Bonny Mots
by M. V.
Montgomery
I
could tell you what I think, but then you’d
have to kill me.
Two
wrongs don’t make a right, but three lefts
will.
I
slipped and hit my head in the candy store and
got up slowly, seeing Starbursts.
Flying into China with my two kids,
who had become restless in their seats and were
hitting each other. “Easy, you two,” I
said. “Don’t you know, there is a one-child
policy in this country? If you don’t behave,
I’m going to have to decide right now which
one of you has to go.”
Sometimes, life is just messing with
you. For example, I’ve always had trouble
keeping a straight face at the dentist’s
office, which he finds annoying. So right before
my next appointment, I thought I’d schedule
a Botox treatment. This backfired because when I
was asked to “open,” I couldn’t.
It’s crazy fun to walk around
with your shoelaces tied together—you be
trippin.’
Crack is whack, so why not pull up
your pants, young man?
The other day I was out driving and
got into an accident with a Mitsubishi Mirage. I
didn't even see it coming—it suddenly
appeared out of nowhere.
I was surfing the Net and
saw the pop-up ad, “Date 40+ Women,”
which sounded to me like an invitation to a whole
different lifestyle. Until at second glance, I
saw they meant women over 40.
Eww. Get a room, sista—preferably
a bathroom!
Seriously, I hope you find your
Prince Charmin.
I must be looking good, because the
other day at the Target the cashier was
checkin’ me out. Then I went to the grocery
store, and the cashier there was checkin’ me
out, too. Finally I stopped at the drug store to
pick up a prescription and even that cashier
started checkin’ me out, which was a little
weird, because he was a dude, but that’s
cool, I’ll still take the compliment.
Definition of a chamberpot: relief
pitcher.
Anti-nuke protest: Hell, no, I
won’t glow.
I’m sick, so be forewarned, my
humor is particularly infectious today. Yes,
I’m another Billy Ray Virus.
I’ve been carrying around some
excess gravitons lately and definitely need to
start an exercise regimen soon. But I don’t
want to overdo it, either—maybe start out
with some escalator ‘robics?
On our trip, my sisters and I
decided to keep an online log. But each time I
made an entry, one of my sisters started a new
thread, and then the others joined in until the
page was filled. Are they “flooding”
me? I wondered.
My scientific nerd friend Dougie
never showed up at my party, or so I thought,
until later that evening I bade one guest goodbye
at the door. I spotted Dougie running laps around
the house. “What are you doing?”
I called out. “You told me to circulate!”
he shouted.
My friend and I were out driving and
passed a strip mall with a big-name bedding store.
“Uh-oh,” I said, “Don’t even
try to negotiate with those people. They are
mattress firm.”
I
would hate to become a zombie. In my opinion, a
mind is a terrible thing to taste.
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