“Better butter my beans.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans and broil my beef.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans, broil my beef, and bring my beverage.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans, broil my beef, bring my beverage, and burp me.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans, broil my beef, bring my beverage, burp, and bathe me.”
“Better butter and pepper my beans, broil my beef, bring my beverage, burp and bathe me and b . . . .”
Part 1: Imbibe-beery
Part 2: Over-consumption
“Erp . . .”
Part 3: Eruption
Sermon 1: The Sinner
“Boo-hoo . . .”
Sermon 2: The Devil
“Hiss . . .”
Sermon 3: Fire and Brimstone
“Hiss . . . boo . . . ahh!”
Six-word story version:
Cartwright realized he will never sail.
Expanded version — 12-word story:
Land bound, Cartwright accepted his destiny — never to sail the high seas.
The cart that couldn’t.
On the boardwalk with no sail,
Only treads for wear.
They are so miserly, they usually breakfast on moldy bread topped with moldy cheese. Expiration dates on products mean nothing to them. Comfortable with their pace of consumption, they want for nothing. Their brood follows the same values, as they continue to proliferate. They come from a long line of hardy stock. Next time you run into one of them, you might either scream or stomp on their hard shells. Cockroaches are fast though, so be prepared to chase them for months until they leave you unscrewed.
A recipe to terrify (or choke).
Plop a hair extension on a carved squash. Top with a jeweled tiara. Cover the bottom with a frilly pink dress, and you’ve got a hot ghoul.
A belated THANK YOU to Thumbup for nominating me months ago to participate in the 3-Day Quote Challenge a Day. To be more specific, it was a couple of weeks after the 4th of July (so I’m not that late). With Halloween-tinged trickery, I deliberately applied malapropism to three well-known sayings:
“When the groin gets tough, apply lotion to it.”
— Mr. Magoo (a cartoon character who has extreme myopia)
“Keep your hands close and your enemas closer.”
— Book of Toilet Dilemmas (a rear book)
“Two bongs won’t win the fight.”
— Chee [a Cheech-wannabee]
Hadley’s heinous hiney halted hairy hooligans.
The boardroom is full today because the company’s former Chairman, Mr. Ralph Finley, is in attendance to make a special endowment to the R&D group, among others. Twenty people sit around the rectangular conference table, all waiting for Mr. Finley, who is having a coughing fit. In between blowing his nose, he mutters to them, “Allergies, I forgot to take something for them today.” The people murmur their understanding. Suddenly, Mr. Finley sneezes so hard, his dentures fly out of his mouth and clatter on the table. For a moment, no one seems to breathe; the only sound is the clacking of teeth.
Peter left his undercover pig skin drying outside. He had been playing in the mud with the others and had to get away to wash some of the muck off his eyes. He is starting to get sucked into the easy life of his new friends, but he must remember his mission. He is a human trying to find out the secret happiness of the pigs, nothing more and nothing less. In and out. As soon as he figures it out, he’ll give up his undercover suit.