Girls are not made of sugar and spice and everything nice.
They are made of peanut butter.
You know, If I made a daughter out of peanut butter, I’d name her Jif Skippy.
Because if I made a son out of peanut butter, I’d name him Tom.
No, I wouldn’t name him Peter Pan. Because everyone else making boys out of peanut butter name their boys Peter Pan.
Some use chunky, others use smooth.
I don’t have a preference, as long as it isn’t low-cost generic.
If you’re going to make a daughter out of peanut butter, use quality ingredients.
Tag: quote
The Apple
I like to go to the store and buy a bunch of different kinds of apples.
Red. Golden. Macintosh.
All different kinds.
Then I bring them home and slice them up, making an apple buffet.
Each apple has its own unique texture, tartness, sweetness, and juiciness.
I try them all, closing my eyes and picking out slices to put in my mouth, chew slowly, swallow.
I thought about putting out caramel and honey and other things to dip them in, or walnuts and peanuts to roll them in.
But for me, the apples are enough.
Here. Have one, Snow White.
Froggy
Froggy went a courtin’, he did ride.
Sword and pistol by his side.
He was also a little drunk.
Okay, very drunk. Drunk as a skunk.
Except that the skunk he ended up courtin’ wasn’t drunk.
She was sober, and uninterested in Froggy.
Froggy wouldn’t take no for an answer.
So, the skunk sprayed him right in his gigantic bulbous eyes.
Froggy spun in circles, screaming bloody murder. We laughed.
We weren’t laughing when he pulled the pistol and began shooting wildly.
Killed three.
And really impressed the skunk.
(Later, Froggy sobered up, saw his bride, the skunk, and ran.)
Peach
What did you just say?
My hearing’s not so good, and I need new batteries in my hearing aids.
“Peach on earth, and good will to all men?”
Oh, you said peace, not peach.
Although, now that I think of it, peach makes a lot more sense.
I mean, have you ever been angry when eating a peach?
I haven’t. And you haven’t either.
Nobody ever has.
So maybe if we give peaches to everybody, there will be goodwill to all men?
What? You’re allergic to peaches?
Well, I guess there goes my whole “Good will” idea.
(You oversensitive jerk!)
They Walk No More
Things have been crazy here in Middle Earth.
There was a war. Lots of people and orcs and things got killed.
Some midgets and their friends chickened out and fled. They claimed they had to go off and destroy a ring.
Yeah. Right.
The noise died down, the fires got put out, we buried the bodies and repaired the damage to our homes and businesses.
Those ring-destroying heroes? Too hoity-toity for honest hard work.
They said “We’re sailing off to the West.”
Yeah, we got stuck building the boats. Them walking trees really yell when you mill them for planks.
Wherefore art thou?
The Verona town guard gave the Capulets and Montagues a wide berth during patrols.
“Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” shouted Juliet.
Romeo was behind a tree, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “I swear I’ll get you, bitch!” he shouted back.
Juliet swung the rifle around and squeezed the trigger.
Romeo yelped in terror as the bullet struck the tree he was behind.
“Come out and tell me how my beauty is like the sun one more time, you creep!”
Romeo heard Juliet’s father chastising her.
He made a quick escape… and took a bullet in the back.
“Good shot, Daddy!” Juliet cheered.
Mister Clean
Mister Clean wasn’t always clean.
Despite his parents’ best efforts, he refused to clean his room.
“You’d better clean your room,” his mother would say. “Or you’re not getting any dinner.”
“Fine by me,” he said. “Everything you make tastes like ammonia and bleach anyway.”
She’d send him to his room, and he’d happy comply, slamming the door shut.
“At least we don’t have to see his room with the door closed,” his father said.
But they did have to smell it.
So, they took him to a mental hospital, where his head was shaved and he received shock therapy.
Not So Nicely
After killing the bottle, I passed out.
My dream?
I was on the boat to Heaven.
Some dude holding dice and a bottle of whiskey stood up and shouted “Someone, fade me!”
The boat started to rock and I growled “Sit down!”
He stumbled over to me and stared at me with his bloodshot eyes, and the stench from his breath and grimy tattered coat filled me with disgust.
“Make me,” he said.
So, I tried, but we both fell overboard.
Down… Down…
That’s when I woke up, stumbled to the sink, vomited, and swore…
No more musicals before bed.
Seeds
On the eve of her return to the land of the living, Hades thanked Persephone for her company.
He handed her a map with some wine and food, in case she got hungry along the way.
The next morning, Persephone began her journey.
It took longer than the journey to Hell, and she sat by a stream to rest.
She drank some wine, ate some food.
Then she realized: it was the rest of that apple.
“Six more seeds,” grinned Hades. “That makes twelve. The world is mine.”
Far above them, leaves turned brown again, and snow began to fall.
Organized
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I refuse to be a part of any organized religion.
So, I’ve joined a highly-disorganized church.
I’m not sure of the name of it. The signs all say different things.
One sign suggests that it’s a military research facility. Perhaps at one time it was, but I have yet to have someone from the military research me during a service.
Pews are scattered about, there’s no telling what kind of book you’ll read from.
I’ve got a phonebook this week.
There is no choir. People sing when they want to, what they want to.
I said “asylum,” right?
Church?
Oops.