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!

Recent Posts

Bugs Are My Friends (?)

Summer will soon be in full bloom here in Michigan Land, and with warm (and lately wet) weather comes:  BUGS!!! RAARRRGGHH!!  GET THE GUN! GET THE GUN!

No no, no guns.  I’ve often been tempted to carry a shotgun on a walk with me and blast a hole in one of those big mosquito swarms that follows me around.  But that might not be practical, and I doubt that the neighbors would appreciate it.  And if you use a gun inside, well that makes holes in your home that are unsightly and drafty in the winter.  Oh yes, and people can get hurt too (duh).

Sure, I hate mosquitoes and other such nasty insects, but I keep telling myself that Mom Nature has a plan for the stupid things.  We rarely use poison to kill bugs… sprays and foggers are usually worse than the bugs you are using them on.  I very rarely use bug repellents like OFF or whatever.   I’m sorry, but I’d rather suffer than put poison on my body.  And in the case of those outdoor foggers, unfortunately they also kill many GOOD bugs.  The same goes for in the garden, and because we don’t spray, we get lots of beneficial insects like praying mantis, lacewings, ladybugs and the like.

Other friendly bugs are spiders.  Wait a minute… SPIDERS!! ARRRGGHH! GET THE GUN! GET THE GUN!  Oh wait, no guns.  So ok, we don’t really freak out quite that badly.   In fact, spiders actually get a fair trial at our place. I’ve actually learned to appreciate the beauty in those little eight-legged alien beings. Being the organic gardeners that we are, the family has learned to respect beneficial bugs as a valuable resource. Yeah, I know. Spiders aren’t technically bugs. Tell that to your six year old and see how far you get!

Anyhow, spiders don’t strike terror in our hearts these days (ya, right). That statement is pretty much true, especially if :

A) WE KNOW WHERE THE SPIDER IS, AND

12) IT’S THERE WHEN IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE.

To explain item 12) above, I really need to come clean and admit that many spiders have been killed execution style simply by showing up near one of us by surprise.  But we really do try to save them if we can and I’ve even grown to the point where I can pick them up…sometimes. If they’re small enough.  But when those rascals are crawling on me unannounced, I have been known to do one of two things, either greet them with a sudden KERSMOOSH, or I do  a most unusual running dance. I also chant while run-dancing:  “OGodHolyCowYoySpiderBig!!!” Or something like that.  As I said, spiders will normally get a fair trial at our house. When discovered, they are captured and released in the garden. Spider sightings cause the family to summon me with big voices. If Mr. or Mrs. Spider (How do you tell, anyway? Don’t EVEN ask me to inspect their private parts!) isn’t too large, I’ll scoop it into my palm and carefully encage it in my hand. I set them free behind the compost pile, or someplace where they can find cover. The big ones, however, are strictly jar material.

An excellent critter catching device can be built with a jelly jar and one of those ejector type cards from a magazine.  You know, the ones that fall out of a fresh-out-of-the-mailbox magazine when you’re on the potty.  They’re easily identified by their large bold print that goes something like:   “YES! Send me 956 weeks of Dirteaters Digest for only $34.67, $50 less than newsstand price!  If you don’t have a jelly jar, a drinking glass is also a good bug holder. Such a device is also useful for wasps, which are also beneficial critters. Woe unto the spider or wasp who is in the wrong place at the wrong time, though. Those guys get the old El-Kabong treatment. Know what you have then? Bug guts!  Ooo, ocky, yicky. Paper towel, please.

Sometimes rain has fostered a population boom of a garden pest that rhymes with bugs, SLUGS.  Man, I hate those things.  I remember being totally intrigued by them when I was a kid:  “Wow!! A snail with no shell!!  Cool!!”    Now it’s:  “HEY!!  These *&%$ things are eating my plants!!  GET THE GUN! GET THE GUN!”  Oh right… no guns. Anyway, sticking to my organic ways, I won’t buy slug poison.  We saw some in the store and I wanted it badly.  Very badly.  But I figure there’s enough poison on our planet without me spreading more.

I heard years ago that beer will kill them.  You pour it into a shallow pan and put it on the ground, and the slugs are attracted and drown in it.  I reluctantly bought some a couple years ago for the first time ever in my new old life.  I say “reluctantly,” because before I learned my lesson, I’d already bought enough for one lifetime and I very nearly “drowned” in it… if you get my drift.  Now my oldness is new and I don’t allow beer (or any other intoxicant) into my body.  I’m allergic you see.  The stuff makes me break out in traffic violations.

However, the best slug remover I’ve found so far is beer.  Kinda funny when I go to a party store and ask for the cheapest beer.  I mean hey, slugs don’t care!!  If I put a little bowl of beer down near the plant I want to protect, the slugs go for the suds much more readily than they go for the veggies.  They are hopeless alcoholics… they drink themselves to death, and don’t seem to care that the bodies of their friends-and-neighbors type slugs are already drowned in the brew.  Might be a message there…

Anyway, sure, this organic gardening can be frustrating at times.  However, if you plan your garden carefully and encourage natural predators (beneficial insects and spiders), it is also very rewarding to grow food that you know is safe to eat.  And yes, of course I realize that slugs may rhyme with bugs, but they are not bugs at all, they’re gastropod mollusks. As far as I know, slugs have no natural enemies.

Well, maybe they have one:  ME.

Never had any termite problems, but apparently Popeye has…

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