A dog walked into a telegraph office and said, “Woof, woof… woof, woof, woof … woof, woof, woof, woof!”
The telegraph operator looked at the dog. “Do you know”, said he, “If you add another ‘woof’” then the cost of the telegram will be cheaper.
The dog looked at the telegraph operator and answered, “But that wouldn’t make sense now, would it?”
It was a glorious day, the sun was shining and life was good. Harry called over to his pet millipede, “Joe, fancy a walk?” There was no answer, so he went over to the shoebox where Joe lived. “Joe? Come on mate, its stunning out there, and you need the exercise” Still no answer, so Harry, irritation rising in his voice, shouted: “Joe!!!!”
A little voice responded from the shoebox: “Hold your horses! I’m putting my shoes on!”
On the crowded train to Nowhere there is a stop, a funny little station, old and tiny with ornate gables and pretty flowers. I can’t quite make out the name on the sign board but it looks wonderful: little groups of people sitting over coffee, children laughing in a nearby playground, an old couple sitting together on a bench, chatting and enjoying the warm sunshine. Should I get off, just for a little while? I would, but I’m so busy pursuing life and buying happiness. Yet the station beckons with quiet allure, and it would just be for a little while – the trains to Nowhere are quite frequent you know. So I get off and breathe in the Spring air, fragrant with life and beauty. The train to Nowhere pulls away, jammed full of purposeful people, and at last I can make out the writing on the board: Now.
Deep in my spirit there is a yearning, a longing deep and persistent. It started earlier today as I pondered life’s great mysteries and sought a greater meaning to it all. My thoughts drew to a close and having answered these mighty questions, my thoughts turned to my emptiness. Why did I feel thus? Was it not enough that now at last I understood the meaning of life? Well, no, because my yearning has nothing to do with all of that – it has to do with Chili Dogs and Beer.
Today I will be mostly silly.
I do not know how I know this
or why it should be
but that’s the way
it is
when you are mostly silly.
Scone!
Yes, I know – terrible.
But you know what?
Its fabulous too.
I love jokes, silly and grand.
And that’s six sentences I think.
(Sigh)
Editor : the last “sigh” is a meta sentence, so doesn’t count in the tally of six, neither does this one.
If God is god, why does He hide in the shadows? Why does He not show himself and put an end to the myriad made up thoughts, the debate, the strong opinions, the hatred, the wars? Why does He leave his subtle fingerprints all over our universe and create this yearning in our hearts only to leave it unfulfilled for lack of usable evidence? Why does he not come to earth and show himself? It wouldn’t have to be to all of us, just a few. If they wrote it down as history for the rest of us, that would be enough, right?
There is in Neanderingu an ancient tree standing on a hill. It has seen the passing of the ages, the progress of man, the laughter of children rolling in the autumn leaves, the love of couples beneath its sunlit branches. Lately not much of that has been heard, replaced by the venom of war screaming bitterly overhead. Now all are gone: the progress, the children, the couples, the wars. All that remains is silence, cold, cruel and radioactive. There is in Neanderingu an ancient tree standing on a hill, but despite all the progress, there will be no one to count its rings when it falls.
He lay in the gutter, rank and disgusting, the stench of filth and cheap alcohol about him. The respectables walked past, looking the other way, tut-tutting and glad they were not he. The wind tugged icily at the ragged clothes of the man in the gutter, but he did not move. He would not move – he was done. The prestigious degree, the high-profile marriage, the big city job, the mansion, the pressure, the competition, the endless swell of material wants. All too much. “It is finished!”, he cried, and breathed his last.
I’m thinking I should write
but am also thinking I might stink
so I am at this impasse…
Well what do you think?
Do I just write
and not worry a tink
about being just right?
Well what do you think?
