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The Hangover

30 Minus 2 Days of Writing Challenge
Day 2: It Was No Accident

One Saturday night, Gerald the Elephant plopped his grey wrinkly butt down on his couch and began binge-watching a television show that his friend, Persephone, recommended. It was a story of a lovely lady who had three very lovely girls and had married an architect who had three boys of his own. All six children were born of immaculate conception, obviously, because in none of the episodes was the topic of ex-husbands or ex-wives brought up.

Gerald stayed up all night and all the next day and all the next night watching all 117 episodes never leaving the couch except to refill his peanut bowl and go to the toilet. A toilet was another thing you never saw on this show, by the way. You saw the bathroom lots, as the kids were always fighting over it - that’s right, 6 kids, 1 bathroom - but you never saw the toilet.

Gerald’s phone rang just as he was watching the credits roll on the last episode, tears streaming down his face over all the plucky drama he had consumed.

“Hello?”

“Well?”

“Persephone! Oh, Persephone!”

“I know!”

“When those kids went on the TV show to win their parents an anniversary gift, I just lost it!” Gerald grabbed another tissue, honked his trunk, and threw it on the mountain that had built up over the weekend.

“I can’t go into the zoo today,” said Gerald. “I’m exhausted.”

“I figured as much,” said Persephone, clicking her beak.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gerry.”

He could always tell when Persephone was lying. She’d preen her feathers whenever she fibbed and he could hear the squeaking from it over the phone.

“Wendy always comes on Mondays with her Mom and she always gives me her cotton candy and now you’re going to get it all.”

“It’s not my fault you marathon watched it.”

“You’re an enabler. And you’re squeaking.”

“You’ll feel better after you’ve had some sleep.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Hey, have you ever seen The Partridge Family?” asked Persephone.

“How many episodes are there?”

“Not that many,” she said.

The sound of ruffling feathers and a small squeak came over the line.

“I gotta go.”

 

The 30 Minus 2 Day Writing Challenge is hosted by We Work for Cheese.

A Cheesy Perspective

What did the grateful basket of crackers say to the cheese ball when it was placed nearby on the Super Bowl party buffet table?

“It was gouda you to come.”

Gouda
Photo by Dominik Hundhammer

Yes I just made up that steaming pile of brilliance all by myself.

I have this insane blogger friend, Nicky, over at We Work for Cheese who is hosting a month-long daily writing challenge that THANK GAWD takes place during the shortest month of the year and is aptly titled, 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing. And if you’re insane, you’ll jump right in with her.

Good luck with that.

I’m not even going to PRETEND to think about contemplating the notion of the very idea that I’m capable of promising to do it every day, but since I’m all about doing the minimum, today represents just that.

Speaking of the Super Bowl, who are you rooting for?

Yeah, me neither.

Woodson signing cheese head
(Image Source: U.S. Air Force/Staff Sgt. Mike Meares)

You can see what others did with today’s theme over on Nicky’s blog.

Justin Bieber Mugshot Remind You of Anyone?

No? It’s just me then?

justin bieber, mugshot, bobs big boy

(Photos courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and the Miami Beach Police Department)

Bear Claws. And Other Up-the-Wrong Tree Barkings.

Have you ever made a New Year’s Resolution only to fulfill it on January 1 and have nothing left to worry about the rest of the year?

Yeah, me neither.

So anyway, I saw a sign the other day while traipsing through the wilderness.

Taylor Creek tree sign

In other words, it’s okay for the bears to vandalize the trees, like this:

bear claw, quaking aspen, tree

…because they don’t make handcuffs big enough for bears.

On the other hand (so to speak), if humans scratch up a tree with their professions of love for one another, it’s a federal crime.

tree vandals, taylor creek, quaking aspen

How is that fair? I mean, is it really just a matter of the lack of bear-sized handcuffs?

Taylor Creek trees 2

Loving one another should be encouraged, not punishable by law, I say.

As I continued to traipse, I came across this little gem:

bear sign, taylor creek

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. Don’t do this, don’t do that.

So now we have to keep our food to ourselves and avoid pelting bears with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at point blank range? When did they outlaw that?

And what if, as in my case, the BEARS are the ones not keeping their distance?

bear, taylor creek

Are they going to arrest them?

bear, taylor creek

No. No they are not. Because they don’t make handcuffs big enough for bears.

So instead of teaching the bears a lesson about following rules (for their OWN safety, I might add) the guvmint places all the responsibility on us. With this egregious policy-making, is it any wonder that humans decide the rules don’t apply to them either?

tree vandals, taylor creek

I’m telling you, humans aren’t the only evil wrong-doers here and it would do the Parks and Recreation Departments out there well to bark up another tree. But we all know, that’s not gonna happen.

Therefore, in light of this stalemate, I’ve decided to start a nonprofit called Handcuffs for Bears. Our vision is to partner with an international metal and bear claw conglomerate, such as the Global Steel & Doughnut Empire, so that we can manufacture and supply enough restraints for the entire bear population, and we won’t stop until every vandalizing Grizzly, Kodiak, Polar or Brown is behind bars. Serving time with the rest of us.

When we’re through, the aspens won’t be the only thing quaking in their roots.

Cuke Flukes

underwater zeevveez flickrHave you ever wondered what would happen if you held your breath under water for five full minutes while juggling petrified dinosaur droppings?

You’d die. That’s what would happen. What a stupid question — I can’t believe you asked me that.

Anyway, that’s not why I called you here today. This meeting’s agenda is about the trials and tribulations of losing your lunch. Or in this case, dinner.

One of my husband’s favorite meals is beef, be it tri-tip or pot roast or whatever, accompanied by white steamed rice and cucumber salad. The weirdo likes to pile each dish on top of each other like a sundae with beef on the bottom and the cucumber salad on top.

Blech.

I personally, don’t like any of my food touching each other, which can be challenging at holidays, but I’m determined not to have my mashed potatoes taste like green ambrosia marshmallows. I want each thing to taste like itself, not like its neighbor.

Where was I? Oh yeah, cucumber salad.

This meal is easy to fix and my husband was really looking forward to dinner. Did I mention it’s one of his favorites?

So he pulls the tri-tip off of the barbeque, the rice cooker beeps its ready signal and we’re completely in sync, like a musical dance in the kitchen of food preparation. The table is set (and by table, I mean the TV trays on the couch because we are about to watch the exciting adventures of Doctor Who).

All I have to do is pull the made-ahead-of-time cucumber salad out of the refrigerator and we are ready to go!

I swing the refrigerator door open.

I grab the salad off the top shelf and…

spilled cucumber salad, kitchen mishaps

And that’s when the music died.

{SIGH}

cucmber salad, kitchen mishaps

 

Underwater Image Source: Zeevveez

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