Bblbbluuurglbgle... Monday morn already? Welp... let’s get this week started off right - with some good ol’ fashioned rude jokes!
When I was a kid and it was time to get moving my parents would often wake us up. They always went after Big Bro first. If Pop was waking him up... I’d hear some punching and slapping sounds and eventually Big Bro going, “Gaaaaah...!!! Gedaddahere, yah old fart...!!!!” By the time Pop looked in on me I’d be moving smartly! If Mom woke him up, she’d just crack the door and let Charlie the farm dawg do the rest. She’d go barrelling in there, covered in ice and snow from a crisp night sleeping outdoors... and try and hop in the sack with her toasty warm master. The resulting hideous shrieking would get me moving in a business like fashion too.
Pop was an equal opportunity prankster in those days, but I am my father’s son. One cursed morning he barged in, intent on slapping me into wakefulness... and hit a visible wall of STINK at full speed. Ya see... I had a terminal case of the bed farts all night, and the incredible stench almost put his lights out. Gagging and retching, he blindly backed out, and scrabbled my door closed.
Out in the kitchen I heard dad bitching and groaning and warning everyone not to go near my room until he’d had a chance to caulk it and seal it closed. “He’s either dead or he’s shat himself,” Pop groused, “and I’m not going in to find out!”
Think I’m gonna eat some beans today.... and maybe stop by your place afterwards for a long friendly pre-Christmas visit. 😉👍