I'm Not Moving Until I Write Something!

With that title, it's tempting to just say, "There! I wrote something. Good-bye." But I'm too stubborn to give in that easily. So what if I don't have any ideas? Who cares if my brain is devoid of any creativity? Well, *I* care, but who cares what I care about? Are these rhetorical questions? What the hell is a "rhetorical question," anyway? Who am I? What am I doing in the middle of a baseball diamond at midnight on the moon? I can't even play foosball! Why can't I be young again, only not like I was when I *was* young, but more like someone who's really pretty and popular? Would I have been popular, if I had been pretty? Would I have been pretty, if I had been popular? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, after all. So...if Mike's eye had had more beauty in it, would he have thought I was pretty? Would he have been beholden to me? If you are still reading this, do you feel like you have something in your eye? Don't rub it! That'll just make it worse! Try rinsing it with some Midol. I'm getting cramps in my fingers, from typing so fast. How many fingers does it take to cross the road? To get to the other side, Silly! When is a riddle not a riddle? When it's a rhetorical question! Whillikers! Am I done now?

A Fruit By Any Other Name

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A ripe orange is orange.

A green orange is not orange.

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A single nut is sane.

More than one nut is nuts.

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One pear is not a pair.

Two pears are a pair of pears.

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A grapefruit is not a grape.

But it is a fruit.

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A grape is a fruit.

But it is not a grapefruit.

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An apple is a fruit.

Unless it's a computer.

----Warning! It's about to get worse!------

You can have a date,

and still be alone.

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The used car salesman sold me a lemon.

I was ripe for the picking.

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I paid for the banana with three dimes and a nickel.

I call it "the fruit of my coins."

Marital Bliss - A Fairy Tale in one act

Scene 1 - A living room in a modest home in Lancaster, PA. A middle-aged man and woman are standing in the middle of the room, looking agitated.

Man: Cut your goddamn hair! You look like a hag!

Woman: No! I like my hair long.

Man: Well...fine! Go live in Hagerstown, with all the other hags.

Woman: If you're going to insist on insulting me, I'm going to stop holding back and start telling YOU to cut your goddman POT BELLY!

Man: I don't have a pot belly!

Woman: Yes, you do! Why don't you go live in Pottstown? You'd fit right in.

Man: Wait...this isn't fun. Let's be nice to each other.

Woman: Yeah, I agree. You leave me alone about my hair, and I won't mention your gut. Okay?

Man: Okay. But I really do wish you'd cut your hair.

Woman: Yeah? Well, I really do wish you'd shut the fuck up about my hair!

Man: Stop yelling at me!

Woman: I'm not yelling!..................Okay, I guess I did yell just then, but it's because you drive me crazy!

Man: You ARE crazy!

Woman: So are you!

(Man leaves room, slams door behind him.)

Woman (yelling): Come back here, you coward!

(Silence...)

Scene 2: Woman goes into bathroom and looks in the mirror.

Woman: Shit! I DO look like a hag. But it's not because of my hair. It's because I'm fucking old! He just thinks it's because of my hair, because I had short hair when we first met. But he had a flat stomach back then, too. Well, I'm not cutting my hair, no matter what. I want it to get so long that I could wrap it around my neck and hang myself with it, like Rapunzel did to her stepmother. But before I do that, I could experiment with pulling it back really tight, and see if it would smooth out the wrinkles in my haggy, old face.

(Bathroom door opens. Man peeks in...)

Man: Honey...I'm sorry. I won't say anything more about your hair, if you don't say anything about my gut.

Woman: Gut? What gut? You look great, Sweetie-pie.

Man: So do you, Baby Doll.

( Hugs...kisses...)

And they lived happily ever after.

It's Lame, But I Have to Write SOMETHING!

It's been a MONTH since I posted anything on this sorry excuse for a blog! I don't have any good ideas, but I have a couple of bad "poems," so I'll post them. I've lost most of my readers, anyway, so it doesn't really matter. I'll entertain myself, anyway.

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My floor is a mirror

When I look into it

My world is upside down

I am walking on the ceiling

I see the sky through the windows

The windows are upside down

The birds are flying below me

The sun is rising in the west

I am growing younger by the minute.

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I am a dragon

I breathe fire

I have sharp claws

I have sharp teeth

I have a whiplike tail

I could destroy you

So be nice to me, please

Until I've had my coffee

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I am a pussycat

I am soft and warm

I purr when I'm happy

I have claws, but they're hidden

So pet me, please

and I'll rub against you