 Comedy: September 05, 2018 Issue [#9096] |
This week: Biscuits for Brains? Edited by: Ẃeβ࿚ẂỉԎḈĥ  
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1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions
Happy 18th Birthday, WDC! You put the Well, in "W", the Deserved in "D" and, Celebration in "C". Congratulations and best wishes for more fabulous years of fun, creativity, friendships and success, The StoryMaster  & The StoryMistress  ! 
This is also my 10th birthday, as a WDC Comedy Newsletter editor!
Read at your own risk ...
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To make my interpretation of this particular urban legend, the woman in this story doesn’t have to be blonde. Thus, I’ll try to make this as neutral and politically correct as possible.
She was a very average woman, if indeed she was a woman, of certain height, not too short, not too tall, not too plump, not to thin, sporting hair, not too long, not too short, of a medium shade of brown which could be natural or a cheap dye. Not to mean that she couldn’t afford expensive dye, but why bother? Women don’t spend piles of money to become a mousy brown. Of course, no intent on making a mouse anything less that a perfect creature in its own right. This is purely to get a visual on a non-specific hair color of a non-specific person.
Her eyes were the color of, well, she was wearing sunglasses, so one couldn’t be sure of their color. However, the color of the eyes are not important, neither is the shade of her shades, except for the fact that they did indeed shade her eyes so that the color could not be seen by the naked eye. Or for those who are trying to keep away from visualizing “nakeditity,” we’ll just leave it at neither visually clear nor fuzzy eyes, whichever fits without causing any distress.
Anyway, she was driving back from the grocery store after making a couple stops, first to pay her water bill, even though it wasn’t due yet, but since she was in town and going right by the place, she made the effort. Then, she popped over to the post office, which was right across the street, to purchase a book of stamps. Unfortunately, there was a long line at both places. Not to be confused with lines on one's face -- just the average row of people awaiting their turn.
It was downtown Springfield, Anywhere USA, or upon the globe, since there is a Springfield nearly everywhere in the universe. However, this particular neighborhood was a very undesirable spot, yet could be desirable if one were searching for specific goods not available at said grocery store, albeit, possibly standing outside the grocery store, closer to the corner where there was a stoplight. However, the light could have been a stop sign. I have nothing against either. Also, there were several groups of bystanders who looked like hooligans. Not that looks matter or anything, it’s totally a subjective conclusion by the nervous, non-distinct woman-person, driving carefully, trying to avoid any confrontations just in case. She drove on, keeping her shaded eyes straight ahead -- I mean a neutral word for straight, as in forward line, no curves. However, this is not meant to insult any woman or man with curves.
As fate would have it, she had to stop for the red light, where the corner was occupied by possible human-beings of ill-repute and, or, other nondescript possibly dangerous persons, robots or Avatars, you choose.
On with the story ... just as the light turned green, the driver started advancing forward. At that moment, she heard a loud POP! And, something hit the back of her head. She placed her hand over the spot and felt something gooey. Immediately, while still holding her head, she drove away, so as not to be further injured. When she left the town far enough behind her in her rear view mirror, she pulled into the first available parking lot, not one moment taking her hand from her head. She grabbed her cell phone with her available hand, and dialed 911.
“This is the 911 operator, what’s your emergency, please?”
“I’ve just been shot. Please send an ambulance to the Goodwill parking lot on Main street. I don’t know how long I can maintain consciousness, and I have to keep pressure on my head because I can feel brain material leaking out.”
“Stay on the line with me, I am dispatching a medical team and the police.”
A few minutes later, police, ambulance, fire department and the local news network all descending on the Good Will store’s parking lot. An officer approached the car first, and saw a white substance oozing from under her hand. The paramedic slid into the passenger side of the car and asked her to take her hand away so he could examine the wound. But, she was too frightened to move. In the meantime, the officer walked around to the back of the car, checked out the rear window, and didn’t see any gunshot holes. He opened the trunk and saw her bags of groceries. One bag was messed-up and had white goo splattered over it. The cop reached inside the bag and found the culprit. He went over to the driver’s side and asked the nondescript, (I never said she was blonde,) person, and asked if she left her car in the hot sun for any length of time after shopping for groceries. She nodded in the affirmative. (Or “yes” for anyone who is fearful of big words.) The policeman, woman, person, or Avatar, lifted the “exploded” object up so she could see it.
“Ma’am, did you happen to buy some Poppin’ Fresh rolls, today? Just asking, because, this is what they do when they are exposed to high heat in a closed-up car for some some length of time. You can take your hand off your head now. The only help you need for this sort of injury is a trip to a hair salon.” Of course he/she didn’t mean to say it in such a sexist way, but we can’t all be perfect when trying to communicate during possibility of emergency brain surgery.
That’s all she popped-out for this edition of the Comedy Newsletter.
Do enjoy all the WDC birthday fun going on all over the site. It’s a great time of year folks. This is my tenth anniversary as one of your Full time Comedy Newsletter editors. And, no, I’m not retiring, yet, no matter how hard you beg. That’s ten years, never missed an issue -- perfect attendance. However, I didn’t mean “perfect,” as I am perfect. Just perfection in editor attendance each month, but it in no way should that sound like I was bragging about it.
Until next time--laugh hard, laugh often!
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Some Birthday Fun!
You could make it humorous!  |
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A response from my Newsletter, "Comedy Newsletter (April 18, 2018)"
Elfin Dragon-finally published 
Oh Man WW! I know this one is way back in April but I had to comment and say I know how you feel. I watch Ramsay all the time. Between Hell's Kitchen, Masterchef, Masterchef Junior and now Hell on Wheels...I think I'm starting to dream in a British accent. LOL.
 I must confess, Ramsay has shown up in a dream or two of mine. I have conveniently blocked out the part where he gets in my face and tells me I am a disaster in the kitchen, and to shut it down!  But then I remember that I am the master in my kitchen and I can do what I want.
Feedback on my last Newsletter: "Comedy Newsletter (August 8, 2018)"
Monty 
Love those finishing comments darlin' and your putting the poem of CountryMom's in the Highlight. If I had the troubles you described in your News Letter. I would have a breakdown.
 I thought about just breaking down, but it wasn't gonna get me my license or passport any sooner. Thanks, sweet man, for your comments. It was my pleasure sharing CountryMom's poem. 
Quick-Quill 
This is so funny. I’m just leaving MA after traveling for the last week and a half in RI. CT and a quick trip to Long Island, NY. I use my passport for all flying excursions. I’m seriously going to get the TSA security Check number. My husband had it and it makes traveling easy. I also have Clear but not all Airports have it.
Bureaucracy can be a pain at times because there isn’t a national standard. Every state is different. On the other hand one standard would make us more like Russia. Thank goodness we are a country of diverse individuals.
It can really be a nightmare. Once I get through all of this crap, hopefully, my life will become easier by just being my "official" self, as opposed to the real, yet nor quite believable "me."
Thank you for your feedback, folks. We editors really appreciate it!
See you next month, the month of SPOOKTOBER! Check out the goings on at With the annual Halloween Handles Activity.
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