1195. Fat man’s widow

Roberto was so fat when he died that a special coffin had to be made.

“We don’t stock gigantic coffins for grossly fat people,” said the undertaker to the grieving widow. “You’ll have to get one specially made.”

The poor grieving widow had nowhere to turn. She said she couldn’t afford to have a coffin specially made, let alone a very large one. She went to see if she could get some government benefit to help out.

“We don’t pay for gigantic coffins for grossly fat dead people,” said the Government agency. “If he’d gone on a diet and exercised a bit of self-control before he kicked the bucket we might have looked at it with a bit of sympathy.”

The grieving widow went to see the pastor of the local church.

“Why would we want to help out?” asked the pastor. “Your late husband was a grossly overweight, fat pig. You can’t have your cake and eat it, although looking at the size of your dead husband I’d say he’d eaten as much cake as he could stuff in his mouth. Haw! Haw! Haw!”

By now the grieving widow was desperate and the body (still sprawled on the sofa in her sitting room) was starting to disintegrate.

“Why haven’t you got rid of the body of that disintegrating, grossly overweight, slobby fat pig?” asked the children of the dead husband’s first marriage.

“I can’t fit his corpse through the door and the undertaker won’t help out until the money for the coffin is paid up first,” said the grieving widow.

People heard of the grieving widow’s plight. Thousands of dollars were donated. The grieving widow used the donated money to go on a world cruise in an ocean liner. You can imagine the stink that caused.

1194. Pub corner

Yeah. Well. I was sitting unobtrusively in the corner of this pub having a think and having a quiet drink and smoking a cigarette which I had just taken up again after eleven years off them. And this guy comes up to me and says, hey, have you ever thought of doing something useful with your life?

And I say, yeah, like what?

And he says, I dunno. Get married and have kids and do something useful, instead of smoking and drinking on your own in a corner.

And I say I’ve got a wife and kids already.

And he says, well how come they’re not here or at least your wife? She might enjoy a night out.

So I stood up and socked him the biggest punch on his jaw I could muster. He fell down and I kicked him in the crotch and left.

Some people don’t know how to mind their fucking business.

Poem 55: I cannot love the sky

I cannot love the sky
until I know the scientific names for all the clouds.
Look! how dramatic is Cumulonimbus!

I cannot love the garden
until I know the scientific names for all the flowers.
Oh! such lovely Lobularia maritima!

I cannot love the song
until I know the scientific names for all the birds.
Hark! to the rapture of that Turdus philomelos!

I cannot love reflections in the water
until I’ve checked for giardia,
those anaerobic flagellated protozoan parasites of the phylum Sarcomastigophora.

I cannot love you
until I have dissected your opinions
tested your resolve
verified your good faith
and checked that you don’t have a Daucus carota stuffed up your Sphincter ani externus
like some overcharged know-all who

…cannot love the sky

 

1193. Hell and back

At last! Helen Brown was getting a divorce. It had been a tumultuous marriage and now it was over. She was rid of her abusive, domineering, vindictive, jealous husband.

“I have been to hell and back,” announced Helen.

To celebrate, she reverted to her maiden name: Helen Back.

(Footnote: Dear Discerning Reader, Since moving house I no longer have unlimited broadband. A certain amount is paid for and allotted each month – which is needed primarily for work from home. Earlier this week, from 9 to 10.30 am on two consecutive days, when my computer wasn’t even turned on, nine GB were used up. Until this mystery of squander is solved my participation, other than daily posts, will be limited – so comments, likes, etc. from me will be minimal. Thanks. Have a nice day! Bruce)

 

1192. The Bubal Hartebeest

Would you believe! Scientists believed the Bubal Hartebeest to be extinct. Yet I saw one! It was possibly the last! It was thought that the Bubal Hartebeest went extinct in 1923 until they were found in the wild. Then in 1950 they were hunted to extinction. Except – I saw one the other day! I saw one in the wild!

I can see why they were hunted to extinction. It was delicious.

1191. Three sons

Bridgette was tired. She held down two jobs. After all, as well as herself, she had three mouths to feed. There was Tom, her eldest, with Les in the middle, and Archie at the bottom. Three boys! And she provided for them on her own.

School was an expensive time, what with books, and camps, and computers, and this and that. All three sons with just a year between each. She should have spaced them out better!

Of course, they ate Bridgette out of house and home. Boys have such gigantic appetites. She was forever having to refill the fridge.

Now, at last, they’d all finished school. All three had part-times jobs, but spent most of their time at home on their computers and phones.

Could they not perhaps, suggested Bridgette, make a small monetary contribution to the running of the house? Now that they have part-time jobs?

But we live here. This is our home, they said. Why should we pay board?

Frustrated, Bridgette went out to mow the lawn.