Dashing, splendid, genius, awesome, and extremely humble - I am a 52 year old born and raised Calgarian, with a passion for bringing joy and writing humour, particularly puns.
To whomever finds this note. I can take it no longer. No matter how I try, what I’ve seen can’t be unseen, and the weight of it has triumphed. By my own hand, you will find my lifeless body nearby – by rope, by bullet, I know not how I will do it, I only know that it will be done.
Owl’s Well That Ends Well
Jim threw another log on the campfire, adding more fuel to the pillar of flame before them. The one that already looked high enough that it could singe the stars above. He grabbed another Budweiser from the cooler and flopped into his chair. It was another perfect evening, just him and his friends sitting around the fire, drinking and laughing. “Good on ya, Jimmy boy,” Ted exclaimed, “You’ll get on the bad side of Smokey the Bear yet!” Jim and the others howled at the thought of Smokey stopping by to swat Jim on his backside.
A North Pole murder
Detective Biggles surveyed the area. The room had been thoroughly trashed and laying there in the middle was the body of Scampy, manager of the electronic toy division. Biggles walked over to where the elf lay. The elf’s back was riddled with sharpened candy canes. The detective leaned in to get an even closer look. “Hm,” he thought to himself, “very sloppy, amateurish… this was someone’s first stab at murder.” Officer Nettles sidled up to the detective. He had taken Nettles under his wing, sensing real potential in her as a detective on the North Pole Police force. “What do you see, Nettles?” Detective Biggles asked. “I think Scampy was targeted,” she posited, “but this was clearly not a professional hit.” Biggles allowed himself a smile. “Good eye,” he complimented as he stood back up, “Now what?”
As he had done almost every week for years, Arthur flipped through the church’s hymn book to select hymns for the service on the upcoming Sunday morning. It had become mundane, but as the music director for St. Arbuck’s there was little else he could do.
A DAY IN THE LIFE (GROAN MIX)
The alarm clock woke me from my fitful sleep. All night long I had the most vivid dream that I was a bicycle, and now I was just two-tired to get up. I hit the snooze button and pulled the blankets over my head in a futile attempt to catch a few more winks. Unfortunately, I had no more wink traps so had to let them go. Slowly sitting up, I turned to put my feet on the ground and walked lazily to the kitchen. Thankfully I had the foresight to set my radio coffee maker on the timer, so poured a cup and settled in for some rhythm and brews.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Father,” the mayor said as she greeted the priest at the door. “Please, call me Graham,” he warmly corrected the mayor. Father Graham detested the nomenclature of the Catholic priesthood, particularly in his role as exorcist for the diocese. People who needed exorcists, he reasoned, had more to worry about than stammering over titles. “Certainly, Graham, certainly,” the mayor smiled as she led Father Graham to the nearby conference room, “please, this way. Our police chief is here as well.”
Lloyd’s Uber Scary Halloween Playlist
“Create the soundtrack for the ultimate Halloween party.” Not just a challenge. A challenging challenge. Halloween, after all, doesn’t have the same wellspring of music as Christmas, yet a party requires more than a single song, like a “Happy Birthday” for a birthday party. And what of the tone? A Halloween party, conceivably, includes a wide range of participants – children, boisterous adults, wallflowers, the undead – each with their own musical tastes.
Covid - One Man’s Opinion
Sure, let’s jump in. COVID Vaccines. If you look up ‘divisive’ in the dictionary there’s a big ol’ picture of Pfizer (there probably isn’t, actually, but you get the point). And not just divisive but passionately so. The closest I can equate this with in my life is the AIDS crisis of the ‘80s. I know people who have lost friends over the whole situation.
We drove out of the city to the breeder. We’d seen the photos of all the pups. They were sweet, but only one was ours. We loved him, anxiously awaiting the day we would hold him. The name had been chosen beforehand, and as we passed him between us little did we know how perfect the name would be.