“I don’t have as much money as I would like,” exclaimed Earl.
“Are your expectations too lofty?” asked Gus. “Or is your ability to attain material happiness below par?”
“I don’t have as much money as I would like,” Earl repeated. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“Oh,” conceded Gus. “Not to destroy a city when only one inhabitant is your enemy?”
“Yup,” concluded Earl.
* * *
“Shall I begin my physical fitness regimen this morning?” Rico inquired.
“Heavens, no!” quipped Angela. “You need time to think it through. Make sure it’s something you really want to do — and something you will adhere to. No sense getting the whole family excited, only to let us down. You will also need time to savor and mourn for the things you will be prohibited from indulging in (e.g., stuffing mouth with chocolate and sitting on rear in front of television). No, Rico. You should definitely not begin a physical fitness regimen today. Give this concept more time to gel.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last three months?” replied Rico.
* * *
“I’ve got an idea,” said Hy.
“Me, too,” added Lem.
“People who walk in shopping malls for their health should be allowed, as an alternative, to walk on a treadmill device that converts their footsteps into electrical energy.”
“You know…” Lem began.
“The energy they produce would lower their electric bills. They would be doubly motivated to lace up their walking shoes.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Lem said, “but without the laces.”
* * *
Ned could no longer hold it inside.
“I foresee unprecedented death and destruction. Ceilings shall topple and walls shall lose their support. Set upon set of interconnecting toys shall be buried, never to be organized by tiny hands again. The Laws of Nature shall lose their certainty and give way to hesitancy. Two plus two shall no longer equal four. Citizens will flee the prophets by uttering, ‘Mom is calling me for dinner,’ or other such falsities. Remember: You have been warned. Eat your dinner now and do not involve your Mother in these colossal affairs.”
Ned felt much better, even though he received a ticket for driving with an unlicensed megaphone.
* * *
“My name is not Maury,” Gregory stated.
“I know,” replied Burt. “Did I ever call you Maury?”
“No,” said Gregory. “And don’t start now.”
“Don’t worry, Gregory,” assured Burt. “I will never call you Maury.”
“You’ve no reason to, right?”
“No. And even if I did…”
“Don’t go there!”
* * *
“I live in a wasteland,” Fred admitted. “Look around you. What do you see?”
Dale looked around and decided to be honest about it. “I see bottles that once contained various forms of alcohol dotting the living room like soldiers whose commander failed to show up for the much hyped battle. I see a week’s worth of unread newspapers piled neatly one on top of the other. I hear a television roaring with police vehicles, and observe a second set showing a baseball game with the sound off. I see a cat pacing on a window ledge, hoping against hope to escape through a crack. On the ceiling, I notice two of the three bulbs in the light fixture have spent themselves.”
“My wife left me ten days ago for a sports agent who’s always in the news,” Fred said.
“That would explain it,” Dale summarized.
* * *
“I seem to be at the epicenter of a wonderful sequence of events pertaining to life as we know it,” blurted Gus.
“Rephrase, ” said Derry.
“I don’t know… It’s like I’ve been handpicked for all that is celestial here on earth.”
“A little better, but not quite…”
“How’s this? When all is said and done, one might conclude that I have been singled out for an unlimited geyser of pleasure.”
“I think I…”
“You might say I am fortunate to consistently smile while others are trapped in homemade infernos – I was going to say cardboard forests – fearful that excitement will always be out of reach.”
“Good things happen to good people, I guess.”
“They do. Yes, they do indeed.”
* * *
“I notice you’re getting up there in years,” said Nola. “Is there anything you simply must accomplish before you leave us?”
“No. Not really,” replied Marcy.
“I am both surprised and delighted,” Nola noted.
“Come to think of it, so am I,” contributed Marcy. “I’m glad we had this little conversation.”
“Yes,” echoed Nola. “Too bad it had to end so soon.”
Joe Fumo is a Milwaukee-area business writing consultant who has published two humorous fiction collections: “God’s Web Site” and “Things To Do This Week” (purchasable on Amazon.com) He has been a newspaper reporter, corporate newsletter editor and public relations account representative. Thus, the need to write silly pieces.