Here comes the most nonsensical, ridiculous story you have ever read!
One fine, sunny fall late afternoon, Muley J. Emerly was waltzing down a
dusty sidewalk on the edge of town, enjoying the sights after being
stuck indoors the majority of the day. He took in the sounds of the ice
cream truck making its rounds around town, delivering treats to the
hungry citizens of Buttermilk, Kansas. Come to think of it, he was
getting a might hungry, himself. After a quick consultation with his
watch, Muley decided he had time to track down the ice cream truck and
buy himself a cool, refreshing treat to start off his evening. He began
to skip gaily down the sidewalk, nearly tripping over the old dog who
always lay in front of the hardware store. Quickly recovering, he
continued on his way.
Meanwhile, on the prairie a few miles outside of Buttermilk, Tittermook
Jarginson was hiding behind a fallen log, training his rifle on a pair
of coyotes about 30 yards distant. He took careful aim, and then --
BOOM! BOOM! He fired two shots in rapid succession, adjusting
accordingly in the split second between shots. As the air cleared, he
smiled with satisfaction as he saw two limp carcasses sprawled out on
the grass. Tossing his rifle over his shoulder, Tittermook rose from
his hiding place behind the log and sauntered over to where the coyotes
lay. He deftly picked them both up as if they weighed no more than
rabbits, and then started his trek across the prairie to where his
pickup awaited. Ah, yes, his hunting had been successful. A possum in
the trap already, and now the two coyotes. A stop in town for supper
would round out the trip before heading home, Tittermook decided.
Muley finally tracked down the ice cream truck after circling town two
times. And when he did, boy was he ever hungry! He quickly perused the
choices and then made his selection: Tangerine Chocolate Toffee Ice
Cream.
"Thank ya kindly, sir!" Muley said as the ice cream man handed over the treat.
"Your most welcome. Have an 'ice evening!" The ice cream man said, chuckling a little over his pun on words.
"Oh, I certainly will, with this!" Muley said in appreciation as he headed on his way.
Just as he was about to round the corner onto the next street, a loud shout erupted behind him.
"There he is! Get him!" Muley turned in surprise, only to see three
tall men rushing at him, vengeance in their eyes. Muley let out a
startled squeak and frantically looked around for help. All he saw a
red pickup rolling lazily down the street. He took a desperate leap as
the pickup passed him, and landed square in the bed of the pickup, only
to shriek in horror as he landed on two dead coyotes!
Tittermook jerked and peered in his rearview mirror as the shriek met
his ears, and the sight that met his eyes near caused him to faint dead
away! His coyotes had revived and turned into a human!
THE END.
I told you it was the most ridiculous, nonsensical story you ever read!
That's what you get when I put into words the ideas that float around in my head!
(P.S. This story is inspired by the real life happening of Patty and I
finding two dead coyotes and a possum in the back of a red pickup one
morning a couple months ago! The rest is purely imaginative - wait, with
the exception of the name Muley; I stole that from a Bonanza I watched the other day. Hehehe. Oh, and Buttermilk really is a place in Kansas! Oh,
and the dog is based off of a real dog in our home town, too. Adieu.)
Friday, February 22, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Beautiful Southwest Kansas Sunrise!
I'm stealing these pictures from Irene.... aren't they lovely??
Ahhh... Kansas sunrises! They are the BEST! Can you do less than agree??
Joke of the Day
Here's a really... you decide what it is... joke.
Q. What do you tell your dog named Barkhoff when he's being too loud?
A. "Turn your bark off, Barkhoff!"
(In protest, you may leave an idea of what I should post in a comment!)
-Josie
Q. What do you tell your dog named Barkhoff when he's being too loud?
A. "Turn your bark off, Barkhoff!"
(In protest, you may leave an idea of what I should post in a comment!)
-Josie
Friday, January 25, 2013
A Story
My dear friends, I present to you a story for your... enjoyment.
Phillippe’s Escape
Once upon a time there lived a pig who lived in Riceville, Iowa. This pig decided he needed to go on an adventure. He had lived in his pig pen all his life, an’ he was becoming tired of the same surroundings. So Phillippe the Pig decided he was going to bust out of the pen. He was the biggest pig of the bunch, so he figured it wouldn’t be all that hard to bust out. But it was a fiercely hot day, and Phillippe couldn’t stand the heat anymore so he went and wallowed in the mud. Soon he was having such a good time that he plum forgot about his escape plan. Well, he didn’t exactly have an escape plan yet, but he had planned to escape. He just hadn’t worked out the logistics of it yet. He wasn’t a very logical pig when it came to escaping.
Well, the next day, Phillippe remembered his plan, and he remembered it just in the nick of time, ‘cause out of the corner of his eye he saw the farmer comin’ with the slop bucket to feed the pigs. All right, here’s my chance! I’ll wait ‘till he’s opened the fence and then I’ll run past ‘im! Thought Phillippe. He thought his escape plan and wonderful and well thought out. He thought surely no other pig had ever thought up such a great plan. He had great confidence that it would work. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind! It had to work!
Well, the farmer was getting closer. Phillippe waddled over closer to the gate in preparation for his big escape. The farmer opened the gate. Phillippe ran! He ran as hard and as fast as he could… Right into the farmer who had just gotten inside and stepped in front of the gate. Phillippe had been running so hard he knocked the farmer right into the gate and the gate latched shut. Phillippe grunted in exasperation. So much for that plan… Phillippe thought, scowling and grunting up a ruckus.
“Now, now, Phillippe, calm yourself! What’s gotten into you?” Farmer George asked, squinting his eyes at the pig. “You got rabies?” Phillippe grunted a last grunt and stocked off to join the other pigs. “Hmmph.” Farmer George shook his head and dumped the contents of the slop bucket into the trough and the pigs started snarfing it up greedily. By the time Phillippe had finished eating, Farmer George had already left and the gate was closed. Phillippe scowled in disgust and sunk down into the mud to think up another plan.
That evening, Farmer George’s little son begged to go feed the pigs, so Farmer George relented and Junior George skipped out to the pig sty with the slop bucket swinging wildly, leaving little bits and pieces in a wake behind him. Phillippe stood up suddenly as an idea stuck him square in the nose. Hey! That guy’s just a little tike, I can run him right over! So Phillippe positioned himself again near the gate to await Junior George.
“Get back, ol’ pig!” Junior George whooped, nearing the gate. Phillippe stood his ground. Junior George shrugged and lifted the latch, pushing the gate open. Phillippe didn’t wait another instant! He charged and knocked Junior George flat on the ground before he could get inside the pen. Yes! Thought Phillippe, pausing a moment to triumph in his victory. All triumphant thoughts fled from his mind, however, as Junior George slowly sat up and looked Phillippe’s way with a venomous glare. Phillippe’s eyes widened and he trotted off as fast as his stout little legs could carry him, leaving Junior George yelling the background. Phillippe ran and ran, and once he thought he was far enough away, he searched out a mud puddle and rolled around to celebrate his conquest. He grunted and rolled in delight for quite some time before he decided he had better be on his way to bigger and better things. He stood up, shook himself off, and trotted on.
Phillippe traveled all day, stopping only occasionally to indulge in rolling in mud he found along the road. By the time dusk was arriving, Phillippe was fiercely hungry, as he had not even had breakfast in his hurry to escape. So he started to look around for food. Just as the last rays of sun were disappearing behind the horizon, Phillippe heard a low, menacing growl. Now what could that be? Phillippe wondered, glancing around warily. Then, suddenly, he heard it again. And this time he recognized the growl. Bear! Phillippe froze in fright for mere seconds and then sprinted off as fast as a big ol’ fat pig like he could run. He could hear the bear rumbling along behind him. I’ll never outrun him! Phillippe thought in a panic. He could now hear that the bear was right behind him. Suddenly, he saw a hollow fallen log that was just his size! He hurried towards it and squeezed inside just as he felt the bear’s breath hot on his back. He shivered in fright as the bear pawed around the log, trying to claw his way in. It seemed like forever before the bear finally gave up and went off to hunt something else for supper. Even though he knew the danger was gone, Phillippe stayed in the log all night and tried to sleep, but his hunger and fright, not to mention the cold night air, kept him awake all night long. Finally, just as Phillippe thought he would freeze from the cold, the first rays of sunlight came creeping over the eastern horizon. Phillippe wiggled out of the log and trotted on his way, hungrier than ever and determined to find some food. The sun rose higher in the sky, and at first Phillippe was glad for its warmth. About midday though, he was suffering from the heat and wishing he had a mud puddle to roll in. He trudged on wearily, exhausted and wishing he hadn’t ever left home. What had been so enticing about the outside world? It was too late now though, as he had absolutely no idea how to get back home. Just as Phillippe was beginning to despair, he saw a farmstead up ahead. Food!!! The thought propelled Phillippe to move faster through the thick grass and soon he had arrived at the farmstead. The grunts coming from somewhere over to his right alerted him to where the pig pen was. Phillippe grinned his best pig grin and ambled over to the pig pen, where several pigs were rolling around in luscious, gooey mud. Phillippe began planning how he would get into the pen. He tried jumping against it for awhile, but when he saw that it wasn’t working, he sat down to think up another plan. Phillippe was thinking so hard that he didn’t even hear footsteps approaching him. A tall farmer was standing there, staring at him.
“Now just where did you come from?” The farmer asked, peering at Phillippe in curiosity. Phillippe looked up in his best pleading look and nudged the gate.
“Well, I guess I better put you in with the other pigs and then decide what to do with you.” The farmer said, opening the gate. Phillippe darted headlong into the pen and splashed into the nearest mud puddle, rolling in glee.
“Well, well,” chuckled the farmer, “I guess you’re mighty happy to see some mud, eh?” And with that, the farmer dumped the contents of his bucket into the trough and headed back towards the barn.
The next day, Phillippe was busy enjoying his mud rolling when the farmer backed up his pickup with trailer attached and parked it near the pen. I wonder what he’s doing? Phillippe mused to himself, pausing in his roll to watch the farmer. The farmer proceeded to round a couple of the other pigs up and herd them into the trailer. Next, he came to Phillippe.
“All right, old pig. I’ll take you to the auction and see if anyone knows where you came from.” And with that, he herded the bewildered Phillippe into the trailer with the other pigs. Phillippe did not like being enclosed in the trailer. He kicked and grunted and caused such a great ruckus that the other pigs became disturbed and began to do the same.
“Quiet down in there!” The farmer yelled. When the pigs failed to do so, he threw in some grain, hoping they would eat it and keep quiet for awhile. It worked. Those greedy pigs would stop anything to get some food. The farmer snorted and climbed into the pickup. The trusty Ford started with a roar and they were off.
Some ten minutes later, the pickup stopped and the farmer opened the trailer. Phillippe scrambled out first, eager to be free again. But he discovered he wasn’t as free as he thought. The trailer had been back up to a narrow pen, and he had run right into it. Phillippe was getting really angry now. He wanted to go home, not be carted off to yet another unfamiliar place. He stewed in anger for a while until suddenly the gate in front of him was opened and he burst out of the pen. But as soon as he was out, he discovered that he was in another pen, although this one was a great deal bigger, and on all sides were farmers watching intently. This made Phillippe nervous and even more agitated. He looked around and saw one farmer inside the pen; the farmer who had opened the gate and let him in here. Phillippe decided the farmer was a good object to take his anger out on and charged him, knocking him flat on his back. The farmer let out a surprised shriek and Phillippe started kicking him. Then all of a sudden there was a loud shout.
“Phillippe!” Was the shout. Phillippe looked up in astonishment. Someone knew his name? Then he saw him! It was Farmer George! Phillippe scrambled over to the fence as Farmer George climbed over.
“Phillippe! Where have you been? You naughty pig!” Farmer George scolded, giving Phillippe a sound whack on his backside. The auctioneer hurried over.
“Are you wanting to bid on this pig?” The auctioneer asked.
“No, he’s my pig.” Farmer George said.
“Pardon?” The auctioneer was puzzled.
“I said, ‘He’s my pig.’ He ran away, but now I’ve found him and I’m going to take him home.”
“I’m sorry, sir, we can’t just let you take this pig. We have no proof that he is yours.” The auctioneer frowned in suspicion. Farmer George let out an exasperated sigh, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. Then, the farmer who had brought Phillippe came up.
“It must be true; this pig showed up at my place yesterday and I haven’t any idea whose he is. He most likely is this farmer’s.”
The auctioneer studied the two farmers for awhile, looked at Phillippe, and back at Farmer George.
“Well.... All right, I suppose. But don’t think you’ll get away so easily next time!” The auctioneer scowled and shoved Phillippe over Farmer George’s way. Farmer George smiled his thanks and pulled Phillippe over towards the gate. When Phillippe saw Farmer George’s pickup and trailer he ran on ahead and waited at the trailer.
“Well, Phillippe, ain’t this a surprise! You’re usually the last pig in the trailer!” Farmer George chuckled and ushered Phillippe in.
Soon they arrived back at the farm and Phillippe gladly joined his friends in the pig pen. In no time he was rolling around and all notions of exploring the outside world had been erased from his mind.
The End!
Phillippe’s Escape
Once upon a time there lived a pig who lived in Riceville, Iowa. This pig decided he needed to go on an adventure. He had lived in his pig pen all his life, an’ he was becoming tired of the same surroundings. So Phillippe the Pig decided he was going to bust out of the pen. He was the biggest pig of the bunch, so he figured it wouldn’t be all that hard to bust out. But it was a fiercely hot day, and Phillippe couldn’t stand the heat anymore so he went and wallowed in the mud. Soon he was having such a good time that he plum forgot about his escape plan. Well, he didn’t exactly have an escape plan yet, but he had planned to escape. He just hadn’t worked out the logistics of it yet. He wasn’t a very logical pig when it came to escaping.
Well, the next day, Phillippe remembered his plan, and he remembered it just in the nick of time, ‘cause out of the corner of his eye he saw the farmer comin’ with the slop bucket to feed the pigs. All right, here’s my chance! I’ll wait ‘till he’s opened the fence and then I’ll run past ‘im! Thought Phillippe. He thought his escape plan and wonderful and well thought out. He thought surely no other pig had ever thought up such a great plan. He had great confidence that it would work. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind! It had to work!
Well, the farmer was getting closer. Phillippe waddled over closer to the gate in preparation for his big escape. The farmer opened the gate. Phillippe ran! He ran as hard and as fast as he could… Right into the farmer who had just gotten inside and stepped in front of the gate. Phillippe had been running so hard he knocked the farmer right into the gate and the gate latched shut. Phillippe grunted in exasperation. So much for that plan… Phillippe thought, scowling and grunting up a ruckus.
“Now, now, Phillippe, calm yourself! What’s gotten into you?” Farmer George asked, squinting his eyes at the pig. “You got rabies?” Phillippe grunted a last grunt and stocked off to join the other pigs. “Hmmph.” Farmer George shook his head and dumped the contents of the slop bucket into the trough and the pigs started snarfing it up greedily. By the time Phillippe had finished eating, Farmer George had already left and the gate was closed. Phillippe scowled in disgust and sunk down into the mud to think up another plan.
That evening, Farmer George’s little son begged to go feed the pigs, so Farmer George relented and Junior George skipped out to the pig sty with the slop bucket swinging wildly, leaving little bits and pieces in a wake behind him. Phillippe stood up suddenly as an idea stuck him square in the nose. Hey! That guy’s just a little tike, I can run him right over! So Phillippe positioned himself again near the gate to await Junior George.
“Get back, ol’ pig!” Junior George whooped, nearing the gate. Phillippe stood his ground. Junior George shrugged and lifted the latch, pushing the gate open. Phillippe didn’t wait another instant! He charged and knocked Junior George flat on the ground before he could get inside the pen. Yes! Thought Phillippe, pausing a moment to triumph in his victory. All triumphant thoughts fled from his mind, however, as Junior George slowly sat up and looked Phillippe’s way with a venomous glare. Phillippe’s eyes widened and he trotted off as fast as his stout little legs could carry him, leaving Junior George yelling the background. Phillippe ran and ran, and once he thought he was far enough away, he searched out a mud puddle and rolled around to celebrate his conquest. He grunted and rolled in delight for quite some time before he decided he had better be on his way to bigger and better things. He stood up, shook himself off, and trotted on.
Phillippe traveled all day, stopping only occasionally to indulge in rolling in mud he found along the road. By the time dusk was arriving, Phillippe was fiercely hungry, as he had not even had breakfast in his hurry to escape. So he started to look around for food. Just as the last rays of sun were disappearing behind the horizon, Phillippe heard a low, menacing growl. Now what could that be? Phillippe wondered, glancing around warily. Then, suddenly, he heard it again. And this time he recognized the growl. Bear! Phillippe froze in fright for mere seconds and then sprinted off as fast as a big ol’ fat pig like he could run. He could hear the bear rumbling along behind him. I’ll never outrun him! Phillippe thought in a panic. He could now hear that the bear was right behind him. Suddenly, he saw a hollow fallen log that was just his size! He hurried towards it and squeezed inside just as he felt the bear’s breath hot on his back. He shivered in fright as the bear pawed around the log, trying to claw his way in. It seemed like forever before the bear finally gave up and went off to hunt something else for supper. Even though he knew the danger was gone, Phillippe stayed in the log all night and tried to sleep, but his hunger and fright, not to mention the cold night air, kept him awake all night long. Finally, just as Phillippe thought he would freeze from the cold, the first rays of sunlight came creeping over the eastern horizon. Phillippe wiggled out of the log and trotted on his way, hungrier than ever and determined to find some food. The sun rose higher in the sky, and at first Phillippe was glad for its warmth. About midday though, he was suffering from the heat and wishing he had a mud puddle to roll in. He trudged on wearily, exhausted and wishing he hadn’t ever left home. What had been so enticing about the outside world? It was too late now though, as he had absolutely no idea how to get back home. Just as Phillippe was beginning to despair, he saw a farmstead up ahead. Food!!! The thought propelled Phillippe to move faster through the thick grass and soon he had arrived at the farmstead. The grunts coming from somewhere over to his right alerted him to where the pig pen was. Phillippe grinned his best pig grin and ambled over to the pig pen, where several pigs were rolling around in luscious, gooey mud. Phillippe began planning how he would get into the pen. He tried jumping against it for awhile, but when he saw that it wasn’t working, he sat down to think up another plan. Phillippe was thinking so hard that he didn’t even hear footsteps approaching him. A tall farmer was standing there, staring at him.
“Now just where did you come from?” The farmer asked, peering at Phillippe in curiosity. Phillippe looked up in his best pleading look and nudged the gate.
“Well, I guess I better put you in with the other pigs and then decide what to do with you.” The farmer said, opening the gate. Phillippe darted headlong into the pen and splashed into the nearest mud puddle, rolling in glee.
“Well, well,” chuckled the farmer, “I guess you’re mighty happy to see some mud, eh?” And with that, the farmer dumped the contents of his bucket into the trough and headed back towards the barn.
The next day, Phillippe was busy enjoying his mud rolling when the farmer backed up his pickup with trailer attached and parked it near the pen. I wonder what he’s doing? Phillippe mused to himself, pausing in his roll to watch the farmer. The farmer proceeded to round a couple of the other pigs up and herd them into the trailer. Next, he came to Phillippe.
“All right, old pig. I’ll take you to the auction and see if anyone knows where you came from.” And with that, he herded the bewildered Phillippe into the trailer with the other pigs. Phillippe did not like being enclosed in the trailer. He kicked and grunted and caused such a great ruckus that the other pigs became disturbed and began to do the same.
“Quiet down in there!” The farmer yelled. When the pigs failed to do so, he threw in some grain, hoping they would eat it and keep quiet for awhile. It worked. Those greedy pigs would stop anything to get some food. The farmer snorted and climbed into the pickup. The trusty Ford started with a roar and they were off.
Some ten minutes later, the pickup stopped and the farmer opened the trailer. Phillippe scrambled out first, eager to be free again. But he discovered he wasn’t as free as he thought. The trailer had been back up to a narrow pen, and he had run right into it. Phillippe was getting really angry now. He wanted to go home, not be carted off to yet another unfamiliar place. He stewed in anger for a while until suddenly the gate in front of him was opened and he burst out of the pen. But as soon as he was out, he discovered that he was in another pen, although this one was a great deal bigger, and on all sides were farmers watching intently. This made Phillippe nervous and even more agitated. He looked around and saw one farmer inside the pen; the farmer who had opened the gate and let him in here. Phillippe decided the farmer was a good object to take his anger out on and charged him, knocking him flat on his back. The farmer let out a surprised shriek and Phillippe started kicking him. Then all of a sudden there was a loud shout.
“Phillippe!” Was the shout. Phillippe looked up in astonishment. Someone knew his name? Then he saw him! It was Farmer George! Phillippe scrambled over to the fence as Farmer George climbed over.
“Phillippe! Where have you been? You naughty pig!” Farmer George scolded, giving Phillippe a sound whack on his backside. The auctioneer hurried over.
“Are you wanting to bid on this pig?” The auctioneer asked.
“No, he’s my pig.” Farmer George said.
“Pardon?” The auctioneer was puzzled.
“I said, ‘He’s my pig.’ He ran away, but now I’ve found him and I’m going to take him home.”
“I’m sorry, sir, we can’t just let you take this pig. We have no proof that he is yours.” The auctioneer frowned in suspicion. Farmer George let out an exasperated sigh, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. Then, the farmer who had brought Phillippe came up.
“It must be true; this pig showed up at my place yesterday and I haven’t any idea whose he is. He most likely is this farmer’s.”
The auctioneer studied the two farmers for awhile, looked at Phillippe, and back at Farmer George.
“Well.... All right, I suppose. But don’t think you’ll get away so easily next time!” The auctioneer scowled and shoved Phillippe over Farmer George’s way. Farmer George smiled his thanks and pulled Phillippe over towards the gate. When Phillippe saw Farmer George’s pickup and trailer he ran on ahead and waited at the trailer.
“Well, Phillippe, ain’t this a surprise! You’re usually the last pig in the trailer!” Farmer George chuckled and ushered Phillippe in.
Soon they arrived back at the farm and Phillippe gladly joined his friends in the pig pen. In no time he was rolling around and all notions of exploring the outside world had been erased from his mind.
The End!
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