The Shooting of Werewolf Dangerous Stan McGruesome

November 29, 2022 at 9:50 pm (Humour, Poetry, Satire) (, , , , , , , , )

  • The girl that stroked his whiskers and scratched his fur was the girl known as Sue
  • A bunch of the boys were whoo₱ing it u₱ in the lycanthro₱ote saloon
  • The kind of ₱lace that goes howling mad under a bright red full blood moon
  • The werewolf hunter with his walking stick was singing a final tune
  • Back of the bar in a solo game sat Dangerous Stan McGruesome
  • And watching his luck was his lady-love Sue who found out he ₱racticed more than a twosome
  • So she ₱ulled out a gun before he could turn into a wolf on the run
  • And shot him where the sun don’t shine through him
  • The silver bullet acted like a red hot ₱oker
  • like Edward II in a Shakes₱eare tale
  • Rather than a story by Bram Stoker
  • He bit the dust before the juke box could turn to rust
  • Hours after the Yukon Klondike sun had set
  • And before his conjugal relationshi₱ bed was wet
  • And all because he took for granted
  • like an overconfident bandit
  • The love of the girl named Sue
  • When he went for a tete-a-tete
  • with Mademoiselle Frou Frou La Rue
  • But the girl that stroked his whiskers and scratched his fur was the girl known as Sue
  • Until she finished him off with a ₱istol and silver bullet fired through and through
  • -A ₱oem and vam₱ire novel cha₱ter
  • written by Christo₱her
  • Tuesday November 29th
  • 2O22

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  • The Taco Cat

    September 15, 2022 at 10:59 pm (Humour, Poetry) (, , , )

    I am the Taco Cat
    I’ll never eat a rat
    Because I am the Taco Cat
    I missed my turn at bat
    Because I am the Taco Cat

    I was the designated hitter
    And I certainly am no quitter
    Cause I play for the Purry Tabbies
    And we played the New York Cabbies

    But I got a craving for taco
    When I saw the umpire chew tobacco
    And I said to myself, I have to go
    Like Crockett at the Alamo
    Because I desperately need a taco
    Although you might think I’m wacko

    So to the taco place I went
    And now I’m pitching a tent
    Cause I got thrown off the team
    This was not a field of dreams
    As the coach’s jacket came apart at the seams

    So with a taco in my hand
    I think to myself how grand
    With coffee at my side
    My caffeine habit I do not hide
    But I’ll never eat a rat
    Because I am the Taco Cat.

    -A poem written by Christopher
    Thursday September 15th
    2022.

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    The Duck Called Samuel Puddlington Raises A Glass

    July 30, 2022 at 8:06 pm (Humour, News, Poetry) (, , , , , )

    The duck called Samuel Puddlington raised a glass
    For he was no fowl pain in the ass
    Unlike a certain Canadian PM
    Known for his constant flow from a BM

    The duck thought of flying to the Far East
    But then thought Xi might make of him a Peking feast
    Xi already threatened to shoot down Nancy Pelosi over Taiwan
    News that Vladimir Putin took with a shrug and a yawn

    Samuel Puddlington said “A toast! A toast!”
    For of this champagne, he must make the most
    The vintage was an excellent year of which few can boast
    And the fish Samuel ate was fresh from the coast

    Samuel was joined by his friends a frog and a hare
    The frog contemplated AOC in lingerie wear
    For he self-identified as human
    Though he had an amphibian stare

    -A Samuel Puddlington poem
    written by Christopher
    Saturday July 30th
    2022.

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    The Last Minutes of Don Chillinger

    June 6, 2022 at 9:17 pm (Humour, Poetry) (, )

    Mobster Don Chillinger with an admiring quartet of beautiful women

    Mobster Don Chillinger; he had it all
    Prohibition king of booze run from a Cleveland stall
    Prohibition ended
    His Rolls-Royce rearended
    He left Ohio
    Jilted Hawaii Five-O

    Wound up in California
    Where film stars are born – yeah
    Started selling arms to the Japanese
    So he could buy himself a huge deep freeze
    As it was the ’30s, Pearl Harbor hadn’t happened yet
    And Japan wished to wrap China in its Fascist net
    But still FDR in the White House was concerned
    And told J. Edgar Hoover who had just been de-wormed

    So the trap was set
    Hoover said, “You ain’t seen nothng yet”
    Don Chillinger thought he had a plane to let
    And desired to see a tequila sunset

    Don Chillinger set out to the airport
    Surrounded by fair maidens like a royal court

    He walked towards the plane
    Headed to New Spain
    Now known as Mexico
    The place he desired to go

    The pilot in the plane called The Golden Eagle
    Was dressed like a World War pilot goggle wearing beagle
    He blew Chillinger away with the machine gun on the propeller
    And Chillinger fell to the ground, his last words were “Tell her”
    Tell her? Who? Which one of the fair ladies four?
    We don’t know for Chillinger has gone through death’s door.

    Hoover sitting in the back of his limousine
    Definitely wasn’ looking clean
    The sandwich he ate made him look a mess
    And he wished he was wearing that one woman’s evening dress

    J. Edgar Hoover wished he was wearing the evening dress of the woman in the far right of this photo

    -A poem written by Christopher
    Monday June 6th 2022

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    One Last Cigarette

    June 4, 2022 at 9:02 pm (Humour, Poetry) ()

    And her last request
    Was a final cigarette
    Light was provided

    Permalink 23 Comments

    Maria Petrova

    November 8, 2021 at 9:14 pm (Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, News, Poetry) (, )

    The young beauty Maria Petrova
    Stood guard at the Russian bord-uh
    And the young bear cub did want to play
    Because unlike Biden’s cabinet, he wasn’t gay.

    -A poem written by Christopher
    Monday November 8th 2021.

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    Vampiress Mei-ling Manchu Makes An Amazing Discovery

    October 17, 2021 at 10:59 pm (Comedy, Culture, Gothic, Horror, Humour, Literature, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

    Vampiress Mei-ling Manchu, who drank red wine (unlike Bela Lugosi’s Dracula), was in the study of Transylvania’s Castle Dracula where she had made an amazing discovery:

    Mei-ling Manchu: This is very interesting…

    Mei-ling Manchu: Apparently writer Truman Capote did not write In Cold Blood…

    Mei-ling Manchu: He wrote in… ink.

    Mei-ling Manchu: However the same won’t be said about me.

    -A vampiress Mei-ling Manchu
    Halloween photo montage
    written by Christopher
    Sunday October 17th
    2021.

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    Hudson Valley Halloween Horror

    October 5, 2021 at 10:58 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic poem, Gothic romance, Horror, Humour, International Intrigue, News, Sorcery, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

    Vincent: I’m afraid, cousin Jenny, that cousin Floyd will be unable to dine with us this evening.

    Jenny: Why ever not?

    Vincent: He had the misfortune of being eaten by a black jaguar in the woods last night.

    Jenny: A black jaguar in the Hudson River Valley?

    Vincent: No doubt the poor creature was a long ways from home. Which may explain why not much was left of Floyd when he was found. Only his right ear and the thumb on his left hand which was tattooed with a drawing of Napoleon. How they were able to identify him.

    Jenny: How positively awful.

    Vincent: I’ll say. He owed me $100. Money that I suppose now will never be repaid.

    Jenny: What was he doing walking in the woods?

    Vincent: No one is sure. The only thing known for sure is that he was wearing a pink nightgown while walking in the woods.

    Jenny: So that’s why they called him Pink Floyd.

    Vincent: Undoubtedly.

    Jenny: Whatever happened to that nutty woman they found walking in the woods last week?

    Vincent: The one who claimed to have come from the year 2021 and believed herself to be a female Christ saying if people vaccinated themselves, they were Apostles of her love.

    “That’s the one,” Jenny nodded.

    “I had her burnt at the stake as a witch,” Vincent answered.

    “Burnt at the stake?” Jenny was shocked.

    “Yes, there was some old wood I was wanting to get rid of,” Vincent nodded, “so I killed two birds with one stone.”

    A pair of large black ravens fell from the sky.

    “She was a witch?” Jenny turned pale.

    “Yes the demons Moloch, Baal and Baphomet visited her room at the village inn,” Vincent explained, “where they jabbed the innkeeper’s daughter with a needle and she died.”

    “Awful,” Jenny shook her head.

    “There is much evil in the land,” Vincent noted just as the clock was 5 minutes shy of twelve, “Darkness falls across the land, the midnight hour is close at hand and whosoever shall be found without the soul for getting down must stand and face the hounds of Hell and rot inside a corpse’s shell.”

    “There’s a three headed dog out there,” Jenny gasped as she looked out the window.

    “That would be Cerberus,” Vincent explained.

    Vincent went over to his sitting room book shelf and grabbed a volume of ancient Koine Greek and looked up the words for “Sit” and “Good boy”.

    -A vampire novel chapter
    written by Christopher
    Tuesday October 5th
    2021.

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    Haiku About John Dillinger’s Car

    July 1, 2021 at 10:49 pm (History, Humour, Poetry) ()

    John Dillinger’s car
    riddled with cops’ bullets for
    expired meter

    Permalink 9 Comments

    An Evening With The Carstairs

    June 5, 2021 at 10:32 pm (Humour, Short Story) ()

    “Well I suppose this would be an inopportune moment for me to ask the boss for a raise seeing as how you just shot him.”

    So said Basil Carstairs to his wife Anne Carstairs.

    “I couldn’t help myself,” Anne remarked as she held the gun in her hand, “He was the twenty-first person to come to dinner this year and not ask for a second piece of my apple truffle cake for dessert.”

    “It’s a good thing for me I’m allergic to apples,” Basil commented.

    “What are we going to do?” Anne asked.

    “Well maybe that carpet you’re alway asking me to get rid of,” Basil thought aloud, “I could wrap his body up in the carpet and drive it to the dumpster in front of Nick Diamond’s Discount Carpet Warehouse and throw it in there.”

    “An excellent idea,” Anne nodded.

    It was a good thing that Basil had recently taken up weightlifting as a body inside a carpet was quite a heavy thing to carry.

    When he returned from the avenue on which was located the dumpster in front of Nick Diamond’s Discount Carpet Warehouse, Anne was debating what she should do with the gun.

    “Maybe throw it out the window,” Basil suggested.

    Just then there was a banging at the apartment door.

    “Police,” a voice called from outside the door, “Neighbours said they heard a gunshot coming from this room.”

    “Now what?” Anne asked.

    “Quick,” Basil went to answer the door, “Throw the gun inside the toaster.”

    “The toaster?” Anne was incredulous.

    “Yes,” Basil nodded.

    Anne threw the gun inside the toaster just as Basil opened the door.

    “Good evening, officers,” Basil bowed, “Neighbours are complaining about a gunshot you say.”

    “That is correct,” the policeman nodded.

    “It must be the wine I opened earlier this evening,” Basil pointed to the bottle in the ice container holder, “The cork gave quite a pop when it was uncorked. Sounded like a gunshot.”

    At that moment the toaster popped up.

    “Good heavens,” Anne rushed over to the toaster, “This toast has been burnt black. I better throw it down the garburator.”

    Anne threw the “burnt toast” down the garburator.

    “Do you mind if we take a look around?” Asked one of the officers.

    “Be my guest,” Basil nodded.

    After twenty minutes of perusing the apartment, “Nothing out of the ordinary here. Except… was there a carpet recently here?”.

    “Yes, I spilled wine on it earlier this evening,” Basil explained, “My wife has such a thing about cleanliness, I got rid of it right away. Put it in the dumpster behind the apartment building. Probably still there now unless it was stolen by one of the neighbourhood gangs who figure they could probably still use it for something.”

    “We’ll check that later,” said one of the officers.

    “Would you gentlemen like to have coffee and a piece of my apple truffle cake?” Anne asked.

    “Why not?” Said the senior officer.

    Later after the officers had several cups of coffee to wash down their apple truffle cake, Anne asked, “Would you all like a second piece of my apple truffle cake?”

    “No, gotta go,” said the senior officer.

    “Me too,” said another.

    “Me as well,” said a third and the fourth barked the same.

    There was a mad rush to the door by all the policemen who quickly exited.

    “Well, that got rid of them,” Basil noted.

    A loud gurgling could be heard coming from the garburator.

    -A short story written by Christopher
    Saturday June 5th 2021.

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