Periwinkle Chronicles, tales of the citizens of Periwinkle [because all the other colors were already taken] County:
The Rev. Dr. Randall Nathan, (Retard), which is how they pronounce retired in Periwinkle County, or at least that’s what they tell him, was in his usual booth at The Receding Hare Line Rabbit Recovery Center and Coffee Shop, with a photo of Justin Bieber shaking hands with Glen Beck on the table in front of him, to keep anyone from sitting with him, lest he lose points in the Hermudgeon of the Year competition, hermudgeon being a conflation of hermit and curmudgeon, when Hugh Mongus, Periwinkle County’s cow-tipping champion, slipped into the booth across from him.
“That’s a good photo, Rev. I didn’t even know they knew each other.”
“They don’t, Hugh. It’s photo-shopped. Remember the old truism: the camera always lies. I haven’t seen you for a while.”
“I’ve got a job.”
“That’s pretty good in this economy.”
“Well, it’s kind of because of the economy. I’m working for the OBSC.”
“I don’t think I’m familiar with the OBSC.”
“Maybe not our name, but I’m sure you know our work. OBSC is the Orange Barrel Storage Company. Not as much call for orange barrels at road construction sites, with no taxes to fix up the roads, so there’s lots of storage work to be done. That’s how I got the job.”
“Where do you store those things, anyway?”
“We don’t have a building or something like that. All the barrels were being used when there was money for roads, so OBSC didn’t need warehouses, so they sold all of the warehouses to the Koch Brothers to keep their politicians in. You ever noticed how there are so many roads where a lane is closed off with orange barrels but there’s no sign of any work being done on the road?”
“Yes, those closed lanes are all over the county.”
“Well, that’s because we’ve got no place else to store the barrels, so we just store them on the roads. We pick out a road that’s in bad enough shape people might think there’s a reason to close off a lane to work on it, and we just store our orange barrels there.”
***
The similarity between the activities in Periwinkle County and events in other places is rarely coincidental.
You are always welcome to Forward or Repost or Reprint. It’s okay to acknowledge the source, unless it embarrasses you too much.
[“Christ in Winter,” Reflections On Faith For People In The Winter Of Their Years, can be found at http://www.christinwinter.blogspot.com/]
{If you would like to receive PC or CIW by email, let me know at jmcfarland1721@charter.net, and I’ll put you on the list.}
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
THE FALL FAIR
Periwinkle Chronicles, tales of the citizens of Periwinkle [because all the other colors were already taken] County:
The Rev. Dr. Randall Nathan, (Retard), which is how they pronounce “retired” in Periwinkle County, or at least that’s what they tell him, was in his usual booth at the Stitch In Time Out-patient Surgery and Coffee Center, with a photo of Gaydolf Shitler, the head of the Libertarian Nazi Party on the table, to discourage anyone from sitting with him, lest he lose points in the Hermudgeon of the Year competition, Hermudgeon being a conflation of hermit and curmudgeon, when Pastor Patty of The Methodist came in and dropped into the seat across from him.
“A woman isn’t afraid of Gaydolf and his ilk when she’s pastor of a church that does a Fall Fair,” she sighed. “We had tents all around the church building and on every street corner in town. It was a LOT of work. At least it’s over.”
“The sign said it was a Fall Fare,” Randall remarked, “but you said Fall Fair.”
“Were you even there?” asked Pastor Patty, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Long enough to see the sign,” said Randall.
“You were supposed to stay long enough to buy stuff. After all, all the proceeds go to missions.”
“Hey, I bought. The prices were almost like being at Wrigley Field. I bought a $20 jar of salsa at the All Things Persimmon tent, and I ate a $10 ear of corn and told a joke at the All Things Corny tent. They made me contribute another $10 for that. And I stuffed ten bucks in the noise hole of the ukulele of Stormin Norman, the strolling Terrorist Troubadour.”
“That’s called a sound hole, not a noise hole.”
“Yeah, you could still hear it, even with the money in it.”
“How come you didn’t stay around for the crowning of the Persimmon Queen?”
“Well, after I got my salsa and corn, I was looking over the stuff in the Trashy Treasures tent with Professor Seymour Bottoms, and an old woman offered fifty cents for him, so I decided to get out before they did their end-of-the-day prices.”
***
Thanks to Jon Stewart for his appearance at the Fall Fair, and for contributing the name of the leader of the Libertarian Nazi Party, because the similarity between the activities in Periwinkle County and events in other places is rarely coincidental.
You are always welcome to Forward or Repost or Reprint. It’s okay to acknowledge the source, unless it embarrasses you too much.
[“Christ in Winter,” Reflections On Faith For People In The Winter Of Their Years, can be found at http://www.christinwinter.blogspot.com/]
{If you would like to receive PC or CIW by email, let me know at jmcfarland1721@charter.net, and I’ll put you on the list.}
The Rev. Dr. Randall Nathan, (Retard), which is how they pronounce “retired” in Periwinkle County, or at least that’s what they tell him, was in his usual booth at the Stitch In Time Out-patient Surgery and Coffee Center, with a photo of Gaydolf Shitler, the head of the Libertarian Nazi Party on the table, to discourage anyone from sitting with him, lest he lose points in the Hermudgeon of the Year competition, Hermudgeon being a conflation of hermit and curmudgeon, when Pastor Patty of The Methodist came in and dropped into the seat across from him.
“A woman isn’t afraid of Gaydolf and his ilk when she’s pastor of a church that does a Fall Fair,” she sighed. “We had tents all around the church building and on every street corner in town. It was a LOT of work. At least it’s over.”
“The sign said it was a Fall Fare,” Randall remarked, “but you said Fall Fair.”
“Were you even there?” asked Pastor Patty, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Long enough to see the sign,” said Randall.
“You were supposed to stay long enough to buy stuff. After all, all the proceeds go to missions.”
“Hey, I bought. The prices were almost like being at Wrigley Field. I bought a $20 jar of salsa at the All Things Persimmon tent, and I ate a $10 ear of corn and told a joke at the All Things Corny tent. They made me contribute another $10 for that. And I stuffed ten bucks in the noise hole of the ukulele of Stormin Norman, the strolling Terrorist Troubadour.”
“That’s called a sound hole, not a noise hole.”
“Yeah, you could still hear it, even with the money in it.”
“How come you didn’t stay around for the crowning of the Persimmon Queen?”
“Well, after I got my salsa and corn, I was looking over the stuff in the Trashy Treasures tent with Professor Seymour Bottoms, and an old woman offered fifty cents for him, so I decided to get out before they did their end-of-the-day prices.”
***
Thanks to Jon Stewart for his appearance at the Fall Fair, and for contributing the name of the leader of the Libertarian Nazi Party, because the similarity between the activities in Periwinkle County and events in other places is rarely coincidental.
You are always welcome to Forward or Repost or Reprint. It’s okay to acknowledge the source, unless it embarrasses you too much.
[“Christ in Winter,” Reflections On Faith For People In The Winter Of Their Years, can be found at http://www.christinwinter.blogspot.com/]
{If you would like to receive PC or CIW by email, let me know at jmcfarland1721@charter.net, and I’ll put you on the list.}
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