1144. Porn in tent

Randy, Chuck, and Kurt were three teenagers on a boys’ camp. They were in the tent at night and Randy said, “Let’s see who can tell the best bit of porn.”

Kurt said he’d go first.

“There was the woman and she sent her son out one evening to get something for dinner. She told him to buy something decent and not come back with fast food. So he came back with some snails.”

“That’s not porn,” said Chuck.

“Oh,” said Kurt, “I thought you said corn.”

1143. Visions of murder

For well-nigh forty years Jarden had harboured visions of murdering his wife. It’s not that he wanted to murder her. It’s just that he had flashes of pictures enter his imagination of his wife lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor. Or pictures of her drowning in a lake. Something like that. And he thought each time that he could commit such a murder, but he didn’t want to. He couldn’t understand why such thoughts and images entered his mind in the first place.

Forty years of marriage had however been tiresome. He longed for it to end one way or another. And now, after forty years, he was having his first affair. His nauseating wife was definitely in the way. His visions of her murder became suddenly more attractive.

He was saved the trouble! His wife accidently drove over a cliff, plunging into the river. She was pinned beneath the car and the little life left in her was drowned.

Jarden couldn’t believe it. It’s always a shock one way or another. “I can’t believe it,” said Jarden to this man called Harry. “How much did you say I owe you?”

1142. The local bore

Guntis was known as a boring man. That’s why a lot of people avoided him. He would set his mouth into drone and corner people with a story for ten minutes or so. Here he comes now. I must move. Oh damn.

Hello. There was this man who went to this old house that used to be owned by some socialite way back in the you-know-when, and the house was really old and full, no doubt, of memories. But this man, I think his name was Peter, went there and it had a small section of it cornered off as some sort of café. So Peter, I’m not 100% sure it was his name, but it’ll do, decided to buy something at the café. So he sat down at a table and the waitress came over and he ordered a cup of tea. And he drank the tea and then he left, but he was pleased he had visited that old home so immersed in history. It’s interesting, isn’t it, all this history? There was also another person there having a cup of tea. Actually, it might have been coffee, I don’t know, but Peter thought he’d seen her before. You never know who or what you might bump into from one day to the next. And she certainly looked familiar, but Peter couldn’t remember where he’d seen her before. It’s a small world, isn’t it? He said that the cup of tea was only averagely good. You’d think for such an historic house they’d do something with a bit of quality. Anyhow, I’ve got to go. It’s been nice talking to you.

1141. Collecting for the Sallies

It was a cold winter’s day, and Evelyn had volunteered to stand outside the supermarket and ask for donations for the Salvation Army’s soup kitchen.

Evelyn: Hello. Would you like to make a donation to the Salvation Army’s soup kitchen?

Passer-by 1: Goodness. You must be freezing standing out here. Not a nice day at all, is it?

Evelyn: It’s certainly a bit chilly. Have a nice day.

Evelyn: Hello. Would you like to make a donation to the Salvation Army’s soup kitchen?

Passer-by 2: Goodness. You must be freezing standing out here. Not a nice day at all, is it?

Evelyn: It’s certainly a bit chilly. Have a nice day.

Evelyn: Hello. Would you like to make a donation to the Salvation Army’s soup kitchen?

Passer-by 3: Goodness. You must be freezing standing out here. Not a nice day at all, is it?

Evelyn: It’s certainly a bit chilly. Have a nice day.

Evelyn: Hello. Would you like to make a donation to the Salvation Army’s soup kitchen?

Passer-by 4: Goodness. You must be freezing standing out here. Not a nice day at all, is it?

Evelyn: It’s certainly a bit chilly. Have a nice day…

Poem 42: That empty chair

(The poetic form selected for this month is the English or Shakespearean Sonnet).

That empty chair I see across the table
Reminds me; I must phone my headstone mate
And ask him if in any way I’m able
To cut on costs without been thought a cheapskate.

Quite frankly, funeral costs went through the roof.
The walnut chest you wanted I ignored.
Instead I thought of something on the hoof
And nailed a box up out of some old boards.

I didn’t think too many would attend
A funeral service in a pricey hall;
The obit. read: No flowers, we don’t intend
To celebrate her life and death at all.

At least the whole affair has one bright spot:
I’ll sell your chair and hope I get a lot.

1140. International purchase

Kieran received an email saying that his package had left the carrier facility in San Bernardino, California, USA. In fact, if he clicked on a link he could read where his package had already been.

It had left Tampa, Florida, four days earlier and had arrived in Houston, Texas, the following day. From there it had headed to San Bernardino.

Kieran continued to follow his package. From San Bernardino it headed (inexplicably) to the Philadelphia Mail Sorting Facility. From there it had returned to California, but this time to Los Angeles. He then received a further email saying that his package was in transit. In transit! How wonderful! That meant only one thing: the parcel was on a plane leaving Los Angeles and heading for New Zealand. There were no stops in between. It would be a direct flight.

Two days later yet another email arrived. “Your package has arrived in Auckland, New Zealand, and is awaiting clearance from Customs.”

Three days after that the package arrived at Kieran’s house; delivered personally by Courier. By Courier! Now that was service!

Kieran opened his parcel. Of course, he could get a similar pair of socks from the shop down the road, but it was so much more exciting to purchase things internationally.