Ballsy

Image: Pixabay

Image: Pixabay

“I’m not here to bust your balls. I’m here so we don’t get our balls busted,” the new CEO assured his employees.

Six months later, he saved the shareholders $6 million by letting go 3,000 workers.

Outside the building, sitting on a park bench were two former employees, Sam and Hank. Sam snorted, “Our CEO sure had us by the balls.”

Hank responded, “Yep, he had the balls to make us believe that if we juggled our schedule to fit his deadlines, we’d be having a ball in no time.”

“Turns out he thinks we dropped the ball.” Sam rubbed his eyes so his friend wouldn’t see them misting.

“Got that right. It’s one new ball game these days.”

Sighing, they both stood up and left, scratching their balls.

Inhale

Image: Pixabay

Image: Pixabay

She inhales, deeply. Then coughs. A lot. Her eyes almost pop out. Slowly, she feels the effects. She inhales again, knowing another bout of coughing is inevitable. But the sweet pain shooting through her lungs is worth it for she’s sensing herself relaxing. She relishes the moment; she doesn’t have much time left. Her insides start to rebel, while from the outside her body becomes more still. What a sensation. So, this is death by smog.

Christmas Gotta Go On

[Note: I know we’ve got no singing talent,
But our desire to extend Christmas merriment
Overrides any shame and embarrassment.

 Thanks to Cabana Boy’s help with music and lyrics,
This quasi-rap song is performed by yours truly
And some rapper wannabees.

 Our amateur audio performance moniker:
Two Foxy Chicks and a Hot Cougar]

Christmas Gotta Go On

Say what, whut
But . . . but . . .
Christmas can’t be over!

I’m not done wearing my ugly sweater
Christmas, man, is so much better
No, no, it’s gotta go on,
Lay off that tree, you moron!

Christmas ain’t done just yet,
I’se still waitin’ for my choo choo set.
Yo, Santa, you dissin’ me here,
Where be my Christmas cheer?

I been drinkin’ my nog and Jack,
Yo, Santa, you dissin’ my shack.

Say what, whut

I hear da ringin’
Santa, Santa, what you bringin’?

Don’t you worry, I’se ready to snooze,
I’ll leave out cookies, apple pie, and booze.

santa