February 28, 2011
The loon is seriously considering opening a nail shop in his new community. There is a vacant space between two Starbuck’s across the street from a Starbuck’s on a block featuring only eight other nail shops. The loon, who considers himself always to be one step ahead of the law game, will be the only [...]
February 27, 2011
Carstairs: We’re too conspicuous, I tell you. Usher: Nothing of the kind. We blend right in. Carstairs: You’re kidding, right? Look around. Mightn’t green have been a better choice? Usher: You have no sense of adventure, Carstairs. You have to be bold if you want to advance. Carstairs (muttering): You have to be nuts. Usher: [...]
February 26, 2011
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who only dream by night. Barkeep: Sure thing, Mr. Poe. Heh heh. Have another drink?
February 25, 2011
“Wake up, hon. Our car’s been stolen and we have to pay a thousand dollar fine for illegal camping.”
February 24, 2011
The loon has decreed that from hence until forth the last Thursday in February shall be known as Livid Hummingbird Day, and celebrations appropriate thereto shall be observed with candid ferocity.
February 23, 2011
8 ducks one package gelatin Pluck ducks, setting aside feathers for later burial in the foundation of any proposed new nearby highrise apartment buildings. Puree ducks into a paste. Mix in gelatin. Beat with a small oar until your arm trembles. Pour resulting mixture into 20 small parakeet molds and refrigerate. Down a fifth of [...]
February 22, 2011
It will no doubt come as a shock to learn that Chester Arthur is the best rhyme for ‘bales of hay’. Only those biographically knowledgeable few are aware that Chester’s boyhood nickname was ‘Farmer Gray’. Doris Day is the second best answer, as in ‘Who can tote these bales of hay? No one better than [...]
February 21, 2011
The best rhyme for ‘bales of hay’ is: a. Elaine May b. Doris Day c. built of clay d. Colonel Pickering e. Chester Arthur answer on the morrow
February 20, 2011
In an Old World manner, Bubbles Throckmorton emptied her revolver into the paisley pattern featured on the side of the despicable suitcase. Tilting her head back, she loosed a maniacal laugh, which serpentined out the window to disappear over the moor. Rand Stallbirk sprang into the room only to discover the slumped, weeping form of [...]
February 19, 2011
And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolflike, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him. And no, he’s not talking about Richard Nixon.