Graphic intense. Please allow time for loading.









 





























An octave Mozart could reach because he had two hands,
Beethoven only had two feet,
So a triad, he couldn't stand.

Wagner had a long white chord,
So he could hold back the draperies,
But an arpeggio was out of their price range,
So they had to make do with French creperies.
© Dreamer (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)




















I was hiking in the snow one day
When a cute jogger went running by.
Well, I don’t know just what to say
Except that the jogger caught my eye.

I turned to look, if you catch my gist.
My eyes would not do their work for me.
So I called the ophthalmologist
To discuss cataract surgery.

© Paul (AHikingDude@aol.com)





















Flugent....Now there is a word just begging for a definition.
Like; "When you cough, are you hacking up flugent?" Or.....
"Avoid getting the flugent, get your shot now!" Or
"Those spandex tights make you look flugent."
I'll go away now and take my medication.
© Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)























Enjoying the final days of her pregnancy, she was walking along, softly singing the song “My mother gave me a nickle, to buy a pickle. I didn’t buy the pickle, I bought some chewing gum….” Without warning, a green cigar-shaped craft dropped to the earth before her, bright red and amber lights flickering along its rim. She stood spellbound for several seconds, before, what looked like a jar lid began unscrewing on the bottom of the ship. It flopped down on its hinges, and, from within, a ramp slowly descended from the space ship. As the bottom of the ramp touched the ground, she saw someone, or something, descending a set of stairs. The creature, like the craft was all in green. It, too, was somewhat cigar-shaped. Facial features were obscured, but a lumpy speckled skin covered its body. Their eyes met, and a loud voice was heard to proclaim, “I am Pickle Man! I am dillighted to meet you my sweet little gherkin.” The bewildered woman was inexpicklebly seized by a craving for strawberries.
© RickMack (jotoma@bellsouth.net)











  














Marcie sat at the table in the deli eating a pastrami sandwich on rye bread and a tray full of dill pickle slices. First a bite of sandwich, then a taste of crisp pickle; what could be better than this?

She didn't realize that the old man at a nearby table was watching her. Everytime she took a bite of pickle, her lips puckered up and got him all excited. He stared longingly, panting and sweating.

By the time Marcie finished lunch, the paramedics had arrived to cart away the old man. Those luscious puckered lips were more than he could take.

So be careful, ladies. You never know who's watching as you munch your pickles.
© Frannie (Frannie516@aol.com)

















His hands were folded against the base of the microscope and his head was lowered as his eyes met the eye pieces of the microscope. The Pathologist was deep in concentration as he studied the slides while dictating pathological surgical reports. To my surprise when I entered the room and approached him, he was fast asleep and snoring. He awoke with an abrupt "ahumph"!
© Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@msn.com)



























A rubber band was on her wrist
to remind her of her grocery list.
Do not pick up what you really don't need,
A floppy disc or more paper clips,
Those colored plastics are so neat,
Now a CD by Willie is hard to beat,
So pick it up in the electronics aisle,
And listen as you go the mile,
You'll be glad you did,
For you are just a "kid".
© Marilyn J (Ibem28@aol.com)















Anonymouses,
He carouses.
Forgets to sign his name.

He's forgetful,
Quite regretful,
And loses out on fame.
© Paul (AHikingDude@aol.com)




















When you find yourself out on the make
You should try not to make this mistake.
The Generation Gap
Can cause a mishap
When the ID they’re using’s a fake.
© Paul (AHikingDude@aol.com)
























The milkman came.
It looks as if it may rain.
And the newspaper landed
Right in the drain.

I better go get it,
Bring it in, keep it dry.
I'm in my nightgown
Hope the neighbors don't spy.

I sprint down the walk
And fall on my face.
Naked butt in the air,
Surrounded by black fancy lace.

And here comes the mail truck!
As I struggle to rise.
He just sits there staring
Strange look in his eyes.

I hold on to the paper,
It's still damp with dew.
The mailman hands me a letter
And says, "Here's looking at you!"
© Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)






















The scent of run-over skunk
Hung noxiously in the air.
Having seeped into my trunk,
When I ran it down back there.

I was sure that it was smeared
Under my entire car.
And until the odor cleared,
I couldn’t drive very far.

Putrid fumes were sickening,
Tears were running from my eyes,
Air with stench was thickening,
I thought parking would be wise.

I pulled over to the side
Of the road in a small town.
Nauseous from the awful ride,
Since running the poor skunk down.

The strong smell seemed to follow,
Walking away from the car.
I read a sign, “Skunk Hollow -
Collisions, thirty, so far”.
© RickMack (jotoma@bellsouth.net)













The long-legged blond lawyer had great acting ability--so sought after for looks and talent. Her coupe was the audition for Law & Order, which she won in a walk. Standing up for her principles was her character's forte, but this is not admired by most vile-minded adversaries. She became ever more mulish, her mules stepping on many toes, until one night some of the toes were the wretched mortals of the criminal world who made it their reason for being to kill her. So they thought they did. Sad, tho, she's gone one way or the other either in a celluloid clip on the cutting floor or by more modern computer means. But, what's this? she was brought back to life! Only to be driven off into the night into the witness protection program. She is a gorgeous person, though, so let's watch for her in a comic romance role on the big screen.

Look out Julia and Reese! Come onna our house, George Clooney!
© Dreamer (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)






















It was a family tradition,
Down by the highway they liked to pose,
Assuming the half-crouched position,
The Hunters stood in orderly rows.

Grandfather Hunter gave them their cue,
When he felt the traffic flow was right.
The Hunter clan numbered twenty-two,
And they were all there on Friday night.

Headlights swept o’er the spot where they bent,
Just waiting for Grandfather to shout.
It was the entire clan’s intent
To drop drawers, letting it all hang out.

© RickMack (jotoma@bellsouth.net)























Home: The Writers' Corner