Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Getting Messy with Nessie Part 8


Getting Messy with Nessie 
Part 8:
Sweet Dreams

Ow! 
He shot me! 
The seedy-looking lad shot me! 
Yeow! 
I never knew a bullet would burn so intensely. 
I clutched my bleeding left arm. 
His trick worked, because that shut me up. 
As he aimed for the kill shot, 
I grimaced, whiffing the foul stench of death. 
For my last chance at having a final statement, 
I aimed for meaningful, instead of whimsical. 
“Treat others with the dignity and respect 
you long to receive for yourself.” 

Snarl! Thwack!! Kablam!!! Oww!!!! 

Not my writing arm too! 
Maybe it was the blood loss. 
Or the result of being hung in a net for so long. 
But I must’ve started to hallucinate, 
catching sight of a furious ball of fur 
smacking the seedy-looking lad 
and his two cronies with boat oars. 
A furry-ious ball of fur? 
Before passing out, I called out, “Biggie?” 
Oops! 
As consciousness left me, 
I remembered I wasn’t supposed to call him that 
in front of the others. 
The last thought I remember thinking: 
Yay abandonment issues! 

Being unconscious, 
I pieced together what happened next 
from the varying accounts of the others. 
Bigfoot stowed away on the steamship to tail me. 
Making sure I didn’t do anything stupid in my enraged state. 

Good call. 
‘Cause one time I was so mad at my neighbor, 
I stormed off to Walmart 
and bought several yards of clothing lines. 
I own a tumble dryer! 
I don’t need clothing lines. 
Another time I invested a large sum 
into a research company seeking to create 
a new kind of baked beans that makes one’s flatulence 
smell like roses in spring. 
Sadly, Morning Mist wreaked like Morning Must. 

Constable McBrody handcuffed 
the seedy-looking lad and his two cronies 
and arrested them for murder, kidnapping, 
and attempted murder. 

Further investigation revealed they worked in collusion 
with Scottish crime boss Angus McMenace. 
Making sure tourists and locals alike stayed away 
from his buried treasure until he gets paroled. 
Which was why they created the fake Loch Ness Monster 
to scare people away from their secret cove. 
The dopes! 
They didn’t realize that their faux Nessie 
is what brought people out in droves! 

Meanwhile as Bigfoot set Nessie free, 
Captain McSquint snuck up behind them 
with a double barrel shotgun, 
ready to bag two legends with one blast. 
Bigfoot and Nessie acted so giggly together 
that McSquint might’ve succeeded too. 
That is, 
if I hadn’t suffered intestinal trauma 
even in my unconscious state. 
A loud and sustained flatulent blast 
caused McSquint to groan in justifiable horror 
as still netted, I dangled above him. 
Bigfoot turned and punched McSquint 
across the dock and into the bay. 

Unfortunately, that jolt caused McSquint to fire. 

Fortunately, for Biggie and Nessie the blast didn’t hit them. 

Unfortunately, for unconscious me, 
the double barrel shotgun fired upwards 
shredding the net ropes that held me high above the dock. 

Fortunately, Biggie caught me. 
That’s what he claims anyway. 
So I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. 
How else would my eyebrows disappear? 
But then again, 
why did Biggie and Nessie always snicker 
when they looked me in the eyes? 

Biggie and Nessie visited me in the hospital 
before eloping and leaving on their honeymoon to Nepal. 
I think Bigfoot wanted his Yeti cousin 
the Abominable Snowperson to meet his new bride. 
Fortunately, Bigfoot gave the medical staff a rare gemstone 
to pay for my bills. 

Half a week later, I rode home on a steamship. 
With both my arms in casts, I couldn’t shovel coal. 
So instead, Captain Steele stuck me in the crow’s nest 
and used me as a weather vane. 
Which worked out well. 
Minus a couple lightning strikes. 

(I know they say lightning 
never strikes twice in the same place. 
But the boat was in a different place 
when I got struck the second time. 
So technically, that’s still true.) 

What new adventures lay ahead for me remained to be seen. 
But while Biggie and Nessie found true love, 
I made friends with several seagulls and an albatross 
who all seemed to suffer the same intestinal incontinence 
that overwhelms me after ingesting alfalfa sprouts. 
Those crazy birds left deposits all over my head and casts. 
I comforted myself by thinking they didn’t have a pen, 
so how else could they sign? 

Being downhill, 
the return trip took twelve days instead of thirteen. 

Or maybe the new guy in the steam room 
shoveled coal much faster. 

At the marina, 
I slipped on the dock and fell into the bay 
in front of the dinghy Sweet Kisses 
from the S. S. Chocolate Dreams. 
I made a big splash with one Miss Georgette Ghirardelli. 
She said I had the cutest dimples. 
So I said she was an excellent judge of dimples. 

Although clearly a woman of exquisite upbringing, 
Georgette scrubbed the bird poop off both my casts 
and let me bathe in a tub of chocolate! 
It wasn’t a river, but it was a tasty start. 

I beamed with delight and said, 
“Insert witty comment here.” 

She smiled a radiant smile and replied, 
“Add snaky comeback here.” 

I wouldn’t call her a supermodel, 
but she easily exhibited all the signs 
of someone with a heart of gold. 
And I can’t imagine anyone lovelier. 
While I convalesced, she entertained me 
by playing the ukulele and singing the impossible: 
Non-annoying sea shanties! 

What an amazing, fascinating, and appealing woman. 
If only she could juggle … 

All the Best,

Please Note:
The following video may can contain a word or two that some may find offensive.


Kevin James - Sweat The Small Stuff (compilation)

Uploaded on Jul 17, 2009 by

Mitch Hedberg
If you can’t sleep, count sheep. 
Don’t count endangered animals. 
You will run out. 

Dean Burkey
Men in relationships have a double standard. 
How come if you tell a friend a secret, 
he has to tell his girlfriend or wife, 
because that’s “the kind of relationship they have”, 
but then he can tell you all kinds of stuff that 
“you can’t ever let her find out”?

Jerry Seinfeld
Somebody just gave me a shower radio. 
Thanks a lot. 
Do you really want music in the shower? 
I guess there’s no better place to dance 
than a slick surface next to a glass door. 

Phyllis Diller
If you ever see three New Yorkers 
get into a cab without an argument, 
a bank has just been robbed.

Steven Wright
Today I met with 
a subliminal advertising executive 
... for just a second.




"Last Comic Standing and My Mom" - Gabriel Iglesias

Uploaded on May 3, 2010 by


No comments:

Post a Comment