Category Archives: Humor

Things that make you LOL

The Most Unusual Man in The World (Mindless Entertainment)

His brain has two distinctive flavors, the logical and the artistic.
He makes a living with the logical bank and lets the artistic bank out to play to stave off insanity. His friends would council that perhaps he had failed at the “staving off” part.

Life as a road warrior forced his creative bank to find amusements on the run so he invented a game he liked to call ‘guess what they do for a living.’ The goal of the game was self explanatory and the entertainment factor was high, especially in airports such as LAX, although celebrity sightings would spoil the game. The game worked best when he was traveling with a colleague. Forget asking strangers, they often panicked and carry-ons caused damage if they connected. If alone, he would get one of his other personalities to cooperate and sometimes they did not work well and play with others. When this happened his mind would create new forms of entertainment and sometimes it fell on a familiar theme, music.

Music is one of the passions that fuels his heartbeat. Following up random thoughts with “That would make a good band name”, can provide him with a few grins for a while. Sometimes creating a good band name is like a Seinfeld Episode.
“What did you have for breakfast?”
“Lightly buttered toast.” That’s a band name.
“What was your commute like?”
“Hell with a side of cream cheese.” That’s a band name.

Names in general provide him with a great source of entertainment. Sitting down with a sports magazine annual college basketball edition and compiling a list of the best names in division 1 basketball can fill his mind with enough minutia to keep him occupied for an entire weekend. He actually could make up a name like Scientific Mapp. He is the most unusual man in the world.

Dogs and Cats Living Together (Downtime for St. Peter Part 2)

The hours had passed slowly at the Pearly Gates as Herbert tried to absorb as much information as possible from St. Peter before he took his vacation leave.

“Is it always this slow,” asked Herbert.

“It comes an goes. Sometimes the list is short and other times the list contains a gaggle of souls.”

“Kind of like a rush to judgement.”

“Cute. Keep your day job”

“I’m an acquired taste.”

“Yea, so is Sushi”.

Just then a shuttle arrived with a lone passenger.

Peter checked the list and prepared to greet a Mr. Acme. Hmm, that’s an unusual name. “Welcome Mr. Acme.”

“Mr?” queried the man.

“Having no surname what do you prefer,” asked Peter.

“I have always gone by The Acme Company,” replied Mr. Acme.

“The Acme Company. That seems a bit unusual. Are you an artist or a musician,” asked Peter.

“No. I can’t say that I am. What else would you call a global
conglomerate that provides a full spectrum of products ranging from Shampoo to Talcum Powder.”

“Top to Bottom,” injected Herbert. Peter gave him a look that said silence would have been a better option.

“Oh Oh. I knew this day would come,” said Peter.

“What day is that,” asked Herbert.

“The day that would bring a corporeal crisis of existential proportions.”

“What, dogs and cats living together?” asked Herbert.

“Nice movie reference. I’ll give you that one,” replied a slightly grinning Peter.

“See, I’m growing on you. What did you mean “you knew this day would come”,” asked Herbert.

“I have been waiting for this day ever since the citizens united decision,” groaned Peter.

“I still don’t get what’s going on,” replied Herbert.

“What we have here is a corporation that thinks it is a person,” answered Peter.

“Oh Oh,” uttered Herbert.

“But I am a person. The Supreme Court Says so,” replied Mr. Acme.

“Sorry Acme, the Supreme Court has no jurisdiction here and making big campaign contributions does not give you a soul,” explained Peter.

“Oh, so where should I go?” asked Mr Acme.

I am thinking bankruptcy court,” replied Peter writing something on an official looking card. “There seems to have been a major corporeal catastrophe. This requires a higher power. Give this to the shuttle driver and he’ll take you to the proper station.”

“What shuttle driver,” asked Acme as a shuttle arrived.

“You have a very short sighted approach to existence. Now that you have plenty of time on your hands you need to be more patient. Good luck.”

“Ok, Thanks for the advice,” replied Mr. Acme as the shuttle whisked him away.

“Wow. Was that the strangest arrival you have had here,” asked Herbert.

“There was one that came close.”

“Yeah. How so?”

“Some guy who showed up with a ‘nutter-butter sandwich.”

“That doesn’t sound weird.”

“He was half naked and called himself the king.”

“Yea, that qualifies.”

Finding Eternal Calm in a Chaotic World (Dante-ism)

Meditation.
-the action or practice of meditating: a life of meditation.
• a written or spoken discourse expressing considered thoughts on a subject: his later letters are intense meditations on man’s exploitation of his fellows.
ORIGIN Middle English: from Old French, from Latin meditatio(n-), from meditari (see meditate) .

We can practice meditation at any time and in many forms in our lives. Some of us practice it without realizing it.

I myself have been a longtime practitioner of something I like to call Dante-ism. It is an exercise in relaxation. The goal is to imagine a new level of hell for someone and through that visualization melt away the feelings of stress that you are currently experiencing. Dante probably imagined quite a few more levels than nine. I am sure he had to cut it short due to deadlines. I myself have blown way past double digit figures.

I find Dante-ism particularly effective while driving. Case in point. I find myself at a four-way stop sign waiting for a couple to exit the crosswalk when another car jumps their turn. I calmly let the tension go as I design a new level of hell for the driver; a time slightly less than eternity spent waiting for pedestrians at a crosswalk while an infinite stream of cars jump the gun. Not quite satisfied, an additional inspiration adds the coup de gras. The car stereo of the perpetrator will now be playing that one Rick Astley song (“ never gonna give you up …”*) in a loop. There are two dangers for you the designer when crafting these scenarios. The first is that you may visualize the imagery for too long forcing the drivers behind you to taylor a level of hell specifically for you. The second danger is that you run the risk of being stuck with that blasted song in your head the rest of the day.

I find Dante-ism to be especially calming in cases where a narrow escape from death has just occurred and the culprit is the carelessness of others. This experience is more common for those who commute to work but may also occur for those who actively participate in life as the role of an innocent pedestrian. The cases in this category that I am familiar with are usually attributed to someone not paying attention. The pedestrian scenario can provide more of a challenge when crafting a new level of hell if the perpetrator is sans automobile. In this case there is no vehicle with with which to imprison the guilty for all eternity and more imagination is required to craft the ultimate floor in your ever increasing high rise of hell.**

One may find that writers block is getting in the way crafting a sufficiently annoying level of hell. In such cases the afore mentioned cross walk scenario works well in a pinch. The idea of the guilty forever unable to cross an intersection can be quite calming. Throw in the video for that Rick Astley song in a loop on his smart phone and you have the ingredients for nirvana. Limit this scenario to cases where you have tried mightily but can not quite come up with an adequate scenario to achieve that state of calm that may be desperately required. Instead, use the opportunity to challenge your imagination. Bystanders can often be incorporated into the scene to help trap the perpetrator in time.

Creating the added annoyance factor is where ones imagination can be really be stretched. While I find it hard to fathom that someone would not find Rick Astley annoying, and neigh I say enjoyable, improbable events do occur in life and there is plenty of irritating songs out there to choose from. It is not important as to whether the perpetrator will find it maddening, it’s all about you . Remember meditation is a means to achieve personal growth and is meant to be a rewarding experience.

*I can’t bring myself to continue.
**Good band name by the way. I am thinking something in the Death Metal genre

Downtime for St. Peter (The Further Adventures of Herbert the Celestial Assistant)

Herbert was relaxing in the layover lounge (aka The Between Assignments Cubicle) and pondering the possibilities for his next assignment. He was a bit nervous as to what the future held for him. During his career as heavenly assistant he had worn many hats. Some had looked good on him and some had put him on Mr. Blackwell’s list.

He had been thinking about his very first task. It began as building hills but he was elevated* to head mountain builder. It seemed like yesterday but in heaven there really was no concept of time. His revery was interrupted by Solomon, no not that Solomon.

The truth was this Solomon was at the end of the line when the bucket of brains had run out. Rumor has it that tomato soup was substituted. Too bad a grilled cheese sandwich didn’t come with it.

“Time for your next assignment Herb,” announced Solomon.

“Could you call me Herbert? Only the big guy calls me Herb,” said Herbert.

“You mean God?”, asked Solomon.

“Yes of course. Is there another big guy?”

“Well no, but no one calls him big guy.”

“Oh, you don’t say. He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Never mind that. You have your new assignment. It is only temporary though. You are vacation relief for Peter. “

“The heavenly gates Peter?”

“Yes of course. Is there any other?”

“Well there has to be. He can’t be the only Peter in heaven can he?”

“Probably not but lets not get exi, existen, uh deep. You are pulling relief duty at the heavenly gates”

“So Peter is taking a vacation?”

“Yep. He hasn’t had one since disco was popular.”

“Oh really. Did he have anything to do with that?”

“No and if he had any say it wouldn’t have ever happened. Don’t bring up leisure suits either. It will really get him started.”

“Um, Ok. So where does one go when you take a vacation from Heaven?”

“Colorado of course.”

“Makes sense, I did my best work there.”

“Here we are.”

“St. Peter this is Herbert”

“Nice to meet you Herbert. I’ll take it from here Solomon.”

“Right. Good luck Herbert”

“Thanks.”

“Ok Herbert. The job is pretty simple really. Here is the master list for today,” said Peter handing him a clipboard.

“A clipboard really? I was expecting something cooler.”

“This is heaven we don’t throw away what works. Pay attention Herbert.
Everyone on the list gets in. You will get a new list each day.”

“Everyone on the list gets in?”

“Yes of course. You were expecting that only the cool people got in ?
This isn’t a trendy New York nightclub.”

“I was looking forward to some judging.”

“Sorry to disappoint you but that has already take place.”

“Bummer. Must be depressing for you.”

“Not at all. Too much responsibility comes with that whole judging thing. So
back to the training part if you don’t mind. The enrollees will show up
periodically during your shift. You will ask them their name and check it
against the list.”

“What’s the point of a list if they all get in,” asked Herbert.

“Because from time to time there will be an error in routing.”

“Oh, kind of like an airline losing your luggage.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. So, are you always a smart ass?”

“Yea, it’s kind of my thing.”

“Oh, ok. Well try to tone it down a bit. These folks have just departed
their corporeal existence and may not appreciate your brand of
smart-assery.”

“Sorry, I’ll work on it. What happens if they are not on the list?”

“You apologize profusely for the mixup and you ring this bell. Someone will
respond immediately to take them to their final destination.”

“You’re right, it’s nothing like an airline losing your luggage.”

“If they are on the list you give them this pamphlet,” said Peter handing
him a sheet of parchment.

“Parchment?”

“It still works.”

“Oh, yea,” replied Herbert as he read the pamphlet.”

So Your Dead. Now What?

“Catchy Title”

“Thanks. I came up with that myself.”

“Keep your day job.”

“What.”

“Nothing. Continue”

“Well. You give them a chance to read the pamphlet and then answer any
questions they may have.”

“I’m not sure I can answer any questions they have. “

“Don’t worry. As I said they are kind of numb when they get here and do not
tend to ask too many questions. Most of their questions will crop up at the
next weigh station. Those folks will handle it. Besides, I will be with
you the entire day and by the end you’ll be a pro. Don’t worry.”

“Ok, lets get to greeting.”

“Pardon?”

“You know. It’s kind of like being a Walmart greeter.”

“No, no it’s not. What did I tell you?”

“Knock off the smart-assery?”

“Yes. Please”.

The story continues.

*pun intended

On the Fourth Day Herbert Created Hills

It was the fourth day of creation and God, the creator, the big guy, the big girl or however you refer to him/her/it in your belief system, summoned one of the new aides, Herbert, to create hills.

“Herbert. Can I call you Herb?”

“Sure whatever floats your boat big guy.”

“Herb. I called you here to give you your purpose, the job that will be your responsibility and your’s alone.”

“Ooh, sounds exiting big guy. Drop it on me.”

“Drop it on you?”

“Yea it’s a saying”

“Not anymore it’s not.”

“Yea, It’s stupid. I don’t know who started it.”

“Pay attention Herb. Your job is to build hills.”

“Hills?”

“Yea here is an image as an example.”

“Wow, you showed it right on that bush. How did you do that?”

“A mere parlor trick. Now pay attention and study the example. You are

responsible for all the hills that will be built.”

“All of them? As in every one of them?”

“Of course. This world is just getting started so that is the only meaning.”

“Wow. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Of course you can. I have supreme confidence in you and that’s coming from me, God. If I am behind you, you can’t go wrong.”

“Hey that is catchy. Can I use it?”

“Sure, why not. Many motivational speakers will make money off of it in the future.” Hmm I wonder if I can get royalties? , he thought.

“OK, big guy. I’ll give it my best shot. Where do I start?”

God replaced the image of a hill with a map. “Well, I was thinking of a place that will be named after St. Francis. I call it San Francisco.”

“Cool. I will drop some really nice hills on that.”

“Drop?”

“Sorry, I will create some really nice hills there.”
“Create? I am THE creator but I know what you mean.”

“OK, I will go forth and ‘hillafy.’”

“What? That is definitely not a saying.”

“No, but it can be one.”

“No, it can’t.”

“Very well. I’ll get right on it.”

“I will be back in a few hours to check on the results. If you do well, you will be doing the rest of the hills on this planet”

“Will do big guy.”

God went off to ponder his metaphorical navel* and decide who was going to be creating mountains.

Two hours had gone by and he had yet to decide. He had assigned the lake project, the tree project and had formulated the existence of blue navel lint but for mountains he was at a loss. He decided now would be a good time to check on Herbert.

God decided he would start at a place that eventually would become Chinatown. According to his map it should only be a 5 block walk up to what would be known as Knob Hill.

Much puffing later he had reached the top of the hill. Geez, That felt like 20 blocks. I have got to do more cardio, he thought. He turned to look back at the origin of his hike and was shocked to see how steep the climb had been. Well, I feel better about the shape I’m in but this isn’t a hill. It’s a mountain. I hope I can catch Herb before he can do more damage.

God turned to survey his surroundings and saw Herb making his way up the hill from the area that would be Pacific Heights. Herb arrived a few moments later huffing and puffing.

“Well, gasp, I’m, gasp, done.”

“What do you mean done?”

“I’m, gasp, done with, gasp, all the, gasp, hills for, gasp, this town.”

“Oh, um, good. I like what you’ve done with it. You have proven yourself worthy for a more difficult task however and I am promoting you. Your new title will be maker of mountains.”

“I quite like that,” replied Herb.

“I thought you would. It will make a good band name,” said God.

“Pardon?”

“Oh nothing,” said God.

“I want you to create something like this in this area.” He then displayed a new map image. “If I like what you have done there you will then move on to the continental divide.”

“With a name like that I presume it needs to be real big.”

“Yes, it should be but something tells me you will do just fine.”

* Great band name. Feel free to use it.
Catch Herbert’s next adventure.

Beware of Greeks Baring Yogurt

As a type two diabetic I have to watch my carb intake carefully.
My Father was a type one diabetic for most of his life. My memories of the toll that it took on his body haunts me every time I put food in my mouth. When my ‘go-to’ Yogurt was reformulated, the end result was that the amount of carbs it contained had more than doubled, or had they? A comparison of the nutritional label of the new vs the old formula revealed something different was going on. The label of the new formula was now using 8oz as the serving size. The old label had used 4oz. Needless to say I was a bit upset at myself for thinking I was eating a low carb yogurt in the first place. I guess some part of my mind thought “who eats just four oz of yogurt” when reading the label and it substituted 8oz. Flimsy explanation? Sorry that’s all I got. Needless to say I wasn’t too satisfied either and I went to bed quite cranky. That may explain why I dreamt the following.

The morning sky loomed over Mt Olympus and the rays of the sun shown upon Zeus as he observed the Greek Olympic team working out. Up until now he thought they had an excellent chance to win medals at the first Olympics. Now he was pondering the first Olympic boycott. He was concerned with what he saw and had sent a message to summon Hermes for a discussion.

“You wanted to see me Dad,” said Hermes as he arrived huffing and puffing.

“Yea, like an hour ago,” replied Zeus. “Didn’t I tell you to call me sir in public.”

“Um, Yes Sir. Yea sorry about taking so long but Pheidippides seems to be out of shape these days. Normally he would accompany me back but he’s really gassed today.”

“That seems to be going around,” said Zeus. “Observe carefully as our team practices and tell me what you see.”

“Well at first glance they look fine,” replied Hermes.

“I said observe not glance.” admonished Zeus.

“Sorry sir I will give a sincere look,” said Hermes.

“Well a sincere look is an improvement but far from observing carefully,” said Zeus.

“Sorry again sir I will observe, um..”

“Carefully,” interjected Zeus.

“Yes, That’s it. I will observe carefully,” said Hermes.

“Pay attention Hermes, you’re on shaky ground. I hear Pandora is looking for a gig. You’re just lucky I can’t trust her.”

“Well sir they do seem a bit sluggish.”

“Go on. Anything else?”

“Well the javelin thrower seem to be a tad off sir.”

“You consider an impaling just a tad off?”

“No sir what I meant to say was that his aim was off and now they are carrying Tad off the field. I do hope he pulls through. He’s our best chance at a medal in the pentathlon.”

“So tell me Hermes. Do you have any idea how their performance could drop off so drastically?”

“Outside of the slight, um, complete impaling, I don’t think they’re that bad sir.”

“Oh really. Take a look at our hammer thrower. Does something look odd?”

“I don’t seem to see him sir.”

“Well Hermes do you see that man right there.”

“The one who is lying down and appears to be holding a hammer?”

“Yes, that’s the one. I am not an expert but I am pretty sure that is the hammer thrower and that passing out in mid throw is not proper technique.”

“Yes. I would have to agree with you sir.”

“So as I was saying do you have any idea how they have reached this sorry state?”

“Well sir, not right off the top of my head.”

“Any changes in their regimen or the training table?” asked Zeus.

“Training table sir? I hardly see what the table in the training room has to do with it.”

“That is an expression used in athletics Hermes. It refers to their diet while in training.”

“Oh, right sir. Well now that you mention it the yogurt being served to the team has been recently reformulated.”

“How so Hermes.”

“I don’t know sir”

“Then how do you know it has been reformulated?” asked Zeus.

“Because the yogurt container says so.”

“You didn’t read the nutrition label?”

“Who has time to read Sir,” replied Hermes.

“I suggest you fetch the new yogurt and have a look at the label. We wouldn’t have any of the old yogurt lying around would we?” asked Zeus.

“I just happen to have one of each with me sir.”

“You do? That’s strange,” replied Zeus.

“I love the stuff,” replied Hermes.

“Yes, you do seem to be a bit doughy these days. Hmm, it appears the only real change is that the serving size of the new yogurt is 8oz. Twice as much as that of the old yogurt. It seems it always had quite a bit of carbs.”

“4 oz? Who eats just 4oz at a sitting. That’s not even worth the energy sir.”

“Well Hermes, I am not Hippocrates but I do know a few things about the body and the intake of too much sugar is not good for it. If the impaling was not evidence enough then kindly look at Gluteus Maximus and tell me what you see.”

“His gluteus is really maximized. I believe the youth call it having too much ‘junk in the trunk sir.'”

“So what do you plan on doing about it.”

“Order a larger pair of shorts sir?”

“Pay attention Hermes. What do you plan on doing about the problem as a whole”

“Um, sweeten the plain yogurt with honey sir.”

“Good idea Hermes.”

“I will do so right away sir. Anything else ?”

“Yes. If you come across Pheidippides tell him to switch to the plain yogurt but not before he fetches Pandora for me.”

“Um, Pandora? Ok sir. Will do sir”

A Conspiracy for the Ages

The holidays are soon over. Can another ‘holiday’ come too soon. According to
the valentine related detritus already on display at the store, the answer is no.

Location : The dark basement of a warehouse located somewhere on the east coast of North America.

From separate entrances three men surreptitiously entered said warehouse. Three men who could be considered traitors to their own gender but loyal to one master. A master who can appear in multiple forms and colors and assume many aliases but all answer to the name of’legal tender’.

The three men are strangers to one another. The location of their pre arranged conclave was chosen during the previous year and only revealed to each of them the previous evening.

Each man introduces himself. There was Harry “Salutations “ Brown, Tony “Coco Bean” Burns and William “Don’t Call Me Shrink” Kowalski.

“Coco Bean. Really?” muttered Salutations Brown.

“Well, it used to be Fat Tony but I felt that played on a false stereotype people may have of us in the confection industry,” responded Coco Bean.

“Sounds sensitive enough,” agreed William, ” besides you go maybe 140 soaking wet.”

“So is it business as usual this year gentleman?” asked Coco Bean.

“Well if by usual you mean that both you guys make with the sweet talk generating expectations that cannot possibly be met and then I swoop in to pick up the pieces ,then yes, business as usual,” replied William.

“Yea , I see no reason to change. Why fix something that has been working for over 1700 years,” said Harry.

“I got to hand it to you Harry,“ said Coco Bean. “Your ancestors in business certainly knew how to craft a legend. Everyone loves a romantic martyr. Especially if he comes bearing chocolate and sticky valentines.”*

“You definitely have the poet in you Salutations. Here is to another banner Valentines Day. Long live the cash machine,” said William as he toasted with a glass of champagne.

“Long live the cash machine,” chimed in Coco Bean and Salutations as they raised their glasses”.

“So what fine location is the gathering next year gentleman?” asked Salutations.

“Hey you know the rules. We don’t choose the place. That is up to unknown others to decide” cautioned William.

“Yea, but I bet it will be someplace dark and dank,” replied Salutations.

“You would think the health care industry is in on the grift,”  said Coco Bean.

“Not yet,” replied William. They’ll wakeup, all that sugar has to be creating some new customers for them.”

*Thank you Mr. Costello.

Random Acts of Family

Some families are the Walton’s and some are the Sopranos. My family lies right in the center. We don’t share the same house and say good night to each other but we do not pay a visit to your house to say good night forever.

We are not involved in crime or violence* and are good candidates to be voted family least likely to tune you up.

We are not without our own issues. No we don’t have old disagreements seething below the surface resulting in long periods of incommunicado. We talk to each other quite frequently . The problem is that our conversation does not seem to to get the job done when information needs to be conveyed

One of the most common phrases uttered during our conversations is “no one told me that”. Of course the “no one” being referred to here is any person having come in contact with us.

Given our track record we consider family news from the Kwiki Mart clerk as reliable.

The information lapses that have occurred through the years have ranged from the loss of a favorite relative to “we’re coming to visit after Christmas”. The latter being the most recent incident and directly affected yours truly.

During a visit this past Thanksgiving, a casual conversation with my mom revealed she and my brother would be visiting after Christmas. “Oh, really. No one told me that.” I’m going to have to have a talk with that Kwiki Mart clerk.

A phone conversation with my brother on Thanksgiving day confirmed the rumor was true. “I guess we should ask if it’s ok.” he said.

Well of course it would be ok. To be honest this visit had been expected for sometime. I had hired my wildly talented brother to redo my kitchen over a year ago. Everything went smoothly until the flooring arrived. It resembled what I had ordered in the manner that I resemble Brad Pitt. Not so much.

I requested floor samples to make the right choice and my brother moved on to work jobs that he had lined up. Business was picking up for him and given the state of the economy I was perfectly satisfied with my temporary kitchen flooring of a sheet of plastic and a throw rug. Hey don’t knock it. Cleaning the kitchen floor involves shaking the rug out on the back porch and sweeping the plastic. No fuss, no muss. Too bad I was not still in college to enjoy the full benefits during after party cleanup.

The family visit was to finish up my kitchen. My brother was coming to finish the floor and my mom was going to make sure we didn’t kill each other. Truth be told my mom likes to organize and I don’t. She would be happy. I have plenty of things to organize.

After all was said and done I had a wonderful time with my family and my kitchen looks awesome.

My place had the crap organized out of it and most important of all I feel loved. I want to thank my family for that.

My bathrooms could stand to be remodeled. I’ll have to mention that to the Kwiki Mart clerk.

*Unless you consider the english language a victim of my writing.

Black Friday: ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
were toys on display including a vintage Mickey Mouse.
There were games, there were gadgets, displayed in glass cases.
The collector was wary and kept his guests at fifteen paces.


The collector had food and drink to serve in his lair.
He would bring out his Pong to show off with fanfare.
The party was happening and many carols they did sing.
Until a band of toys appeared and a door bell they did ring.

The collector opened his door and failed to see
a band of toys underfoot as they scurried with glee.
With a major their leader so authoritative and quick
I knew it was Matt Mason, gosh he was slick.

More rapid than beagles his bandits they came
He whistled and ordered and called them by name.
On, Jan! On, Stosh! The Robots there were two.
On Yo!, On Larry, and perhaps a cow who did moo.

On Major! On Batman, who joined in the fun.
To rescue their friend, a brand new Xbox one.
To the top of the shelf and back towards the wall
Steal away! Steal away! Steal away all!

There was noise, there was chaos as the the batman yelled things not so holy.
He had a right to be upset for he landed in the guacamole.
When their friend was collected and their mission near over.
They all made a getaway in Major Mason’s moon rover.

The party lay in ruins, guacamole tracked across the floor.
The collector was convinced he would collect toys no more.
The band was merry and oh such a sight
as they danced and they darted off into the night.

So let that be a lesson to toy collectors all
prepare for uninvited guests at your next christmas eve ball.

So I in my kerchief all snug in my bed
decided my vision was just a dream in my head.
I finished off my Scotch and curled up in a ball.
With thoughts of good cheer and a Merry Christmas for all.

Black Friday: The Gathering (Vintage Vendetta)

Larry had been moping all afternoon. Xena was gone and he could not fill the void left behind. No matter how he reconnected his pieces he still had a big gap somewhere.

Yo had to listen to Larry whine all afternoon and it was killing him. It was time for some action, besides the only lubricant he had only worked on Yo-Yo(s).

“All right Larry quit your belly aching. It’s clear you are not going along with my ‘there is another XBox just around the corner’ philosophy. Besides I must admit, Xena had that certain whatever the French say she had.”

“A certain I don’t know,” replied Larry.

“Yea I don’t know either but you know what I mean,” said Yo.

“Um, sure.”

“My point is we need to go get her. You’re not the only one who had a narrow escape from that vintage collector Larry.”

“If I recall correctly his name is Vince,” said Larry.

“Vince? Like short for Vintage? Your kidding me,” exclaimed Yo.

“Hey I don’t make these names up . That’s some other guys job,” replied Larry.

“Well this Vince guy has put the fear of Mattel in a lot of old toys I know and quite a few would be willing to help,” said Yo.

“You don’t say. And you can round them up in a moment’s notice?” asked Larry.

“Yep,” said Yo as he winked. “They’re also living here on the down low.”

“How come I don’t know them Yo?”

“ Because as a box Larry you tend to be, um how do I put this, mobility challenged.”

“Fair enough. So who are these toys?”

“I’ll tell you what. I will go round them up and introduce you to them,” replied Yo.

“Ok Yo. I’ll be here moping.”
 said Larry.

“Ok but you better snap out of this funk by the time I get back or you won’t be able to inspire the other toys to march into the mouth of danger.”

“Mouth of danger?” asked Larry.

“Hey I don’t make up these metaphors. That’s some other guys job.” laughed Yo and added “I’ll be back.”

“Was that an Austrian accent?” asked Larry. But Yo was gone. I could have sworn that was an Austrian accent.

Before long Yo came back leading a parade of refugee toys. Larry took one look and thought he was suffering from flashbacks. If he listened carefully he could have sworn he heard either Wagner or maybe the theme to the three stooges playing in the background.

“Form up on me everyone.” ordered Yo.

It was clear he was either getting into the proper spirit of the moment or suffering from delusions of grandeur. Larry was voting for the latter.

There was a clatter of chaos and then from under a pile of what appeared to be every popular toy of the 70’s the voice of Yo could be heard screaming “I meant literally folks.”

“I think that’s figuratively Yo.” shouted Larry.

“Yea, they know what I mean.”

“No, it’s obvious they don’t. That’s why you are currently buried by them.” replied Larry.

A few moments later the pile had broken up and had formed a nice neat line.
Strutting in front of the line, as much as a Yo-Yo can strut, was Yo.

“Alright Larry, let me introduce our volunteer army or what I like to refer to a Yo-Yo’s little helpers.”

“Yo, you are starting to suffer delusions of grandeur.”

“What? Grand Illusion?” I didn’t know you were a Styx fan?” asked Yo.

“Um, up until they became a love ballad smorgasbord but I meant that you are starting to let your ego run away with you. Besides, you make them sound like elves and that is not going to inspire fear in anyone let alone Vince the collector”.

“Vince the collector. Sounds like a hit man.” laughed Yo.

“Well it’s definitely scarier than Yo-Yo’s little helpers.”

“Ill give you that. We can come up with a name later. Let me introduce them to you. Starting from your left and proceeding to your right…”

“Yo, I’m a box of legos I have no hands.” interrupted Larry.

“Yea, but you know what I mean. This here is Major Matt Mason. He is an astronaut toy from the 60’s. 1966 I believe. “

“He looks to be in good shape considering his age,” stated Larry.

“Larry, may I remind you that your shape is a box and you don’t have a right to comment on the shape of others”.

“Yea, that’s fair Yo. So what can he contribute to the effort?” asked Larry.

“Ahem, Let me answer that,” replied the Major as he step forward and saluted.

“I have years of space training at the Mattel Space Camp.” stated the Major.

“Well that’s nice Major but we won’t be going into to space,” replied Larry.

“Well I have a moon rover and a really cool Jet Pack that can move us along a zip line,” added the Major.

“Welcome aboard Major,” said a smiling Larry.

“Next we have Betsy Wetsy,” said Yo pointing to a baby.

“But Yo ,” whispered Larry. “She’s a baby and need we go into whether her name is literal or figurative?”

“Hmm, you have a point,” said Yo and added “Sorry Betsy. I think you could help us better on the home front.”

“Our next volunteers are brothers Jan and Stosh the Rock’em Sock’em Robots.
They’re Polish and they claim to have inspired a generation of Polish boxers. I don’t know if that’s true but I’m not going to question them. I think they will come in handy if we get in a bind and need some muscle.”

“That’s a good point Yo. Welcome aboard gentlemen.” Larry did a double take and asked Yo.” “Is it me or is his neck unusually long?”

Yo looked at the robots and said “Hey Stosh, or Jan, whichever; Please re-engage your neck spring. It’s freaking Larry out. Don’t worry Larry it goes back down. It’s part of their design.”

“Yo, who is that box there,” whispered Larry.

“Oh that there is Spirograph. He’s an artist.”

“We will not have time for art on this mission Yo,” stated Larry.

“Yea, I knew you would say something like that.” interrupted Spirograph. “No body appreciates art.”

“That’s not true,” uttered Larry. “I would love it if you could whip something up to inspire the troops.”

“You got it,” replied the Spirograph. “Do you have any drawing paper?”

“We’ll find you some in a moment,” replied Yo

The introductions carried on for a while and when they were done they had assembled a nice unit of specialists ready to mount an assault on Vince the collector and take back Xena.

“Larry I think you left out Mr. Potato Dude over there,” whispered Yo.

“Yes on purpose. We can’t afford the law suit that would entail,” replied Larry.

“Oh yea. I see your point.”

“Yo. You mentioned that several of these toys had some problems with Vince. Do they know where he lives?” asked Larry.

“You mean his lair,” replied a Batman action figure (of the Adam West variety).

“Um, yes I guess you could call it that.” replied Larry.

“Robin and I were once a captive of the one you call Vince the collector. I can lead you to his lair in the dark if I have to”.

“Yo, Who is this Robin that he speaks of?” asked Larry.

“Keep it down will you. That is a sore subject. They parted ways and it wasn’t pretty.”

“Oops, my bad,” said Larry and then added “That would be great Mr., um, Batman.”

“It’s just Batman my boxlike friend.” replied Batman.

“Very well, Batman. You will lead us to the collector’s lair.”

Larry looked upon the rag tag group of toys that represented his last hope of seeing Xena again and shuddered. They’re not the dirty dozen but their all I have, he thought.

Will Spirograph finally be recognized as a true artist?

Can Batman find Vince’s lair and if so will Xena trust her future to this collection of stooges?

Do Jan and Stosh speak english or will the author have to translate.*

What will Vince do when he finds out that Xena is not a vintage Pong game?

These answers and what ever the author dreams up after a late night snack to follow.

* He can if they just want to order lunch in a diner with soda water and/or beer.