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Betty was bonafide crazy. She had shot her husband after a night of drunken quarreling, and was in the state mental hospital instead of being in the slammer. She'd shot the louse in the stomach and he had lived, fortunately for her. I never tired of hearing about Betty's attempted escape and eluding of the police in the aftermath. Over the river and through the woods she ran, but not to grandmother's house, sadly; she didn't know where she was going; all she knew was that she HAD to get the hell outta there.
Down a steep embankment she had tumbled, right next to the highway. As she attempted to orient herself, a car slowed down, it's lights blinding her as she tried to pick off the brush, debris and twigs that clung like glue to her hair and muddy nightgown. The car stopped, two cops sprang forth and yelled, "FREEZE!". The jig being up, Betty did as instructed, was cuffed and read her Miranda rights. She never bothered to elaborate how she wound up in the loony bin instead of staying in the pokey, but I can only imagine it was due to her obvious derangement.
Betty was a hoot; funny as could be and an excellent card player. She had long, shaggy salt and pepper frizzy tresses that looked more like a Halloween wig than an actual coiffure. She was well into her fifties but seemed much older with her deep smoker's wrinkles and heavy, sunken eyes, like a soul that's known too much wear, tear, pain and heartache and aged prematurely. On more than one occasion I questioned her actual insanity, but on one night, when the moon was full and all the crazies were, admittedly, much more maniacal than normal, my doubts about Betty's "playing possum" dissolved. It's true, you know, what they say about a full moon and the impact it has over the mind; I've witnessed it first-hand too many times in different psych wards to discount it as "old-wives" folklore. Nurses never fail to mention when there is a full moon; they know it to be true as well.
I don't know what set her off. I was enjoying a game of rummy with Angela, a paranoid schizophrenic with a penchant for identifying supposed conspiracies within the hospital, when I heard Betty screaming furiously and cussing up a hurricane. Well, something didn't suit her, obviously, and she was having none of it. This is when I began to wonder if Betty was not part "Bionic Woman". Next thing I knew, she wailed like a banshee, took off sprinting down the hall at incredible, breakneck speed that defied her rather plump figure and stubby legs, and drop-kicked the heavy, locked steel door that barred the exit of ward "Grag". Nurses hit the panic button and made urgent phone calls which signaled the goons and heavy muscle to race toward our ward to subdue the unsubduable. Soon as Angela heard the nurses all in a frenzy, she yelled, "CONSPIRACY LEVEL UP! TOP FLOOR!" ("Top Floor" being the ward that housed the most violent or dangerous loons.) Paranoid schizophrenics are such a suspicious bunch!
As Betty raced by, Angela immediately stood up, cheering her along, chanting "GRAG STYLE, BABY; YEAH!". In total astonishment I watched this Wonder Woman drop-kick this barricade (which was most definitely designed to keep us confined) in total kung-fu, samurai, ninja style with such force that it burst wide open! Talk about jaw-dropped incredulous! By the time Betty the She-Hulk nearly drop-kicked her way to freedom, the goons (as the big orderlies were dubbed) descended upon her, but she fought with such ferocity that for just an instant I thought she might break free, given that she had picked up a nearby chair and was using it to fend them off with the skill of a lion-tamer (or so I mused). But poor Betty was helplessly and hopelessly outnumbered and the whole incident must have happened in the span of maybe two minutes, but time has a funny way of slowing down and stretching in instances such as these, when the eyes and mind are trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. She was tackled on all sides, but not before one of the stooges took a whack upside his empty head. Nurses rushed forth, syringes in hand, and gave Betty the usual knock-out serum of hefty doses of Haldol and Benadryl (don't ask me how I know this!). Then, as was the procedure in all such cases, Betty was strapped down on a gurney and wheeled away to the "Quiet Room" where she was to be closely monitored by some muscle.
As one of the orderlies passed, carting the drowsy Betty past us, Angela barked one of her customary insults of, "YOU SMELL LIKE ASS AND NACHOS!" which never failed to tickle me to no end. The excitement over, Angela and I went back to our game of rummy and she accused me of cheating when I won, flipped over the table, and stormed off (but she always did this whenever she lost.) Ah, Angela; what I'd give to play rummy with you again!
A few days later, after a two week stint, I was finally released and never saw or heard from Betty (or Angela) again. Whenever I see someone fly into a rage, I am often happily reminded of Betty, Super-Woman of ward "Grag". Why was I there? I'll never tell!
"It is a sin to kill a Mockingbird.
When playing games with rocks or guns, defray,
them, please, ...shoot old tin cans!" "Whispered words
of Mockingbirds, only heal wounds of the day"
Virtues are cultivated, children are weeds,
exploring a small southern town. Seeds, so rare,
spread moral ivy, filling knotholes, threading trees,
lining streets, during mad-dog summers.
Scout, one sprout with solid roots, sifts wrong from right
in spite of bull-headed pride. Stirring
up dust, where resistance incites,
although, brother, Jem, gently, grows more reserved.
Scout, Jem, ...best bud, "Dill", are bronzed by summer's sky
Moral's compass guides them home, as night returns
Moral's compass guides them home, as night returns
yet challenged, the precocious child
making assumptions. Folks would confound her!
Some people were an oddity and quite beguiling
Summer would sigh with ceiling fans, softly purring,
people napping, long afternoons. Wilted yawns
of a lethargic town, might seem undisturbed,
with complacency, behind pruned shrubs, tall grass, mowed.
Yet stilted air, would suffocate, with racial slurs
and secret hate. Some hid by day, and spending
their nights in masquerade, while crosses burned.
We'd see a face, pretentious smile, falsely blend
Integrity, at bitter cost, split wide the seams
in 1930. Civil rights were just a dream
In 1930, civil rights were just a dream,
and motherless children were coming of age.
Bare feet were swift. Bandaged knees and hands unclean,
would slam old screen doors, to seek lemonade.
A ghost, they feared, in the raw sided house,
watched close. A tree in his yard, hid treasures he stashed.
The three Musketeers, upon discovering, shout!
Armed by bravado, they are ready to dash.
Putting yourself into another man's shoes,
is a lesson, soon learned by Scout and Jem.
They've faced their fear, and will make a friend. "Boo",
the 'phantom', a new best friend left trinkets and gems.
Kindness learned, role model intact, was Atticus Finch.
A measure of integrity, inch by inch.
A measure of integrity, inch by inch,
advocate for those who won't stand a chance.
Folks down on their luck, where dollars won't stretch
in a depression full blown. Money is scant.
Fighting for the underdog, who have no paycheck.
What's right is right. What's wrong, is wrong.
Someone must stand at the end of the day,
where flies fill a courtroom and tempers grow stronger.
Regardless of skin, be it black, be it white
Unfit, by standards of talcum shaved chins,
if injustice is war, he'll give his lot.
The falsely accused, he'll defend, to the end
Those who wallow in mud, eventually sling lies
when honor goes to hell, and folks sit idle
When honor goes to hell, and folks sit idle,
false accusations can simmer, slowly inciting
bigoted people, into mobs, spewing cries
of hate. Screaming "rape" into the night.
Ignorance and prejudice, are all of one stuff
with corn-likker sauce and gravy mentality,
amphibian worms, as if from a trough,
gorging on mania. They covet brutality.
Led by Bob Ewell, with arrogance oozing.
Clan- fed, tantrums squirming out of control.
Small minded men, choosing squalor, alluding
the truth. Some would sell their mother's soul.
They have lied on the stand, where justice treaded thin.
Where white man's word, over a black, always wins.
Where a white man's word, over black, always wins,
was a rule of the thumb, during those years...
The innocent man, Tom, shackled, condemned,
taken away and waits to die, and endure
With Indian summer, waxing and waning,
Atticus chooses the simplest words.
His children need, wisdom, and calm understanding,
in trying to explain, that most men are good.
He tells them, gently, how someone so crude,
even Bob Ewell, no matter how evil
perhaps in his life, was misunderstood.
The hellish of summers begins to unravel.
But another ill wind, would brew up a storm,
to bring more than a flurry, into their home.
To bring more than a flurry into their home,
burnt embers of color, drift down, red and yellow.
Carved pumpkins, and a grieving autumn, looms
in the night. Roaches encroach, deep in the shadows
As Scout rushes homeward, behind her on the trail,
a whiskey-breath nightmare, with evil intentions
Then, someone appears! Halts this devil,...,Ewell
is not immortal! .....as we come to conclusion.
A guardian presence, waiting to rally
has kept a vigil, guarding children who run,
swiftly through thickets. Lonely Boo Radley,
appeared like an angel, a bird seeking the sun
So pure of heart, and a thing so rare
It is a sin to kill a mockingbird
The Serb Dog by Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
There was a bunch of soldiers standing around watching
a house burn and somebody said "Was that somebody screaming,
did you hear somebody scream?"
"Shut up idiot," said the lieutenant. "You don't want
the Serbs to have anything when they get here do you?" He
was from Dodge City and some of the other guys called him
Cowboy. Most of them had joined the unit in Naples and this
was their first assignment in what used to be Yugoslavia.
Now it was Hell.
They could hear faint gunshots coming from over the
hill and everyone knew time was running out. Around the
corner a bunch of people was being herded out of town but
not everyone wanted to leave. They could hear some of the
older peoples voices pleading not to be put on a bus, but
nobody knew what else to do. The children only cried and
some of the soldiers tried not to think about the children
crying. Finally they heard the bus door slam shut and the
sound of the engine as it roared into movement then
gradually the sound disappeared behind the distant gunfire.
"I heard they signed today," said one of the soldiers.
"Did you hear,
lieutenant, about them signing a ceasefire?"
"Let them sign," replied the lieutenant "I will sign,
too. Torch that house over there. Who cares about another
"Why didn't you join the Croats, Cowboy? What ever made
a nicefellow like you sign on with us cut throats?" Everybody
snickered but Cowboy got over being irritated by their
remarks the first week.
"They didn't offer enough money," he snapped.
Suddenly a dog came running down the road and one of the
soldiers said "Get that damned dog!" Everybody started
shooting at the same time and the dog started running and
jumping and yapping all at the same time then disappeared
behind a house.
"That's one lucky dog!" somebody said.
A captain came running up and said "Why were you guys
shooting at that dog?"
One of the soldeirs said "It was a Serb dog." Somebody
else said "It was in heat!"
"Well don't shoot no more dogs," said the captain.
Then the dog stuck its head out and a shot came from across
the road, shattering the stone building right next to the
dogs head. The dog let out a yelp and started running down
the road, away from the soldiers.
"Look at that dog run!" shouted the captain. "Don't
anybody shoot! I like that dog! Run Dog! Run Dog! Don't
let them shoot you!"
Just then a volley of gunfire echoed from behind
the buldings and bullets could be seen hitting the ground
all around the running dog, then some bullets struck the
dog and it fell over without a sound. Some other soldiers
came around from behind the buildings across the street
from where the dog had been and they were laughing.
"That was my dog!" yelled the captain to the other
"That was your dog?" asked one of the men.
"Yes, I said so!" repled the captain. "Didn't I just
tell you it was my dog?"
"You just killed our dog!" snapped the lieutenant.
"We thought it was a Serb dog," the soldier said. "How
could we tell it was your dog?"
"Well, you be careful about shooting dogs from now
on!" snapped the lieutenant. "Good dogs are hard to find
"That dog was rabid!" laughed one of the soldiers
who shot the dog.
"That dog was in heat!" laughed a soldier in the
"That dog is dead!" said another guy. Everybody
"Get back to torching those houses," said the
Suddenly they heard the dog yelping and when they
looked down the road they saw it running again. Everybody
started screaming and shooting at once and the dog
disappeared into a bunch of bushes just as some bullets hit
the dirt all around it.
"That's the luckiest damned dog I ever saw!" said
"Guess it wasn't a Serb dog after all," laughed
"Guess not," said a soldier. "No Serb dog could be
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
When we think of traveling we most often think of going from one location to another. That’s good but I sometimes like to return in reverie to times in my past. Places where I spent my childhood are precious to me.
We seem to race through childhood never slowing down to enjoy the moments we may seek to recover in years to come. I remember the place of my early years. Cameron, Texas was the only world I knew until I was eight years old. Names and landmarks still cross my mind in moments of remembrance.
I still remember the path that led me home hundreds of times from Ada Henderson Elementary School. It passed through a park about two city blocks in size. In this park were the normal things such as those galvanized metal slides polished by literally thousands of khaki or denim clad rear ends. Two slides stood side by side. One was a simple one-hump slide. The other was over twice as high using two humps on the journey to the ground from what seemed to be such a lofty height. The kid sized slide was seldom used after one had experienced the thrill of the ‘big’ slide. There were seesaws that weathered years of teeter tottering by excited boys and girls. There were simple gymnastic pipes that were just the right height to sit on and do back flips, nearly slamming your head into the ground beneath. All these things were so much fun to a kid and his friends as they made their way home from another day at school.
But one fun piece of equipment always furnished the thrills that last a lifetime and are remembered in the fondest reverie. About halfway through the park was a merry-go-round made of the strongest and seemingly indestructible pipe. It, too, was polished by years of holding on by squealing children, lest they be thrown off by the magic of centrifugal force. It was about 12 feet in diameter and the center pipe was about 8 inches in diameter and must have been anchored somewhere in China since all the many years of use it yielded not a fraction. There were some 8 or 10 pipes on the outer portion of the merry-go-round that allowed you to grab and step onto the running board and hold on for dear life. Kids would grab these posts as they came around and spin them as hard as possible. The speed they built up was surprisingly fast and it took some agility to master the art of stepping on and grabbing the handle. I have no recollection of grievous mishaps, just an occasional scrape or bruise. This contraption has served at least 4 generations of school kids and has not changed the last time I saw it some 20 years ago.
Farther down the path home was a giant gazebo with a stage and seats around the outside. It was equipped with public restrooms beneath the gazebo. It has been there for many years and sometimes I can close my eyes and see that gazebo and hear the faint strains of Sousa marches from the brass bands that played summer concerts there. I remember many happy times there on family picnics and occasional reunions.
God watched over the kids and me whose paths home took them through the park. Just past the gazebo was a huge drainpipe, which during heavy rains drained water from the park into a ravine running through the park. It was some 50 to 60 feet in length and about 6 feet in diameter. It was always on a dare that we would walk through that dark, dank and scary tunnel. We were sure there was all manner of creepy crawly creatures lurking in the shadows waiting for unsuspecting kids to slowly make their way through this scary conduit. I remember going through it once and that was enough. I’d rather walk through the cemetery alone …. But that’s another story.
My phone is always off. I then check and return my messages inevitably.
These are actually precautions I must take for my own personal safety.
If I happened to be crossing a busy intersection and my phone rang suddenly,
it would trigger a panic attack whereupon I'd pass out on that street immediately.
The same holds true for me at home whenever uninvited guests drop by unexpectedly.
I'll be relaxing on my couch, petting my cat while watching some TV
when all of a sudden my door bell rings and completely paralyzes me.
I try to call out but it's difficult to speak when you're desperately trying to breath,
and the more that door bell continues ringing, the more I continue weakening
at losing all control of the panic attack now attacking me,
but I always beat these home panic attacks successfully,
However, it is never at all very pretty.
Take for example this panic attack episode that happened to me
when a Jehovah's Wittiness dropped by on me unexpectedly;
More times than none, when my door bell rings
bad news or tragedy is what it brings.
If knocking at my door should follow that
then I'm ten fold more prone to a panic attack.
If the knocking at my door should continue to persist
I'll curl into the fetal position as tight as a clenched fist.
My panic attacks are my ultimate test
of preventing my heart from pounding right through my chest.
My only strength is the knowledge of knowing that the panic attack will pass,
but as long as the knocking continues the panic attack will also continue to last.
More times than none the uninvited give up and go away,
but there have been some who continue to stay.
They'll just keep on knocking refusing to go away.
My panic turns to anger. Now the unannounced visitor must pay.
I open my door and what do I see?
A devout Jehovah's Wittiness smiling back at me.
"Good morning Sir. Have you welcomed Jesus Christ into your life?"
I try to remain calm. I try to be polite.
"I don't have time right now but I'd be happy to read
any literature you'd care to leave with me."
"You don't have time for God?" is what she next said to me,
and that's when I lost it ballistically.
"I didn't say that you ignorant snob
I don't have time for YOU! I Always Have Time For GOD!
but what I don't have time for is an inconsiderate slob
but I promise, right after I slam my door in your face
I'll fall down to my knees and pray to the Almighty Grace.
Dear GOD Please Don't Ever Again Send This Moron Over To My Place!!!"
and then I slammed my door hard and as loud as can be,
and as I had promised my visitor, I fell down to my knees,
but I most definitely wasn't on my knees to pray.
I was exhausted and 100 times more depressed than I'd felt on any day.
It's a two edge sword that I constantly carry around.
I beat my panic attack by exploiting my anger
on an innocent, well meaning, Child of God drone.
I guess the only way I can conquer my panic attacks truly and naturally
is to allow the darkness in me to break free occasionally.
It's not the greatest of methods but it's the only alternative for me
but it can be hurtful to others and that depresses the hell out of me.
I have confidence that my panic attacks will one day lessen,
but until then I shall remain a No People person.
Given all of the above I do occasionally
self medicate with Xanox when dealing with the above gets too overwhelming for me,
but that's only on a once in a blue moon desperate need
from dealing with my panic attacks naturally.
Most times just knowing that bottle of Xanax is on my shelf is comfort enough for me.
She spins on her futon, dreaming
arms spread, fingers fishfishfishing for me
but I’m not there
those legs are at 5 and 7 tw tw twitching
She’s been asleep since 8
But will awake at 11
then again at
punctually, soon she’ll be
raise your hand,
trace the letter, do it better
Miss, recess, bell,
Sweetheart, don’t slam the door
will come up suddenly
leave me missing
sleep overs, yes, sure
no no why, please, just a few more,
make believe, four leaf clovers...
... then at
after an argument
about friends, stupid rules
she’ll yell, I hate you
that I’m too calculating
I am the wanted
and so I hold her close
sooth a brow
kiss her frown, sweetly we spoon
then wisely I'll dismiss the knowing moon
*I really don't know what to call this... is there a form called weird experimental? LOL. I am not sure if this communicates what I see/feel... all comments welcome! FIRE IN THE HOLE! LOL!
h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays , be very afraid, cantrall camaflauge like a sand dollar, honor boy we descretion , a virtue is all im left now, we the still launching balls in the park, remarks, its remarkableaint it?deep all dark as the cell lights from weldsgenuine from the top to the bottom, weathered by the struggle tried and true i confess tyhe devil still got a bounty on my head here, Weapons come bring all even that
determination reaffirmed confirmation
dragged across the face of
the devil, and i will face him,
killer on a cutthroat, lost my chrome and prorellis,
tomahawk mechetes,common cause i blare on, bread and butter, married to love of, giving mary credit, everytime i ever said it, deeper than the message, freedom never said more, boy act like he badder, go for me now im bipolar facing all weapons like its the deepest ****ing episode, connection in the west, no nothing coming easy, friends spell finders,wilder than saying it aint over, i aint acting like im clean, babys body beating on my head whelps and melodies, def to a felony, boy consider carefully im more than just distant memories, more than u still feell, the crown on your head of a king i slam down, been down in this sound like seashells has been around, like it hurts well pain is my profession, still trying trying to perfect it, pros dont know whats pros and cons know, among those pics as fast a lens close, so i been known tell u motha****as i been known, still feeling likke i got a price on me, yea devils got a bounty on my head, ask my nephew, ask me and stars shine like scars be me traveling far to minds, reaching for more life treating this like im beast tearing out this town by its eyeballs, white squalls black powder , blast that ass like Im massive passions in acid baths,listen strictly speaking to the Masters, G-force and white noise creator of the devil salngs pain choice words Streets still speak ina deep voice, do u feel remorse, hear the men i lead hear me boy slient in a count down anticipation anger too got u making mistakes now, now now no i aint even dressed in your wardrobe, take the tie off, nical all nighters, alcohol graig them twist their ****ing minds up, listen if u got better hand, well stealth meet finesse's nails, i said i will, sett a trap and the net never catches me it never will, dealing with a hardhead, as i rain hell down soft my middle finger the taste of victory , that u still long for, flash that mercy and emergencys well dont freak out, i speak out
and put a X on a narc's head, boy im part metal, its what i teethed on, Like Im thuggish for accidents that the dicate the laws broken by a skunk, feel my blanco vendetta,as it shrinks your stature, just suppose I stole your power, well ***** u can have it back,
As the man on the roof, took two steps towards the edge, he was unexpectedly stopped by the sound of a bright and familiar voice, down below.
"I thought you were at work dad, watcha doing up there?", asked Daisy with a serious look on her face. He was hoping she wouldn't have to witness this, and was desperately thinking of ways around it, to explain his actions.
"I came home early, honey and well-- things will be a little bit different from now on, sweet pea... please, just go back inside"
She hugged herself tight as the autumn wind attacked her bare arms. It was freezing out here. And although she longed for her cocoa and wool blanket inside, daddy just wasn't making any sense.
"I'm scared... you always said that the roof was dangerous and--"
Her slightly panicked plea was cutoff by yet another familiar voice, though with an unusually angry tone to it, like the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard... but not quite.
"Charles! What on earth are you doing up there?", roared from what only could be Daisy's mother. The man on the ledge, sighed. Two problems arising in the span of a few minutes. There's just no way around this, if I'm gonna do this at all I gotta do it now! He thought to himself.
He took a couple steps back, inhaled a quick breath, and lifted his leg as if it sprint. While gritting his teeth and slamming his eyes closed he leaped off the edge into the blustery cold day. And in mid-air he hugged his legs tightly with his arms, creating an impressive cannonball shape.
A great whoosh sound happened, as the girls immediately raised their arms in defense of the coming splash.
"You just ruined your best suit!", said the woman, as the man lifted his head up from the icy chlorinated water, with a mad grin on his face.
"Well it looks like I won't be needing it anymore."
"You mean, you-- Oh Charles, what are we gonna-- Oh Charles," she incoherently blabbered on.
"It's alright dear, something will come up. There's a whole world of possibilities now," he gestured with his arms at the general area of their front lawn. "I'll do something else, something better even. A detective, an archaeologist, an astronaut--"
"Or maybe an Olympic diver!", shouted Daisy contentedly.
"Anything's possible," he chuckled. And on that note, they left their front lawn, while half a dozen anthills fended against the unexpected flooding. And as they walked through the front door of the house, they were uncertain to keep, they all held hands, and spent the rest of the afternoon playing board games.
Late at night when everyone else was asleep, he walked in his pyjamas and gazed through the window. The pool was mirror-flat, filled with silver moonlight, and autumn leaves were casually floating on its surface.
A good day, Charles thought. Today was a good day.
"Are you alone? A raspy Renfield exclaimed,
The phone static like frenzied bugs contained.
I hang up the phone in a disgusted huff,
This guy so creepy, I've had enough.
Three AM the phone again starts to ring,
Not quite awake, almost dropping the thing.
"Are you alone?" I heard with a raspy breath,
My patience gone, I cursed for his imminent death.
"Listen you pervert leave me alone."
my fingers shook as I clinched the phone.
A malevolence laugh my only reward,
A chill down my spine, I had struck a cord.
"You know, little darlin' I'm coming for you,
I'm going to f**k you up bad and relish begging you'll do.
I left you a present outside your door,
I hope you like it my sweet little whore."
I slam the phone down with violent force,
Hoping I took out his eardrum in the course.
My knees shook as I went to the door,
I wasn't expecting the bloody gore.
A bow of royal blue around it's neck
Not quite believing I had to double check.
A crusty headless kitten was placed in an ornate box,
My eyes dart up and down gloomy abandon street blocks.
Thunder and lightning a perfect horror scene,
A nightmare from a Freddy krueger's dream.
Wet footsteps flickered in the flashing porch entrance,
Slamming, bolting the door, survival adrenaline intense.
I nearly peed my pants when the phone again rings,
"Are you alone", a childish voice off-key sings.
"Listen you sick creep, I'm calling the cops,
I'll have you arrested unless this stops."
"Awe you wound me, my sweet little whore,
You should answer your front door."
As he said that I heard an eerie knock,
I almost passed out from the shock.
According to things I've read,
If I didn't act now I'd surly be dead.
I pick up the phone to make that 911 call,
I couldn't get reception, no dial tone at all.
In frustration threw the phone across the room,
It exploded in pieces like a sonic boom.
Another slow knock jolted me to action,
I had to find some way for a distraction.
Over-cast rain, curtained the flashing hills,
Wrapped in a blanket to ward off chills.
"Here little kitty, kitty let me in," an eerie call, with a knock,
"Not by hairs on my chinny chin chin." Thank God for a heavy lock.
Glancing at the portable phone in pieces, poor thing,
But incredibly I heard it begin a distorted ring.
In the front window a silhouette flashed with a knife,
I opened my parched lips screaming for dear life.
Suddenly in my head a gentle whisper said,
Escape through the back door or you're already dead.
I tripped over the blanket, as I tossed it to the floor,
"Come out, come out my little sex kitten whore."
****! Why didn't I think of the other door sooner,
By now I'm thinking things couldn't get loonier.
Running like a bat out of hell, I flung open the back door,
"HELLO! Johnny's hooome. it's to late to run anymore."
I JUST CAN’T HELP IT, YA KNOW?
Elderly Lady: Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!
First Alert: Duly noted, will there be anything else?
Elderly Lady: Are you going to call an ambulance?
First Alert: Ambulance? Heck no! Call one yourself
Elderly Lady: But I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!
First Alert: (Sigh) Can’t you just kind of roll around or something?
Elderly Lady: What the…What did you say?
First Alert: Lord! Deaf as a doornail too
Elderly Lady: Please! Can you at least give me some advice?
First Alert: Now she thinks we’re Dear Abbey….
NOT AS ‘PROGRESSIVE’ AS ONE MIGHT THINK
Customer: How’s it flowin’ Flo?
Flo: Just rollin’ with the flow ya’ know?
Customer: I love the way your words flow, Flo…You put them together so well
Flo: What’s THAT supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m well put together?
Customer: No Flo, I-I meant…Y-you’re a real flower, Flo
Flo: Ain’t NOBODY messin’ with MY flower
Flo: And I SURE ain’t no flower child either
Flo: Stop interrupting me! You wanna’ buy some insurance or what?
THE MAJORITY RULES
Nine out of ten doctors recommend taking Tylenol:
(The tenth doctor lost his license for recommending street-drugs)
Nine out of ten doctors recommend smoking Camel cigarettes:
(The tenth doctor unfortunately couldn’t recommend a doggone thing because he died of lung cancer)
Four out of five dentists recommend chewing sugarless gum for those patients who chew gum:
(For those patients who do not chew gum the fifth dentist recommended chewing tobacco and got his ass chewed out by the national association of dentists hooked on tobacco laughing gas and pain pills and they took his license away too they said here’s something for you to chew on sucker the fifth dentist said chew on this you mother you know what at least I’m just hooked on tobacco y’all are hooked on laughing gas and pain pills too they said don’t tell on us the fifth dentist said I won’t tell only if you give my license back but I’m still gonna tell your mommies on you and they’ll chew all your sorry asses out for sure they said ok whew that was close the fifth dentist said I’m in a bad mood now give me some of that laughing gas they did and he started giggling then the rest of them took some too and they all started giggling and partying somebody called the cops and they were thrown in jail at the trial the prosecutor drilled them mercilessly they gave up and pled no dentist but got off on a technicality when they bribed the judge and the prosecutor with some laughing gas they started giggling and said aw you guys are okay then the judge accidentally pled guilty and sentenced both himself and the prosecutor who are now both currently serving two count em two consecutive life sentences for god knows what…)