For Your Viewing Pleasure – Flash Fiction Friday

“Stop garfrumpting. He’ll hear you.”

“I can’t help it. Look at her.”

“Oh my God! What happened to everything? Where is everyone? Bobby? Sally? Billy?” The woman ran up and down the deserted road where her house once stood. The new truck Bobby had bought her last week was old and rusty.

The two Forlucks looked through the kamkrit and watched the Earthling’s reaction to her first time travel experience as they both broke into garfrumpter which eventually turned into loud snorting through their long bulbous snouts.

“I wish Earth people weren’t so boring.”

“Boring?”

“That is sarcasm. It is a type of Earthling humor.”

From an overhead speaker the commander shouted, “Hey you two Forlucks, get back to work!”

~*~*~

For more sarcasm check out Nothing But the Sound of Crickets

Did you find yourself laughing along with the aliens?

Photo by Madison Woods

This is my 100th post. Woo Hoo!

Nothing But the Sound of Crickets

Striking up a conversation with random people is something I love to do especially when running errands. It makes a boring trip to the store pleasurable. Sometimes I throw in a bit of humor to add levity to an otherwise mundane situation. I think it surprises some folks so much, it renders them dumbfounded. While staring at the salesperson, bagger or another shopper with a silly smile on my face, I wait for a reaction. Instead I listen to the sound of crickets.

I have come up with an excuse for their blank dull stares after my feeble attempts to make someone smile. I just assume that they don’t speak English. If they respond with a heavy sigh while giving me an eye roll, I want to channel Foghorn Leghorn. He would say, “That’s a joke son. Now, look at me when I’m talkin’ to yah.”

Foghorn_Leghorn

 

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Sarcasm is a subcategory of humor and a form of teasing. It is often followed by the words, “Just kidding!” In Wisconsin, my friends and I were raised on a steady diet of this type of comedy along with cheese curds and corn on the cob.

Then, I moved from Wisconsin to Colorado. After tossing a one-liner into the conversation, my new friends responded with blank dull stares. I wondered if humor is regional.

Maybe back when the West was wild, a couple of outlaws sat around a campfire on pins and needles after a long day of shoot-outs. They tried hard to unwind and listened to the crackling and snapping of dry timber in the flames until interrupted by one of the new guys from the Midwestern Territories.

“Hey look! It’s Billy the Kid!….” He pointed to the head of the gang walking toward the bushes.

“Just (air quotes) ‘Kid’ing!’ Get it? Hahaha!”

The gunman almost had a heart attack. He swung around to look behind him. Then realized he was the butt of the joke, so he shot the silly cowboy, putting an end to what would have been, a long genetic line of humorous goofballs. Soon all the jokesters were weeded out, leaving only the serious types to settle down and procreate. The Wild West was no place for funny stuff.

Whereas back in Wisconsin, the early settlers focused on their barley crops and soon beer flowed in taverns which could be found on every corner. Instead of fighting, they polkaed and mastered the art of joke-telling.

The following famous people would have easily fit with Wisconsinites. I found a few of their gems on SarcasticQuotes.com.

Groucho Marx:

“If you find it hard to laugh at yourself, I would be happy to do it for you.”

“I never forget a face, but in your case I’ll be glad to make an exception.”

Mark Twain:

“I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.”

Oscar Wilde:

“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.”

Unknown: 

100,000 sperm and you were the fastest?

Ashleigh Black:

“Sometimes I need what only you can provide: your absence.”

Stephen Bishop:

“I feel so miserable without you, it’s almost like having you here.”

Billy Wilder:

“He has Van Gogh’s ear for music.”

Abraham Lincoln:

“He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know.”

Kin Hubbard:

“A good listener is usually thinking about something else.”

Here are some of my own lame attempts at sarcasm. Have you ever noticed that when it is really quiet, you can hear the sound of crickets?

Recently on a trip to the grocery store, I made small talk with the bagger. “I can’t believe I left my bags in the car again. I should keep them on my dashboard or start wearing them as a hat.” …Sound of crickets…

While my husband Danny and I hiked down from the Royal Arch rock formation in Boulder, we ran into some hikers on the way up the strenuous trail. I said, “You better hurry or all the beer will be gone.” …Sound of crickets…

I hit the back wall in tennis and asked my opponent, “Was that out?” …Sound of crickets…

Last Christmas I posted an update on Facebook. “I just finished my Christmas shopping. I snatched my last gift out of an old lady’s hand.” …Sound of crickets… After a  couple of hours I added, “Just kidding!”

I had to get a vaginal ultrasound since my doctor thought I had an ovarian cyst. She put a condom on the device and I said, “Gosh, I’m so glad it has protection. I would hate to get pregnant.” …Sound of crickets…

Granted some of these are really dumb, but considering the circumstances, I at least expected a smile and not an eye-roll or a, “What?” (Eyes look skyward, then head tilts with index fingertip placed firmly on chin while mouth gapes open wide.)

Foghorn Leghorn gives some great tips on humor in this short clip:

In absence of laughter:

Do you think humor is regional?

Are you a good audience or an eye roller?

 

A Very Strange Appointment or Where is My Crown?

I recently went to my annual dental check-up. Yes, annual and not 6 month since I rarely have a problem with my teeth. When I was young, I looked forward to the cherry flavored polish and a whiter smile. If you have been following my blog, you know that nothing in my life seems to follow the usual routine and this appointment was no exception.

After signing in with the receptionist, I met the doctor who would be inspecting my pearly whites. I had scrubbed them with baking soda back in the day and had abraded the top of a tooth where it attached to my gum. I would be getting the groove bonded and a cavity filled. Continue reading

The Salon Confessional – Friday Flash Fiction

The woman had been coming to the salon for years. Michelle had listened to her drone on with the fortitude of a saint. As time progressed, so did the gossip and out of her mouth came snakes, toads, and lizards. Michelle didn’t want to hear the foul blather, but what could she do? She snipped her hair in silence and nodded.

One day, the woman regaled Michelle with the rancid details of her affair with a married man. When Michelle realized it was her friend’s husband,  a smile crossed her face. Continue reading

Shhh! Don’t Tell Anyone!

Do you remember the last time someone said to you, “Don’t tell anybody, but…”

I would be willing to bet that if you were hooked up to a monitor, your heart rate increased along with your blood pressure.

I bet that you leaned in a little and your voice got lower in pitch and you began speaking in a hushed tone.

I bet that your eyes looked away if you were in a crowd to make sure that without even knowing what top secret information would be passed along, you wanted to be sure that no one else could hear.

I would even be willing to bet that if the person said, “oh, never mind,” that your curiosity would be peaked and you would be very disappointed and frustrated. You might even say, “You can tell me. I can keep a secret.” Continue reading

Compassion to Concussions

I picked Trinity from The Matrix to go to battle for me in Clay Morgan’s March Movie Madness because she had it all: explosive strength, courage, intelligence, speed, beauty, and she rode a motorcycle like it was an extension of her own amazing body. She had those killer leather outfits, super cool shades and made the ultimate sacrifice to save Neo. Put in my son Kelly’s words, “Trinity was a badass!” Continue reading

An Irish Haunting and Some Bailey’s

Lilly had waited in line to kiss the popular and probably germ infected, Blarney Stone. It had been two years since her husband Phillip died and she hoped that taking a trip to Ireland would give her a new perspective on life.

Once she emerged from the narrow staircase to the rooftop of the castle, a cool breeze struck her face. Kissing a stone embedded in the adjacent wall while upside down seemed silly and yet she longed to make her wish. “Don’t worry. I’ve gotcha. Just lean all the way back.” Lilly felt the warmth of the man’s grasp as she brushed her curly brown hair from her eyes.

“Okay. Here goes!” Lilly leaned out over what seemed like a thousand feet.  She closed her eyes and kissed the cold moist stone. “It’s time to find a new love.” As she looked up at the black-haired Irishman and saw the clouds behind him rush by, she heard a whisper in the wind.

“You’ll be happy here.” Continue reading