Oh man, I just woke myself up with my snoring. And oh man, do I have to hit the little dragon’s room.
But, this doesn’t feel like my bedroom … oh yeah! My private shelter. Hee, Hee. Guess it worked. I’m still safe.
Why is my hand all wet?
Oh, nice. Classic. Put my hand in a bowl of warm water to make me pee my bed. April Fools day is coming soon. That Lethal, what a kidder!
But I really gotta take a leak! AND NOW!
Impish swings his feet off the dragon sized bunk and leaps to the floor in a hurry to reach the facilities and lets out a blood curdling scream of pain.
MY FEET! MY FEET! What in all the hells is all over the floor!‼! Lights! I need lights! Dammit, I think I peed myself a little.
As the lights come on, Impish sees the floor is literally covered in Lego® blocks!
How juvenile! Really, …. Ouch! Ouch! It’s not even April Fools’ Day yet!!!
Impish shuffle/waddles across the floor trying to avoid as many of the sharp plastic blocks as possible, but now in a distinct race against time and having a very childish accident. He throws open the door to the little dragon’s room off the main chamber of the bolt-hole and relies on the light streaming in from the other room to light his way. With a huge smile of relief on his face as his bladder begins to shrink from its painful size he is thankful that he got there in time. But, his relief is short lived as he feels the warm wetness climb up his legs.
What the fuc….
It’s then our poor blue dragon realizes he’s been had again. A third time in less than 3 minutes!
Plastic wrap across the urinal‼‼‼‼! Who DOES THAT! WHO FRIGGIN’ DOES THAT!!!!! I’m soaking wet and covered in my own pee!
As he tries to figure out how to get himself dry, he mumbles to himself, So what’s next? Filling my office full of balloons? Mayonnaise in my cream filled donuts? As he kept on, grousing and cleaning he failed to notice a couple of things.
The first thing he failed to notice was the blue light growing brighter in the room behind him and the electronic whine that was quietly rising in volume.
And the second, and possibly more important thing that he failed to notice, though through no real fault of his own, and having no way of even knowing. For the fact of the matter was that, although he was sure that it was not April Fools’ Day yet, he failed to notice that he was missing more than three days.
[NOTICE: More of a previously written issue has been uncovered and is presented here for your reading pleasure.]
Here’s a great article that reminded me of a great old song.
Truck carrying bananas rolls over in Waterbury, closing an I-84 entrance ramp
One of his “more-famous” songs in it’s original form, the version on Greatest Stories Live, which I’ve already uploaded, contains two alternative endings and a little info on them. The version on the bottom line encore collection contains the fourth, and my favorite, alternate ending, along with the other three, I’ll upload that in a little while.
“It was just after dark when the truck started down
the hill that leads into Scranton Pennsylvania.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds (hit it Big John) of bananas.
He was a young driver,
just out on his second job.
And he was carrying the next day’s pasty fruits
for everyone in that coal-scarred city
where children play without despair
in backyard slag-piles and folks manage to eat each day
about thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, just about thirty thousand pounds (scream it again, John) .
He passed a sign that he should have seen,
saying “shift to low gear, a fifty dollar fine my friend.”
He was thinking perhaps about the warm-breathed woman
who was waiting at the journey’s end.
He started down the two mile drop,
the curving road that wound from the top of the hill.
He was pushing on through the shortening miles that ran down to the depot.
Just a few more miles to go,
then he’d go home and have her ease his long, cramped day away.
and the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
He was picking up speed as the city spread its twinkling lights below him.
But he paid no heed as the shivering thoughts of the nights
delights went through him.
His foot nudged the brakes to slow him down.
But the pedal floored easy without a sound.
He said “Christ!”
It was funny how he had named the only man who could save him now.
He was trapped inside a dead-end hellslide,
riding on his fear-hunched back
was every one of those yellow green
I’m telling you thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
He barely made the sweeping curve that led into the steepest grade.
And he missed the thankful passing bus at ninety miles an hour.
And he said “God, make it a dream!”
as he rode his last ride down.
And he said “God, make it a dream!”
as he rode his last ride down.
And he sideswiped nineteen neat parked cars,
clipped off thirteen telephone poles,
hit two houses, bruised eight trees,
and Blue-Crossed seven people.
it was then he lost his head,
not to mention an arm or two before he stopped.
And he slid for four hundred yards
along the hill that leads into Scranton, Pennsylvania.
All those thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
You know the man who told me about it on the bus,
as it went up the hill out of Scranton, Pennsylvania,
he shrugged his shoulders, he shook his head,
and he said (and this is exactly what he said)
“Boy that sure must’ve been something.
Just imagine thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of mashed bananas.
Of bananas. Just bananas. Thirty thousand pounds.
of Bananas. not no driver now. Just bananas!” “
And the story behind the song? I offer it here for your perusal.
On March 18, 1965, a 35-year-old truck driver, Eugene P. Sewsky, was on his way to deliver a load of bananas to Scranton, Pennsylvania. Sesky, an employee of Fred Carpentier – operator of a small truck line in Scranton – was returning from the boat piers at Weehawken, New Jersey, where he had picked up his load.
The load was destined for the locations in the “wholesale block” on the western edge of Lackawanna Avenue in Scranton – either the local A&P Warehouse or to Halem Hazzouri Bananas, the premier banana seller in the area at the time. Sesky was driving a 1950s Brockway diesel truck tractor with a 35 foot semi-trailer and was headed down Route 307 when he suddenly lost control. That section of Route 307 contains a “two-mile” descent extending from Lake Scranton to the bottom of Moosic Street that includes a drop in elevation of more than 500 feet in less than 1.5 miles. Sesky was unable to control the truck’s speed down the hill due to a mechanical failure, variously attributed to the truck’s brake system or its clutch.
As a result, the truck cruised into Scranton at approximately 90 mph, sideswiping a number of cars before it crashed into a house at the southwest corner of Moosic Street and s. Irving Avenue close to the bottom of the hill. Witnesses reported that Sesky did everything possible to avoid pedestrians and other motorists, including climbing out onto the truck’s running board to try to warn people, and some have suggested that he may have deliberately flipped the truck over to avoid striking either bystanders or an automotive service station on Moosic Street that could have exploded in flames, causing a greater loss of life. Sesky was thrown from the truck and killed and bananas were spilled and strewn when the rig came to rest; 15 others were injured but only Sesky died. The road was closed for cleanup as Johnson’s Towing Company helped out in the recovery. Trucks over 21,000 pounds are no longer allowed to travel that route.
And that’s the story, the whole story and nothing but the story…
This is just an example of the attitude the Ninja Kitties are looking for when they interview kittens.
I laughed so hard at that little bird. That is EXACTLY what the little guy looks like.
When he cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, “Why are you crying?”
club to win the tournament to supplement his meager pension.
“Is this your club?” the Lord asked.
to keep, and the golfer went home happy.
and she fell into the river. When he cried out, the Lord again appeared and asked him, “Why are you crying?”
your woman?” the Lord asked.
I need one of these for my back yard!
Men say that women should come with instructions.
What’s the point?
Have you ever seen a man actually read them?
Dear loyal readers of Dragon Laffs. I’m afraid that’s all I can do to entertain you. I’m not sure what to do or where to go from here. You see, Impish Dragon has been missing since sometime on Wednesday when he received the strange text message on his phone. All we can do now is hope and pray.