Tag: silly

Wilton

636178

Where El Dorado was paved with gold, the town of Wilton is paved with cake.
Gingerbread houses and frosting flowers line Angel Food Lane, their gumdrop mailboxes overflowing with letters written on coconut.
In between classes, Wilton Elementary serves sugary snacks to the peanut-brittle children.
The Department of Works rolls around in a cake-pan truck, patching holes in the streets, mending the breaks in the peppermint sewers, and planting spun-sugar trees when the old ones dry up and flake away.
The explorers look at each other, mumble “El Dorado?”
One shakes the compass, and they walk back into the woods.

The Cello Player

637129

Few things are certain in life.
Most of all, of the things you can count on, I’m most certain that you’ll never hear a chick say “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m fucking the cello player.”
Guitarists, singers, bass players.
Even drummers, if you can imagine that.
But when it comes to cello players, they’re the ones that haul their cellos up five flights of stairs into a lonely, cramped apartment.
Nobody knocks. Nobody calls.
More time for practice, right?
I guess so.
But no matter how good he gets, no chick will say “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m fucking the cello player.”

Dominos

636179

Jackie set up dominos to run from one end of the state to the other, and she’s ready to tip that first domino over.
How he got all these dominos set up without any falling over or getting stolen, well, let’s just say this state’s proud of Jackie and ain’t nobody’s gonna mess with her stuff.
And to tell the truth, it’s not too big a state the way she’s set these dominos up.
Nothing fancy. No ramps or pool balls or bells or little rockets.
Just dominos. A whole mess of them.
She flicks a finger, and they fall.

Banana In My Pocket

636191

There is always a banana in my right jacket pocket.
Every time I reach in there, I feel a banana is in there.
I know this, because when I pull it out, I have a banana in my hand.
And, sure enough, another banana appears in my pocket to replace it.
You’d think this endless supply of bananas would be a godsend, but I don’t like bananas.
You like bananas?
I think this jacket’s about your size.
What have you got in your pocket? A plum? An orange? Strawberries?
Oh, you always have a weasel in your pants?
Never mind.

Keyboard Shake

636186

Ever turn your keyboard over and shake it?
Usually, just hair and dust fall out.
However, it’s somewhat unusual for an living octopus to fall out.
I carried the odd creature to the sink and filled the sink up with water.
The octopus crawled around, exploring its new environment with its suckered tentacles.
How long had it been in my keyboard?
How did it get in my keyboard?
I don’t remember dropping an octopus in my keyboard.
I called the manufacturer… they had strict octopus-prevention procedures in place.
What will I do with it?
Hey, anybody need a pet octopus?

Shopping List

636185

My shopping list is on the New York Times Bestseller’s List.
I don’t know what happened, but I got a call from a reporter asking me questions about being an author, and I had no idea what was going on.
Oprah, Good Morning America, Regis… they all want to talk to me.
I don’t know what’s so compelling about my shopping list, but I guess it touched a whole bunch of people.
One critic claims that I plagiarized my list. Another says that it was ghostwritten.
All I know is that I really need milk, eggs, butter, and trash bags.

Fiddle

636178

If hillbillies call a violin a fiddle, what do they call themselves a cello?
Truth is, hillbilly ain’t seen no cellos never. But they always a first time.
First time a hillbilly seen himself a cello, he thought it warn’t nothin’ but a big ol fiddle for a big ol giant.
So the hillbilly think himself a big man, all hillbilly do, put the cello up at his fool neck and he try to play the thing fiddle-like.
Yeah, he break his neck, fall down dead right there, cello fallin on him.
They says a giant kilt him dead, sir.

George

636178

George hated dogs. He hated the shit out of them.
People were always telling their dogs to bark at him, or worse – set their dogs loose on him.
George spent an awful lot of his childhood running from dogs.
Years later, in his research facility, George looked at the creamy substance in the mixing bowl and smiled.
“At long last, I shall have my revenge!” he cackled with glee, scooping up a dollop of the peanut butter and offering it to a dog.
He laughed a hearty laugh as the poor, dumb beast desperately licked its chops for fifteen minutes.

The Happy Pie

636185

It was an ordinary pumpkin pie, fresh from the bakery.
We were finished with the roast beef, so it was time for dessert.
Victor grabbed the can of whipped cream and added two dots for eyes and a long curled smile.
That’s when it became the happy pie.
“Come on, Victor,” I said. “Let’s have the pie.”
We all wanted a slice, but Victor shouted “THE HAPPY PIE IS TOO HAPPY TO EAT!” and he ran off with it.
Victor wasn’t hard to chase down. He was sitting on the curb, the pie splattered against the sidewalk.
Happy, no more.

My First Midnight

1452934

The first time I saw midnight, it was New Year’s Eve.
Well, sort of. It was really nine or nine thirty. Later than my bedtime, but still, not the real midnight time for New Year’s for Chicago.
My mom had moved the clock forward so it looked like eleven. My dad had popped popcorn for us all.
By the time it was fake midnight, we were out of popcorn except for two pieces.
Tossing those two pieces into the air, one after the other, yeah, it was silly. But if that’s all you’ve got, it’s the thought that counts, right?