Good Morning…..Day 316

My mother called today to complain. (So what else is new?) She says that I don’t like her cooking but that isn’t true. I’m afraid of it. A nearby hospital is using it to cure cancer and the government says that it’s causing global warming. So I’m left wondering, just what is in those spaghetti and meatballs?

Good Morning…..Day 312

I met my dream girl today while riding the bus. She approached me offering to iron my shirts. Then she said that she’d also iron my socks. I was in love. I became jealous when I heard her offering to iron another man’s tie. I jumped off the bus at the next stop forgetting that I was the driver.

Good Morning…..Day 307

George Peterson has developed the world’s first line of “Gasoline Clothes”. Produced in a variety of styles and colors ranging from 3-piece suits to blue jeans, these clothes can power a car. “So if you ever run out of gas again,” Mr. Peters stated, “you simply take off your shirt, put it in the gas tank and drive off.”

Good Morning…..Day 304

He knocked on the front door to pick up his date.
The girl’s father answered.
“You dare try and seduce my daughter you Chinese filth!” he screamed, pointing a gun at him.
“No, sir, no. It’s nothing like that,” he said. “We’re just going to the mall. Please sir, I mean no harm. And I’m not Chinese.” He backed away from the old man.
“Don’t you talk to me you French scum! You want to get my daughter drunk so you can take advantage of her!” He fired some shots into the air.
“I wasn’t going to do any such thing,” he pleaded. “I wasn’t going to lay a hand on your daughter. Now please put down that gun. Somebody might get hurt. And I’m also not French.”
“You Italian degenerate! You expect me to believe that? You come to my home to get my daughter and you’re not going to try anything? Do you think I’m an idiot?” he screamed, shooting the gun off several more times.
“No sir, you’re not an idiot. Just mistaken. Like when you called me an Italian. I’m not.”
“You’re a Polish rapist and I’m going to kill you!” He fired the gun directly at him.
“I’m not Polish!” he shouted, jumping behind a tree.
“I intend to make an example of your death to all Japanese garbage. You can’t expect to lay a hand on my daughter and get away with it.”
“And I’m not Japanese either!”
“So you’re from Argentina?”

From my book “5 Pumpkins & a Head”.