Retirement – No Longer In Danger Of Capillary Kaboom

Once Upon A Time, I Used Capital Letters With No Regard For Proper Nouns. That’s Because If I Want To Mix It Up, I ShaLL, and NoBody CaN StoP Me; NoT EveN The GRAMMAR PATROL. So I plunk about on my merry Way, now too Lazy to Capitalize Every stinking word, because I am in control of the keyboard, and not you nor any other dust sniffing, flexible, purple and lavender Irish TV sales representative (who of course would find it very amusing indeed to spill bean soup into your brand new sock drawer) can prevent this run-on sentence; because what have we here now sure looks like a large chocolate bar with almonds which just happens to be my favorite kind, especially when I shave with it during all those silly bread movies that never arrive in a theater near you.

Blimp raisins.

None of this reminds me of the time when I was still working, and I had to have a physical exam because it was required by the LOI (Laws Of Insurance). It went like this…

The doctor told me, “Your blood pressure should not be this high… it’s 738 over 485 you know. And your pulse is 276. If you don’t stop trying to inflate your nostrils by blowing so hard, you could lose your navel from capillary kaboom!!” She also warned me that maybe my job might be causing me too much stress. I said, “Nah, I really don’t mind working in the noodle toss machine. It’s good money, and once in awhile they let me catch a noodle or two. Otherwise, I have to twirl around and allow the semi-soft noodles to coat my shirt and make a noodle coat, the likes of which you’ve never chewed. It’s very crinkly and barky bazoo. ”

Thank God I’m retired now. My likelihood of capillary kaboom is much less, and I also enjoy cookies whenever the chance arises.

However, I do remember the stern warning my doctor gave me. I listened to her coarse, scratchy voice as carefully as a dog who lost its railroad ties during the Great Flambonian Snowstorm of 1873. “But you only have your health once,” she said, grimacing. “You and your wife have skills… you can take them almost anywhere. You don’t necessarily want stress to the point where your eyeballs decide migrate to Albania.” I remember suggesting that perhaps I could sell homemade sinks, or even patent my long lost invention I call The Nostrilator. The Nostrilator removes unwanted booger residue with a small fixture connected to an ordinary garden hose. Oh, and I also reminded her that my Beautiful Girlfriend (a.k.a. my Lovely Wife) is an accomplished maker of finely crafted toothpick animals. People come from miles around to see her life sized models of Brontosaurus Rex and Tyrannosaurus Antler Cabbage. Sometimes she even peeled the noodles off me when I had a tough day at the noodle factory and did wonders in the art of noodleskins. She placed the noodles strategically and sporadically while remorsefully reminding me of the loss of Kronok, our favorite phone charger. All this of course generated income we never saw and shall never see again, because we never saw it in the first place.

As I was basking in the glory of my Beautiful Honey Pie’s Animanoodles, the doctor resumed the exam, which started with that stupid skin shovel. Oooohhh I do hate that thing!!! She runs from one side of the room and clobbers me with the shovel to get her samples. Fortunately it’s only a few millimeters wide… but nearly 7 feet long! She has a small wheelbarrow off to the side with little slots to keep other patients’ skin samples separate from mine. Finally she takes a large whisk and twirls them all about, carefully but indiscriminately mixing all the different samples. Whoever has the strongest DNA will enjoy an exquisite coating of aged cheddar cheese on the back of their neck.

I stinkily remember that for nearly 7 weeks following the exam, I was called Mr. Cheese Neck by our doctor’s staff… a title I proudly boasted to my friends in the Noodle Tossers Fraternity Of Lower Puffington. They were all truly fascinated by the snorking noise one makes when adorned with Cheese Neck Holy Moly.

Some of you who may actually have read this far may snicker at my propensity for verbicide. Well, I already knew what propensity meant, but never heard of verbicide until the day after yesterday. I guess one could say I have verbicidal tendencies. Or even worse, one could say I have vertical tentacles!!! Have you seen those things??!! They stick up out of my head bone!! It’s very embarrassing when I try to go through a low doorway and my tentacles try to hang on to the wall places!! They do help me keep my hat on during a stiff breeze, though.

I sure hope there are more cookies.

How about a cartoon now? OK? OK!!