Polite Conversation

Will and Tara loved engaging in polite conversation. Nothing depressing or controversial. Many enjoyable lunches centered on innocent exchange of opinions and information. Boy, we can really use some rain. Property taxes are crushing. I'm getting a new car.
One day their casual acquaintance, Joe, spotted them lunching and shot right over. Joe launched into a diatribe on a botanical gardens place nearby.
Where the hell were the cherry blossoms this year? Why don't the turtles move off their damn rock? What's the point of that dirty pond. I didn't spot a single swan. The food is crappy, the museum stuffy. All those damn cacti. Did I mention the bathrooms? I bought a sweatshirt that doesn't fit.
Then he blasted Earth Day. All those lectures and slide shows. Why? What's the point? This is one huge garbage dump. Besides, we're all going to die after the meteor hits.
He excused himself to use the facilities.
Will and Tara scrambled out the door. Wordlessly.

Tall People

Tall people annoy me. They always seem like they're looking down on you. They block views at events. When you're in line behind them and they pass wind, you get it right in the face. They have huge hands and feet and you can't keep up with them. They get promoted faster than short people.
I prefer socializing with folks my size, the ones I can hug. We make good wrestlers and gymnasts. Snipers can't target us as well. My four month old nephew sucks his foot. I've been working on that and come pretty close.
Plus we don't bump our heads as much. Tall people should have their own territory away from the rest of us.
God, I hate when they pat your head.

Hanging on Every Word

Wisdom is everywhere.
I was hiking in the woods and came across a zombie staggering toward me. Because I had sprayed Zombie Off all over myself. The thing stopped a few feet away and opened its mouth. I saw rot and dried blood. A sound emerged, then another. I can't understand you, I said. It seemed frustrated. Try again, I said. I'm in no hurry. This time I leaned forward, hanging on every word.
It calmed down and again uttered something. This time I got its message.
Buy Netflicks stock.
This was back in 2015. If only I'd listened.

At Seventy

Here is my 70th birthday

breakfast, TV
rain and more rain
outside, coffee and newspaper
gym workout
check email
buy groceries
read book, ice tea
another gym workout
backing car out
forgot concrete girder
crunch
crumpled side panal
no left signal
home
watch Yankees
how not to begin a decade

Yoga Lust

Charles decided to try yoga. He wasn't very good at it, but which ever pose he adopted he could see other bodies at strange slanted angles. This gave him inspiration to try different positions with his wife, He bought her orange yoga pants and convinced to go along with his experiment.
Poor woman. The geometry used caused her pain and she wound up being diagnosed with a convoluted vertebrae. His mother in law was furious. Medical bills caused them to fall behind on their mortgage. They had to pull their kid out of private school and enroll them in a public hellhole where said kid had his phone stolen and got a black eye.
Charles gave up yoga and took courses in auto mechanics. His own dog hated him. He lost his sex drive. Charles, not the dog.

Tied to the Past

Bill enjoyed bondage, but not just any dominatrix. He wanted his to costume themselves as historical figures. Consequently, he was spanked and whipped by Joan of Arc, Annie Oakely, Eleanor Roosevelt, Golda Meir, Marlene Dietrich, the Andrews Sisters, Harriet, Tubmann, Joan Crawford, Bella Abzug, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Helen Gurley Brown, Mother Teresa, and Hilary Clinton, who was most animated. Oprah was most compassionate, barely tapping him.
We are all tied to our past, especially if you were smacked on the knuckles by attractive nuns with stern expressions and thick rulers. There you stand, 14 years old in your starched uniform getting disciplined while your pecker is bursting out of your pants.
If you went to public school you are clueless.

Monte

Monte was a turkey who refused to believe turkeys can't fly. Is it our destiny to be slaughtered by human butchers at Thanksgiving? The flock grew depressed thinking about this. One of us must tempt fate and leap from that hill and test our limitations, he stated. Since he was the one asking the question, it had to be Monte.
As the others gobbled and fretted, knowing death was near, Monte waddled to the top and prepared to fly. So much drama, he thought. What's the worst that could happen? I crash and break my neck.
His parents could not look. Hiss niece thought he was crazy. His girlfriend thought it was sexy.
Monte spread his wings and lifted off. At first gravity was winning, as he dipped straight down. Then,miraculously, as he pumped his wings, he soared high into the clouds. He was so excited he evacuated a load that landed atop an innocent crossing guard.
I wish I could say the others followed suit, but because they didn;t believe their eyes, they were sacrificed for the pleasure of man. Monte  kept flying right into a rogue flock of tattooed geese wearing leather caps. They surrounded him, refused to listen to reason, and busted his wings. He screamed like a  baby turkey all the way down.