“I do,” said Bobby and Kathy.
“Til death do you part,” said the preacher.
It wasn’t a bad marriage. Wasn’t great, either.
So, years later when Bobby’s heart stopped, Kathy assumed the marriage was over.
The paramedics used CPR to bring Bobby back, but by then, Kathy was a free woman.
“We’ll take him to the hospital, okay?” said the paramedics.
“Fine, whatever,” said Kathy.
She put her hands behind her back and took off her rings.
As the paramedics put Bobby on a stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance, Kathy asked what they were doing after their shift.
Author: R.
Saget
Bob Saget the comedian died alone in an Orlando hotel room after performing standup for two hours.
He was found by hotel staff after he failed to check out in the morning.
It seems he’d checked out long before then.
If only he’d been fucking around with a hooker or two, they’d have been there to call an ambulance, go down the hall for the defibrillator, or something that could have helped.
If they had actually slept with him after all the fucking, of course.
Although, being hookers, they could have also stolen his wallet, his watch, and other valuables.
Three bushels of corn
The monsters and I made a deal.
They get three bushels of corn a week.
And all the thieves they can eat.
Considering how much the thieves stole, three bushels a week is a bargain.
Plus, the monsters give me everything the thieves had.
Wallets, Boots. Cell phones. Nose rings.
That kind of stuff.
The clothes I sell to Goodwill.
Well, the clothes that don’t fit.
The stuff I sell at pawn shops.
Because I don’t have receipts.
“Didn’t we just eat you?” say the monsters.
“I’m just wearing their stuff,” I say.
And put down three bushels of corn.
Weekly Challenge #949 – PICK TWO Semantics, Cheers, Pots and pans, Landslide, Fret, Crystal
TOM
Absolute Torch and Twang
Crystal Fret was a county western singer in the early 40s. A solid voice but wasn’t graced with a lot of luck. Never could rise to the top of the game. Or for that matter the middle of the game. She was the girl on the third mic. Repeating the reframe. Crooning on the long note. Was on a few Your Hit Parade, even made an appearance on the Grand Ole Opper. Crystal Fret was born in Brooklyn and never could quite lose that New York “R” and “d”. Later in life she became the head tour guide at Graceland.
RICHARD
To the letter
I knew I was in trouble again. She had ‘that’ look on her face – the mix of frustration, annoyance and disbelief, it was a look that spelled just one thing.
“Well?” She stood there, hands on hips, demanding a reply.
“Well, what?” I responded innocently.
“The washing up! You’ve only done half of it, and left all the pots and pans. And you’ve haven’t dried anything!”
I gave her my smug, self-satisfied look.
“You asked me to wash the dishes, that’s what I’ve done. You said nothing about the rest.”
I’m an English teacher, and I just love semantics!
LIZZIE
Crystal was a cow. She was content with her simple bucolic life. When aliens appeared near the creek, she decided to investigate. “Cheers,” she mooed. The aliens got startled and, in a panic, hid behind a rock. “What’s up?” But they just stared at her. “Moo?” Nothing. “Ok, well, nice to meet you guys.” And she trotted away. Later, when the aliens snuck up on her with a syringe, she went “Oh, no, you won’t! It’s bad enough you’re poking around.” That seemed like a pretty clear statement. But the aliens were confused. Poke? Around? Semantics, semantics are a bitch!
SERENDIPIDY
“Cross my palm with silver, and your future will be laid bare before you.”
The politician passed me a sizeable wad of cash.
I shook my head and beckoned for more. He was happy to comply.
Muttering an invocation quietly to myself, I passed my hands over the crystal ball, then looked up at him, a gleam in my eye.
“It will be a landslide victory!”
After he’d left the tent, I chuckled. It would be a landslide alright… for his opponent!
I gathered up the pile of cash from the table.
My future, on the other hand, looked rosy!
NORVAL JOE
It was crystal clear to Billbert how upset Sabrina was at the mention of Mandi’s name. What was not clear was why.
Billbert tried to fold his arms, but Sabrina quickly grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. Billbert shrugged. “I haven’t seen Mandi since the shooting and I want to make sure she’s okay. Just like I did with you.”
Sabrina released his hand and closed her eyes like she was going to sleep. “If you have to see Lindi Mindi. Go.”
“It’s nothing to fret about,” Billbert Grumbled, heading out. “Mom said she would check on you later.”
PLANET Z
Every now and then, I look for something in the kitchen and can’t find it.
Is it in the cupboard? Is it in the left drawer? The right?
In the kitchen island?
Or the pantry, or on the shelves of the mud room?
There’s a point at which I’ll just give up and drive to Walmart to get a new one of whatever instead of asking where it is.
We needed a new one of that anyway, I tell myself.
The shelves and cabinets and cupboards and drawers get more and more cluttered.
Future bargains for the inevitable estate sale.
CHATGPT
At the heart of the bustling kitchen, Emma and Jake argued over semantics—whether the dish should be called “stew” or “soup.” Amid the clattering of pots and pans, their disagreement grew, fueled by the stress of their upcoming dinner party. Outside, a landslide of rain pattered against the windows, echoing their tension. “Let’s not fret over names,” Jake finally said, raising a glass of wine. “Cheers to making something delicious!” Emma smiled, the argument melting away like crystal-clear rainwater. As they cooked side by side, the simple act of creating together turned their debate into a cherished memory.
Duke
Your parents don’t love you.
Or your brother.
So, you’ll stay with us.
We’ll raise you.
We’ll teach you right.
We’ll make you successful.
We’ll make you popular.
We’ll open doors for you.
But you can’t be you anymore.
Anna Marie is dead.
You’re Patty now.
Drink this.
Take these pills.
Talk like this.
Dress like this.
When people ask you questions, say these things.
Your name up in lights…
Patty, not Anna Marie.
And you’ll be on Broadway.
You’ll be on the big screen.
You’ll be on the small screen.
You’ll be loved everywhere.
But you’ll never love yourself.
Team Mascot
Every day, a possum visits my patio.
And I put out cat food for it.
The possum sniffs around, eats the food, and then wanders off.
During a pointless argument and project delay, I pointed my laptop camera out the window during a work meeting.
There were a lot of questions about the possum.
And then the team adopted the possum as our mascot.
And they made a logo with the possum.
Just as the project was falling apart.
I think it was the first and only time that the team actually accomplished something without weeks of debate and mistakes.
Security cameras
The first rule of security cameras is that if you don’t see security cameras, then the cameras are well-hidden.
However, the second rule of security cameras is to make them visible so that people know they are there.
Then there’s the third rule: it’s cheaper to put a sign up that says there are security cameras, even though there aren’t any security cameras.
Because if people can’t see a security camera, they know they must be well-hidden.
Still, it pays to look, because if you’re like me, someone who steals and fences security camera, they can be worth a lot.
So, I made a LinkedIn account.
Connected with a bunch of coworkers and people I went to school with.
And then, I let it sit for a few years.
Every now and then, someone requests a connection.
Or there’s a bunch of people congratulating me for a work anniversary.
Then there’s the waves of connection requests by coworkers.
Usually, that a sign something bad is coming.
They ask me for recommendations.
So, I agree, and then the prospective employer calls me, I tell them the truth:
“You know what? I recommend that you hire me instead.”
And I hang up.
I love a parade
Long ago, I was in a Fourth of July Parade in Deerfield, Illinois.
We were doing the Boston Tea Party, dressed up in Indian war paint and throwing sturdy carboard boxes at the crowd that were painted to look like tea chests.
Helpers would gather and stack the boxes back up for us to throw again.
Celebrating cultural appropriation and defamation for patriotic purposes.
Tossing those boxes, we bonked a few people on the head.
One of the metal clips came loose from a box and tore up a few people’s hands and heads until they put that box away.
The walk to the store
On Saturday, I like to walk to the grocery store.
I bring a pair of reusable bags, because the handles of paper and plastic bags are prone to breaking.
There are several grocery stores within walking distance.
Each has a different route, some along ugly streets and some through nice subdivisions with sidewalks and tree cover.
I sweat a lot on these walks, and cashiers ask if I’ve been running.
“No,” I say. “I’ve been walking. If I had been running, I’d have gotten here sooner.”
I’d probably have sweated less, being out in the Texas sun that much less.