Puke Of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
As I walk through this world
Nothing can stop the Puke of Hurl
And you, the trap you unfurled
And you can so hurt me, oh yes
TWO DAYS EARLIER
I love leftovers. There I was at the fast food restaurant picking up dinner when I had my aha moment. I’ll get extra deep fried things on purpose so I’ll have enough for leftovers in the future.
Eureka.
It would be something, a small thing, that I was actually looking forward to.
Meanwhile, deep in the Pacific Ocean, somewhere over the Great Pacific garbage patch, ominous dark swirling clouds began to form.
PRESENT DAY
It was almost lunch time. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was in a good mood. I was on the way to the kitchen to prep my lunch. The lunch I had been looking forward to for two whole days. There was a bounce in my step as I walked down the hall. I hummed a little song to myself. I paused in the living room and played a game of peek-a-boo with the cat.
In less than five minutes I would be dead.
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Lemming My Eggo
Sometimes I feel a bit like a lemming who looks around and says, “Hey. Sup with that cliff, yo?”
Is there free will? If not, then it sucks to be you. Because, those dies that were cast are mighty damn cruel. Think about it. If there’s no free will then you have to act like this. Somebody clearly doesn’t like you.
If there is free will? Then you’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
“What happened? Why did you run over and kill those pedestrians?”
“I couldn’t see. The sun was in my eyes.”
“Uh, okay. Follow-up question: Why the fuck was your car moving?”
“I don’t know. All the other cars (that I couldn’t see) were moving, too. I had faith we were all moving together. It seemed like the thing to do.”
“Seriously. How do you expect us to allow you to continue to roam free? Shouldn’t you have been crushed upon the rocks at the bottom of the sea cliff by now? And, just curious. I have to ask. Have you reproduced yet?”
Next!
“Hey, you. What’s your story?”
“I decided to teach my 10-year-old son how to drive. A truck. Right by a river. And, for good measure, I brought all of my other sons along for the ride.”
Good plan. After all, what could possibly go wrong?
Long story short, I choose to do things like not walk in front of moving vehicles. To each their own.
Breeze Feathers
This is day nine of The Dog Days of Summer, a Blogdramedy writing challenge. If you came here looking for quality content you are decidedly barking up the wrong tree. -Ed.
Breeze Feathers
by
Tom B. Taker
“Hello. My name’s Odious Rex. People call me Odie.”
The cat slid and made room. “You can sit here. This seat’s not taken.” It was fate because they went together like peas and carrots.
“You ever eaten real shrimp lasagna?” the cat asked.
“No,” Odie replied. “But I’ve eaten real big lasagna.”
One time the cat threw a stick. Odie leaped after it and returned it faster than the wind blows.
“OOOOODIE!!! Why did you return that stick so quickly?” the cat demanded.
Odie was confused. “You told me to, cat?”
“God damn it, Odie! You’re a god damn genius! This is the most outstanding answer I have ever heard.”
Blogdramedy’s The Dog Days of Summer writing challenge commands victims participants to author ten stories, ten days in a row, consisting of exactly 110 words each. All stores are themed based on dogs that she has pre-selected. For more information about the challenge and to view the work of other participants, please click the link. But only if you want stories that have real teeth.
The Persistent Gardener
Vegetation portrayal.
The other day the world came and took a shit on our front door.
Wow. Have I mastered the art of the literary opening or what? -Ed.
Anywho, we came home and found a flyer had been stuck in the front door of our house. Just like I documented recently, our house is always Under Siege.
Yes, sadly, so far we haven’t been able to raise the money for guard towers with machine guns and snipers. Maybe I should list my modest home defense project on KickStarter? How much would you donate?
It was an 8-1/2″ x 11″ piece of standard printer paper. This flyer was done on the cheap.
For those keeping track, that’s two warning signs already and we haven’t even talked about the content of the flyer yet.
Already hating the guts of whoever was responsible, I finally took a look. It was a B&W ad for a landscaper dude. It was amateur hour all the way. Even I could have done a better job. And the most prominent part of the ad? A blown up and grainy closeup photograph of the dude’s face. Maybe he was part real estate agent, too?
Strike Three! Strike Four! Yer outta here, chump!
I googled the guy’s name and found that he had been cited by the state for landscaping without a license. Yup, yup.
That’s about the time my wife muttered something about needing yard work done, picked up the phone and gave the guy a ring.
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!
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Poundhog Day – Just Lucky I Guess
We now read from the Great Book:
“Oh man, I can’t fucking believe this. Another basement, another elevator. How can the same shit happen to the same guy twice?”
–John McClane, The Book of Die Hard, Chapter Two
In other words, I took a day off from work.
I like to keep notes of blog ideas. Voluminous notes. A veritable plethora of tiny chicken scratch scribbles that are only discernable by me, and sometimes not even then.
Then I go out in the world and live my life. This is also known as to fodder. Then the same shit happens to the same guy twice. Suddenly all blog ideas are out the window.
So, in the vast majority of cases, this blog is merely a depiction of “What happened yesterday?” That’s about as intellectual as it gets around here.
In that vein, guess what happened yesterday? Smooth segue, eh?
Little Victories
Sweet, sweet victory. And no one can take that away. Not even to open it. Just try. I dare you.
Hey kids. It has been some time since I last wrote about the quintessential American existential gripe, right? So today’s post offers two short bits of recent news about little victories I enjoyed, and yes, one of them is about driving.
Celebrate the little victories in life because if you wait for the big ones, it may be a long, long wait.
–Tom B. Taker
Offered herein are a pair of true stories where yours truly came out on top, no matter how thinly sliced the margin may have been. And both stories feature some small element of chance and odd elements of coincidence, enough so that my mind couldn’t help but notice.
So strap yourself in for this strange and peculiar journey to the winner’s lane. Don’t worry, I promise I handle it like everything else in life, in a very calm and mature manner.
Our first story finds me driving down the street as innocent as Bambi playing in the pure driven snow…
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Honey Boo Boo Impersonation Contest
The spawner of Honey Boo Boo.
Finally, this is your chance to win.
An opportunity like this comes along only every so often. Gobble it up while you still can.
It’s the Honey Boo Boo Impersonation Contest.
The idea is simple. Pick one of the following phrases, record your impersonation, and share it with us. Our select Panel of Judging will pick a lucky winner who will be showered with indeterminate prizes that may or may not exist.
I know it sounds too good to be true. But wait, there’s more. Oh my God, there’s always more. Hey, cameraman! Get a shot of that, will ya?
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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