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...just to hear a lovely limerick. I know that May 12 is Limerick Day, and up where I come from we only get to have one holiday - the damn Easter bunny is useless to me - refuses to come by. Surely, among you folk, there should be one person who could rattle off a limerick - and fetch me a beer - no light beer, mind you." "Well, Mr. Claus," chirped Kitty, "my late husband, Moss Hart, detested limericks, so it would be far from befitting for me to recite one for you." The room fell damply silent and most of the guests stared uncomfortably at the orange shag carpet at beneath their feet. The silence was finally broken when Santa popped the top on a can of Schlitz which was surreptitiously passed to him. When everyone looked up they were startled to see Nipsey Russell poised beside the credenza. Other than a few paint-chips around his chin, he had looked surprisingly rational. "Did someone ask for a limerick?" He bellowed, grinning radiantly (especially radiant since there were a few sea-foam-green paint-chips still between his teeth). A collective, muffled groan filled the room. Many of the guests were tired enough of Ms. Carlisle's musings about her late husband, but Nipsey's rhymes were beyond tiresome to them. Before any of the guests could create a diversion to stop Mr. Russell, he started improvising and reciting in earnest: "There once was a man from Dundee Who made love to an ape in a tree, the results weren't sweet, three ears and no feet, eight eyes and a purple...
...DISCREET, please!" yelled kitty. after nearly fainting into paul lynde's martini. gentleman that he was, he immediately fanned her with his monogrammed handkerchief and giggled slyly to fanny flag. next up, to everyone's surprise...
"What the hell are you doing here? It's only May!" said Kitty, her voice several octaves higher than usual. She'd dropped her glass and the plate of what she had declared to be burned hors d'ouerves.
"Look," said Santa, "have you any idea how dull it is in Lapland this time of year? Those bloody Elves get four months off, and I don't. Oh no, not me! Muggins here has to keep an eye on the place, keep the dammed boilers going, and deal with the greedy little gits who send me letters every month hoping there will be a 'computer error' - whatever the hell one of those is. Mrs. Claus is a pain in the bum - just sits there doing that endless bloody knitting. Do you know that dammed sock is eight and a half miles long now? You know the only thing she ever says outside the Busy Time? 'Make us a cuppa will you Santa dear, I'm parched'. That's it. Thats all she bloody says for eleven months. I'm sick of it. Three bloody centuries of it. Three hundred years of cleaning up after those sodding reindeer. Three hundred years of making ever-so-jolly brightly coloured wooded toys that no kid in their right mind ever asked for. And wooden soldiers that look like reject props from a disastrously under-funded Disney B movie. Have you any idea? I mean, any idea at all what it's like?"
"Pity you dropped those hors d'ouerves by the way, they look cooked to perfection" he added.
Kitty managed to get enough little grey cells organized to re-enable her speech. "Er, can I do something for you. I'm not sure what, after all it's not every day you get a manic Santa on the doorstep and I'm just a tad out of my depth here?"
"Right, yeah, sorry - got a bit carried away there. What I could do with, and I mean need, not want, is..."
...just to hear a lovely limerick. I know that May 12 is Limerick Day, and up where I come from we only get to have one holiday - the damn Easter bunny is useless to me - refuses to come by. Surely, among you folk, there should be one person who could rattle off a limerick - and fetch me a beer - no light beer, mind you." "Well, Mr. Claus," chirped Kitty, "my late husband, Moss Hart, detested limericks, so it would be far from befitting for me to recite one for you." The room fell damply silent and most of the guests stared uncomfortably at the orange shag carpet at beneath their feet. The silence was finally broken when Santa popped the top on a can of Schlitz which was surreptitiously passed to him. When everyone looked up they were startled to see Nipsey Russell poised beside the credenza. Other than a few paint-chips around his chin, he had looked surprisingly rational. "Did someone ask for a limerick?" He bellowed, grinning radiantly (especially radiant since there were a few sea-foam-green paint-chips still between his teeth). A collective, muffled groan filled the room. Many of the guests were tired enough of Ms. Carlisle's musings about her late husband, but Nipsey's rhymes were beyond tiresome to them. Before any of the guests could create a diversion to stop Mr. Russell, he started improvising and reciting in earnest: "There once was a man from Dundee Who made love to an ape in a tree, the results weren't sweet, three ears and no feet, eight eyes and a purple...
...he remembered nipsy had something in the oven. he nudged nipsy out of his corner licking coma and lead him into the kitchen just in time to take out the hors d'ouerves out of the oven. and it's a good thing, as kitty likes nothing less than burned snacks. while this was going on, in the living room someone had started a big game of Left Right Center and phil was winning. what he was winning, no one really knew, or cared, but phil sure did. he was beside himself. because of the cacophony he was making, there was a knock on the door. kitty happened to be the closest to the door and answered the knock. when she opened the door everyone was shocked to see...
Santa.
"What the hell are you doing here? It's only May!" said Kitty, her voice several octaves higher than usual. She'd dropped her glass and the plate of what she had declared to be burned hors d'ouerves.
"Look," said Santa, "have you any idea how dull it is in Lapland this time of year? Those bloody Elves get four months off, and I don't. Oh no, not me! Muggins here has to keep an eye on the place, keep the dammed boilers going, and deal with the greedy little gits who send me letters every month hoping there will be a 'computer error' - whatever the hell one of those is. Mrs. Claus is a pain in the bum - just sits there doing that endless bloody knitting. Do you know that dammed sock is eight and a half miles long now? You know the only thing she ever says outside the Busy Time? 'Make us a cuppa will you Santa dear, I'm parched'. That's it. Thats all she bloody says for eleven months. I'm sick of it. Three bloody centuries of it. Three hundred years of cleaning up after those sodding reindeer. Three hundred years of making ever-so-jolly brightly coloured wooded toys that no kid in their right mind ever asked for. And wooden soldiers that look like reject props from a disastrously under-funded Disney B movie. Have you any idea? I mean, any idea at all what it's like?"
"Pity you dropped those hors d'ouerves by the way, they look cooked to perfection" he added.
Kitty managed to get enough little grey cells organized to re-enable her speech. "Er, can I do something for you. I'm not sure what, after all it's not every day you get a manic Santa on the doorstep and I'm just a tad out of my depth here?"
"Right, yeah, sorry - got a bit carried away there. What I could do with, and I mean need, not want, is................................."
...a huge tray of delisciously tempting treats. He waded into the amalgam of lovely munchables like a hungry puppy on fried chicken skin. Since his eyesight was perfect, he passed on the carrots and celery, preferring the delights of mystery meat and cheese and the irresistable bowl of meanwhile, back at the ranch dip. Then, he dipped out of the paint starved room, because...
...he remembered nipsy had something in the oven. he nudged nipsy out of his corner licking coma and lead him into the kitchen just in time to take out the hors d'ouerves out of the oven. and it's a good thing, as kitty likes nothing less than burned snacks. while this was going on, in the living room someone had started a big game of Left Right Center and phil was winning. what he was winning, no one really knew, or cared, but phil sure did. he was beside himself. because of the cacophony he was making, there was a knock on the door. kitty happened to be the closest to the door and answered the knock. when she opened the door everyone was shocked to see...
...his lost dog would come back and not have to ring the doorbell. yes, he trained the sweet canine to ring the bell when he wanted to come back inside. but with all the hubub of the party, the wall licking, etc. it might get overlooked. and so, his dog did eventually come back. snuck in, checked out the scene, sniffed at kitty's drink, and turned around to find...
...a huge tray of deliciously tempting treats. He waded into the amalgam of lovely munchables like a hungry puppy on fried chicken skin. Since his eyesight was perfect, he passed on the carrots and celery, preferring the delights of mystery meat and cheese and the irresistable bowl of meanwhile, back at the ranch dip. Then, he dipped out of the paint starved room, because...
...positioned exactly where the contents could be measured by her turbulent heart. Still, there was something about the odd caressing of even numbers that left a clue to the licking of walls and the appearance of bridges and that was intriguing to Kitty's need for a full glass of water, nevermind the licker...er...liquor. As fate would have it, nipsy was only remotely aware of the gentle hissing of the malfunctioning radiator, and left the door open so that...
...his lost dog would come back and not have to ring the doorbell. yes, he trained the sweet canine to ring the bell when he wanted to come back inside. but with all the hubub of the party, the wall licking, etc. it might get overlooked. and so, his dog did eventually come back. snuck in, checked out the scene, sniffed at kitty's drink, and turned around to find...
.nipsy russell. what's odd about this, is that he and kitty carlisle were once known to throw the most fantabulous and outrageous parties for 80 of their closest friends and 40 of their relatives. they liked to keep things at even numbers. for, if there was an odd numbered group that nipsy was hosting, he'd often become withdrawn and cowering in a corner, licking the paint off of the wall. no one could stop him until the grouping was back to an even number. kitty didnt pay much attention when this happened, she was more concerned that her drink was...
...positioned exactly where the contents could be measured by her turbulent heart. Still, there was something about the odd caressing of even numbers that left a clue to the licking of walls and the appearance of bridges and that was intriguing to Kitty's need for a full glass of water, nevermind the licker...er...liquor. As fate would have it, nipsy was only remotely aware of the gentle hissing of the malfunctioning radiator, and left the door open so that...
...her "secret views" had returned. The last eleven years of therapy and psychotropic drugs had up-until-then, controlled her hallucinations, but as she gazed at the sweet-smelling cloth she could not help but see that the scribbling upon it bore an overwhelming resemblance to...
...nipsy russell. what's odd about this, is that he and kitty carlisle were once known to throw the most fantabulous and outrageous parties for 80 of their closest friends and 40 of their relatives. they liked to keep things at even numbers. for, if there was an odd numbered group that nipsy was hosting, he'd often become withdrawn and cowering in a corner, licking the paint off of the wall. no one could stop him until the grouping was back to an even number. kitty didnt pay much attention when this happened, she was more concerned that her drink was...
...chocolates were presented to Miss Ono. She promptly began using the candies as pastels creating an interesting rendering of her sounds on cloth. Miss Judi took the cloth wondering why on this Mother's Day of all Mother's Days .....
...her "secret views" had returned. The last eleven years of therapy and psychotropic drugs had up-until-then, controlled her hallucinations, but as she gazed at the sweet-smelling cloth she could not help but see that the scribbling upon it bore an overwhelming resemblance to...
...chocolates were presented to Miss Ono. She promptly began using the candies as pastels creating an interesting rendering of her sounds on cloth. Miss Judi took the cloth wondering why on this Mother's Day of all Mother's Days .....
Location: On the edge of tomorrow looking back at yesterday Gender:
Posted:
May 8, 2010 - 10:36pm
Proclivities wrote:
fanatical parties based upon their Lunar New Year. They eat the exotic fruits, which had been painstaking brined, months in advance, and "skate' upon highly-polished hardwood floors in their socks. To have unmatched socks is punishable by...
the feather of laughing death while Yoko Ono sings screeches in the background to a remake of the Talking Heads Speaking In Tongues. But at the last minute a bright flash appeared in the village square where a box of...
mismatched socks, and a shortage of kumquats. this is a problem as the citizens of Org need to have matching socks and kumquats because of their
fanatical parties based upon their Lunar New Year. They eat the exotic fruits, which had been painstaking brined, months in advance, and "skate' upon highly-polished hardwood floors in their socks. To have unmatched socks is punishable by...
...disassemble the ramparts of corporeal laws and germane ideation once the construction of Reality® became understood. This fatuous power gradually elucidated itself through wearisome and dizzying lollygagging, guided by the drunken ramblings of a chimney-sweep and complemented by...
... an abundance of of Goji juice. Meanwhile back on planet Org turmoil has erupted due to...
...green mold on his toenails. This sage advice from the sage made us take pause and decide to change our ways. We stopped robbing drugstores and went back to taking long-distance sniping shots at people with paintball guns. It seemed much more socially positive to scare the hell out of people than to take their drugs from them. After all, your common man needs his cialis more than he needs his dignity. After a few days, however, the urge to do bad came over us and we found out how to...
...disassemble the ramparts of corporeal laws and germane ideation once the construction of Reality® became understood. This fatuous power gradually elucidated itself through wearisome and dizzying lollygagging, guided by the drunken ramblings of a chimney-sweep and complemented by...
Sadhu Haridas was mumbling about after his having been buried alive for forty days. Perhaps it was due to the taste of the clarified butter on his tongue, but for some reason he started chirping that if one who is accustomed to drinking nectar takes to eating stale cheese, he soon grows...
...green mold on his toenails. This sage advice from the sage made us take pause and decide to change our ways. We stopped robbing drugstores and went back to taking long-distance sniping shots at people with paintball guns. It seemed much more socially positive to scare the hell out of people than to take their drugs from them. After all, your common man needs his cialis more than he needs his dignity. After a few days, however, the urge to do bad came over us and we found out how to...
