I hung a set of wind chimes from a tree branch near my fence.
I’d post a video of the wind chimes, but it’s not all that windy.
And even when it is, the wind never kicks up the sail so the clapper goes into the tubes.
And the raindrops jostle the sail a little, but not enough for anything audible over the sound of the rain.
Maybe I will throw a shoe at it?
Will that make it a shoe chimes?
The sail is below the fence line.
I’d raise the wind chimes, but it would annoy the neighbors.
Dig two graves
They say that when you seek revenge, dig two graves.
Because most villains have an accomplice.
Or, if they don’t, there will probably be a witness when you get revenge.
And you can’t leave any witnesses.
“I didn’t see nothin’,” says the witness. “I ain’t telling nobody nothin’.”
Yeah, right.
You know what’s better?
Make them dig their own graves.
The worst that can happen is that they say no.
But if they do dig their own graves, at least they save you the effort.
Sure, you’ll need two shovels.
Unless you want them to take turns, that works too.
Basquiat
If you don’t like Basquiat, you’re a racist.
So, call me a racist.
His paintings and drawings were crap.
Same with Cy Twombly, Philip Rothko, and all those other crap-peddlers.
Warhol, too.
Warhol peddled crap.
And for a few years, Basquiat was the crap he peddled.
Philip Seymour Hoffman did heroin with Basquiat.
Basquiat died from a heroin overdose.
So, without Philip doing heroin with him, Basquiat might have lived a few more years.
Making more crap paintings and drawings.
So, thank you, Philip.
But then, he died of a drug overdose.
So, fuck you, Basquiat.
Killing a real talent.
The Twenty Year Pills
Freddy is prone to getting kidney stones.
He hasn’t gotten them recently, but he’s terrified of getting them again.
And waiting hours in the Emergency Room in dire pain.
So, he changed to a plant-based diet, avoided red meat, and doesn’t drink at all.
And he keeps a supply of the medication on hand, just in case.
“These pills are twenty years old,” says the customs officer at the airport.
“My kidneys are twenty years older, too,” says Freddy. “The pain will be twenty times worse.”
The officer thinks for a moment, stamps Freddy’s passport, and waves him along.
“NEXT!”
The Hypocrite Sisters
The Johnson Twins were professional activists.
Betty made a sign that said STOP THE KILLING!
She used it in abortion clinic protests.
Bertha would take the same sign to executions.
She used it in her protests against the death penalty.
Betty never went to those protests, because she was for the death penalty.
Just as Bertha never went to the abortion clinics to protest because she was pro-choice.
She did go to an abortion clinic to get an abortion, though.
Betty waved the sign in Bertha’s face as she walked in the clinic.
“Don’t make me kill you,” muttered Bertha.
Silverdeath
You don’t own Silverdeath.
Silverdeath owns you.
It’s a very powerful sword and it takes over the minds of its bearers.
Sometimes, it’s a big warrior.
Other times, it’s a kid.
Peasants, prostitutes, and princes.
But it’s always the same arrogant tone in their voice.
When Silverdeath gets bored with a bearer, it looks for a new one.
And it’s not enough to abandon that person.
“Kill me,” they say.
Only the strong-willed can resist Silverdeath.
Going out to the forest, burying the cursed blade.
But it calls out for another, promising great power and wealth.
“And bring a shovel.”
Weekly Challenge #961 – Wasp
The next topic is PICK TWO Lost in translation, Incapable, Wish, Chainsaw, Too long, Full of
NORVAL JOE
When they arrived at Buhmilda’s cabin, the only thing moving was a wasp buzzing around under the eves. All the residents of the meadow and their campers and vans were gone.
Entering the cabin, they found it completely empty. All the furniture, food, and even Sabrina’s clothes were missing.
The only thing remaining was a dusty curio against the far wall.
Billbert peered through the cracked glass. “There’s lots of cool stuff in here. I’m surprised no one took any of it.”
Bitterly, Sabrina said, “They would have if they could have. You need real magic to open this cabinet.”
TOM
Not our kind, dear
I was born a poor catholic kid. My daddy was bummed he couldn’t be in the klan. I was bummed I couldn’t be a Mason. Screw that Knight’s of Columbus shit. Despite growing up in Polish, Irish, Italian, Bavarian neighborhood I never once dated a catholic girl. Major up-hill battle there. Basic I went out with Wasp Women, Job’s daughters, and later in life Junior Leaguers. That’s a story of pain and destruction. Now for all you kids out there a wasp is far from being a bug, they’re the folk still running the show in America. White Anglo-Saxon Protestants.
LIZZIE
The shovel was crap. The ground was too hard. The body was, let’s say, unbendable. And no one volunteered to help. Then, there was the wasp. He tried to kill it, but he kept hitting the body, adding cuts to it. It really annoyed him that the coroner would think this guy had been tortured with a shovel. He had a reputation to protect. So, he paid some low level dude who drove by to dig the hole and dumped the two in it. Not his neatest work but even a hitman has a bad day every now and then.
SERENDIPIDY
It was carnage. Bodies everywhere – twenty kids, two teachers and the bus driver. A few fatalities, and many grievously injured.
The driver was dead. That pleased me.
I’d always hated that driver, he’d make snide remarks to me when I used to catch the bus to school, and I’d dread every journey, with him constantly leering at me in his rear view mirror.
I’d vowed then to get my own back. And when I spotted his epi-pen peeking from the top of his pocket, I knew exactly what I was going to do.
The hardest part, was catching the wasp!
RICHARD
– Sweet –
“I really don’t know why they’re not producing”
Josh was new to the hobby, and if I’m honest, he wasn’t the brightest.
To be fair to him though, he was trying his best, and had followed my instructions to the letter, so I found it somewhat surprising that even with all my advice, he wasn’t seeing results.
“Let me take a look at your setup”, I offered, and we headed outdoors.
Everything looked OK, then I took a closer look.
I jumped back in alarm.
“Well, I know why they’re not producing honey”, I said, batting away an attacking wasp.
KingLestat71
The Detective
I had been nursing my beer for hours. Watching her. Studying her. She was bold. She also fit in. Everybody laughed with her. But certainly stubborn. They told her to stop drinking. But she kept dunking them in. She was also aggressive. One guy that approached whispering something to her? She slapped him so hard my hand was stinging. But when she and her four friends decided to sing and dance, they were up all together. She, like the queen wasp. They like her helper wasps. Another disgusted look from the barman, and I was out. Another day done.
PLANET Z
When you move into a house, there’s things you can plan for and there’s things that plan for you.
No point in getting all worked up. Just make a list and deal with it.
There was a wasp nest along the gutter of the house.
And a few more on the edges of the garage door.
I bought some spray from Walmart and sprayed them all.
Nothing flew out, so I figured they were old nests, long abandoned.
I got a pole and knocked them down.
Maybe they’ll be back. Maybe they won’t.
Until then, I’ll be ready for them.
Who’s laughing now?
For over five thousand years, you have tried to kill my people.
Why?
You claim that we use your babies to make our bread.
You claim that we control the economy, the banks, entertainment, the weather.
You enslave us, exploit us, torture us, and exterminate us.
And yet, we’re still here.
We look at life and laugh at it. It’s why so many of our people are comedians and dramatists.
We have our own nation back, not for your lack of trying to exterminate it, too.
And that nation has a strong army. And nuclear weapons.
So, fuckers, who’s laughing now?
The not so little mermaid
The mermaid made a deal with the sea witch.
A pair of human legs for her voice.
The sea witch agreed and cast her spell.
And the mermaid felt her tail fins split and become legs.
She then kicked her way to the surface.
But when she got there, she couldn’t breathe.
She sank back down to the sea witch’s lair.
It took some effort to explain what she wanted.
But she got it, and rushed to the surface to take her first breath of air.
Days later, she was back in a diving suit.
Begging desperately for a vagina.
George’s rowboat
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
After Lieutenant Robert Maynard killed Blackbeard, the naval officer beheaded the famous pirate and hung the head from his sloop.
George dove into the water to recover Blackbeard’s body.
He rowed his rowboat as fast as he could, passing Maynard’s sloop, which had stalled in calm winds, and landed in port with an hour to spare.
“Here he is,” said George, dumping the body on the counter of the tax office. “Recognize the tattoos? I’ll take the reward in gold.”
Maynard arrived, just as the smiling George was leaving.