mint milkshakes?” It was a good idea, but she wasn’t biting.

“I’m fuuuuuull,” she pouted. The garlic rolled by him as she whined the word, an invisible tsunami that hit him with nearly physical force. It was all he could do to keep himself upright.

“I can’t,” he murmured. “I just can’t.”

“What?”

“I SAID I CAN’T,” he cried out desperately. “I’m sorry! You’re just too garlicky!”

Her warm, cozy expression shattered. “What?”

“I’m so sorry! I can’t be in this room with you any more!”

He ran like the hounds of hell were after him, burst out the door, stumbled down the stairs, and zoomed away in his car.

She leaned back in the couch, nonplussed. She never got a reaction like that from a man. Garlic odor? What an odd way for his fears to manifest.

She grabbed her phone and sent a group text to her coven.

Sorry gals. He was a sensitive, sensed something wrong and ran. I’ll get us a fresh one tomorrow night, I promise.

 

IMG_20180912_081407474

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Weredog

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Definitely on a silly streak lately. Not one thing I wrote last night made much sense.

 

 

 

The weather affects us all.

Soon the harvest moon will turn

And I will turn with it.

Life is complicated.

I change from dog to girl

And back

But my food choices do not change inside me

And something deep within is alarming.

When I was changed

I ate something a human shouldn’t eat.

My body is a mystery

My dog body doubly so.

Today I’m putting hot sauce on all the turds in the yard.

My human self must train my dog self.

I sit in the yard

Collar around my neck

Waiting for transformation

And thanking God for privacy fences.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bag Boy

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This is another old one, from years, eons into the past, back when I was young and beautiful and full of shit. I actually don’t remember when I wrote it… that’s how old it must be.

 

 

 

“I don’t think so,” she said with marked finality.

The grocery boy paused in his bagging before he realized that she had an earpiece in and was speaking on the phone.

“No, no, I–yes, that’s mine, just put that — NO, I can’t let you do that…”

The grocery boy slipped a black cat into one of the plastic grocery bags and tied it off while she was distracted.

“Because it wouldn’t look good… because it’s stupid.”

The grocery boy slipped a dachshund into the other plastic bag and tied it off.  This was a little harder, as the dachshund was wily.

“No, just put it– yes, put it center, like I asked.  …center, like I told you. This conversation is over.”

She clicked off her earpiece, grabbed all the bags without acknowledging him, and headed for the door.

Then her groceries exploded into action.

Lean Meal Frozens skittered across the floor.  Peaches sailed through the air in a flurry of barks and yaps.  An otherworldly scream sounded from within the second grocery bag, and a bag of frozen french fries went straight up into the air, pirouetted, and plummeted straight down onto the startled woman’s head.

The cat and the dachshund clawed their way free from the bags she dropped, and streaked out of the room after each other in a blur of primal fury.

Lemons stopped rolling.  Graham crackers skittered to a halt.  The woman collapsed, dead with fright.

The manager poked his head out of the staff room and quickly appraised the scene.

“Goddamnit!” he said.  “Who keeps putting animals in the groceries?”

Nobody said a word.  

The bagboy smiled to himself and surreptitiously slipped a ferret into a distracted woman’s purse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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