© 2022 by Cedric Williams
Is there a featherweight division in sumo wrestling? Why aren't fishermen called "hookers"? I sincerely hope there's a sports team called the Walla Walla Wall-eyed Bass. Clams are the Muppets of the sea. If I ever encounter a mountain lion, it'll scare me so bad I'll puma pants! Farts are the ghosts of things we have eaten.
This post is dedicated to all the Parkinson’s Disease patients who have to deal with constipation. It is also EXTREMELY juvenile. You have been warned.
I’m going to start a band called The Shittles. Our most poopular songs will include:
Feces Can’t Buy Me Love
Sgt. Pooper’s Smelly Farts Club Band
Magical Mystery Turd
The Poo on the Hill
All You Need is Fiber
Revolution # 2
Blackbird (Stop Pooping on my Windshield, ya Flyin’ Asshole)
Stink for Yourself
The Long and Winding Stool Sample
I Dig a Privy
She Came in Through the Bathroom Window (While I was Trying to Poop)
Dear Poodence
Glass Onion
Happiness is an Empty Bowel
The North Carolina Lottery (and I suspect other state lotteries, as well) has a game called Lucky For Life, where the top prize is $1,000 dollars a day “for life”. I looked up the details on their web site and found that this top prize is “guaranteed for a minimum of 20 years.” What a spectacular bonus prize! Not only do you get an income of $365,000 a year, you’re also guaranteed to live at least another 20 years! And they aren’t even advertising that part of the deal! You’d think they would be aggressively marketing this game to old people. I bet there are lots of old folks out there who would throw down huge amounts of cash for a chance to extend their lives by 20 years.
On the other hand, young people should probably steer clear of this game. After all, once that guaranteed 20-year period is over, the North Carolina Lottery will have a vested financial interest in seeing you dead! So if you get a winning Lucky For Life ticket for your 20th birthday, you can probably expect to encounter a state-funded hit man on your 40th birthday. Truly, you are gambling with your life.
I think Bear has been inviting friends over while I’m not home. I was patrolling the yard with my Pooper Scooper today, when I came across some dog crap that was too small to be from Bear’s Big Butt. I asked him about it. He … Continue reading Balance Issues
Sinnareo Plane was seething again. For what seemed like the millionth time, she asked herself, What kind of monster could do such a thing? What sort of heartless beasts would name their daughter Sinnareo?
It’s not that Sinnareo Plane didn’t know who her parents were, or where to find them. They were right there in the family cemetery plot, the same place they’d been since Sinnareo was just three months old. Yep. Dead. She could ask them all the questions she wanted; they couldn’t answer. (And if they did, it would have scared the shit out of her.) So she never got to know Agatha and Octagonal Plane, nor to ask them why they had saddled her with this ridiculous name.
Mind you, she thought her first name was ridiculous; she didn’t even know her middle name. She wasn’t even sure she had one. Her uncle Parallelogram thought she had one, but he couldn’t remember it. Y’see, Parallelogram had been on a year-long bender when Sinnareo was born. In the midst of all that bending, he was far too focused on his back pain to focus on learning a newborn’s middle name. But he was sympathetic. After all, uncle Parallelogram had issues with his own parents’ ideas of child-naming. I mean, Jesus Christ, how could he not?
…to be continued? Ehhhh, probably not.
© 2022 by Cedric Williams
(for part one of this story, click here)
With the failure of the Grand Experiment came the failure of Elvin’s heart and spleen, and thus his untimely demise. He was survived by his wife Dawn and their five-month-old Young’n. That’s right. They named their son Young’n. Soon after Elvin’s death, Dawn was offered a job as floor manager at a major cotton canning plant. With the demand for canned cotton at an all-time high, this opportunity was not to be missed. Eager to put the past behind her, Dawn loaded Young’n into the Microbus, and they moved to whatever state the cotton canning plant was in. Dawn would never again set foot in Colorado.
Young’n grew up knowing very little about his father. Dawn had always disapproved of Elvin’s involvement with the Grand Experiment. Now her biggest fear was that Young’n would follow in Elvin’s foot steps, ending up heartbroken and spleenless like his father before him. Dawn figured that Young’n would be unable to follow in his father’s foot steps if he knew nothing about the man. So she told Young’n his father’s name, and nothing else.
Then, on a beautiful Thursday afternoon one September, Al Gore invented the internet. Young’n instantly recognized the potential of this new technology. As soon as he obtained connectivity, he Googled “Elvin Q. Flatulence”. To his amazement, Wikipedia had an extensive article about his father. Young’n read with fascination about the Grand Experiment and, ultimately, his father’s untimely demise. But even with this new knowledge, he still felt an emptiness, an emptiness that he knew could only be filled by experiencing the homeland of his ancestors. But he was only four years old, and he knew his Mommy wouldn’t take him. So he waited…for several years…. Finally, when he reached crack-smoking age, he embarked upon a pilgrimage to the Denver Coliseum.
“All I want is justice,” he said to anyone who’d listen. “Justice and/or revenge! Well all right, I want justice, revenge, and a Korn dog.” But let us never speak of the Korn dog again.
On the night Young’n arrived in Denver, the Coliseum was to host a concert by a new band known as Karrot. The opening act was the same freakin’ can of peas that had opened for Korn so many years prior. Young’n decided to start by taking a moment to adjust to the crisp Colorado air, so he simply parked his rump on the Coliseum’s front steps. Unfortunately, a passing police officer somehow mistook Young’n’s rump for the new Volkswagen Rump, and Young’n was immediately impounded under the No VW Zone law. Sadly, the shock of being confined to an impound lot caused his heart and spleen to fail, resulting in his untimely demise.
New fiction (© 2022 by Cedric Williams) :
(for part one of this story, click here)
Upon his arrest for possession of controlled substances, Elvin was transported to the City of Denver Municipal Dungeon. Whenever other prisoners asked him what he was in for, Elvin explained the Grand Experiment, and his small part in it. Many of the prisoners were inspired by the idea of the Grand Experiment and offered to help in its execution, once they had done their time in the dungeon, of course. A multitude of them wrote letters explaining the Grand Experiment to friends and family on the outside. Word spread quickly, and soon there were hundreds of Coloradans looking to play their own small role in the implementation of Phase One.
With each concert booked at the Denver Coliseum, the number of Microbus-based substance disseminators grew. Meanwhile, Elvin’s lawyer succeeded in getting the charges against him thrown out. Since the arresting officer had himself commanded Elvin to control the substances, this was a clear-cut case of entrapment. With this verdict, the devotees of the Grand Experiment (or Elvinists, as they came to be known) realized they could not be imprisoned for carrying out Phase One, so long as they made no attempt to control their substances. As a result, the number of Microbus-based substance disseminators skyrocketed. Concertgoers could no longer get to the concerts, as all the area roads were completely clogged with Microbuses. Over time, the would-be concertgoers became furious, to the point of carrying out violent attacks against many a Microbus. In an attempt to avoid these attacks, some Elvinists began driving to the Coliseum in Volkswagen Passats, Rabbits, and even a Golf.
By now, it had become clear to the Supreme Allied Commander of Denver that something had to be done. Accordingly, the Supreme Allied Commander issued a decree making it illegal to get within three miles of the Denver Coliseum in a Volkswagen. Absurdly, this worked. Almost as soon as police began jailing folks for violating the No VW Zone, the number of people who identified as Elvinists began to decline. Within a few months, the Grand Experiment was nothing more than a memory – a passing fad with no more significance than Rainbow Brite or the Hair Bear Bunch. But the No VW Zone law remained on the books…
End of part two
(click here for the end)
Enjoy some new fiction (© 2022 by Cedric Williams) :
Elvin was awake before Dawn. This was not surprising since Dawn had taken a horse tranquilizer before hitting the hay. In any event (except the Volkswagen Sign Then Drive Event), Elvin was grateful for the opportunity to load up the Microbus and hit the road without Dawn’s interference. You see, Dawn disapproved of the Grand Experiment, though she clearly understood how much of his heart and spleen Elvin had put into it. She saw nothing wrong with the Grand Experiment itself, as designed. But she knew Elvin, and she was certain he would screw it up somehow. It was simply too big a job for a run-of-the-mill ham salad chef like Elvin.
“I’ll show her,” Elvin mumbled to himself as he parked the Microbus in front of the Denver Coliseum. “I’ll show ’em all. I’ll show ’em all my toenail fungus, and it’ll make ’em PUKE!”
Elvin proceeded to unload his Volkswagen Microbus in preparation for the crowd that would be arriving in a few hours. The Denver Coliseum was to host a concert that night, by the band known as Korn. The opening act was peas. Not a band called Peas; just a freakin’ can of peas. Phase One of the Grand Experiment called for Elvin to distribute uncontrolled substances to curious concertgoers. He was just about to begin doing so, when a police officer walked up and scrutinized Elvin’s carefully arranged display.
“So,” said the cop, “what have we here?”
“A simple vending kiosk, sir,” Elvin replied. “I sell substances to consumers.”
“Well it looks dangerous to me,” the officer opined. “It looks to me like your substances are completely out of control. I’m giving you 10 minutes to corral those suckers.” With that, the officer walked away from the Microbus, and headed for a nearby Korn dog stand.
Elvin gently cooed to the substances for several minutes, gradually calming them, until at last their behavior was under control. So when the police officer returned, Elvin was immediately and very predictably arrested on a charge of “possession of controlled substances”.
End of Part One
(click here for part two)
Once upon a time, way back in the 1990’s, my college roommates and I were watching Jeopardy together. One of them came up with the brilliant idea that I, Cedric, should try to become a Jeopardy contestant. Not to win money, but to act the … Continue reading This Is (Not) Jeopardy!
I’m not a normal tourist. (I’m not a normal ANYTHING, but humor me here.) Most tourists bring home souvenirs from their travels. Not me. I normally just take pictures and blog about my experiences. I haven’t purchased a souvenir since I got that “South Dakota … Continue reading My Favorite Souvenir
Voyages with Parkinson's 