The Whatever Contest -- Closed for Now

I wrote it in My Day
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Lookout you clout! They yelled as I skipped across the zoo train tracks. I was tracking a peacock as it negotiated a television contract. I was nearly missed by the bus but it hit the peacock instead. Now it is no longer fit for network news, but it still has a voice for radio.

“Nonsense,” you say? Peacocks don’t talk.

“Of course they do,” I say. Because how else could they talk up the peahens in the bar.

It is hard to squawk “Hey baby what’s your sign.”

She would of course answer “Energy Saver! Squawk someone else up.”

The poor chick will be an old maid someday, but first, she needs to learn how to dust, because what do you call a maid that doesn’t dust properly?

“Unmaid,” I say. Like my bed. Why make it if you are just going to muss it up come bedtime anyway. Nobody would know the difference.

Oh, the zoo train is coming around the bend again. I better join it and sit down on the tracks so it can leapfrog over me. The frog likes leaping to conclusions. It never catches any though. It is hard to catch a conclusion. Even if you type “The End!” Mine always seem to get away from me. But it is my imagination that runs away with me. I don’t mind I could use the exercise. Time for Richard Simmons videos on books on tape. I can see the written words of them. Why tape up a book other than you have vandalized it. Shame on you for ruining a perfectly good book!
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