Complimentary Mint

When I entered my hotel room I immediately threw down my bags and called the front desk.

After about 10 minutes of profanity the person at the desk responded.

“May I help you sir?”

Evidentially, someone had left some kind of chocolate in a wrapper on my pillow.

“That’s a complimentary mint sir.”

 

As I hung up I wondered?

Why in the hell would I take someone putting a mint on my pillow as a compliment?

Actually, I found it very insulting.

Insulting as hell.

 

Didn’t they realize that when I went to bed the heat of my head on the mint would likely make it melt

creating a chocolate minty mess of my head, pillow, and hairnet?!

 

When I went in the bathroom I became livid.

 

There was a paper cover over glass in the bathroom

When I confronted the front desk about this problem they said.

“Sir, the glass is covered for your protection.”

 

As I hung up I thought?

Protection from what?

Inadvertently drowning myself if I filled the glass with water

and then tried to take a drink?

 

Then I realized what they were talking about.

What if some crazy person put the complimentary mint in the glass and I filled the glass with water

unaware of the mint’s presence, taking a drink from glass and subsequently choking to death on the mint.

 

After that I relaxed and decided that the people running this hotel were true professionals and

really knew their stuff. The rest of my trip was a pure pleasure.

 

Man, am I glad that for my honeymoon I decided to stay at Motel 6.

 

Oh Sam, why didn’t you tell me you sold the kid?

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Snake Music

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It was “snake” music clear and simple.

You know the kind they like to listen to

when they’re being charmed out of a basket.

Though with the extra heavy bass speakers in the back

when the snake drives his low rider down the  street

the windows of the store fronts vibrate reflecting

the  multiple colors of his snake tattoos.

He’s  just come from the library with books on

mouse hypnotism and hamster ventriloquism.

At home he sips whiskey and flips pages.

The next thing we know he’s at the pet store

marching a bunch of zombie-like mice toward the exit.

When the cops come through the front door

he and his mice hide behind a stuffed iguana.

From the cage section a hamster says:

“He’s in the back storage area. Get ‘em.”

As the cops disappear through the door

he loads his mice into the back of  his car

and hisses:

“I’m not going back to prison.”

Turns the keys in the ignition,

which starts the car

and the alluring rhythm

of snake music.

The Magic Chicken

First, the chicken crossed the road.

Then he came back to the original side of the road using the pedestrian signal.

Then he crossed the road and came back yet again.

He crossed the road again later that day came back twice more and crossed it again.

When word got out about the magic chicken.

People came from miles to see him.

They were seldom disappointed as we would often cross the street

and return several times in one day.

Some people called it a “Miracle.”

The Church said it would take it under further consideration before forming an opinion.

Then one day they closed the liquor store across the street

from his house,

so he stopped crossing the street

and just walked down the block to the liquor store on his side of the street.

The Cow Over The Moon Phenomenon

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Don’t Blame Popeye

I get tired of everyone blaming Popeye for everything wrong in the world.

We’re dependent on Middle East Oil because we need it to grow spinach for Popeye.

The huge Federal deficit is caused from buying corncob pipes for Popeye

The worldwide sailor pants shortage and global warming is all because of Popeye.

I get sick of it.

Look there’s Olive Oil and Sweat Pea now.

What are they doing to reduce the jobless rate.

Oh, Oh, it’s Wimpy eating a hamburger on Tuesday.

Nice that he has time to eat a burger while this government

refuses to fund research on flesh-eating bacteria.

I put down my bag of Pringles and looked out my 12^th story window

at the commotion in the streets below.

Crowds are  rioting, turning cars over, and burning them.

A man with a piece of beef jerky in one hand,

is carrying a sign on a stick that I can just barely make out:

“Impeach President Popeye!”

Hmmm. I didn’t even know Popeye was President.

Don’t blame me I didn’t vote.

Maybe all this is his fault.

God damn you Popeye.

I curse you Popeye.

Or maybe it’s just my imagination.

Before I return to my bag of Pringles,

just to be on the safe side I drop a can of spinach

out the window on the crowd below.

One Nation Underdog

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I never understood this line as a kid in our “Pledge of Allegiance”,

when reciting it in class at the start of the day.

“One nation Underdog…”

The cartoon character Underdog had many admirable attributes,

such as his devotion to “Sweet Polly Purebread.”

Still, it seems odd that we would all pledge allegiance

to a cartoon character at the start of the day.

It’s not as though he had invented plumbing or discovered a cure for farting?

Not as far as I know, but then again I don’t listen to National Public Radio.

The polite and correct thing to do for such things, as it typically is for most things

in life that you don’t understand is to just nod your head and smile.

Take for example a dog humping some guy’s leg.

Hopefully, not Underdog.

Or when that guy took off his pants and lit them on fire in church.

And when the police ask him to explain he scoffs and replies:

“Have you ever seen a dog humping a guy’s leg not wearing pants?!”

You know I think a dog probably would,

but I don’t file my observations of dog humping legs experiences

in a permanent part of my brain.

Again, hopefully not Underdog.

The best thing to do in such situations…

Just nod your head and smile.

“Sarah Palin announces last minute 2012 Presidential bid!”

Hmmmm. I’m a Republican and I wish she was dead.

Just kidding. Maybe not dead, but at least incapable of talking.

Just kidding. I’m not a Replubican.

I’m…

What’s that thing called when you greatly distrust both parties?

Oh yeah, “normal.”

Why are these Tea Partiers and others applauding her?

Just nod head and smile.

Oh, look there’s a dog humping a guy’s leg.

Now the same people are giving that dog a standing ovation.

I think I understand.

Dolphin Joy

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Last night I dreamed I was in my cat suit

dragging a steak passed the dog pound.

All the dogs looked a bit like Marmaduke.

None of them looked like dolphins.

Life’s that way sometimes.

I kept hearing this beeping noise in my head.

It wouldn’t go away.

I looked down between my legs and noticed I was driving a truck.

Well, backing up a truck.

I was particularly pleased with myself for making this discovery

and for not being a dolphin.

Jim asked: “May I have more butter.”

I replied: “I’m sorry Jim there is no more butter.”

Knowing full well that we had a fridge in the janitorial supply closet

fully stocked with butter.

It felt good to be an asshole.

And to not be a dolphin.

Going Marsupial

It seems like everyone I know is going marsupial.

You know…

Getting a pouch sewn onto their abdomen to carry things.

At first I thought this odd.

And a bit disturbing.

Like a “man purse.”

Scary.

But just as a woman could now more easily carry her daily accoutrements.

Like her lipstick and cellphone.

I could also more easily carry my man accoutrements.

Like a 6-pack of beer.

Or my sawed off shotgun.

I found it very freeing to no longer have to carry my sawed off shotgun

tucked down my pant leg where when I walked stiff-legged into a bar

and a bunch of drunken sailors would inevitably say:

“How’s it going there peg leg.”

Before they could properly apologize to my sawed off shotgun.

Having a pouch immediately raised my self- confidence.

I was able to simultaneously enter a 12-step program

and start a national speaking tour as a “life coach”

on how people could improve their lives.

It seems like everyone I know

is also is getting into this “life coaching” thing.

I would look at them and think.

Your life sucks.

What are you going to give advice on how to have a life that sucks.

A better approach might be for them to give advice along the lines:

“How to not turn out like me.”

Or take my own mundane and rather unremarkable life.

Are the depressing details of how I got to this unfortunate state

of any possible value to you?

Evidentially, and people are willing to pay for it.

It’s always better to have some stranger

who knows absolutely nothing about you

tell you how to live your life

rather than take the time to just figure it out yourself.

When I got back from my pouch-inspired national tour

of improving people’s lives I was exhausted.

They greeted me at my front door

with folded arms and frowns on their faces.

What was it with these kangaroos?

Who Wants Candy?

At first I thought it was funny that there was no candy.

Then I thought  we were all going to die.

Then I laughed until I wet my pants.

Then I was put on a suicide watch because there was no candy.

When the man with the candy finally arrived we treated him

like a lost Gnome returning from Siberia.

In other words we killed him and took all his candy.

The first thing we did was go through all the candy bags

to confirm they did not contain any snakes.

Amanda ate too much candy too quickly, got a sugar rush, and fell out the window.

Ted put Bar-B-Q sauce on his candy indicating he was likely from Texas.

I thought about putting some of the candy in a piñata

and hitting it with a stick as everyone would enjoy this.

Instead, to save time I just hit Ted with the stick.

And we all took his candy.

People seemed to enjoy this.

Ted made the inappropriate comment that we had hired Amanda,

because she was a piece of eye candy.

I went over to Amanda and put my eye against her shoulder.

She politely said: “What the f**k are you doing!”

And then poked me in the eye.

I went back to Ted and hit him again with the stick.

We invited all our friends over to enjoy the candy,

but when we realized this would result in less candy for each of us

we locked them in the basement.

I saw an airplane fly by outside the window and wondered if they were after our candy.

To be safe I called the police and told them there was a bomb on that airplane.

The President stopped by and asked if we had any candy.

I called the police again and told them that the President

had planted the bomb on the airplane.

Later, after eating so much candy that we nearly popped,

in order to protect ourselves from potential tooth decay,

we brushed out teeth.

And then I hit Ted again with the stick.