Tag: silly

Spaceship

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Last night, a spaceship fell from the sky and landed on my driveway.
A small green man climbed out a hatch, waved hello, and asked me if he could borrow my tools.
At least I thought that was what he was asking.
“Sure,” I said. “Do you need English or Metric?”
The alien shrugged. “Grobnick blasdo,” he said, and he grabbed a few things from the garage before working on his engine.
It took him an hour before the ship was pulsing a greenish glow.
“Grobnick bladso,” he said, waved, and flew off into space.
Little fucker stole my tools.

Pickles

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Know what the worst thing about getting old?
I hate going bald.
Yeah, I used to have so much hair, but now. all my hair is falling out.
Some guys cover up with hats, and others shave their heads and go totally bald.
Me, I like to cover my head with sliced pickles.
How do I keep them on my head?
Well, the mustard acts like glue.
A few fall off during the day, but I keep a jar with me.
And in a real emergency, I can buy a hamburger and ask for extra pickles.
Lots of extra pickles.

Eighties

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The club is dead on Wednesdays, so I picked a theme and bought a few ads.
One after the other, these old people started to wander into the club, using walkers and canes.
A few had powered scooters. I had to move the tables further apart to handle those.
One woman with an oxygen tank and a white beehive wig complains about the music.
“What’s with this rock and roll crap?” she says.
“It’s Eighties Music,” I say. “Duran Duran. Flock of Seagulls. Van Halen”
You know, Eighties Night.
Oh. Right.
I switch to Benny Goodman for the happy geezers.

Sandpaper Carpet

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We ripped up the carpet and put down sandpaper.
It’s easy to vacuum now. And I get great traction.
It’s a weird feeling to walk across it with my bare feet. It’s kind of like walking on the beach.
The worst part is when I spill something on it. What a mess.
The cat hates it. She leaps across the seats and tables, runs across the sofa and uses the bookshelves to get to the tile floor in the kitchen.
Anything to avoid the sandpaper.
If the cat could climb across the ceiling with her claws, she would.
Silly cat.

Perfect Potatoes

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The potatoes are perfect?
Good. I’m glad you like them.
You know, I always kept things in the oven just a little too long.
So, I had the temperature turned down just little on the oven.
Things turn out just right now.
I could have just set the timer a little quicker, but I’m such a stickler for time.
Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes. You can measure it with a clock or by counting.
But temperature? Can you really tell the difference between three hundred and fifty degrees and three hundred and forty degrees?
Thought so.
So, want more potatoes?

Stuffed

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It’s just a simple fact of life:
You can stuff a chicken.
You can stuff a bra.
You can stuff a bra in a chicken.
You can stuff a chicken in a bra.
Those awful cookbooks and fashion magazines – I blame them for this madness among our children!
It’s unhealthy! It’s unsanitary! It’s unamerican!
It used to be you’d just see this on the news from savage places like Belugastan or the North Indies.
Now, you see it all over the mall. These damn crazy kids with their tattoos, piercings, and poultry-filled undergarments!
The world has gone to Hell.

Old School

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We’re at the bar, watching the ball drop in Times Square.
“I still write last year on my checks,” I say. “I always do stupid shit like that. What about you?”
She puts her drink down. “You still write checks?” she asks. “No online bill payment?”
“I like the feel of writing a check,” I said. “Pointing and clicking doesn’t feel the same.”
“What about using credit cards?”
“Nope. I’m really, really old school.”
She laughed, signed for her tab, and left.
I asked for my tab.
“Two chickens, Bill,” said the bartender.
I handed over the cage.
Old school.

Old Men

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Two old fishermen sat on the dock, the bucket sitting between them.
They’ve been there for years, fishing every day.
The first old man catches a fish, and then, he lets it go free.
Then the other old man catches it and lets it go free.
Back and forth, that fish got caught over and over.
He liked the taste of the bait that much.
And the two old fishermen hated the taste of fish.
“Caught that same damn fish again?” said the first old man.
“Yup,” said the other.
They dropped their poles and left the dock for home.

A Funeral On The Side Of A Cliff

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He spent half his time climbing cliffs and the other half looking for new cliffs to climb.
When his luck ran out, he insisted on being buried in the cliff that killed him.
So, we threw drop-lines over the edge, lowered ourselves to where the rope
snapped on a sharp rock, and dug a niche to stick his ashes in.
The priest was a rockhound from Utah, and he insisted on coming up from the base.
Crazy bastard. We’re all a bunch of crazy bastards, the biggest of all is in this
tin can – see you soon, Johnny, and amen.

Wandering Cat

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My cat likes to wander.
He heads out the door and makes a beeline for Miami.
Spring break.
Just one stop in Biloxi, Mississippi. He likes how they prepare catnip there.
I know this because I read his credit card statements every month.
He’s not good with finances. Gets in over his head if I don’t keep in on a short credit limit and allowance.
I flick the porch light on and off a few times.
He knows that means for him to get his furry butt back inside.
I hear a meow and he’s home, fumbling with his keys.