Friday, November 8, 2013

Kitty plays the piano

Kitty walked across the open piano keyboard. The random rhythm of the softly stroked keys was eerily musical…Plink, Pliink, Pleenk, Plink.
“Hey!”  Mrs. Dooofus exclaimed, “Kitty is playing the piano!”

Plink, Pliink, Pleenk went Kitty across the keyboard, smiling to herself as she made music.
“For the love of God, Please help me!” She randomly exclaimed.
“Son of a bitch!” Doofus called out. “Get that damn varmint off the piano!”
Plink, Pliink,Pleenk, went Kitty as she eyeballed Doofus.
“I think we should send Kitty to piano lessons,” Mrs Doofus said excitedly. “She is trying to play Mozart!”
“How about a little night music?” Kitty wondered. Plink, Pliink, Pleenk went the piano. “For the love of God, Please help me!” She said, unable to stop herself.
The next day Mrs. Doofus arranged for Kitty to take her first piano lesson. Mrs. Alotte came to Kitty’s house to give the lesson, because she feared that the crumbly, blue litter would get into the cracks between the keys if she allowed Kitty to play the piano in her own home.
When Mrs. Alotte rang the door bell, Kitty was draped peacefully over Doofus’ shoulder, napping. The bell sent Kitty into survival mode, and she quickly grabbed Doofus by the cheek bones and vaulted herself over the top of his head and down behind the sofa to safety.
“Son of a bitch!” Doofus exclaimed, dabbing the fresh blood that oozed from the puncture wounds on his cheeks. “How the hell did pioneers overlook cats when they were making fur coats?”  he wondered aloud.
Kitty poked her head around the sofa and smiled.
Doofus threw the remote at Kitty and knocked over a glass of water on the coffee table. Kitty chased her tail in a couple tight circles and rolled over, barely able to keep from laughing as the water ran across the magazines and bills lying on the coffee table.

Mrs. Allote came in and eyed the situation skeptically. She had run up quite a bar tab over the last two weeks and desperately needed the money, but teaching piano to a “savant cat” should be beneath her, it really should.
Kitty finally caught its tail and took a bite at it. “For the love of God please save me,” she screeched.
Now it was Doofus’ turn to laugh. “Stupid cat!” he yelled out.
Kitty ran over to the nick-knack case and quickly jumped up to the third shelf, where the expensive things were kept. Looking over her shoulder, she winked at Doofus and knocked an antique tea cup off onto the floor.
“Aw, son of a bitch!” Doofus called out and jumped up.
Kitty waited until Doofus was within arm’s reach before knocking one more cup off and then jumping down in the other direction.

Doofus’ slow brain debated grabbing Kitty, before realizing the cup was more important and caught it just before it crashed into the other one on the floor.
Kitty was impressed and called out “For the love of God please help me!”  “That is not what I meant to say at all,” Kitty thought.
Mrs. Alotte watched all of this and wished for a strong scotch. “So this is the talented Kitty,” she said, her pride audibly forced down her throat.
Mrs. Doofus quickly grabbed Kitty and set her on the piano.

Kitty stretched her front legs out and showed everyone her hind end.

“Cover the damn pooh hole!” Doofus yelled.

Kitty stood up and played Beethoven…Plink plink pleenk.

Mrs Alotte watched and considered what to say. She finally started to cry and turned silently toward the door , mumbling, “ I just can’t do this.”
Kitty sprang off the piano, knocking a nearby picture over on the way. “For the love of God…”  was all she could screech before Doofus sprang at her.

“I’ve had all I can take from that damn cat!" Doofus yelled.

“No you haven’t,” kitty thought as she sprinted to the far corner of the living room and hacked up a slimy fur ball, “but your closer now.”

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Golden Pandas

China owes us Pandas, not the bamboo chewing cute ones but two solid gold, life-sized Pandas. Right now they are brushing aside their normal preoccupation with receiving mammoth quantities of dirt-cheap US raw materials and then adding some lead and bacteria to them before returning them to us as tainted goods that we can buy at reasonable, rolled-back prices, because they are salivating over our interest in Syria and need to wipe away some drool.
The only thing better than selling the US sub-par products is loaning the US money to keep the world safe. China wants a safe world like we all do, and they are happy to help out with some relatively low interest humanitarian loans to the world's police, aka the USA.
If the UN says no, then the answer is no. Yes it's horrible that there are still governments that use chemical weapons on their own citizens, let alone on anyone else, but we can't afford to spend hundreds of millions of China's dollars in Syria.
How is it that the world says that we should all stay out of Syria and continue to allow the government to poison its citizens? I don't know, but I do know that it's the worlds responsibility to move forward in humanitarian terms, and not simply the USA's.

Monday, July 8, 2013

What's More Important?

The sun simply went out.
"Pfffftttt" echoed through the vast emptiness.
For the next 8.3 minutes seven billion people dreamed, played, helped, harmed, and in general thought the sun was there for them. As the last of the suns warming rays of energy sped toward earth, they also sped in a billion different directions, warming and illuminating everything in their path without preference.
     On a hot day in the middle of nowhere a sweaty, red-faced human spoke ill of the sun, saying, "Good God but I hate these hot sunny days." And they truly hated the sun, many times having wished to live in Alaska or some other miserably cold place, and as they voiced their dislike of the sun now, it was not without irony, foreshadowing or some other literary device that a hint was given as to what may come their way. In an ill-fated attempt to prove the point they also said, " I would give my right testicle to be rid of this heat!" As luck would have it, they would not need to part with a testicle.
     Just a few minutes left now, and an enormous pile topped by Pythagoras and Einstein but also containing Hippocrates, Socrates and Hitler stole the last few beams of the suns energy from a much smaller pile topped by Mother Theresa and Gandhi. In fact, they were the only two in the pile. But where is Lincoln you might ask. Ah, there he his, just beneath Hitler in the big pile; the preservation of the union wasn't really a humanitarian act at all, because he would have made the small pile if his motives had been pure. But then his final moments in posterity would have been spent in the cold and lonely small pile, and at least the big pile would be warm and well illuminated until the end.
     Suddenly a mournful wail let out from the top of the big pile, " But I didn't know!"
     "You knew Einstein," said to the actual memory of Einstein and not to derogatorily malign someone who had done something stupid. "You knew..." Truman repeated, trailing off as the realization set in that he too had known.
     The emphatic punctuation of the reverberating "Pffffttt" never made it through space and its lack of substance, but Einstein and a few others in the big pile knew it must have been present when the sun went out. For mother Theresa and Gandhi, the world just suddenly went dark, perhaps mercifully.
     "It's so peaceful," Gandhi said to Mother Theresa.
     "Ohhhhh crap!" Was all that Hitler could manage.