September 29, 2009

Posts two days in a row, I’m back America. Look out. Don’t forget the Mystery Hour is Friday night! Check out the awesome lineup——->

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For the last prompt I asked: What is something your Dad says a lot?

I’ll use everyone’s answer. This has only been successfully attempted one other time before. The task is a difficult one. I have to construct a story using all the quotes from all the suggestions in a semi-coherent manner. Here they are below:

“How’s the oil in your car?” and “When’s the last time you cleaned the lint off the dry filter?”

“get a shot ‘a water”

“Cool California Cultural Correspondent.”

“Darn it anyhow!” and “Darn you anyhow!”

“what would you give me for a basket of hugs?”

“a bag of hand grenades”

“They’ve got a little electric chair for children, a little blue one for boys and a little pink one for girls. They turn it on and it goes ZZZT and it’ll make your little pig tails stand on end.”

“MoJITos!!!
It’s a funny word, vegeGAbles (this one is usually sung)
It’s just my opinion, I could be wrong”

Kenny Richardson opened his heavy eyelids and peered around his apartment. He had fallen asleep on the couch again. If only the viewers of Channel 8 News could seem him now. He didn’t resemble the cool California cultural correspondent that he had become. Channel 8 was number 1 in it’s time slot, laying waste to Channel 2, or as the guys in his office liked to call it, Chanel #2. Kenny had become the opposite of his news persona. He remained tan with a sleek head of dark hair, but he wasn’t confident, let alone cocky. He wasn’t informed. He wasn’t cheery.

The most cheer Kenny could muster was when he rolled over and through cotton mouthed lips quietly exclaimed, “Mojitos!” The drinks had been left over from last night, or was it this morning? He didn’t have to go in until 4:30 pm most days. As took a swig he could faintly see sunlight passing through the wool blanket that doubled as a lazy curtain.

He heard a knock at the door and threw on some shorts while shuffling to get it. He looked out the peephole and couldn’t see anybody. Then he heard a knock at the door again. Opening it he looked down to see two Cub Scouts.

“Hello, sir. We’re selling chocolate bars to raise money for our trip to camp. Would you like to buy one?” said a rosy cheeked chubby eight year old.

“They’ve got a little electric chair for children, a little blue one for boys and a little pink one for girls. They turn it on and it goes ZZZT and it’ll make your little pig tails stand on end,” said Kenny sharply.

Without a word the boy went running down the hallway down the stairs to freedom. Kenny shuffled one step back and let the door close. Just before it was able to give him the solitude he desired and hand jumped in between the door and the door jam. Kenny knew immediately it was his neighbor from across the hall, the always peppy, Reggie McAlister.

“Well, darn it anyhow,” said Reggie. “That smarts the old mitt there. How you doing, Mr. Correspondent?”

“Yeah? Well darn you anyhow,” responded Kenny.

Reggie looked befuddled and turned and walked back in apartment 6C. Kenny got back inside and quickly dressed for work. It didn’t take him long, he was that good looking, at least that’s what he always told himself. He ran down to catch the bus just in time. Kenny thought himself too important to ride the bus, but those were the rules with a DUI. He sat down next to an old lady that he often saw on the ride. She always carried an umbrella just in case. 

“Young man, you look down,” she said observantly.

“Yeah, well…” replied Kenny.

“What would you give me for a basket of hugs?” she asked.

“A basket of hand grenades,” said Kenny with a hint of satisfaction.

Little did Kenny know that this woman was not to be messed with. On the outside she looked harmless enough with her housecoat and blue old lady hari, but it was on the inside that she stored her unique and devastating skills. Eugena Oglsby was her name and she was the first female Navy Seal. She had also been the first female bare knuckle boxer, weight lifter, and yo’ mama joke champion.

She had Kenny on the grooved floor of the bus in a second. She had her knee at his throat and her throat on his knee. He was wincing in pain, dazed.

“It’s just my opinion, I could be wrong, but it appears as though you’re about to get your butt kicked by an octagenarian,” exclaimed Eugena coolly.

“Lady, what’s wrong with you?” squeezed out Kenny through coughs.

“I don’t like the way you treat people. You’re condescending and rude and you messed with the wrong lady today,” shouted Eugena. ““How’s the oil in your car? When’s the last time you cleaned the lint off the dry filter? Cuz I’m about to give you an oil change and go to town on your dry filter.”

They fought tooth and nail all over the bus. It looked like a cartoon, but Eugena was as spry as she was sassy. She stood next to a worn out Kenny. Eugena lifted her left fist and said, “I call this one H2,” then lifted her right and said, “and this one O. They’re going to meet at your face and you’re gonna get a shot a water.” 

Eugena punched Kenny and at the next stop threw him out on the curb shouting, “It’s a funny word, VegeGAbles!”

Kenny treated people differently after that, mostly out of fear.

Next prompt: What is the website you went to immediately before this one?

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About jeffhoughton

I'm a sometimes writer, actor, comedian and an all the time adventurer.

5 responses »

  1. Brandon says:

    I went to Google, and did a search for huge Amanda dominate skinny dude, and somehow ended up here. How disappointing 😦

  2. Allan says:

    I checked my email. I really wanted to lie so I could amaze you with my internet surfing habits, but alas I’ve got a little bit of digital George Washington in me.

  3. SarahJ says:

    http://www.drury.edu Hail Alma Mater / employer! Pumped to see President Parnell as guest tomorrow night. My two worlds are colliding…bizarre…

  4. SarahJ says:

    ps–Dad will love the dad story. will have to share.

  5. Amanda says:

    Facebook. That’s how I always find out that there is a new post.

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