You really surprised me at dinner last night. The waiter assured me you wouldn’t show, but then I cut into my steak and there you were! I appreciate the gesture, but showing up unannounced is just plain rude in my book. Next time, please call ahead and we can go somewhere where your presence won’t leave a bad taste in my mouth. Like a strawberry patch or the scene of a murder. Also, you owe me for the mozzarella sticks.
You gave it a good try, but give it a rest with the fruits already. Your apples are way too tart and your bananas just plain suck. Leave it to the pros like red and yellow. Oh and the kiwi? Nice try, but it doesn’t taste anything like the bird it was named after (not even close). You’ve got the vegetable market cornered. Can’t that be enough?
Big Mike drew his sword and pushed Davy to safety. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” he shouted. “Aye, good advice” Captain Lance bellowed. “Tis a proper fight Captain Lance be seeking!” And with that, the captain abruptly turned and ran sword-first into the crowded pub, leaving the boy and the midget alone as quickly as he’d arrived.
Davy and Jesse, frightened by the gunshot, put their heads down and ran. They ran and ran, and ran some more. They ran until their legs ached and their brows were mottled with sweat. And just before those little legs gave out, they lunged past the big rock, collapsed in a heap and cautiously looked backward. To their surprise, the pirates were still back there, hot on their trail. “I don’t believe it,” Davy said as he sprang to his feet in disbelief. “We did it! No one’s ever beaten the dreaded Captain Lance in a 3-legged race before!”
The days are getting cold and the nights colder. When I set out for town all those days ago, I really should have taken the extra time to throw on a pair of pants. These Fruit of the Looms simply aren’t cutting it.
The last of the Toblerones is gone. I used my shoelace and a paperclip to fashion a makeshift fishing pole. After hours at the stream, I finally succeed in snaring my quarry. And what a beauty it was – at least a foot in length! Too bad it was a trout. I don’t much care for trout – to fishy for my taste. I threw it back and prayed for marlin.
The search helicopters are passing by less and less frequently. I was optimistic before, but now I fear I may never be found. Looking back, I probably should have cut my nap short and come running when I heard those dogs barking and those men calling my name.
This noble young chap is not afraid to fight for equality. Please read his petition:
To: Dean Guitars
This is a petition to get Dean guitars to produce more left handed models, including all Dimebag Tribute models, and upcoming models. Left handed people have just as many rights to own a great guitar as right handed people, with the SAME available options. the second goal of this petition is to stop the Price increase between lefty and right handed models. why should we pay more just because were are different? would you ask Iommi, or Hendrix to pay more? I think not.
If I were forced to commit suicide, I wouldn’t do something extravagant like jump off a bridge or throw myself off a cliff. Instead, I’d probably just stay at home and use my gas oven. Because it’s not very tall and I bet I’d survive the fall.
If I were a cat I’d probably have to start drinking a lot coffee because, seriously, I can’t afford to fall asleep every time the sunlight passes across my thinking chair. I’VE GOT THINKING TO DO, DAMN IT!
If I were a tomato I’d try my darnedest to find a gardener who listened to the radio. Any station would be fine with me, as long as it kept that loudmouth gardener from talking to me all day. Hello!? Trying to grow here!
For the viewing at my funeral, dress me in a suit. Not a double-breasted or a tuxedo, but rather a no-frills, ordinary swimsuit. These glorious pecs were my gift to the world, and I want the world to have one last look.