Strange things are happening these days.
The strangest?
Where did all the turkeys go?
That’s the question everybody’s asking.
All of the grocery stores are out of turkeys.
There isn’t a turkey to be seen at any farm.
And if you bought a turkey already and put it in your freezer, you’re probably wondering why there’s a huge empty space in there now.
Even pictures of turkeys have vanished from everywhere. There’s no entry for it in the dictionary.
Oh well. I didn’t like turkey anyway. Forget it.
Pass the mashed potatoes and gravy, please. That roasted eagle smells wonderful.
Tag: silly
The Balloon
There was once a balloon in Balloon Land who was unlike the others.
He was filled with mustard.
They all floated around and laughed at him.
So he rolled away, far away, until he reached the Kingdom of Hot Dogs.
Frightened, the balloon began to cry, and mustard dribbled on to a hot dog.
It made a pretty yellow squiggle.
Another hot dog saw this. “Put one on me!” it said.
All the hot dogs wanted squiggles, and eventually the balloon ran out of mustard.
“What good am I now?” it cried.
The hot dogs sacrificed it to their god.
Medical
It used to be that being a werewolf was a death sentence.
But thanks to modern medicine and sturdy cages, a werewolf can expect to live out as close-to-normal life as expected.
Insurance companies can no longer jack up premiums or dump these afflicted patients as “suffering from a pre-existing condition” or as an “act of God.” Thank you, President Obama!
And employers cannot discriminate against them as long as they don’t pose a danger to their coworkers. Clever and careful scheduling resolves any potential, deadly, and costly conflicts.
(Especially with the vampires we hired to supervise the night shift.)
How Cats Defeated Hitler
In an underground cafe in Berlin, sitting at a table with a bottle of something dark and crisp, an old man hobbles up to me and hands me a fluffy grey cat.
“Cats defeated Hitler,” he said, smiling.
And he walked back into the shadows.
I looked at the cat.
The cat looked at me.
And purred.
I wanted to get up and follow the old man and ask him what he meant, but the cat was so soft and furry, and the purring was so nice.
So, I just sat, drank my beer, and surrendered to the grey cat.
Unfair
It’s interesting to see people adjusting to ever-advancing technology.
From chalk and slate to Microsoft MindLink, teachers preparing kids for yesterday’s challenges, kids distracted by the newest gadgets.
Susie has a dataport on her arm, and she covers it with a long sleeve.
MindLink still has brainwipe issues, her parents say. A class in Chicago got zombied last week.
She pouts, runs to her room, crying.
Plugging in, she updates her journal, tagging it with all the unfairness, all the envy of her friends who got their way.
Just like her daughter will do.
(With the next generation of technology.)
The Hate Of Cake
I take the cake out to the grocery store parking lot, remove the lid, and start punching it.
Frosting splatters all over the ground and my clothes as my fists pummel the cake into a mushy pulp.
Then, I lick my fists and go back into the grocery store.
“I’d like another cake,” I say.
“You’ve bought four today,” says the manager. “And you’re covered with cake. What are you doing with them?”
“Punching them,” I say. “It’s cathartic.”
The manager looks around, sees his employees goofing off, and picks up 2 cakes.
“Mind if I join you?” he says.
Hallow’s Eve
Every holiday brings its special charms and annoying marketing blitz.
All throughout the store, you’ll see a lot more orange and black for Halloween.
We’re not just talking about the piles of candy for handing out to kids.
(Although I must admit, I ate my candy stockpile and need to go out and buy more.)
You’ll see all kinds of products decked out for the season, some of which don’t make much sense.
Small bottles of Summer’s Eve douche, rebranded “All Hallow’s Eve.”
I guess if you’re turning tricks while collecting treats, it’s essential, but I’ll just stick to candy.
Eight and Ten
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Everything in Mathematics is pretty much known these days. It takes five hundred pages packed with formulas to come up with something unknown.
And those panel discussions are really boring.
So, I came up with a simple and fun one: “Why are hot dogs sold in packages of ten and hot dog buns sold in packages of eight?”
Wow. You should have seen the fistfights.
Then, Weird Al Yankovic, yeah, the musician, steps in and says “I just give the extra 2 hot dogs to my dog.”
He won the Nobel Prize for that.
(And gave it to his dog.)
The Ghosts In My Pants
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Most ghosts appear as sheets flapping in the wind, but the ghosts that haunt my house appear as torn and worn-out pants flying around.
At first, I found them frightening, but in time I’ve grown used to them.
They’re even somewhat ludicrous when I think about them.
Especially when they fly around with their zippers undone.
“X Y Z,” I say to a passing ghost, and the jeans hover there for a moment before zipping up.
It goes back to moaning and flapping around with the others.
The laundry promises to exorcise them this time.
Just like “no starch” right?
Do you trust these pancakes?
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The courts upheld the ban against pancakes last year.
Now, the only place you can get pancakes is an underground grill.
Or, if you risk it, at home.
“We’re making waffles,” I tell the grocery checkout girl as she holds up my maple syrup bottle suspiciously.
The government says that waffles are a gateway breakfast food leading to pancakes, but I disagree.
I like waffles.
I like bacon.
I like orange juice.
But pancakes? No. They don’t hold butter or syrup like waffles do.
She bags the eggs, flour, and maple syrup.
I’ll make waffles.
But after that? Who knows?