You know if ‘they’ absolutely denied us blog-space henceforth because of how amazingly depressing this here blog has grown ( FuzzyLogic’s sunshine-y colorfulness notwithstanding..), I for one wouldn’t be surprised.Now, LucidInsanity is easily the most likely to announce that she’s depressed or that something is just depressing ( If I got paid every time she sang “I’m depre-essed”..OK,now, that would surprise me!) but I was just browsing our posts so far [Ah, yes, the ultimate pastime of the egotistical 🙂 ] and, er, it ain’t no party, that’s for sure.Recently, anyway.
And thusly, housing the er, compassionate soul that is not me, this is what I have devised for your entertainment.Laughter guaranteed.Or your money back.
OK, no.Not that last bit so much.He he.
1. You ever hear that story about the wolf and the stupid sheep? Summary: Momma Sheep was to go to the market (as all Momma Sheep must) and leave Little Baa ( I am having way too much fun with this.’Little Baa’ indeed!) all alone at home.She warned him not to open the door to strangers and handed him the keys before she left.Not much time had passed since, before–came a knock on the door (Do I get points for the rhyme?).”Who is it?” called the little sheep.Our antagonist, The Wolf merely growled, salivating as he sniffed out his prey-to-be.Little Baa, grateful for the door betwixt himself and the wolf made neither reply nor move.After another couple of pathetic attempts to draw out the little hero (which we shall skip seeing as I happen to love wolves and have no desire to portray them as being stupid through this one unfortunate specimen), the wolf hit upon a plan.The wily thing chewed on chalk until his voice was as sweet as any sheep-woman and tried his luck once more.Little Baa who had anxiously awaited his mother’s arrival hoping against hope that this wasn’t the wolf that could ‘huff and puff and blow the house down’ forced the door open…
And the rest is not appropriate fairytale-material.
The funny thing? I was told this story (in my defence, while still very young) and er, my mum caught me determinedly stuffing pieces of chalk down my oesophagus.Nice, no?
2. The Time I Locked My Grandmom At Home:
Yep, not many kids of the tender age of seven can claim to have locked their poor, defenceless grannies in.And now, said poor granny is very fond of repeating the tale .(*grimace*) Guess I earned that one..All this because she (a former teacher) wouldn’t let me go play since I had an exam the following day or something of the sort, and to my mind that meant my mum reading my books out to me.She,er,differed in opinion.Thus it came to be that while the unsuspecting lady cooked, I slipped out the door, and to ensure that she would not follow me out with a rolling pin raised* locked it from the outside.The rest, I do not care to repeat.
* Obviously an exaggeration- good imagery and all that.This because otherwise I’m certain to be getting advice on reporting child abuse or something.Seriously.
3. Time I locked Myself In..
( which, by the way I have never liked,since.So this is what being ‘scarred for life as a child’ means!Ahh..).Anyway, fortunately for me our gardener, Jerry suggested that maybe we should try the neighbour’s keys seeing as the houses were mostly built alike and the good man got me out.My mom says I would talk to him all the time nineteen-to-the-dozen, poor man, and that he was forced to nod at regular intervals and appear interested in my incessant babble.Hahh! Guess this shows you! He liked my incessant babble.Enough to let me out of there, anyway.I mean, what better way to get rid of me if indeed I was being such a pest than letting me starve to death in that old bathroom, no ? Thankyou, Jerry, wherever you are.Still good ole Ireland, I s’pose.Sigh.