Tag Archives: loser

1927. Bon voyage

Dear Gentle Reader

Here’s your chance to make the world a better place. You are so kind-hearted – I know you are; I know that you desire the sweetest outcomes for people in strife. That is why, in today’s story, when something unfortunate threatens the main character, something will occur that turns everything to good. It is your kindness that dictates this, So-Kindly-a-Reader.

Irene had had a bad week. Her dog had taken ill and she had to pay the astronomical veterinarian’s fees; on the way home her motorcar ran out of gas, and she had to walk for what seemed like miles with the sick dog to get help; her mail delivery service informed her that her mail box was at the wrong height; her kitchen sink seemed to be leaking into the cupboard below; her… Need one, Kindly Reader, go on and on? Why not get to the point and have something nice happen? And indeed we shall!

After having taken the dog to the veterinarian, Irene popped into the supermarket on the way home to get some white vinegar, because she had run out, and while there she bought a ticket in the lottery.

Miracle of miracles! Two days later Irene discovered that she had won millions and millions of dollars. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you Kindly Reader for making such wonderful things happen!

Irene did what she could only dream about. She booked a ticket to sail in luxury to America and back! Who would have thought she would ever afford such a thing? Thank you! Thank you!

Her first few days on the Titanic were fantastic.

1701. Natural-born loser

Mavis took a ticket every week in the Lottery. She had done that for forty-two years and not won a thing. Every week she had prayed to God that she would win the Lottery.

“It’s not the money,” she would say, “it’s the security”.

But God never answered her prayer. Week after week it was “Dear God, please may I win the Lottery.” And week after week God ignored her petition.

After forty-two years Mavis had had enough. “I know what I’ll do,” thought Mavis. “I never have a prayer answered. I’ll pray to God that I DON’T win the Lottery. That way when I don’t win I can say my prayer was answered.”

But she won! She won! Mavis sighed deeply.

Some people are natural-born losers.

Poem 69: Sorry you didn’t. Loser.

(This week’s poetic form is nothing other than nonsense – sort of fugal nonsense!)

I can’t recall the way I wasn’t.
Remember things? I simply doesn’t.
Invent the past? I shouldn’t mustn’t.

O I could kick a ball all day.
O I could read a book in back seat moving car and not feel sick.
O I could eat ice cream. French vanilla with guava topping.

I can’t recall the way I wasn’t.
Remember things? I simply doesn’t.
Invent the past? I shouldn’t mustn’t.

O I had girlfriends coming out my ears.
O I had sunshine coming out my bum
O I had quantum mechanics for breakfast. Yeah. With milk.

I can’t recall the way I wasn’t.
Remember things? I simply doesn’t.
Invent the past? I shouldn’t mustn’t.

O I, did I tell you? once climbed a mountain.
O I, did I tell you? once drove a big articulated truck from Moscow to Paris.
O I, did I tell you? shook hands with nobody. Nobody at the same time. Altogether. Both hands. Beat that.

What mustn’t wasn’t.
What mustn’t doesn’t.
What doesn’t shouldn’t.

Sorry you didn’t. Loser.

985. Fat, tasteless, and a sore loser

985car

When Tristan entered a competition to win a car, he was pretty sure he’d be in the running to win. You had to say in seven words something clever about a certain brand of king-sized chocolate bar. Tristan knew he’d come up with an unbeatable seven words.

Anyway, Cesaria, the fat lady from down the road, won the car. She was a great big fat lady, and Tristan wasn’t surprised she’d won because she was so fat she looked like she’d been eating nothing but king-sized chocolate bars for half a century.

There was a choice of colour when it came to the car, and Cesaria picked the yellow one. It was bright yellow; sort of the colour of baby’s poo. How tasteless. Cesaria wasn’t just fat, fat, fat; she also had no taste; no aesthetic sense whatsoever.

She said in an interview that she’d entered competitions for years and never won anything before. Sore loser. Tristan hated sore losers. She was fat, tasteless, and a sore loser. Tristan hated her guts.