once upon a time there was a boy trapped in a man's body, not a very good body mind you, but one that would make do.
we'll name the boy "bob" for now.
anyway, bob decided to climb a tree one day so he could get up on the roof because he only owned a very short ladder that could not reach, and there were things on the roof bob needed to do, like sit.
what a silly boy thing for bob to do, climb a tree to sit on a roof, given the condition of bob's man limbs.
but climb, climb, climb he did, until he was a good ten feet off the ground.
he needed to rest.
then he climbed over to the roof and plopped himself down.
what fun.
now, the first thing bob did was see how far he could spit by aiming at a bird bath some twenty feet away.
after eliminating all the internal moisture he had, bob calculated 23 feet was his best.
the second thing he did was spy on grown-ups walking their dogs, and then when they least expected it, bob made fart noises using just his hands and armpits.
after an hour or so, bob tired of all the laughs and shenanigans.
so the third thing he did was lay back and think about glee and ny ranger preseason hockey and other tv shows he watched the night before.
as his thoughts became fewer and more about girls (yuck), bob worried that keaton, in oh so many ways his mommy, was probably on her way home, and he didn't want to get her all upset with his secret boy antics.
so bob decided to inch his way as far as he could off the roof and then gracefully jumped (some might incorrectly say "tumbled like a lard ball") to the soft ground below, just like he used to do when he was really twelve years old and not pretending to be.
the next day, bob was paralyzed by pain from his thinning head hair down to his atrophied pinkie toes.
he just lay there like the lump of man limbs he started out as.
his throat wasn't doin' so hot either, with all the spitting and stuff.
and he wasn't sure when the skin abrasions would heal, if ever.
oh the pain, pain, pain.
in general, bob decided he would need another body if he was ever to have twelve year old fun again.
what a sorry state of affairs, considering he is 58 in normal people years.
the end.
6 comments:
now bob that's how you write a story.
short , funny none of the BS.
i just need 20 more stories from you a couple more from randy and i got me a book.
That was a nice little story Bob! It sounds like you were successful in shedding those annoying facts you mentioned a couple days ago …at least until that inconvenient *fact at the end there!
*Bob’s inconvenient fact: A falling body on Earth accelerates at 9.8 meters per second squared, which means Bob went from zero to 20 mph in just the first second. Luckily Bob probably hit the ground before he could count to two.
Hope you're feeling better soon Bob!
okay boys, thanks for all the kind words and well-wishin' but what's the moral of the story?
The moral of the story? …Hmmm?
What goes up - must come down?
Young Bob’s are prone to cavities
…Old Bobs are prone to gravity?
No one ever really graduates
from the School of Hard Knocks?
Leave the graceful falling to Mr. Smarty Leaf?
…Okay, I got it:
The differences ‘tween
The graceful jump
Of a young boys antics
And a tumbling old lump
Are just semantics
When they’re in the air
They’re both the same
They have nary a care
Which is really a shame
Cause the difference occurs
When they hit the ground
One lies there and murmurs
While the other rebounds
The moral of the story is what Bette Davis said "Old age is no place for sissies."
Or my personal fave (unknown author)"There's always a lot to be thankful for if you take time to look for it. For example, I am sitting here thinking how nice it is that wrinkles don't hurt."
randy - your little poem cracked me up, which hurt alot. thank you very much.
itsme - who ever said that last one never jumped off a roof at 58, because if he or she did, they'd soon discover wrinkles can hurt terribly.
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