Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Little Bits of Life (or death). Zombie Love.

Zombie girl in throws of passion:  "Take my body."

Human boyfriend:  "But it's rotting."

"Here," Zombie girl gives boy a body part. "At least take my hand. It's got my phone number written on it."

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Little Bits of Life. Where's My Sock?

I'm losing it. I'm losing my mind because I know, I'm absolutely sure, that my sock was lying on the bed a minute ago. So what happened between the time I answered the phone and walked back to the bed? I'll tell you what happened. It was my prankster daughter. She breezed past, snatching the sock and snickering at the ensuing mom madness. I'll tell you what happened. The stupid cat clawed at it, tucked it in her mouth and pussy-footed her way under the bed, adding this latest style to her vintage sock collection. I'll tell you what happened. The mailman, still carrying a grudge from no postbox Xmas present last year, ran inside and threw it in his mail bag. Later he'll leave me a ransom note and expect payment in the form of a bottle of liquor and greeting card. I'll tell you what happened. The last house guest stole the sock and put it up for auction on ebay, along with my woolen mitten, one earplug and my ex's dog-eared copy of, "How to Win Friends and Influence People." I'll tell you what ... oh — here it is. You're just lucky I found it, that's all I have to say. It could have gotten ugly. Now what happened to my keys?

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Little Bits of Life. Sometimes Holidays Suck.

Yesterday was a holiday of some sort, one of the many no-name holidays I never remember. Why should I! I can't keep decorating, and buying cards and putting my shoes on for every freaking holiday on the calendar. So, I ignored it. I went about my day with absolutely no regard for the no- name festivities, wherever they were taking place. I didn't see any parades or balloons or cake. If it wasn't important enough for cake, then why should I take part? But. and this is a big but, when I drove to my local Starbucks to get the daily dose of creamy, coffee latte, the place was closed! Closed! I wept ventis of tears. Damn you no-name holiday! Starbucks is closed and I am coffee-less for the next 24 hours. I want my coffee! How will I survive? How will I cope? Will they find me in the morning, crouched in a corner, withdrawal causing such desperation that I am reduced to chewing six month old beans from a Starbuck's bag? My teeth will be stained muddy brown. My eyes glazed from desperation, my mind crazed by the rancid beans. Please tell me I am having a nightmare and I will wake up to find my world still makes sense. But no, it's not a dream. It's all too horribly true. The sign in the window says, 'We are closed for another no-name holiday.' Sometimes holidays suck.

Little Bits of Life. I Don't Share My Popcorn.

It was our first date. He was tall, full head of hair, beautiful cheek bones, flat stomach. He was my dream man. We both liked movies. We went to a cozy little theater not far from my house. (just in case things got interesting). Mr. Dreamy opened the car door for me. He put his hand lightly on my back to help me in. Ahhhhhhh. Swooning. He gave me his hand to help me out. He paid for the tickets and the drinks and the popcorn. "Would you like to get a big bucket and share?" he asked. "No thank you," I meekly replied. "I'll just have a small." So, Mr. D. bought me a small. There we were, sitting close together in the dark. He smelled vaguely of pine needles and after shave. Ahhhhhh. More swooning. Just as I was thinking, what a man, what a man, what a mighty good man, he put his hand into my popcorn box. Nobody puts their hand into my popcorn box, not unless they are willing to risk losing a finger. It was over before the first credit rolled on the screen.

Little Bits of Life. My Cat Threw Up.

This soft, sunny, summer morning I awoke to the sound of local church bells ringing. I stretched, looked out of the window at my beautiful garden, saw two Robins and a sweet baby bun hopping and romping in the yard. Lovely, lovely, lovely, day to be alive. Birds are singing, bells are ringing, could anyone ask for more? Then — my cat threw up. She made that hideous, hiccuping, retching sound they all make as they force the gift of vomit onto their devoted owners. She finished the first course on my handmade bedroom rug and quickly pussy-footed down the stairs to serve the second course on my vintage, oriental one. Then, just when I thought the crisis had passed, she served the last course on the authentic Irish rug that had perfectly matched my sofa pillows, until today. Ahh cats, I thought, they have excellent taste in rugs.

Friday, June 15, 2012

Fast Tan.

I like to follow sad poems with a little humor. Tanning beds give bodies a killer glow. Just read the next poem if you've any doubt of the dark results.

Fast Tan.

"To tanning bed! Let's go!" she said.

Toe to head, buff, browned, beach cred.

Dermis formed two moles of dread.

"Bad," she said. "Don't give a shred."

She went ahead, need must be fed.

She promptly fled "To tanning bed!"

Skin the shade of cheap cheese spread,

she tanned until her body bled.

Yet still she screamed, "To tanning bed!"

And now my friend is dark and dead.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Dr. Frankenstein's Easy Reader for Monsters.

Once Dr. Frankenstein created the Monster how did he go about teaching him the essentials? I mean, after eating and potty training and learning to use a napkin, what came next? A little education goes a long way. Frank must have started with basic picture books and easy readers. I imagine any story was geared towards the Monster's perception of his new world. Here is one of the first official easy readers created just for the doctor's two-ton towering toddler. Of course, it could be interpreted a few different ways, depending upon whether you're a mad scientist or a hungry, sex-starved  monster.

Dr. Frankenstein's Easy Reader for Monsters.

Monster hungry,
hunger bad,
food good.

Monster lonely,
lonely bad,
woman good.

Monster tired,
woman bad,
sleep good.

Monster hungry,
hunger bad,
woman good.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Bleach Cycle.

Leap year! Today is February 29th. It's a cold, windy, messy kind of day. So I wrote this silly little ditty to make myself smile. It made some of the local ghosts smile too, except for Edward of course. He considers this male ghost bashing. Guy never had a sense of humor even when he was alive.

Bleach Cycle.

Female Ghost: "That sheet you're wearing is filthy."

Male Ghost: "Dear lady, I have been haunting this house for over two hundred years. What doth thou expect?"

Female Ghost: "Two hundred years and you still haven't learned how to use the washing machine?"

Male Ghost:  "Pray, what is a washing machine? I believe I was deceased before they invented such contraptions."

Female:  "That's no excuse! Typical man, always some flimsy reason for shirking housework."

Male Ghost: "Be gone cruel wench, or I shall wash thy mouth out with lard and lye soap!"

Female:  "If you know how to use soap you can learn how to use the washing machine."

Male Ghost:  "I beseech thee lord! Take me now!"