Tag: silly

Pizza Time

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Okay, so my wife was making pizza the other night, and I got to chop up the veggies.
I like to use the alligator chopper thingy we have. It dices them up real good. And, it’s fun, too!
Then, I dry out the veggies and then get out some mushrooms to blot on paper towels.
My wife doesn’t like mushrooms on pizza, so I put them only on half.
She baked the thing, pulled it out of the oven, and guess which half I ate from?
Yeah, that’s right. The one without mushrooms. Her half.
I’m a bad, bad husband.

Fetch

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My dog loves to play fetch.
It’s really simple to play: I throw a stick and he runs after it.
The problem is, he keeps bringing back the wrong stick.
For example, I just threw a small tree branch, and he came back with a cedar plank.
I threw the cedar blank, and he came back with a wooden chair leg.
I have no idea where he’s getting all these different bits of wood.
So, I took him to the beach and we played with driftwood.
Same thing – he comes back with Maplewood.
How about we try tennis balls instead?

The Water

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It’s raining again. The power is out, and I can’t find the candles.
I look out the window at the darkness.
There’s leaves and branches in the drain along the street, and the water is backing up.
If it keeps raining like this, the street will flood. Then, the water will crawl up the sidewalk and work its way up to the door.
When the water knocks on the door, I will answer it.
“Hello, water,” I will say. “Welcome to my home.”
The water will glide over the doormat and into my front hall.
I enjoy having guests over.

Missing Milk

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Someone stole a milk carton out of my refrigerator.
So, I glued a photo of it to a bunch of children in the neighborhood.
There was a caption, too:
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MILK CARTON?
It took nine months and two million dollars, but I eventually tracked down my milk carton.
There was no milk left in it when the detectives found it.
Whether its captor had consumed the milk or they had tossed it out because the milk had gone bad, we’ll never know.
But, really, thank God it’s home.
I think I’ll make a boat out of it.

Cookie Crumbles

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“That’s the way the cookie crumbles,” said Doctor Odd’s mother.
“Why?” asked the Child Odd.
He was eight. Young, but still the sapling that would grow into the mad scientist the world would fear.
“I don’t know,” said his mother.
From that point on, Doctor Odd begged for cookies – demanded them.
Mother Odd gladly provided, watching her son meticulously test each batch, suggest adjustments to the recipe, and come up with various cookie-crumbling techniques.
On her deathbed, Mother Odd asked her son what he’d discovered from all this research.
Doctor Odd smiled and patted her hand. “I prefer brownies.”

Dancing in the Drunk

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Australians call it Waltzing Matilda.
Japanese call it Saki Hop Susie.
And the Jews call it Horah With Hierschel.
Let’s face it: you’re drunk, and you want to dance.
Feel the dance inside you. Let it rise through your pores and take control.
Good. Now you’re dancing.
If you feel your stomach gurgling, you can take a break. Just bend over and let it flow.
Until then, dance… dance like you’ve never done it before.
Just do me a favor, okay?
Dance over here in the parking lot. You’re holding up traffic out there in the middle of the road.

Cleveland

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When people ask me where the bad man touched me, I tell them: “Cleveland.”
He touched me in Cleveland.
It could have happened anywhere, really.
Dallas, Chicago, Denver… but there was a huge storm in Buffalo that night. So the airline diverted the flight in Cleveland and forgot about us.
No hotel rooms.
No food.
Nothing.
We dragged chairs together and slept in the terminal.
And that’s when the bad man touched me.
In Cleveland.
And I liked it.
In fact, I’m going back to Cleveland next week.
We’ll see if the bad man is there, too.
I hope so.

Magical Night

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Another Wednesday evening, and I’m out in the garage.
In the moonlight, everything looks magical.
Even this ordinary screwdriver looks magical.
So, I wave it like a magic wand and say ABRACADABRA!
Nothing happens.
Not that I expected anything to happen.
After all, stage magicians tend to use those black rods with white tips… or they use twisted wooden sticks as magic wands.
You never see a stage magician pull out a Craftsman Phillips-head and pull a rabbit out of his Caterpillar ball cap.
I snap my fingers and the screwdriver disappears.
Oh, don’t applaud – I really needed a flathead.

War

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Let’s have a war.
We’ll draw maps and set borders.
We’ll make flags and compose anthems.
We’ll dress our friends in uniforms and march them around in parades.
Then we’ll tell them to fight each other. Fight to win!
Some will die.
Others will survive their wounds. We’ll give them medals.
Many will be hurt in ways nobody can see. We’ll ignore them.
Then we’ll end the war and make peace.
We’ll be friends again, working together in harmony.
It’ll bring us closer together.
So that we can have another war.
Come on, it’ll be fun.
What do you say?

Bagel

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I put the sliced bagel in the toaster and I thought for a bit… what do I want on it when it’s ready?
This is very important to me. This is how I’m starting my day, you know.
Grape jelly?
Butter?
Cream cheese, onions, and nova?
No, it’s Monday, and that’s Hummus Day.
I look in the refrigerator and I see the jelly, butter, and cream cheese.
But no hummus.
I forgot to buy some at the store.
Sure, it was on my shopping list, but I forgot to get it.
The toaster pops.
The bagel’s ready, but I’m not.