Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Monday, July 2, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
I is the NUmber one bus driver in this whole country
It was a sunny afternoon. I was driving an egged bus (a two-piece bus with an accordion in the middle) next to Moore Lake.
Suddenly a goose made an emergency landing on the road in front of me. I ducked the goose, but the back of the bus broke loose. It cut across the beach, scattering scantly clad, screaming sunbathers, before making a splash-landing in Moore Lake.
In the front of the bus, I lost all hydraulic power, along with the control of my reverse thrusters, and crashed into the home of Ima Jumpin.
When the bus came apart, a passenger, 103 year-old Mae B. Critical, fell out and bounced several times before striking a dog and a tree simultaneously.
Resulting from the accident: There's a shiny-new diving platform in Moore Lake. Ima Jumpin has a new conversation piece in her parlor. Mae B. Critical is. The dog is suffering from bouncing-elder phobia, and gets nervous around trees. The goose is okay, but has been grounded until its flight recorders can be examined (they want to know why the down fell).
Suddenly a goose made an emergency landing on the road in front of me. I ducked the goose, but the back of the bus broke loose. It cut across the beach, scattering scantly clad, screaming sunbathers, before making a splash-landing in Moore Lake.
In the front of the bus, I lost all hydraulic power, along with the control of my reverse thrusters, and crashed into the home of Ima Jumpin.
When the bus came apart, a passenger, 103 year-old Mae B. Critical, fell out and bounced several times before striking a dog and a tree simultaneously.
Resulting from the accident: There's a shiny-new diving platform in Moore Lake. Ima Jumpin has a new conversation piece in her parlor. Mae B. Critical is. The dog is suffering from bouncing-elder phobia, and gets nervous around trees. The goose is okay, but has been grounded until its flight recorders can be examined (they want to know why the down fell).
gnats
Every neighborhood seems to have at least one nut in it. I used to live next door to a real wacko. His name was Willy Knerd. He insisted that the K was NOT silent.
He was always the first one in the neighborhood to try something new. Like the time he got a portable lightning rod that was quaranteed to put more spark in your step.
Then he started working on a solution to the problem he was having with gnats. He had heard that if you tie a balloon to your hat when you're working in the yard, the gnats would leave you alone. The theory is that the gnats would gather around the highest point on your body, and that they're dumb enough to fall for a balloon trick.
So Willy figured he'd be a trend-setter, and that the whole neighborhood would follow his lead and become a bunch of balloon-heads.
He looked so proud when he first came out of his house carrying his hat and balloon. He stood valiantly in his yard, put his hat on, let go of the balloon, and watched his hat fly away.
The next day he came out of his house with another balloon and a steel army helmet. That was working pretty good, and the whole neighborhood was starting to see positive results. In fact, nobody was being bothered by gnats. They were all over in his yard, trying to figure out why this guy had two heads.
But the helmet was too heavy, and the weight was starting to bother his neck. So the next day he came out with three balloons, each one tied about a foot above the other. That worked to lighten the helmet, but it caused another problem. When he bent over to pick something up and got up too fast, he got a concussion. He had forgotten to fasten the chin strap.
But a concussion was nothing serious to him. His family had a long history of concussions.
His father had what you might call a special job with General Motors before they started using dummies in their crash tests.
His grandfather was a human cannonball for the circus until one day when he got drunk and entered the cannon head-first.
And his great grandfather was a test pilot for the Wrong Brothers.
So a little concussion wasn't going to deter him. The next day he was back out there with his helmet and three balloons.
The curiosity of the gnats was reaching its peak. So they started at the top popping the balloons. They were determined to work their way down until they found out who was responsible for all of this.
I heard a series of pops and a scream.
I went to my window and saw him running into his house holding his face.
The next day he came out with six balloons. He figured that if he heard them starting to pop, he would have twice as long to get back inside. But by then there were twice as many gnats. The word had gotten out, and they were coming from miles away.
I heard six quick pops and him screaming again as he ran into his house.
This was getting to be a regular show. Every evening at 6:00 he would come out of his house with his balloons. Every evening at 6:00 there would be a swarm of gnats waiting by his door.
But he finally figured out how to stop them from popping his balloons. He came out of his house one day with 12 foil balloons. To keep his helmet from pulling too much on his head, he rigged a harness to it that fastened around his body under his arms.
He was so light from all the balloons that he was doing the moon-walk, which was okay until he stepped into a crater known as Interstate 90.
He recovered from the accident quickly and was right back at it.
He came out again. This time he had a bunch of iron weights strapped around his waist.
But the gnats had figured out how to deal with the foil balloons. Since they couldn't pop them, they decided to eat their way through the strings right below each balloon. Willy didn't notice the difference as the balloons singly floated away, as he hadn't fully recovered from his last concussion.
Eventually, I heard another scream and saw him running into his house holding his neck.
Now any normal person would have given up by now. But not Willy.
The next day, true to form, he was back in his yard. He had replaced the string with wire.
So there he was with a long line of foil balloons held by wire, connected to a helmet, held on his head by a harness strapped under his arms, a plastic face mask, a metal collar around his neck, and iron weights around his waist. He looked like a broadcasting tower with mumps.
But he finally found the ultimate solution to his problem with gnats. He walked under a power line and was electrocuted.
He had quite a funeral precession: All his family, friends, neighbors, the helium dealer, and a swarm of gnats.
He was always the first one in the neighborhood to try something new. Like the time he got a portable lightning rod that was quaranteed to put more spark in your step.
Then he started working on a solution to the problem he was having with gnats. He had heard that if you tie a balloon to your hat when you're working in the yard, the gnats would leave you alone. The theory is that the gnats would gather around the highest point on your body, and that they're dumb enough to fall for a balloon trick.
So Willy figured he'd be a trend-setter, and that the whole neighborhood would follow his lead and become a bunch of balloon-heads.
He looked so proud when he first came out of his house carrying his hat and balloon. He stood valiantly in his yard, put his hat on, let go of the balloon, and watched his hat fly away.
The next day he came out of his house with another balloon and a steel army helmet. That was working pretty good, and the whole neighborhood was starting to see positive results. In fact, nobody was being bothered by gnats. They were all over in his yard, trying to figure out why this guy had two heads.
But the helmet was too heavy, and the weight was starting to bother his neck. So the next day he came out with three balloons, each one tied about a foot above the other. That worked to lighten the helmet, but it caused another problem. When he bent over to pick something up and got up too fast, he got a concussion. He had forgotten to fasten the chin strap.
But a concussion was nothing serious to him. His family had a long history of concussions.
His father had what you might call a special job with General Motors before they started using dummies in their crash tests.
His grandfather was a human cannonball for the circus until one day when he got drunk and entered the cannon head-first.
And his great grandfather was a test pilot for the Wrong Brothers.
So a little concussion wasn't going to deter him. The next day he was back out there with his helmet and three balloons.
The curiosity of the gnats was reaching its peak. So they started at the top popping the balloons. They were determined to work their way down until they found out who was responsible for all of this.
I heard a series of pops and a scream.
I went to my window and saw him running into his house holding his face.
The next day he came out with six balloons. He figured that if he heard them starting to pop, he would have twice as long to get back inside. But by then there were twice as many gnats. The word had gotten out, and they were coming from miles away.
I heard six quick pops and him screaming again as he ran into his house.
This was getting to be a regular show. Every evening at 6:00 he would come out of his house with his balloons. Every evening at 6:00 there would be a swarm of gnats waiting by his door.
But he finally figured out how to stop them from popping his balloons. He came out of his house one day with 12 foil balloons. To keep his helmet from pulling too much on his head, he rigged a harness to it that fastened around his body under his arms.
He was so light from all the balloons that he was doing the moon-walk, which was okay until he stepped into a crater known as Interstate 90.
He recovered from the accident quickly and was right back at it.
He came out again. This time he had a bunch of iron weights strapped around his waist.
But the gnats had figured out how to deal with the foil balloons. Since they couldn't pop them, they decided to eat their way through the strings right below each balloon. Willy didn't notice the difference as the balloons singly floated away, as he hadn't fully recovered from his last concussion.
Eventually, I heard another scream and saw him running into his house holding his neck.
Now any normal person would have given up by now. But not Willy.
The next day, true to form, he was back in his yard. He had replaced the string with wire.
So there he was with a long line of foil balloons held by wire, connected to a helmet, held on his head by a harness strapped under his arms, a plastic face mask, a metal collar around his neck, and iron weights around his waist. He looked like a broadcasting tower with mumps.
But he finally found the ultimate solution to his problem with gnats. He walked under a power line and was electrocuted.
He had quite a funeral precession: All his family, friends, neighbors, the helium dealer, and a swarm of gnats.
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