This week: Stink, Stank, Stunk Edited by: GeminiGem🐾  
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Hello! I'm GeminiGem🐾 and I'm a regular editor of the Comedy Newsletter. Let's look at forgotten pieces of writing. |
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Stink, Stank, Stunk
Have you ever had this experience? You are looking at your past writing and you see something you know you wrote but can't for life of you remember writing it? I have that happen when I read through my older stuff in my WdC port. I dug up with this slightly goofy gem and I thought I'd share it with you.
This is a mostly fictional story based on real life, my favorite thing to write.
Night Patrol
My miniature Australian Shepard paced and whined by the back door. I scurried over to let him out into our big backyard. It was bedtime, and the dogs usually head out one more time before lights out anyway.
I opened the back door, and Nibbler broke into a full run. Oh my, he must really have to potty. Then I heard him barking furiously at something deep in the inky darkness. We have lights that illuminate part of the acre we have fenced, but with just a new moon tonight, I could not see what had caught his attention in this part of the yard.
"What's up with Nibbler?" my husband asked.
"He wanted me to let him out so he could sing the song of his people. Then other dogs ran out to join in the chorus," I joked. Everyone in our rural neighborhood lives far enough apart that barking dogs are no big deal. It's a good thing, too, since our dogs think they need to bark at any moving air molecules.
I decided to give them a few minutes to take care of their pre-bedtime business. I put on my pajamas, brushed my teeth and hair, and poured a cup of hot water to steep a bag of vanilla chamomile tea in my favorite cup. The smell of the tea was heavenly, and I deeply inhaled the scent of the steam. I was tired and more than ready to call it a night. We would be up with the sun the next morning to start the day's routine all over again.
My husband stepped to the back door and called the dogs to come in. As they came running in, I got a whiff of something bad. Very bad. Nibbler was the last in, and the smell emanating off of him almost choked me.
They had been skunked. That's what they were barking at in the dark. I smacked my forehead with my open palm. Apparently the skunk decided to tell them off in return.
Now was not the time to question my life choices, but I did it anyway. Why do I have so many large, hairy dogs? Why do I allow my dogs sleep in my bedroom? Why did I leave them out long enough to get into trouble with a skunk?
I sighed. My dream of drinking some tea and going to bed at a decent hour was officially now a fond memory.
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Feedback from my last Comedy Newsletter "The Great Spring Cleaning Debate"
From Paul 
My mother did spring cleaning; she was fanatical at times, and I hated it.
I de-clutter which can occur at any time of the year when I give or throw away stuff. I assiduously avoid doing it in the spring though.
Non-spring cleaning. I like it!
From oldgreywolf on wheels 
Cool Green Joe (Jo?) needs sunglasses to go with that cig.
I think you are referring to the cover image of the newsletter, an I would have to agree with you.
From QueenNormaJean maybesnow?! 
Thank you for mentioning my story in your newsletter. I'm honored.
You are very welcome!
From Write_Mikey_Write! 
Spring's length would have to rival the Narnian winter caused by the White Witch, for me to have time to deal with the 'inherited' detritus of in-laws & 3 of our 4 girls. 
I'm not sure if I want to know the rest of that story or not. Sounds kinda scary! |
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Comedy: May 03, 2023 Issue [#11946]
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