RichardTomLisaSerendipidyNorval JoePlanet ZThe next topic is PICK TWO Display, Poem, Background music, 158, Rockfall
I sighed inwardly when the lad walked in, another no-hoper, without prospects.
“Well boy, I understand Miss Jones has thrown you out of art class again. What do you say for yourself?”
“Sorry sir” the boy sniffed, then used his sleeve to wipe the snot from his nose, “I just don’t like art… or sport.”
I rubbed my eyes wearily.
“So, what do you like?”
“Computers, sir.”
Computer games, more like, I thought to myself.
“Well, buck up your ideas, and forget the computers, lad. Detention!
And, I don’t want to see you in my office again, William Gates!”
I had a childhood friend whom at a very early age had become a superior
wordsmith. He often said the following: Snot bad. If you are 10 years
old this is the height to refined wit. I have not thought about that pun
in 40 years. Fun how stuff lies dormant in your memory. While reflecting
on the lazy summer day we hung out a quip floated back. Don’t go
straight, go forward. It was dawn of the age of hippies when straight
meant married, kids, working in the steel mill. Get the split-level
house in the burbs. Snot bad?
A Dentist with a Difference
Sam’s newly qualified as a dentist and full of fresh ideas to allay fears of his profession. One of them: to call himself an oral technician. He’s just picking up his new van from the sign writer- he‘s asked for highly decorative initial letters in shades of fresh greens for his fresh new venture.
A mobile dentist. It’s the future. He’s documented his journey on social media and goes live as he collects the van. He zooms in on SNOT Sam Neil Oral Technician and goes viral with the post before he’s tempted anyone into the back of his van.
Inspector Mulligan grimaced, “Rather an unpleasant way to meet your maker. What do we know about the victim?”
Officer Jenkins consulted his notebook. “Works in McDonalds, Sir. It’s the premises downstairs. We don’t know who owns this floor though, or what he was doing here.”
“Or, why there’s a huge vat full of snot up here”, mused Mulligan.
“Well, none of it makes sense. Best get the lads up to remove the body”
“Oh, and while you’re at it, did you say there’s a Maccy D’s downstairs? Grab me one of those extra thick shakes, would you?”
Mandi flowed with the rest of the student traffic to her first period class.
Behind her she heard, “Look. That stuck up snot is finally back in school.”
Mandi kept walking, until the girl said, “Yeah you, Leemoldia. We’re talking about you.”
Mandi turned around to find three girls, two her height, and one redhead, who was much taller. At first, she thought the redhead was a teacher—she was as tall as most, and well built. But then she roughly pushed the other two away.
“Get lost, you two,” she snarled. “I need to have a word with Mandi.”
I contracted for a company that ran raffles at holiday parties where there were more prizes than partygoers. Everybody came away with cool shit. Not coffee mugs or shirts, but televisions. And everybody got a lava lamp. As a contractor, I wasn’t invited, and the fulltimers would taunt me over it. So I’d nope out and take time off and they’d be up shit creek in a day or two, and beg me to come back and I’d say sure, for all your lava lamps. And I blew the fuse to my closet of an office plugging them all in.
