Hello everyone everywhere,
Well, went to the big city yesterday. The capital city of our province: Edmonton. I went with Michelle and Dean. It was Barb baby’s birthday and I didn’t want to be late. There were a lot of people there. Mostly family I’m thinking. It’s great to be the guy that’s not part of the family because everybody tells you their names and you just say, ‘Sure.”
Back at the studio, the music is just kicking. And it keeps me smiling.
Once again I’m going to delight you with a little piece of work that Michelle and I really busted a gut over.
And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. Until we meet again at Melbourne and Sandra Sue Sleepknocker’s World Famous Home of Senior’s Axe Throwing and Nature Walk for the Short Sighted. Where the motto is Every grandma deserves to throw an axe and short-sighted people–those aren’t geese coming at you. Easy to find on the corner of Ilovethistub Crescent and Youlivenextdoor Street. Close to where Dick Trousers used to live.
FLOYD FRIBBETT HAS A DANCE
The happy face dance was coming up real quick. Everyone in Seersucker Falls, population 301, (oh sorry, Esther Flute passed, population 300) was buying a ticket to the soiree. (That’s Spanish for do you have a toothbrush?)
Now Floyd Fribbett was as excited as a 64 year old man could be. Since Molly was lost to him eight years ago, Floyd had given up the two-step. Though as time went by, (and time can fly or, in Floyd’s case, tick very slowly) he met someone. Oh now slow down folks, we’re not talking sparks flying. We are talking gazes, napkin crunching, and of course that aw shucks feeling.
Her name was Wilma Spindel. Originally from Almost Falls, but her mother married a Spindel so you all see how that worked out. (You do, right?)
Well, anyhoo, Friday night was close so Floyd had to use his good stuff to ensure a date. After four jokes, two bad impressions, and a story that ended worse than it started, Wilma looked at Floyd and said, “Is there a point to all of this or are you just a lunatic?”
Floyd kind of blushed and said, “Wilma, I want to ask you to the dance.”
Wilma smiled and said, “I figured so. Yep, let’s do it. We’ll go for coffee and talk a little first.”
So the next day the two of them were off, and Floyd had a lot of stories. Usually you let the lady talk about herself. But Floyd Fribbett would not shut up!
Friday night came and the people flocked to Morty’s dance hall. Gowns were flowing and men had on their best Sunday suits. Floyd and Wilma strutted into the hall where you could hear Glenn Miller being played really badly by Smoky Toots and his orchestra.
When the night became late and Floyd was all danced out, he had told Wilma so many stories she was falling asleep. Finally Floyd got Wilma home. He stopped the car and said, “Hey Wilma! Did I ever tell you when I worked in Chicago?”
Wilma turned to Floyd and said, “Yeah, I heard it. Phone me next week.”
As Floyd Fribbett drove away, he thought, geez whiz everyone knows that story. Oh well, there’s always next week.
(NEVER EVER GIVE UP)