Every year, I sign up for National Novel Writing Month.
One year, I wrote eighty-seven words on the side of a church and spent the month in jail.
The next year, I got drunk and had the word “Bilious” tattooed across my ass. Oh, and a pelican in a top hat holding a shotgun.
Then, there was the year I used Dragon Dictation, a speech-to-Text program. Thought I could just talk and talk and talk up the novel.
Yeah, I lost my voice.
This year, I’m going to write.
I’m going to write this all off as a bad idea.
Tag: silly
The Rutabaga Of All Evil
Growing up, I heard a lot of advertising pitches for foods.
Pork was the other white meat.
Beef was what was for dinner.
And it wasn’t any ordinary egg, but the incredible edible egg.
Sadly, the rutabaga growers collective didn’t have much of an advertising budget, so my grandfather made us run up and down the aisles of the grocery store shouting EAT SOME GOD DAMN RUTABAGAS!
What? Was he a rutabaga farmer?
No. And he didn’t work for the collective, either.
He was just a sick old man who hated kids.
And rutabagas, now that I think of it.
Mount Laundry
I don’t like doing laundry.
And I don’t like it when other people do my laundry.
They might find something in one of my pockets that I don’t want them finding.
I’d rather it never be found than someone finding it.
So, one day, I tried to open the front door.
The laundry pile was jammed against the door.
That’s when I decided to tackle the laundry pile.
It was a mountain. Mount Laundry.
I lost three toes and a Sherpa climbing it.
But it got done.
Just in time to take out the trash.
Mount Trash.
(Where’s that Sherpa?)
Mousetrapped
Long ago, I was poor.
Really poor.
Lived in a total rat-hole, infested with mice.
I guess that made it a mouse-hole instead of a rat-hole.
Anyway, because of the mice, I had to put mousetraps everywhere.
Except that I was so poor, I couldn’t afford cheese for my mousetraps.
I tore out pictures of cheese from the newspaper and put it in the traps.
The next day, I checked the trap.
There was a picture of a mouse from a newspaper in it.
I gave it to the picture of a cat I had as a pet back then.
Dog Brain
Ruth and Paul were enjoying a quiet evening at home when their son Timmy crawled in the door on all fours, barking madly.
“Lassie, what is it?” said Paul. “Did the mad scientist next door switch your brain with Timmy again?”
Timmy barked.
“And he fell down the well?” said Ruth.
Timmy barked again, then looked back at the door, whining.
Ruth and Paul looked at each other and shrugged.
Paul got up, and closed the door.
“Boy was a pain in the ass,” he said.
The new Lassie shed a lot less.
And shat on the carpet less, too.
Healthy Eating
I was sent to a mission on some remote Pacific Island to teach the natives about our Church, culture, and all sorts of modern things like nutrition.
Fruits and vegetables are good for you, nice and healthy, while too much meat and fat is bad for you.
“You are what you eat,” I say.
They hit me on the head, tied me up, and stuck me in a stewpot.
Nobody told me these savages were cannibals.
The hot water woke me up, and I shouted “Don’t eat me!”
The chief laughed. “We’re giving you a bath. Man, your cologne stinks.”
Bananacalibur
That’s no ordinary banana in a stone…
That’s Bananacalibur!
Sure, the Lady Of The Lake may have tossed a sword at Arthur, but when pulled it from the stone, The Clown Of The Crown stuck a banana in the hole.
What? What happens to the person who pulls it from the stone?
I guess they get a free banana.
Hey, just be careful what you do with the peel when you’re done with it.
If you slip on it, you become the next Clown Of The Crown.
And the Clown Of The Crown has some mighty big shoes to fill.
The Tale Winner
The Canterbury Tales are a collection of stories about a group of pilgrims heading to a shrine, passing the time with a storytelling contest.
The winner was to get a free meal upon return from the pilgrimage.
Today, only a portion of the manuscripts are known to the public, as many tales are missing, and we are left without knowing who won the contest.
Until today.
Reading the ancient papers on a lighted workbench, I learn of a man dressed in a black cloak and hood, silent as the night, dining alone.
Yes, it’s true.
The Ninja won the contest.
Moving Hassles
I really hate moving.
It’s such a hassle, packing and loading and unloading and unpacking and filing claims and all that crap.
Now when I get a new place, I pay someone to steal all my stuff.
Then, I report it and the insurance company pays to replace it.
All new stuff shows up at my new place by delivery van, and for a few bucks, they assemble and set it all up.
Except one thing… the guys I paid to rob me found out where I live, and they robbed me again.
Oh well.
Let’s go out to eat.
Cord
My wife shook me awake.
“There’s an extension cord running into the sewer,” she said.
So I got up, put on my robe and slippers, and went outside.
Sure enough, an orange extension cord led to the sewer.
I tugged on it
It didn’t budge.
The other end led down the street for a bit, and then went straight up… and up…
I swear, it went as far as I could see, right towards the sun.
I tugged down on it.
And it came loose.
We ran inside as miles of orange cord came falling down from the darkening sky.