Gerslabe

Gerslabe: A Story of Two Smiggs
By Hyram C. Gilmore

ONCE upon ago there was no use in telling it, the lamps had not but the others did. King Homar knew it was too late to wash the frogs; so his wife made dust for lunch. They both knew full well that large green funnels would soon fall from the sky. Without warning the Merbs cheated each other out of their Volkswagens; making it difficult to play records with the toaster. “Give me no wrenches. My birds are smiling!”, said the young snitch. “Run down there and slap that tree so we can twirl our fruit in peace!”

Noodles remembered that there had been strange sounds coming from the click-poonkler not two hours before. It was widely known that click-poonklers were largely to blame for the rash on the kitty; but there had been no ugly yard things lounging around the Taco Bell today. Therefore, of course, the roofing cement became airborne and struck three birds on their way to the movies. No one would warn them that the giant marbles would be the next dessert at the Holiday Inn.

Creeps, jerks, and stupid-heads filled the hall with their singing:

“O give me some meat
That has sat on my seat,
And I’ll show you some meat
I won’t eat.”

This was sung to the tune of “Home on the Range”, while people barfed rubber bands through their noses. I don’t want to visit there anymore. I’ll never use rubber bands again. Don’t ask me to go there, because the dogs change their underwear with the lights on.

When we got home, we discovered that the new tires were now in complete control of the TV. All they wanted to watch was “The Jetsons”; and they peeled out all over the brand new raisins. “O my God, I can’t believe you don’t know the answer to this!”, they hollered. So Poable yelled back, “You jempergleens! Do you mean to tell me that a glandular disorder can actually issue traffic warnings? There’s a big cruncher out here with your names on it; and I’m not eating until that woodchuck quits picking his nose! Take his new pajamas away so he won’t try anything funny!” The woodchuck took great offense to this and tried to drown his sorrows with Twinkies and tomato juice.

By this time the reader must be a bit apprehensive. If this is supposed to make any sense, my goat is a sump pump. Well, of course this is not supposed to make any playdoh out of broken clocks. But if things are fun to read, people may be inclined to forget that they left their hairballs in the pizza mix. Life could become more cro-naybley! Glue could be served to science teachers as a nutritional supplement! Real value could be found in small pies! Planetary travel could really be screwed up! At best, laughter would fill the 5-gallon conatiner. Maybe even the container! Ispelgudyup!

Ever wonder what would happen if your typing fingers got lost from “home row”? It would probably lppf sd ig yhr eotfd ertr noy mskinh drndr! ;p. look as if the words were not making sense! ;p.

Always smiling, the two Smiggs (Remember those two Smiggs? This is a story of two Smiggs!) landed with a thump on top of the Empire State Building. They looked over the view and stared at each other, shaking their floaglits. Mogney asked Bloonk,”Whoa! Don’t these people know how to lick their eyebrows? We’ve been here for three biggles now and I still can’t read their fire hydrants!” “Maybe they are deaf, and can’t see us waving our teeth at them”, replied Bloonk. “Ollee ollee, oxenfree!” Mogney yelled, honking his boadler as hard as he could.

“Listen here, you boadle honker! We can’t act as if we own the place! I mean, the yellow pig food is really starting to agree with my outlook on life,” said Bloonk. Having said this, he and Mogney jumped from the top and ran to the nearest bystanders. The poor folks took one look at them and began reciting every Devo song they knew. The Smiggs tapped their dretzels to the beat and hummed along just as loud as they could. Very shortly a policeyman arrived and asked them all what the @#$% they were doing. They politely stole his hat and made funny faces at him; and offered a chance to win a shiny new dime for guessing the best soup in the world. The policeyman said thank you very much, but he had already had enough wood particles for one day.

Now, if you look closely at the facts, you will surely notice ants in your undergarments. Disturbing as this may seem, many cultures are now changing their approach to fried hammer handles. Long lists of edible plastics have been sent to the local governments, but the representatives still insist that it would be better to shovel candles into a small motorcycle than to tax the bug doo-doo upon which we walk. They seem to think that by grinning when folks belch, a new and more receptive attitude can be cultivated in the inner regions of crayon boxes.

For myself, I have always known that zebra mussels are very yummy in cake. Proving this has not been easy; but when I have friends over for tea and slobberfood they smile sheepishly and say “What’s crunchy?” When I tell them they are snarfing down thousands of little zebra mussels in each bite, they say “O” and excuse themselves out the door very quickly.

I’m quite certain they are rushing home to make their very own Moobi-Moobi!

Thank you very much, O-K!

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A Matter Of Great Urgency: My Holiday Requirements For 2018

Dearly Beloved Humans,

Here we are again with another Holiday Season already!! Seems like it was just here like a year ago!! And of course, on this silly blog thing, it’s time for me to remind all of you that this is a time of giving; and in this world filled with material madness that seems to place way too much importance on money, toys, and other possessions like candy and even dog toys and treats, I would like to beseech you all to read carefully as I lay down my annual listing of things that I demand from all of you; and I’d like for you to make sure you have enough resources to get me what I want because, after all, if I have to write this silly run-on sentence (or something closely resembling this one) every stinking year to get my point across then hey, as the farmer said to the toaster salesman, “I reckon that’s just the way the crumbs will crumble.”

Yes.

So without further delay, here is the listing of Holiday Requirements for this year:

A) I’m pretty sure you can all pass around a yogurt container or something and have everyone put an ounce or two of pure 24 Karat gold in it. When it’s full just send it to me either yesterday or the day before. I only want about 490 ounces for starts. This will enable me to buy ice cream pretty much whenever I want; and as we all know that’s very important.

9) OH MY GOD!! Arrrggghhh… could you… could you please scratch the middle of my back?? No… down a little bit… now up…. mmmm yesss!! Thank you!! I was hoping the flea powder would work more quickly but oh well. Thanks again!!

T) I’m often hungry during the wee hours of the night. Therefore, please install the snack conveyor near my bedside as soon as the delivery truck crashes into our firewood pile. Of course, after installation you’ll need to ensure the snacks move along the conveyor and into my waiting mouth place. Make sure you pay close attention to the snack traffic while I’m sleeping, if you don’t mind please. Last time we never did this I had my head stuck in the snackpile for nearly half an hour; and I awoke with many food things sticking to my face. My friends giggled often and called me “Mr. Snacksnarfen” for weeks after that terrible event.

72) One thing I’ve always never wanted is a 10 year service contract with the American Poop Flingers Company (APFC). They do a great job of scooping the kitty litter box every evening. The best part about their service is that huge catapult they use to toss the kitty crap to God Knows Where (GKW). I do remember once though, when I thought I heard the neighbors yelling after a litter box cleaning session. Not sure what they were saying exactly but it was something like, “what the??!!?? Where the HECK is all this cat poop coming from??!!”

And finally…

9G) I need some volunteers to go to work for me each day so I can stay home and enjoy important things like: drinking fizzy liquids and burping, eating in bed while watching TV (the snack conveyor will be very useful for this), and shuffling around in my pajamas all day. You’ll only have to do this for about 14 more months until I retire. I’ll walk you through all the tasks when you get there. Just please don’t call me very often, that would be rather annoying.

But seriously folks…

What I really want for the Holidays is the same old silly saying we hear every year all over the place: “Peace On Earth, Good Will Toward Women And Men.” That’s all I really want. Peace on Earth. And I really want people to love and respect each other. We don’t necessarily have to like each other; but we really do need to treat everyone we meet with love and respect. This even goes for those who seem hopelessly terrible inside and out.

One of my favorite descriptions of humanity is: “God doesn’t make junk.” So I take that to mean that God (whoever they are) has presented all of us with a beautiful universe; and we are all a part of it. Therefore, we all deserve to love and to be loved. But what about those “hopelessly terrible” ones? Well a dear friend of mine used to say that “people who are the most unlovable need lovin’ the most.” Quite a challenge, wouldn’t you say?

So that’s all I really want. Peace and kindness. Oh, and of course we need to get better at taking care of Mother Nature.

May I have those please?

Thank You.

For this week’s video… um… well it gave me a chuckle.  Poor Santa…

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