Hello everyone, everywhere,
Hey, hope everyone’s doing well. It has been a very good week. I’m healing well: my body and my head. Finally this concussion is letting up so I’m feeling good.

My big concern coming up is that Michelle and Dean, her husband, have to go to New York and run the New York City Marathon. I know they’re going to win. I have no doubt about it. So I may have to fly down to New York to congratulate them at the winning circle. But probably not.

I can’t believe what a rush that will be to run, and the only thing you fight is the wind. And time. Tick tock tick tock. They’re going to be great, and I’ll be waiting for them with congratulations.

I’m back to playing on Wednesday and I think I can write again. That’s all.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts…and rest. Until we meet again at Phil and Barb’s Pedicure and Arm Wrestling Emporium on the corner of Flynch Street and Flat Avenue.



Well I can’t believe another year has come and gone and it’s Hallowe’en again, thought Jack. Why, it’s my favorite time of year. I love Hallowe’en.

Jack Bledsow lived in the village of Damper, population 250. Jack thought of himself as quite a sociable old fellow. In his mind he got along with everybody.

Jack stared out the window, watching the kids running around the neighbourhood, waiting for them to show up at his house. And he was going to play tricks. Because that’s what you do on Hallowe’en, right? You know that, folks.

His lovely wife Florence looked at Jack and said, “Jack, you know they’re not coming to the door. They never come to the door.”

“Why do you say that?”, Jack asked with a quizzical look.

Florence answered, “Jack, there are 250 people in good old Damper. You don’t like 240 of them. The reason the kids don’t come to the door ever is because they’re afraid of you. You’re Hallowe’en every day, Jack.”

“What do you mean by that, Florence?” Jack asked with bewilderment in his face that would stop a truck.

Florence looked at him with disdain and said, “Jack, the reason they don’t come is because you’ve got a tick. And every time you tick, you end it with a slurp. So when you walk down the street people say, “Hello Mr. Bledsow”, and you always turn around and go TICK, SLURRRPPP. And the last time you had a nice thing to say about anybody was when you were talking to the dog that lives next door. You spent the whole day calling him Rex. The dog’s a female named Betty. Anyways Jack, this one’s for you. BOO!”

Jack said, “Okay Florence, I’m good with that.”

That’s all.

Happy Hallowe’en.


By jamesghutcheson

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s