“Will you love me forever, Emmaline?” I asked the most beautiful girl in the world. “I doubt it,” she said, “since I don’t even love you now.”
With a tip o’ the hat to Steven Wright.
Porky Pig, bloody knife in hand, stood over the lifeless bodies of Bugs and Daffy and Elmer and Tweety and almost all the other characters of Warner Brothers cartoon-dom. “That’ll learn ya to make fun of speech impe-impedi-imp-difficulties,” he stuttered, jamming the blade into his throat and mumbling, “B-de, B-de, B-de, B-de, that’s all folks.”
My friend, the Witch Doctor, told me what to say: Oo Ee Oo Ah Ah Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang. I told her this, and she married the Witch Doctor.
I got a tattoo by myself, I bought a gun by myself, I certainly can go to the movies by myself. Who knew how wrong he’d be?
Note: I heard a guy scream the first sentence into a pay phone, and it’s stuck with me.
That dillweed, Bobby Jones, handed me a card that said, “How do you keep an idiot busy? (over)” What do you suppose is on the other side?
She was staring up at the yellow ceiling while her husband waa clipping his toe-nails.
Thr repetitive sound reminded her of when her mother caught a yellow train to Chicago to get away from her Protestant father.
“Doctor, what you’re doing is unethical and I will report you to the Committee!”
“Don’t worry My Dear, by the time I finish you’ll not remember any of this and fighting the restraints and the anesthetic I gave you will only result in injuring yourself; sweet dreams.”
Her Protestant father had eyes of blue and a heart of steel. The lass cried out, “Eek” and reached for something life-saving she kept in her pocket.
The young woman giggled, looked at her boyfriend, and sweetly called him “funny face.” He then ran off to join the circus.
His wet, claustrophobic passage though the tunnel was at an end and he sloshed out of its round mouth to find himself knee-deep in a stream that flowed through a peaceful glade. Taking in the scene with relief, he said to himself, “It just goes to show that you can’t tell a brook by its culvert.”
It was so simple to cross the river like with some easy cross stitches. He was afraid of the other side where the reeds were ambush thick like his tattered thinking.
It was all abour her curds and “whey,” was it not? That blond guy looking at her had a pale blie toupee and a shirt starched harsh and scratchy.
Blue eyed people fight the flu better. Ms. Ovaltine said so before breakfast.
Ralphie waited…and waited; through the spring, the summer vacation, the fall, all the seasons with their respective holidays marching, slowly, up to the big one on December 25th. The day after Thanksgiving found him crouched behind the perfume counter in Higbee’s–official Red Ryder 200 shot carbine-action range-model air rifle gripped in his mitts–mumbling, half-hysterically, “You better have your goggles on, Santa.”
At her tender young age, Adele wondered if she should keep it minimal. Should she leave her clothes off or cut out the adjectives?
I had set the auto pilot and we were cruising comfortably at 20 000 ft when my idiot co-pilot asked me the question that would haunt me the rest of my life.
“What’s a mountain goat doing in the cloud bank ahead of us?”
Thanks, Mr. Larson.
My mom used to tell me this story when I asked for too many bedtime stories:
Once there was a king and queen. They both died; end of story.
My mother used to not tell me about my father. Yet, my father came home every night with tense eyes.
I told my doctor that I get too wound up when I take the family camping. He suggested that maybe I shouldn’t be so intense.
That’s it , off to the punitentiary you go… 