Cootie Terror

White moving spots on my arms, my neck, my chest! Cooties!! I'm covered with them. How did this happen? Did they get onto my clothes? Look at them scurrying about. How am I supposed to get dates?
I called Harry for advice and he said go to the Cootie Wash Off place uptown. I did just that, paid $50 up front and went through the entire cleansing process. Was I scrubbed and sprayed All sorts of creams applied. I was then hosed down with salt water.
I resolved never to buy clothes at Salvation Army.
I joined my writing group and I feel like several are breeding in my ear. I noticed when I scratched myself they all took note. Word travels fast. I must have killed 500 cooties. Many stuck in my hair mousse.

Team Efforts

Keeping the audience awake when I read at open mkes
Chasing endangered species and forcing them to procreate
Those responsible for daily clarification of our President's announcements
Moving Chris Christie fron the Barkolounger to the hammock
Helping me in and out of adult diapers
Those needed to perk up Mark Zuckerberger after Facebook crashed
Those keeping food away from Candice Bergen during reboot of Murphy Brown
The ground crew who cover the field with tarpolin.     
Eating a giant hogy.

Secret Salad Dressing

Phoebe loved experimenting with salad dressing. What is life without adventure? Her neighbor, Joe, was the opposite--safe and predictable. Take a chance for once, she told him. Joe suggested he try sneakers with a Velcro strap instead of laces. Not enough, she said. I could rearrange my nick nacks, he said. Stop it, Joe. Have dinner with me. I've come up with a new dressing concoction.
Joe decided to push the envelope and that night found himself sitting in Phoebe's dining room. In front of him was a large bowl of salad. It contained the standard fare--cucumbers, lettuce, tomato, peppers, bacon bits, olives, celery, croutons.
She carefully drizzled the new dressing on his salad. It was created in her super blender, which liquefied everything. Joe gobbled forkfuls. It tastes like something barbecued, he said. Very exotic. He looked around the room.
Where's Scooter, your cat?
Phoebe just smiled.

Words

Rudy discovered someone named Phil Landry wrote 175, 154 words in June. Rudy had only written 124,897. Rudy prided himself on pounding out more words than anyone. There was only one solution--less sleeping and eating, more writing.
At 6am next morning he attacked his laptop, ripping off page after page. His novel focused on flesh eating bacteria that eat nails and hair too.
Officials visited representing The Word Count Institute and were impressed. At this rate he would clear 200000 words in July.They shook his hand and he assured them there was more to come.
One fellow agreed, but mentioned the writing itself was sloppy and cliche ridden. Rudy shook his head. Long ago, he said, I learned from a wise man that none of that means anything. Snappy covers and titles are paramount. He held up a book by Joe Del Priore. This is my God, he said. Some of his words were actually two syllables.

Groan

Mario stayed home all day groaning about his life. His friends Rocco and Roberto came over every Monday night to join in the complaining. Rocco had an ingrown toenail and Roberto's investments were sinking. Mario had broken up with someone and went to movies alone.
The men drank and sobbed, sometimes so loudly it transitioned to moaning. Neighbors called police when the noise was too loud. Women accosted Mario in the street, telling him to grow a pair. If he had to give birth, he'd be a slobbering mess. Mario promised to start behaving like a man. He joined a boxing gym and learned to fight. He grew a beard and took up two seats in the subway. He stubbed his toe and ignored the pain. He wore his belt under his belly and snorted for no reason.
Soon the groaning meetings ended. Mario was ready to attack life, fearing nothing and no one. He was in full control of his emotions.
That was in November of 2016.
Then an election took place.

First Things First

First I will save the whales. Then I will solve global warming. Then I will find the missing bees. Followed by Jimmy Hoffa. I will save the redwoods and find a cure for pattern baldness. I will fight for clean air and water, immigrant amnesty, smoke free environments, cancellation of Blue Laws, improving compression stockings, revamped TV shows from the 80's, unexplained pauses during parades and the use of prepositions to end sentences.
Before all that, I must master the Velcro straps on my shoes and reorganize my rubber bands by size.
I can't seem to do anything about those chili stains on my shirts.

Judgmeent Call

Calvin, Mosquito King,  had a judgment call to make.  His underlings wanted to attack Sophia, all curves and soft flesh. But the overall mission was to expand targets across the board. That included Joe, all bones and hair and possible fungus. Union head Lawrence claimed he presented a disease threat. Calvin understood the danger and after careful consideration, sent in his top squadron to attack Joe, with explicit instructions to back off if nausea or dizziness occurred.
What he overlooked was Sophia's perfume and hair spray, toxic enough to wipe out half his warriors. Meanwhile, the Joe bloodsuckers returned, stoned out of their little minds. What drugs has that human been taking, one asked. They'd never tasted blood that pungent.
Joe actually liked mosquitoes more than ridiculous ant colonies, which accomplished nothing in his view. That was his own judgment call.

Last Five & Dime Sale

my 17 published books
14 leisure suits fron 1977
muddled MTA announcements on schedule changes
Stale Gummy Bears
A three color kaleidescope
Spray on mustache spray
A collection of rejected cartoons by the New Yorker
muscrat recipes
a Wanda Sykes inflatable doll
a Do It Yourself kayack kit
Old tapes of the Mike Douglas Show
A pogo stick used by Eleanor Roosevelt
Cuddling for Dummies
certified butt lint from Andre the Giant
a spittoon used by Fidel Castro

Our Gang

Our gang is built on morals and civility. We help people, especially the elderly.
Ben is well into his nineties. He's always nattily dressed and smells of earthy cologne. One day we invited him back to our clubhouse. We gave him juice and an apple fritter. He sat there regaling us with stories from his life.
In the middle of one about landing at Normandy, he keeled over. He had no pulse. He also had no wallet, so we had to make a decision. If we called the cops, they might think we did it. We brainstormed, except for useless Joe, who was counting Ben's liver spots.
We were about to call Rocco, a local mob cleanup guy, who went to hit scenes and erased all evidence.
Suddenly Ben passed wind. He's alive!we shouted.
Ben sat up and spoke.
Jesus, somebody open a window.

Out of the Shadows

Out of the shadows they came, the once mighty power brokers. CEOs of Sears, JC Penney, K-Mart, Macy's, Radio Shack, Sports Authority, Pathmark, My Space, Toys R Us, Woolworth's, Sleepy's etc. Tossed away, disgraced, pariahs.
Here they are, begging for a second chance before Emperor Bezos, sitting on his throne.
How dare you incompetents waste my time. I should have all of you tossed in a dungeon. But I offer you a second chance.
Help me corner the avocado market and take down Haas.
They had no choice but to agree to combine their talents.That market would soon belong to Bezos. They marched into the sun chanting Iococca!!. They had been given a new lease on life. Except Wally Needs, CEO of Beast Burger. Burgers from sloths never quite took off. Wally was led away in chains.