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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The Cows That Migrated To Mars

It’s become tradition when our grandsons visit, I write a silly story for “Happy Friday!!!” Today I asked Ollie, “what should I write about tonight?” “The cows who migrated to Mars,” he replied. So here goes:

Once upon ago, there were two cows named Ursula and Henry. Well OK, Henry was actually a bull, but once you get done reading this story you’ll probably think it was just a bunch of bull anyway. Anyway, Ursula and Henry grew tired of farm life and decided to seek adventure in distant lands. This all started one night when they were in the barn, talking about their day.

“Yep, I ate a few bushels of grass today,” Henry said. “Had some clover in it… not too bad I guess.”

Ursula chimed in, “well I was totally annoyed when I was grazing in the northeast corner. I took a big bite from a yummy patch of rye grass and got mobbed by grasshoppers!! They just hopped right into my mouth!! I swallowed 8 of them before I could say ‘ptooey!!’ “

Henry tried to comfort Ursula. “Well, I wanna take you on a vacation so both of us can get a little change of scenery,” he said. “Sounds good!!” Ursula replied. “But let’s go somewhere different for a change. I’m tired of just going to the lower 40 acres of the farm.” Henry looked outside the barn window at a glowing heavenly object. “You see that really bright star?” he asked Ursula. “That’s not a star at all,” he continued. “That’s Mars. Let’s go to Mars!!” Ursula said, “and just how do you propose we get there??” Henry answered, “I’ll build a transporter!! I’ve seen them on TV… you just push some buttons and you disappear… then reappear somewhere else!!”

Ursula was skeptical, to say the least. But then she remembered when Henry made those cool water balloons using nothing but 5 pounds of bubble gum and some baking powder. She decided that since Henry was her boyfriend, she’d support him no matter what; and she gave him that reassuring wink and a nuzzle and off he went into his workshop behind the barn.

For several nights, after long days in the pasture, Henry could be heard working diligently. Clanging, grinding, hammering, sawing… even some Public Radio shows being played in the background. Then one night there was a loud CLAP!! while the lights all went dim; followed instantly with a gleeful shout from Henry. “Holy COW!! It works!!” Ursula heard his yell and shouted back, “hey buddy, watch your language!!” Henry wasn’t even embarrassed; but came to get Ursula for a demonstration.

“Are you sure about this??” Ursula pleaded. “Don’t worry,” Henry urged. “Just step on that little platform and I’ll join you when I get the coordinates programmed into the computer.” Ursula reluctantly complied, and watched intently as Henry twirled knobs and tapped the keyboards. Then he said, “OK!!” and scampered onto the platform where Ursula was waiting. Suddenly, their bodies began to vaporize and vanished from sight.

Within a few milliseconds, Ursula and Henry were standing in the middle of a small town they had never seen before. Both had heard there was life on Mars, but neither of them expected things to look very similar to their own home town. There was a Mars National Bank, and even a flying saucer parked near the road!! “Wow, Henry!! This is way cool!! Who would have imagined that life on Mars was so much like that on Earth??!!” Ursula bellowed (hey, she is a cow, after all). “I know, right??” said Henry. “Hey!!” he continued, “that Martian looks a lot like a human!! Let’s go ask him what part of Mars this is!!”

“Excuse me,” Henry blurted, “can you tell us what part of Mars this is??”

The human “Martian” answered, “ummm OK… a talking bull!! Well sonny, you’re in Mars, Pennsylvania.” Henry didn’t know what to say. He gave Ursula a rather embarrassed look, then turned back to the human Martian and could only muster one word.

“Oh.”

Actually, their journey was exactly like the one Gumby enjoyed, only completely different.

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