Dave's Tragic Life - Tell us what you know.

[Les Sleeth]

Dave has become a man who can’t seem to find good luck. That’s his life now -- one painful, unlucky event after another. Maybe you’ve heard of him? I only have the details of how his bad luck began. If you know more of his tragic tale, please take a paragraph or so to share it. Here’s what I know of poor Dave’s life:

No matter what he does anymore, it turns out badly. Dave’s run of bad luck started when found his 13-year-old daughter smoking a cigarette.

"My God! How long have you been smoking?" screamed Dave.

"Since I lost my virginity," replied the girl.

"You lost your VIRGINITY! When the hell did this happen?"
shrieked Dave.

"I don't remember," said the girl. "I was completely drunk."


This turn of events seemed to leave Dave on the verge of death. His wife, Becky, maintained a candlelight vigil by his side. She held his fragile hand, tears running down her face. Her praying roused him from his slumber. He looked up and his pale lips began to move slightly.

“My darling Becky," he whispered.

"Hush, my love," she said. "Rest. Shhh, don't talk."

Dave was insistent. "Becky," he said in his tired voice, "I have something I must confess to you."

"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Becky. "Everything's all right, go to sleep."

"No, no. I must die in peace, Becky. I ... I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend, and your mother."

"I know" Becky whispered softly. "That's why I poisoned you"


Well, that was just about the end of Dave, but he finally recovered. Things went okay for about two months, and then it all fell apart again. That day, Dave walked into a bar and ordered a triple scotch. The bartender poured him the drink and Dave drank it down in one gulp.

"Wow Dave," said the bartender. "Something bad musta happened."

"I came home early today," answered Dave. "I went up to the bedroom, and there was my wife Becky having sex with my best friend."

The bartender poured Dave another triple shot. "This one's on the house." Dave gulped it down once again. The bartender asked, "Did you say anything to your wife?"

Dave answered, "Yeah, I walked up to her and told her we were through. 'Pack your freakin’ bags and get the hell out!' I told her."

"What about your friend?" asked the bartender.

"I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Bad dog!"


That sad day finally did Dave in. He quit his job and bought 50 acres of land in Vermont as far from humanity as possible. Dave saw the postman once a week and got groceries once a month. Otherwise it was total peace and quiet.

After six months or so of almost total isolation, Dave was finishing dinner when someone knocked on his door. He opened it and there was a big, bearded Vermonter standing there.

"Names Enoch... Your neighbor from four miles over the ridge... Having a party Saturday... thought you'd like to come."

"Great," said Dave, "after six months of this I'm ready to meet some local folks. Thank you."

As Enoch was leaving he stopped, "Gotta warn you there's going to be some drinkin'."

"Not a problem... after 25 years as a scientist, I can drink with the best of 'em."

Again, as he started to leave Enoch stops. "More 'n' likely going to be some fightin' too."

Damn, Dave thought... tough crowd. "Well, I get along with people. I'll be there. Thanks again."

Once again Enoch turned from the door. "I've seen some wild sex at these parties, too."

"Now that's not a problem" said Dave, "Remember I've been alone for six months! I'll definitely be there ... by the way, what should I wear?

Enoch stopped in the door again, turned and said, "Whatever you want, just going to be the two of us."

 

[Moonbear]

Dave's eyes nearly popped out of his head. But, he gave it a bit more thought, and figured if he survived sex with Becky's mother, Enoch couldn't be any worse.

As they were headed out the door, Dave calls out, "Hold up a minute Enoch, I want to get my pliers first!"

Enoch stops short, and stares at Dave with a puzzled expression. "What d'you need pliers for?"

A sly look crosses Dave's face, as he replies...

 

[Les Sleeth]

Dave's eyes nearly popped out of his head. But, he gave it a bit more thought, and figured if he survived sex with Becky's mother, Enoch couldn't be any worse.

As they were headed out the door, Dave calls out, "Hold up a minute Enoch, I want to get my pliers first!"

Enoch stops short, and stares at Dave with a puzzled expression. "What d'you need pliers for?"

A sly look crosses Dave's face, as he replies...

“I’ve been thinking. It seems to me, as a scientist, that a squeeze in the right place, at the right time, might enhance everyone’s pleasure!”

As Enoch left hurriedly from the house, Dave thought, “Damn, scared another one off.”

With nothing to do for evening, Dave began thinking about his miserable life. Why me? he thought. With his grief rendering him unable to answer even the most simple question, he thought about the now-frozen lake on his neighbor’s property. Maybe, just maybe, if he could make a hole in that lake, he might try a little night ice fishin’!

Overjoyed, ecstatic beyond words, Dave grabbed the few stick of dynamite he had and . . .

 

[tribdog]

his catcher's glove. He shoved the dynamite into his back pocket and the glove onto his hand. He punched his fist into the soft leather, then brought the mitt to his nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing like the smell of old leather and salmon, he thought, remembering all the good times he'd had ice fishing. Once he had blasted a 12 pounder nearly 150 feet into the air, giving himself plenty of time to get under it, only to be knocked to the ground when that monster slammed into his glove. Good times. Dave took in the aroma again, smells like happiness he thought. A dried fish scale worked its way loose from the leather and lodged itself deep in Dave's sinuses causing a sneezing and eye watering fit that lasted nearly 10 minutes.
"It's like a miniature razor blade scratching the back of my eye," Dave screamed at the stupid stuffed 12 pound fish above the mantle. He threw his baseball glove at the fish, missing by over a foot and knocking a lamp over. The lamp crashed through the beautiful picture window overlooking his backyard, then made a sizzling noise and burst into flame.
"Whoops." said Dave. In a panic Dave searched for something to put out the quickly spreading fire. Dave patted his pockets, found they contained something and reached in. Pulling his hand back out he looked and saw he wasn't holding a fire extinguisher, but a stick of dynamite. That's not going to put out a fire he thought, then he remember that the fire extinguisher was over by the stupid 12 pounder that had caused all of this. "Stupid trouble making fish," Dave grumbled. He transferred the stick of dynamite back to his pocket and grabbed the extinguisher. Ignoring the "Warning: Never point towards.." The label was torn away so nothing else could be read, but Dave was pretty sure he knew how to operate the device.
The white powder blast caught Dave right in the face, blinding him and causing his sinuses to swell, pressing the fish scale into his optic nerve. Blindly, Dave staggered around the room crashing into walls and sounding remarkably like a fire engine. The sudden pain in his left foot made Dave realize he had stepped into the flame, his pants were on fire. Stop-Drop and Roll. They taught you that on Day one in Kindergarten so Dave knew exactly what to do. He stopped. He dropped. He rolled.
The explosion was...

 

[Moonbear]

“I’ve been thinking. It seems to me, as a scientist, that a squeeze in the right place, at the right time, might enhance everyone’s pleasure!”

As Enoch left hurriedly from the house, Dave thought, “Damn, scared another one off.”

With nothing to do for evening, Dave began thinking about his miserable life. Why me? he thought. With his grief rendering him unable to answer even the most simple question, he thought about the now-frozen lake on his neighbor’s property. Maybe, just maybe, if he could make a hole in that lake, he might try a little night ice fishin’!

Overjoyed, ecstatic beyond words, Dave grabbed the few stick of dynamite he had and . . .

Urgh! Too slow!

 

[Moonbear]

his catcher's glove. He shoved the dynamite into his back pocket and the glove onto his hand. He punched his fist into the soft leather, then brought the mitt to his nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing like the smell of old leather and salmon, he thought, remembering all the good times he'd had ice fishing. Once he had blasted a 12 pounder nearly 150 feet into the air, giving himself plenty of time to get under it, only to be knocked to the ground when that monster slammed into his glove. Good times. Dave took in the aroma again, smells like happiness he thought. A dried fish scale worked its way loose from the leather and lodged itself deep in Dave's sinuses causing a sneezing and eye watering fit that lasted nearly 10 minutes.
"It's like a miniature razor blade scratching the back of my eye," Dave screamed at the stupid stuffed 12 pound fish above the mantle. He threw his baseball glove at the fish, missing by over a foot and knocking a lamp over. The lamp crashed through the beautiful picture window overlooking his backyard, then made a sizzling noise and burst into flame.
"Whoops." said Dave. In a panic Dave searched for something to put out the quickly spreading fire. Dave patted his pockets, found they contained something and reached in. Pulling his hand back out he looked and saw he wasn't holding a fire extinguisher, but a stick of dynamite. That's not going to put out a fire he thought, then he remember that the fire extinguisher was over by the stupid 12 pounder that had caused all of this. "Stupid trouble making fish," Dave grumbled. He transferred the stick of dynamite back to his pocket and grabbed the extinguisher. Ignoring the "Warning: Never point towards.." The label was torn away so nothing else could be read, but Dave was pretty sure he knew how to operate the device.
The white powder blast caught Dave right in the face, blinding him and causing his sinuses to swell, pressing the fish scale into his optic nerve. Blindly, Dave staggered around the room crashing into walls and sounding remarkably like a fire engine. The sudden pain in his left foot made Dave realize he had stepped into the flame, his pants were on fire. Stop-Drop and Roll. They taught you that on Day one in Kindergarten so Dave knew exactly what to do. He stopped. He dropped. He rolled.
The explosion was...

eminent, as a passer-by burst through the door, guiding him to safety. As he coughed and sputtered from the smoke he had inhaled, he heard the passer-by laughing.

"You sure do know how to get yourself into a good mess, don't you?"

Dave thought he must have died and gone to heaven, her voice was so angelic. He managed to half sputter a few coarse sounding words, "Where did you come from?"

Another laugh from the stranger. "I live up on that ridge across the way. On a clear night like tonight, I can see everything you do. When I saw the flames in the window, I knew you wouldn't get out of this one on your own."

Dave rubbed the soot out of his eyes, finally managed to dislodge the fish scale with a hardy sneeze, and got his first glimpse of his savior...

 

[tribdog]

should we call it before we write? Stand in line? or is it a free for all?

 

[Moonbear]

should we call it before we write? Stand in line? or is it a free for all?

Well, when writing a paragraph at a time, maybe we should call it before we write it. That took a while to write the paragraph I deleted when I saw you beat me to the response (I preferred my exploded crows over blasting fish, but nothing to do for it now).

 

[Les Sleeth]

eminent, as a passer-by burst through the door, guiding him to safety. As he coughed and sputtered from the smoke he had inhaled, he heard the passer-by laughing.

"You sure do know how to get yourself into a good mess, don't you?"

Dave thought he must have died and gone to heaven, her voice was so angelic. He managed to half sputter a few coarse sounding words, "Where did you come from?"

Another laugh from the stranger. "I live up on that ridge across the way. On a clear night like tonight, I can see everything you do. When I saw the flames in the window, I knew you wouldn't get out of this one on your own."

Dave rubbed the soot out of his eyes, finally managed to dislodge the fish scale with a hardy sneeze, and got his first glimpse of his savior...

That lovely lilting voice had come from, from . . .where is she? Oh there she is, down there.

"Why are you laying on the floor," Dave asked.

Lifting her head up from the floor, a vision of loveliness gazed up into Dave's eyes. "I suffer from a rare psychological disorder sometimes called 'erectophobia.' A traumatic encounter with . . . well, figure it out. It has made me afraid of any sort of erect behavior, even standing straight myself!" Suddenly Dave's angel of mercy broke into uncontrollable sobbing.

At that very moment Dave himself . . .

 

[Moonbear]

That lovely lilting voice had come from, from . . .where is she? Oh there she is, down there.

"Why are you laying on the floor," Dave asked.

Lifting her head up from the floor, a vision of loveliness gazed up into Dave's eyes. "I suffer from a rare psychological disorder sometimes called 'erectophobia.' A traumatic encounter with . . . well, figure it out. It has made me afraid of any sort of erect behavior, even standing straight myself!" Suddenly Dave's angel of mercy broke into uncontrollable sobbing.

At that very moment Dave himself . . .

had a rather different experience with erect behavior. The sound of a woman sobbing will do that every time.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. Thank you for saving my life."

Dave laid down beside the woman, in an attempt to ease her fears. He shifted uneasily and decided to hold his hat in front of him. The scent of her hair as he leaned close to soothe her was driving him wild, a delicate mixture of salmon and leather.

Just then, she turned to speak to him, managing to clobber him in the nose with her chin. Now it was his eyes that were watering as he clutched his bleeding nose...

 

[tribdog]

"I'm sorry" she said, "are you okay?"
"I'mb fime" Dave replied. With a skill that comes only with practice he wadded a hankerchief and shoved it up his nose, stopping the flow of blood. "See, Imb good ad new. My nambe id Dabe, what's your nambe?"
"Pleased to meet you Dabe, you can call me Sue."
They slowly stood, carefully avoiding erectness, and smiled at each other.
Wow she is so beautiful, thought Dave watching the blush rise in her cheeks. She turned and began examining the burn marks on the porch.
"Sue," said Dave, "I was wondering." Sue continued examining the porch.
"Sue," Dave said again a little louder. She looked at him blankly. Dave continued "I was wondering if,"
"Hi, my name's Annie," Sue said. "Ooh! what happened to your nose?" Annie or Sue whatever her name was reached up and pulled the hankerchief from Dave's nose. Blood gushed out.
"I know just what to do. I'm a nurse over at the slaughterhouse. Why don't you sit down...Sorry I don't know your name, I'm Nurse Judy..just sit right there. That's quite a bleeder you've got there but don't you worry. I am an expert when it comes to tourniquets." She said, wrapping a piece of twine around Dave's neck. "Sit up straight."
Dave sat up straight and watched this strange woman hit the floor. "I think I'm in love,Sue Judy ann" He said to the unconscious body, "Do you believe in..."

 

[tribdog]

"voodoo?"
The young woman woke up at that moment and acting like nothing weird had happened she smiled at Dave and casually said, "I really like your place, what do you do for a living?"
Dave replied, "I made a lot of money playing Life Lo-Ball a few years back, before my last girlfriend left me."
"What's Life Lo-Ball?"
"You've never heard of Life Lo-Ball?" Dave was amazed. The room started to shimmer, the unmistakeable sign of a flash back, and Dave started to talk. Reliving one of the good days. This is what he said:
The game is deceptively simple. Each player tosses a twenty into the pot. Whoever’s led the most tortured life takes the pot. I am the undisputed champion. Sure, plenty have tried to dethrone me, unsuccessfully, looks like I have three challengers tonight, sixty bucks, not bad for 10 minutes work. The audience is quite a bit larger than last night’s, which was larger than the night before. The reason? Me. They all want to see how I do it, to glimpse perfection for once in their pathetic lives. Silence grips them as I open my mouth to speak.



“I’m ready,” I say tossing my twenty onto the table. Three more Andrew Jackson’s quickly joined mine. Being champion gives me the right to tell my story last, so I leaned back in my custom leather Lay-Z-Boy, another champion perk, and motioned for the first contestant. Challenger #1 stepped up to the microphone.



“Hi everybody. My name’s Mike and my life hasn’t been all that bad.”



I smiled, stupid rookie mistake. Might as well walk away now. In a cutthroat game like this, down-playing tragedy is suicide.



Mike, oblivious to his error, continued, “the other night I got a flat tire on my Camaro, rear passenger side. The lug nuts were on super tight and by the time I got the tire changed I was 45 minutes late to the Brooks and Dunn concert and.uh..well that’s it. Oh! But after the concert it was so cool cause Dunn came over to my side of the stage and he...” I cut him off with a wave of my hand. Obediently he returned to his bench.



“You’re breakin’ my heart,” I say sarcastically. The audience laughs, they know there’s always at least one wanna-be in every game. “Who’s next?”



Challenger #2 stepped forward. Maybe ‘stepped’ is too strong of a word. He was wheeled into the playing area on a stretcher covered with a bubble. A metal framework supported the walls of clear plastic protecting him from the outside environment.



“Hello everyone,” he said. Well maybe ‘said’ is too strong of a word. Using a metal rod embedded where his right eye should have been, he typed his comments into an archaic Commodore 64 which then translated his actions into audible speech.



Typing like a woodpecker on crystal meth, this Stephen Hawking sound-a-like continued. “I don’t have a name, being as I was abandoned at birth. I do answer to either ‘hey you’ or a snapping of the fingers. My friends call me ‘burden on their lives,’ ‘Burden’ for short. Allergies have forced me to live inside a bubble all my life. I use this one when I travel and have another one at home where I usually live. It’s even smaller.”



Wow, I thought, this guy’s good,



“On my 9th birthday I had my skin removed in a controversial operation which has since been discontinued and banned by the AMA as being, quote, ‘a bad, bad, bad idea with no medical benefits whatsoever.’ Despite the constant agony that makes up my life I can no longer afford medication. My medical bills are so high that not only were my prescription drugs discontinued, a nurse comes over every morning to administer a salt rub to make up for any pain killers I may have received in the past. My only true friend was a stray dog who wandered onto my property last year. I named him Buddy. After nine months of slowly gaining his trust I was able to teach him not to chew my oxygen hose in half. I was in the process of housebreaking Buddy when he unexpectedly committed suicide last week. All I have to remember him by are the hardening piles of feces that nobody will pick up for me. I’d like to wrap up my story by mentioning that, after 28 years of searching, my mother was able to track me down and called me for the first time last night. She said she called just to let me know that she saw me on an after school special, although she thought she was watching America’s Funniest Home Videos, funniest episode she ever saw. I told her I loved her and she told me I owed her half of the $10,000 and Bob Saget’s autograph if I had it.” His voice slowly faded away and the lights dimmed as the battery powering #2’s A/V equipment ran out of juice.



Challenger #3 wasn’t able to compete, having been reduced to a blubbering baby by #2’s plight.



“Will you take your turn or forfeit?” I asked unsympathetically. There’s no room in this sport for crybabies. As an answer to my question he simply blew a snot bubble and remained quiet which I assumed was a forfeiture.



The entire audience was looking at me through tear filled eyes. Would my reign come to an end tonight? Well, might as well get it over with I thought, standing and taking my place at the mike.



“You are the best competitor I’ve ever had,” I said, reaching forward and taking the $80. “I’m sure you will be champ someday, but not today.” I folded the bills and stuffed them in my pocket, then leaned forward and delivered the unblockable, knock-out blow that had made me the champ.



“You think you had it rough? Well...my girlfriend snores.”

 

[Moonbear]

The room began to shimmer again, that tell-tale sign the flashback had ended. Dave looked over to see Sue Judy Ann blubbering again. "Aw, geez, if you're going to keep crying, you better get a towel so you don't ruin the carpet." Dave was always known for this deep sensitivity when it came to women.

Sue Judy Ann asked, "Well, whatever happened to that guy in the bubble?"

"Oh, him? When I won the prize money that night, he dropped his head in shame and popped his bubble with the stick poking out of his eye. You know, he really was allergic to everything! Swelled up and turned a strange shade of purple and everything, just like that blueberry girl in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."

Sue Judy Ann started giggling again at this. Dave was thinking to himself that he had really hit the jackpot with this one. He would have a good ten year winning streak at Life Lo-Ball if he hung around with her a bit more.

So, he turned to her, a devilish gleam in his eyes, and asked her,...

 

[tribdog]

I messed up. I should have had the first letter of each of the woman's names spell Cybil

 

[Moonbear]

I messed up. I should have had the first letter of each of the woman's names spell Cybil

I was looking if there was anything be spelled out of the letters. She needs to be bumped off soon, I don't like typing Sue Judy Ann.

 

[tribdog]

Sue Judy Ann suddenly died.
Dave said "figures."

 

[Les Sleeth]

Sue Judy Ann suddenly died.
Dave said "figures."

Being a scientist and all, Dave desparately wanted to understand the reasons for his bad luck. He was Jewish too, so he wondered if he'd pissed off God.

Naaaaa.

Bad choices? Karma?

He started thinking about some of his choices, like that day he got excited about the rifle he got for Christmas and went bear hunting. . .

Right away he spotted a small brown bear and shot it. There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned round to see a big black bear. The black bear said, "You've got two choices. I either maul you to death or we have sex." Dave decided to bend over.

Even though he was sore for two weeks, Dave soon recovered and vowed revenge. He headed out on another trip where he found the black bear and shot it. There was another tap on his shoulder, and this time a huge grizzly bear stood right next to him. The grizzly said "That was a HUGE mistake, Dave. You've got two choices. Either I maul you to death or we'll have rough sex." Again, Dave thought it was better to comply.

Although he survived, it would take several months before Dave finally recovered. Outraged he headed back to the woods, managed to track down the grizzly and shot it. He felt sweet revenge, but then there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned round to find a giant polar bear standing there.

The polar bear said "Admit it Dave, you ain’t comin’ here for the hunting are you?"

Since then Dave has wondered if . . .

 

[Moonbear]

he should just become a farmer.

He headed back inside, realizing this entire fiasco with Sue Judy Ann had occurred right on the front lawn. For a moment, he worried what the neighbors would think, then remembered he didn't have any, at least none now that Sue Judy Ann had died.

He unplugged the broken lamp and flicked the circuit breaker back on, and surveyed the damage. It wasn't as bad as he expected, just a small charred spot on the floor. He pulled a rug over to cover it. "Oops!" He chuckled to himself when he realized the rug he moved had already been covering that other hole in the floor where he had drilled right through his hand and the coffee table he was trying to repair.

So, he moved that rug back, and grabbed a different one. Laughing once again, he realized that one had been covering the large stain from when he...

 

[Les Sleeth]

"Oops!" He chuckled to himself when he realized the rug he moved had already been covering that other hole in the floor where he had drilled right through his hand and the coffee table he was trying to repair.

So, he moved that rug back, and grabbed a different one. Laughing once again, he realized that one had been covering the large stain from when he...

. . . had had a slight "control" problem. The thing is, it brought back horrible memories of his relentless bad luck. Concerned for his "condition" he rushed to a world famous urologist. As he walked into the crowded office and approached the desk, the receptionist asked, "Yes sir, may we help you?"

"There's something wrong with my penis," Dave replied (he was a physicist, and so not all that up on physiology).

The receptionist became irritated and said, "You shouldn't come into a crowded office and say things like that."

"Why not? You asked me what was wrong and I told you," Dave said.

"Because" replied the receptionist. "You've obviously caused some embarrassment in this room full of strangers. You should have said there is something wrong with your ear or something and discussed the problem further with the doctor in private."

Dave walked out, waited several minutes and reentered. The receptionist smiled smugly and asked, "Yes?"

"There's something wrong with my 'ear'," Dave stated.

The receptionist nodded approvingly. "And what is wrong with your ear, sir?"

"I can't piss out of it," Dave replied.

Of course, that was then, and this is now. He'd thrown away the diapers, he'd stopped drinking so much tea, he'd tied that string around his . . .

 

[Moonbear]

penis. Everytime he sees the string, he remembers there was something he thought the string would help him remember. Well, it cuts down on hand-washing time when he just uses the string, so he figured he'd leave the string on.

After realizing every rug in his home is already covering some other hole or stain, he decides it's time to get wall-to-wall carpeting. A small doubt lingers on his mind though. Had he read somewhere about someone managing to burn a hole in the carpet with a Coke can? No, he thinks, nobody could be that accident prone.

Then he returns to the sofa and sits down. He's staring at the wall, when he notices a strange area that appears a bit darker than the rest. He'd never noticed that before, so wanders over to investigate a bit closer. He gets right up to the wall, and that's when he realizes...

 

[tribdog]

that the string is caught on the sofa leg.
Like a rabid Doberman coming to the end of its chain, Dave was snapped to a halt and spun around.
"Oh, I felt that one" he said.

 

[Les Sleeth]

that the string is caught on the sofa leg.
Like a rabid Doberman coming to the end of its chain, Dave was snapped to a halt and spun around.
"Oh, I felt that one" he said.

As he lay on the floor, writhing in pain, his mind drifted back to his childhood and some of the truly horrible events he'd witnessed. One fateful morning came to mind, when he came down for breakfast so hungry he'd have eaten a lab rat (mmmm, Moonbear's fav). But since he lived on a farm, his mother asked if he had done his chores.

"Not yet," said little Dave. His mother told him no breakfast until he did his chores.

Little Dave was pissed, so as he went to feed the chickens he kicked one.
Then he fed the cows and on his way out of the barn kicked a cow. When he
slopped the pigs he gleefully delivered a swift kick in the rear to a fat
porker. Satisfied with his revenge he went back in for his breakfast.

When little Dave sat down at the table his mother rudely dropped a bowl of
dry cereal in front of him.

"Heyyyyyy! he complained, "How come I don't get no eggs and bacon? And why don't I got any milk in my cereal?

"Well," his mother answered, "I saw you kick a chicken, so you don't get any eggs for a week. I saw you kick the pig, so you don't get any bacon for a week either. I also saw you kick the cow, so for a week you aren't getting any milk."

Just then, his father came down for breakfast in a sullen mood and kicked
the cat half way across the kitchen. Smirking, little Dave looked up at
his mother and said, "Are you going to tell him, or should I?"

After the womping his dad gave him later, Dave was never the same. He began growling like a dog, and tying things on his penis. Tonight he realized his behavior stretched way back, and his idiosyncracies weren't his fault. He thought, "there's nothing to be ashamed of because I like tying a string on it. In fact, from this day forward, I am going to openly . . .

 

[tribdog]

not part of the story
oh come on, give an lol at least. you know the string to the sofa was funny.
story may resume

 

[Les Sleeth]

not part of the story
oh come on, give an lol at least. you know the string to the sofa was funny.
story may resume

You're right, I laughed my butt off. I couldn't decide if I should post that too. I laughed hard at MB's blatent tying the of the penis too. You guys are nuts.

If you want, I'll stop posting my fav jokes and stick to my personal insanity. It is easier to do if we limit the posts to a paragraph.

 

[tribdog]

nah, I won't limit you. I'm sure there is probably someone, maybe from a third world country, who hasn't already heard your jokes.

 

[tribdog]

lol, I really do crack myself up sometimes.

 

[Moonbear]

nah, I won't limit you. I'm sure there is probably someone, maybe from a third world country, who hasn't already heard your jokes.

I hadn't heard the one about kicking a cat before! I'm laughing at both the string and what Dave's dad isn't getting for kicking the cat. I didn't see that part with the string coming... I was waiting to find out what the shadow on the wall was. Oh well...guess I can take another turn now that Les has done one.

 

[Moonbear]

Now back to our story...

After the womping his dad gave him later, Dave was never the same. He began growling like a dog, and tying things on his penis. Tonight he realized his behavior stretched way back, and his idiosyncracies weren't his fault. He thought, "there's nothing to be ashamed of because I like tying a string on it. In fact, from this day forward, I am going to openly . . .

pursue stringology!"

First thing in the morning, he headed down to the local library and got every book he could find on strings and knot-tying. Dave noticed the librarian blushing when he brought the books to the circulation desk, and gave her a little wink. He thought she must find him attractive. She tucked a small card inside one of the books and gave him a wink back, and inquired, "So, you're into knot-tying?"

"Oh, no, I'm still a novice, but would love to learn more."

"I thought so," the librarian whispered, "we have a little club that meets on Tuesday nights. The address is on the card."

On the way out of the library, elated, Dave pulled the card out of the book and read:...

 

[tribdog]

"We're Knot just another String tying group" 888 W. Twine Trail. Stop by if you're knot too busy.
Interesting, Dave thought, I think I'll check it out, but first he had some learning to do.

 

[Moonbear]

Dave got his books home and started to study them with gusto! Tuesday finally rolled around. He looked around the house, noting with satisfaction that every piece of loose string, rope, pillow tassles, and even the tail of one raccoon were tied in knots. He felt confident as he grabbed the card with the address and headed for 888 W. Twine Trail.

He made the final right turn, and immediately slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting the cat sitting in the middle of the road. The cat was just staring down the lane, seemingly unaware of the car or of Dave's frantic waving to shoo the cat out of the road. He finally got out of the car and gave the cat a shove on its way. A little further down the road, he encountered the same thing. When he came to the third cat in the road, he was truly puzzled by their odd behavior. That was, until he came to a screeching halt for the fourth time, right in front of #888. He couldn't believe his eyes, could it be true? Right here, so close to home, a bright, neon sign proclaimed, "World's Largest Ball of String." There must have been thirty cats standing around, just staring. He pulled around into the driveway, and saw the lights shining through the front window of a small cottage behind the giant ball of string. Feeling confident for the first time in his life, he nearly skipped up the stairs, and knocked on the door. The librarian answered and invited him in. His eyes widened in shock as he peered into the room...

 

[tribdog]

Anatomy of a dead end.
This is for Evo, she asked me to continue this story with something I had written and thrown away. So I’ll post what I wrote and give an explanation as to why I either stopped an idea or started over.

Dave knocked on the heavy, wooden door. A panel slid open and a pair of eyes stared at Dave. Dave could hear deep voices chanting from somewhere inside. “Squaaaaaare…graaaaannnnNNNyy…SheeeeeepShaaaaank…SLIP”
“Hi,” said Dave, “I’m here for the string tying meeting.”
“Are you wearing your string?” said the door.
A panel located about 3 feet below the first panel slid open. A voice said, “Yes, I see he is wearing a string.”
“You may enter.”

I stopped writing here because I reread what Moonbear had written and realized that Dave had already been admitted into the meeting.

Everyone inside wore monks robes. Each man had a slot in the front of their robe from which a string protruded. There were a variety of different strings (crossed this out because I thought variety of different strings was redundant). There were a variety of strings. They came in all different colors and some had been tied into elaborate designs. Dave thought about his plain piece of twine and was glad he wasn’t wearing a slotted robe.
“Let me introduce you to everyone,” said the Librarian, reaching up and grabbing a string that hung from a series of pulleys above her head. She gave two quick tugs and was rewarded by a pair of screams coming from the other side of the wall the string disappeared into.
Everyone turned at the Librarian’s signal and gathered around Dave. They began softly chanting, “Slip knots are fiiiiiiiiiNNe. Square knots are BBBEEEEtttter, but you can’t go wrong with a graaaaaaannnny.”
The Librarian spoke loudly, “This is Dave. Welcome him into the weave”
Gentle hands reached for Dave and steered him towards a large couch where they began undressing him. Other hands appeared carrying soft, pliable penis leashes.
For the first time in his pathetic life Dave felt happy, felt a sense of belonging. He knew this was the place he had been searching for his entire life.
The hands continued removing Dave’s clothing. When the hands reached Dave’s shoes he heard the entire assemblage gasp. The hands retreated and someone screamed, “VELCRO!”

I stopped here because I thought it was a long way to go for a joke that didn’t make me laugh. I decided to try getting to a joke faster.

“What would you like to try first?” asked the Librarian.
“What are my choices?”
“Well, for a beginner I would suggest you try either the Music Appreciation room or the Physical Fitness annex.”
Dave wasn’t sure which to choose. He wanted to experience everything, but he had to start somewhere. “What happens in these areas and what do Music and fitness have to do with stringiness?”
“Well,” said the Librarian, “in the Music Appreciation room your string is connected to a piano keyboard and stretched taut. Once it is properly tuned selected songs are plucked and you can accompany the tunes with screams of your own. It really is quit painful, from what I’ve been told. The Physical Fitness annex is simply an area reserved for jumping rope.”
“What does that have to do with Music appreciation or fitness?”
“Well in the first case you really come to appreciate silence and in the second, well, we’re just out of jump ropes and I’m to push newcomers into filling the need.”

I stopped here because I decided my bed looked a lot better to me than my attempts at this story did.

 

[tribdog]

sometimes it is funny to read the ads at the top of the page. Very targeted ads. "How to tie a tie" Knot Tying DVD etc.

 

[Evo]

Anatomy of a dead end.
This is for Evo, she asked me to continue this story with something I had written and thrown away. So I’ll post what I wrote and give an explanation as to why I either stopped an idea or started over.

<sniff> That's the best Christmas present ever! <sniff>

MORE!

 

[Les Sleeth]

sometimes it is funny to read the ads at the top of the page. Very targeted ads. "How to tie a tie" Knot Tying DVD etc.

I can only conclude that you feel unsatisfied with your follow-up posts ("anatomy of a dead end"), so I am going to take off from Moonbear's last post . . .

 

[Les Sleeth]

Right here, so close to home, a bright, neon sign proclaimed, "World's Largest Ball of String." There must have been thirty cats standing around, just staring. He pulled around into the driveway, and saw the lights shining through the front window of a small cottage behind the giant ball of string. Feeling confident for the first time in his life, he nearly skipped up the stairs, and knocked on the door. The librarian answered and invited him in. His eyes widened in shock as he peered into the room...

. . . because he realized he’d stepped right into the midst of a pseudoscience cult! Stay calm, he told himself, don’t panic. Act like you are one of “them.”

“Hi all,” Dave said in his most relaxed voice.

“Hi Dave!” the group answered with enthusiasm. His librarian friend tiptoed up and whispered in his ear, “I told them you are just a dope, not a genuwine scienteest. Don’t let ’em know Dave, trust yer local librarian on this one Dave.”

Dave studied the blackboard he’d seen when he walked in, and which gave away he’d stumbled into a pseudoscience cult. It said:

String Theorists fer God from Texas

Oh sh*t he thought, this is worse than I thought. And then the horrific possibility of it dawned on him . . . Math is Hard is from Texas! Is this the cult he had heard she’d accepted guruship of (downtrodden to be sure) after her humiliating defeat by a dog (or whatever) for humor guru? Campfire terror stories rumored it was a cult made up of a sick mix of addicted pussycats and . . .

His dark fears were interrupted by a cowboy-hatted cult member named Delbert who seemed to shout everything he said, “DAVE, GOOD BUDDY, CHEQUE OUT OUR LIST A FACTS PRUVIN’ STRING THEORY.”

Dave was looking alright, and fighting off the urge to heave the stinkin’ contents of his guts . The list was apparently all the ways these sickos thought string determined reality. Delbert continued, “LOOKY HERE GOOD BUDDY . . . YOU HEARD A “STRING CHEESE”? WELL, WHAT’S THE MOST DEEELICIOUSAND POPULAR FOOD THAR IS . . . PIZZA! AIN’T THAT PROOF?”

“Yyyyessss,” Dave stuttered, in fear of his life.

Delbert looked at Dave closely, scrutinizing. A dark scowl rolled across Delbert’s face. His body language turned aggressive. He scratched his balls threateningly and said, “HOW CUM I DON’T BELIEVE YA DAVE GOOD BUDDY?” YOU AIN’T NO DAMN PREVERT ARE YA, ONE THEM SIGH-EEN-TITS??”

Dave knew he’d been found out. His life flashed before his eyes, as well as formulas for GR, SR, QM . . .