If we thank God for Friday, then should we curse Satan for Monday?
I asked Satan about it the other day when I saw him.
“Should I curse you for Monday?” I asked Satan.
“Sure,” said Satan. “I’m also responsible for hot dogs coming in packages of ten and hot dog buns coming in packages of eight.”
“Damn you, Satan!” I shouted.
“I’m already damned,” said Satan. “Care for a hot dog?”
Did you know that Satan likes his hot dogs Chicago style with mustard, relish, sweet peppers, pickles, and celery salt?
He’s not such a bad guy after all.
Toby spent all afternoon eating popcorn, peanuts, and cotton candy at the county fair.
Watching the clowns tumble and joke under the big top, the midway feast now wanted out.
As she ran for the exit, a spotlight shone on her and the ringmaster grabbed her hand.
“Let me go,” she said.
“Ever rode a horse?” he said, grinning. “I’m hung like one.”
The crowd roared, the world spun, and Toby heaved up everything she’d ever eaten.
She woke up in a pile of hay, covered with clown makeup.
The ringmaster turned out to be hung more like a shrimp.
Doctor Odd held the eggs against the phase-regulated vacuum pump and flipped the switch.
“Watch!” he yelled.
The eggs vibrated for a moment, glowed red, and then their insides dropped into the skillet below.
“Success,” said Odd, inspecting the shells.
Not a crack.
“You can’t do this!” shouted his assistant. “This is madness! You cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs!”
“You’re right,” said Odd, looking at the bubbling eggy goop in the frying pan.
“Thank God you came to your senses, Doctor,” said his assistant.
“What was I thinking?” said Doctor Odd. “It needs peppers and mushrooms!”
Have you tried the soup?
Oh. My. God.
This has got to be the best soup in the world.
You haven’t lived until you’ve had this soup.
It’s got noodles. It’s got garlic. It’s got what I think are shallots. Maybe some thinly sliced mushrooms in there, too.
I know what you’re thinking. I’ve gone nuts. Nobody gets this excited over soup.
Well, that’s what I thought. Until I picked up a bowl and a spoon, and I tried it. And then…
Well, you know the rest.
So, are you going to try the soup?
THEN DIE, HEATHEN PIG!
Frisky the cat hangs out in the kitchen and demands two things: Parmesan cheese and butter.
Now that I’ve switched to that omega-3 spread plant sterol stuff, there’s plenty of butter left over for Frisky.
I don’t know where we got it, but recently we bought Grade AA butter instead of the Grade A butter. Until now, I didn’t know there were different grades of butter.
One was yellower than the other, but I couldn’t tell the difference.
Frisky could. He turned his nose up at it and chirped angrily.
I gave in and gave him the good stuff.
Dinner was ready. They all sat down, said a prayer, and the wine was uncorked.
“When was the last time we had turkey?” asked Susan.
Fred scratched his chin. “Not since last Thanksgiving,” he said.
“Wait a second,” said Jo Jo. “We had some leftovers, so technically that was the last turkey we had together.”
“If turkey is such a wonderful feast, why don’t we have it more often?” asked Susan.
“Because it’s such a bitch to cook,” said Arthur.
“And I’m stuck with the cleanup this year,” said Susan. “Screw all this?”
They agreed. Next year, a Chinese take-out.
Alice sat with her sister on the riverbank, bored out of her mind. She didn’t feel like braiding flowers again, and she wasn’t terribly interested in the book her sister was reading, either.
That’s when the White Rabbit muttered something about being late, looked at his pocketwatch, and hopped towards a hole in the riverbank.
Alice waited for the snap of the rabbit-trap.
It came, and the rabbit screamed in agony.
“Have you found a recipe for rabbit yet?” asked Alice.
“I think so,” said her sister, shutting the cookbook. “You club it, I’ll skin it.”
Alice kept the pocketwatch.
Contrary to popular belief, the Tree Of Knowledge was no tree at all, but a cornfield.
The snake was no snake, but a massive scarecrow placed to drive all living creatures from the cornfield, including the pair of humans God had recently created.
Eve tempted Adam with the corn, but he did not find the husk-covered vegetable to be all that appetizing.
Only when Eve shucked it, boiled it in a nearby hot spring, and smothered it with salt and butter did Adam finally take a bite.
Upon their banishment from Paradise and discovering their nakedness, Adam created a corn-bib.
A long time ago, I remember my father showing me the place mat at the Chinese restaurant, printed with the stylized depictions of various animals, and saying that the Chinese Zodiac was how the Chinese government was run.
“Since they’re Communists,” he said, “the people run the country. When your year in the Zodiac comes up, you take office.”
“Sort of like jury duty?” I asked.
“In a way,” he said.
I looked at the animals… roosters, dragons, sheep, monkeys…
“Monkeys ruling China?” I asked. “What about the worl-”
That’s when our order arrived.
I never did get an answer.
Would you like to know why I’m so tense?
I turn water into wine, but wedding guests complain that it’s not a good year.
I multiplied the loaves and fishes, but people whine about carbohydrates and mercury levels.
The leper I cured didn’t grow back any of the appendages that rotted off, so he’s saying I did a half-assed job.
After that, Lazarus whines that his terminal cancer wasn’t cured, but he can’t die from it now. So he suffers constantly.
Bitch bitch bitch.
Finally, I come back from the dead, and I miss the weekend.
What a goddamned crock.