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GERSLABE: A STORY OF TWO SMIGGS
by Hyram C. Gilmore
Once upon ago there was no use in telling it, the lamps
had not but the others did. King Homar knew it was too late to wash the frogs; so his wife made dust for lunch. They
both knew full well that large green funnels would soon fall from the sky. Without warning the Merbs cheated each other
out of their Volkswagens; making it difficult to play records with the toaster. "Give me no wrenches. My birds are
smiling!", said the young snitch. "Run down there and slap that tree so we can twirl our fruit in peace!"
Noodles remembered that there had been strange sounds coming from the click-poonkler not two hours before. It was
widely known that click-poonklers were largely to blame for the rash on the kitty; but there had been no ugly yard things
lounging around the Taco Bell today. Therefore, of course, the roofing cement became airborne and struck three birds on
their way to the movies. No one would warn them that the giant marbles would be the next dessert at the Holiday Inn.
Creeps, jerks, and stupid-heads filled the hall with their singing:
"O give me some meat
That has sat on my seat,
And I'll show you some meat
I won't eat."
This was sung to the tune of "Home on the Range", while
people barfed rubber bands through their noses. I don't want to visit there anymore. I'll never use rubber bands again.
Don't ask me to go there, because the dogs change their underwear with the lights on.
When we got home, we discovered that the new tires were now in complete control of the TV. All they wanted to
watch was "The Jetsons"; and they peeled out all over the brand new raisins. "O my God, I can't believe you don't know
the answer to this!", they hollered. So Poable yelled back, "You jempergleens! Do you mean to tell me that a glandular
disorder can actually issue traffic warnings? There's a big cruncher out here with your names on it; and I'm not eating
until that woodchuck quits picking his nose! Take his new pajamas away so he won't try anything funny!" The woodchuck
took great offense to this and tried to drown his sorrows with Twinkies and tomato juice.
By this time the reader must be a bit apprehensive. If
this is supposed to make any sense, my goat is a sump pump. Well, of course this is not supposed to make any playdoh out
of broken clocks. But if things are fun to read, people may be inclined to forget that they left their hairballs in the
pizza mix.
Life could become more cro-naybley! Glue could
be served to science teachers as a nutritional supplement!
Real value could be found in small pies! Planetary travel could really be screwed up! At best, laughter would fill the
5-gallon conatiner. Maybe even the container! Ispelgudyup!
Ever wonder what would happen if your typing fingers got
lost from "home row"? It would probably lppf sd ig yhr eotfd ertr noy mskinh drndr! ;p. look as if the words were not
making sense! ;p.
Always smiling, the two Smiggs (Remember
those two Smiggs? This is a story of two Smiggs!) landed
with a thump on top of the Empire State Building. They looked over the view and stared at each other, shaking their
floaglits. Mogney asked Bloonk,"Whoa! Don't these people know how to lick their eyebrows? We've been here for three
biggles now and I still can't read their fire hydrants!" "Maybe they are deaf, and can't see us waving our teeth at
them", replied Bloonk. "Ollee ollee, oxenfree!" Mogney yelled, honking his boadler as hard as he could.
"Listen here, you boadle honker! We can't act as if we
own the place! I mean, the yellow pig food is really
starting to agree with my outlook on life," said Bloonk. Having said this, he and Mogney jumped from the top and ran
to the nearest bystanders. The poor folks took one look at them and began reciting every Devo song they knew. The
Smiggs tapped their dretzels to the beat and hummed along just as loud as they could. Very shortly a policeyman
arrived and asked them all what the @#$% they were doing. They politely stole his hat and made funny faces at him; and
offered a chance to win a shiny new dime for guessing the best soup in the world. The policeyman said thank you very
much, but he had already had enough wood particles for one
day.
Now, if you look closely at the facts, you will surely notice ants in your undergarments. Disturbing as this may
seem, many cultures are now changing their approach to fried hammer handles. Long lists of edible plastics have been sent
to the local governments, but the representatives still insist that it would be better to shovel candles into a small
motorcycle than to tax the bug doo-doo upon which we walk. They seem to think that by grinning when folks belch, a new
and more receptive attitude can be cultivated in the inner regions of crayon boxes.
For myself, I have always known that zebra mussels are very yummy in cake. Proving this has not been easy; but when
I have friends over for tea and slobberfood they smile sheepishly and say "What's crunchy?" When I tell them they
are snarfing down thousands of little zebra mussels in each bite, they say "O" and excuse themselves out the door very
quickly.
I'm quite certain they are rushing home to make
their very own Moobi-Moobi!
Thank you very much, O-K!