My nine-year-old daughter called me at work one weeknight asking permission to sleepover with a friend. The question was a formality, since she knew the answer. No week night sleepovers. I hadn’t met or spoken to parent. A doctor was listening when I got message my daughter called. He could only hear my end of conversation. After her request for permission, I merely said, “No, her mother is a child molester and her father is a murderer.” I hung up and went back to work. “What the Hell was that?” He asked. “Oh, my daughter wanted to sleepover at the neighbor’s”. He spewed coffee on his chart
humor
The Dead Pony, the Warped Kid, and the World’s Most Horrible Mother
The phone rang one day. Without introduction, I heard the familiar, deep voice of one of my son’s friends. “Miss Linda, is that story about the pony true?”
“Yep!” The last thing I heard was gales of laughter as I hung up.
If you are the sensitive type, skip this story.
Many years ago when my son was young, we were hauling a load of tree trimmings to the landfill. As my husband backed the truck up to unload, I spotted a dead pony, bloated with all four legs stuck up in the air. Without thinking, I said, “Hey, John. Do you want a pony?”
Of course he said, “Yes!”
“Well, there’s one right over there!”
“Wahhh!!!!!”
I swear it was not intentional. Sometimes I think there is a disconnect between my brain and my mouth!
Super Pooper
We had guests My husband and I were in the kitchen getting coffee and dessert when we heard the couple laughing loudly. We hurried back in the living room to find our ten year-old-son had decided to pull a stunt. On a dare, he’d come walking out in front of the guests clad only in his briefs and socks. He was a big kid, way beyond the point to expect this.
Shocked, his dad spouted, “”Boy, are you nuts? Go get your clothes on!”
As he turned to go, he waddled. The woman exclaimed “Oh my God!” He had packed a gargantuan lump of Playdoh (afterwards known as Play Dooky) in the back of his briefs. It looked liked he’d been holding it for about a week. Then he reached back and pulled it out to show us, like a prize. If I’d been offered retro-active birth control, he’d have disappeared then and there.
Joke
A hiker falling off a cliff a grabbed a tree on his way down but was unable to climb back up. He dangled hundreds of feet above the canyon floor below. As the tree roots started to pull away from the wall of the cliff, he screamed. “Help! Is there anyone up there? Somebody help me, please!”
A loud voice boomed, ” Do not be afraid! Turn loose my son, I will save you!”
Timidly, the hiker asked, “Who is that?”
“It’s the Lord!”
“Help! Help! Is anyone else up there?”
Tossin’ in the Coffin
When I was a kid, I was fortunate enough to get to go to the funeral of my Uncle Ben. I had very little interest in and had wasted no affection on him, but did appreciate getting the honor of being a “member of the family” at the funeral.
I was knowledgeable now about the ways of the world and looked forward to the ride to the graveside service. At the time, it was the custom for the mourners to follow the hearse holding the guest of honor in a very, very slow procession from the church to the gravesite. As we proceeded, oncoming traffic pulled over as a gesture of respect to the deceased. I tried to put on a tragic face as I proudly looked out the windows at all those unfortunate enough not to be in mourning.
Green carpeting draped the mounds of dirt surrounding the grave. A few chairs were reserved for chief mourners. As we all gathered respectfully around the coffin, Brother Bond read a few bible verses, and spoke glowingly of the deceased. It was clear, he didn’t know Uncle Ben like we did, but nobody corrected him. At the close of the brief service, my six uncles serving as pall-bearers prepared the coffin for its descent into the grave, never suspecting the gravediggers had overestimated the size of the grave needed and draped carpeting over their miscalculation. As they somberly approached the coffin, three of the six pall-bearers stepped on the carpet-draped hole and tumbled into the grave along with the open coffin. Uncle Ben joined them as they rolled around in the red clay at the bottom of the grave, but only the pall-bearers clambered out. I was fascinated to learn that bodies are buried with their suits split up the back. All in all it was great afternoon. I’ve always thought more warmly of Uncle Ben since then.
It’s Snot What You Think
Illustration by Kathleen Swain
Unless you’ve been cursed with a prissy, goody-two-shoes older sister, you couldn’t possibly appreciate this, so just go on with whatever you were doing. If you want to commiserate, jump right in. Phyllis was three years older than I. This put her just far enough ahead of me that all the teachers and Sunday School teachers were still raving Continue reading
Some Things Won’t Be Forgiven
A harried mother came to the urgent care center where I was working her five-year old-boy wearing nothing but a sheet and a frown. He was obviously unhappy with his mother and in distress. I assessed him and asked him the problem.
“I’ve got this big hard piece of tape stuck on the end of my pecker and it won’t come off. She’s had me sitting in the bathtub all morning, and it ain’t come off yet!” With this he shot her a murderous look. She explained he’d had a circumcision recently and the dressing was still clinging stubbornly.
He broke back in furiously, “I told you I didn’t want no surgery! Ever’thin’ was workin’ just fine till you hired somebody to whittle on me!”
I wasn’t getting in that family fight!
The Town Hall Clock Flower (Annie Sleeps Around)
There’s nothing at all about the Town Hall Clock Flower in this post. In a comment on one of my posts, Fodrambler said Google had a lot of hits on his post with mention of the Town Hall Clock Flower with a picture of Fizz, his darling little dog, so I thought I’d try an outrageously cheap trick and see if they hit on this post if I Continue reading
Annie’s Downfall
My daughter once had a fat, farting, sullen Dalmatian named Annie who liked only two things in this world. The kid across the street named Greg and anything with wheels: riding mower, wagon, wheel barrow, cars…..We’d often look out and see Annie sitting on the seat of the riding mower. Continue reading
Nutsrok 