He’s got a ‘roving eye’
You mean he looks at other women?
No, one of his eyes goes like this 👈
Bad Decisions [New] (20 line poem)
The level of adventure
From yesterday to now
Is more than I can fathom
But I need to figure how
I found myself a captive
Mentally at least
My date was such a problem
Essentially a beast
I’m glad the date is over
So glad we parted ways
I’m trying to recover
And surface from the haze
Now I’ve learned a lesson
When searching for a date
Use an online app or date site
Not some sign found on a gate
Mostly now recovered
I’m at a shopping mall
But wait, that looks intriguing —
Phone number on a wall…
Uncorked [Classic] (5 line limerick)
I found this among some old papers, and had to add the fifth line to complete it.
There once was a begger from York
Whose bottle was sealed by a cork
In order to pop it
He managed to drop it
Was licking the ground like a dork
Circus Applicant [Classic] (joke)
The circus ringmaster asks the applicant what he can do.
Without a word, the man flaps his arms, flies to the top of the tent, swoops through the trapeze, and soars around the high wire. Finally, he comes to a perfect landing next to the ringmaster.
The ringmaster says “We already have a bird impressionist.”
Fly Joke [Classic] (joke)
What do you call a fly without wings?
A walk
Spiders on the Storm [New] (7 line poem)
I was doing some yard work a few weeks ago, and ran into a bunch of spiderwebs. We have seven redwood trees in our backyard, and are likely the home for all spiders in our entire neighborhood. As I was pulling webs off me, this poem started swirling in my head. (It is a take on the song Riders on the Storm by the Doors.)
Spiders in my ears
Spiders in my ears
They make it hard to hear
But keep them nice and clear
They tickle now and then
That feeling never ends
Spiders in my ears
Pet-atsrophe [Classic] (21 line poem)
We had a dog.
His name was Joe.
Не went with us where e’er we’d go.
We took him to the park one day,
But our poor doggy ran away.
Where did he go?
Our doggy, Joe.
We had a cat.
His name was Phil.
Two years ago, he became ill.
One day he jumped on down the well,
We heard him purring as he fell.
I miss him still,
Our poor cat, Phil.
We had a bird.
His name was Bruce.
His feathers started coming loose.
We set him down and waved bye bye,
But the naked bastard couldn’t fly.
Now Dr. Seuss
Keeps our bird, Bruce.
A Face in the Crowd [Classic] (100 word story)
“You’ll never get me, you dirty copper!”
Gumball Turner felt that he was safe in the crowd. He knew that there was always the chance of him being found, but he knew that those chances were slim. The anonymity of the crowd had saved him before. He felt it safe to yell again.
“You’ll never get me, copper!” Those near him looked at him oddly, but most had eyes for the impressive copper coming toward them.
The copper came, found Gumball — and took him away.
“Noooooooooooo!” Gumball cried, but he was ruthlessly popped into the mouth of the expectant child.
So, to clarify… the ‘copper’ was a penny (not a policemen) and Gumball Turner was an actual gumball from a gumball machine.
In A Rut [Classic]
It happens every time…
I’m so frustrated.
Every so often, but not as often as I would like, I get the urge to write. I think of a good idea or two and sit down in front of the typewriter hoping to develop one of them to the point of a story. But every time, all I do is sit looking at the keys.
Well, I do get some typing in — because I usually end up with two or three false starts which I save just in case I think of something to add to them later.
Maybe I should string them all together into one piece and call it “Images” or another equally silly name. Or better yet, maybe I should write something about how I can’t write anything.
Let me think… I got it:
“It happens every time…”
‘Rasslin’ [Classic] (joke)
Through the ajar bedroom door, three children spy their parents in the throes of passion. Quietly they retreat a few steps, and confer in whispers.
The youngest speaks out first, “Maybe they’re sick.”
“Naw,” says the second youngest, “looks like they’re ‘rasslin’.”
“You’re both wrong,” states the eldest, smug in his knowledge, “they’re makin’ babies.”
There is a pause.
“Working hard to keep the hospitals stocked,” deduces the second youngest.
Confused, the youngest says, “I thought Dad was a banker.”
The moral of the story is — make sure you lock the door when you have sex.