Editor’s Note: If you are new you might not know that I am the guy who likes to tell a good story like the one about the clown or that there is a cancellation fee for unsubscribing to the blog.
Some of the stories here are soft, sentimental pieces and others are of a more whimsical nature.
A bear hug is no match for an angry man with a salami. For I took said salami and proceeded to beat him silly with it. Fortunately I was smart enough not to hit the two cops who came ostensibly to break up the fight. Â It Wasn’t Worth Getting Arrested
The post you are reading now is part of a test I am running to see how some widgets are working on the blog. If I am not exhausted from playing ball I’ll be back with some new material in a few hours. In the interim enjoy the story below.
The clown was drunk, surly and horny. Or should I say that he was in dire need of shagging Tinkerbell. Ok, her name wasn’t really Tinkerbell but the performers at a kids birthday party don’t introduce themselves by their real names so you’ll forgive me if I can’t tell you whether she was Karen, Kathy, Tracey, Lacey or Stacey.
All I know is that the clown who smelled like he had taken a bath at the local liquor store told me that he wanted to play hide the salami with her. I suppose that between the stench and his words I should have told my sister to fire him immediately but I was too busy laughing at the name I had given him, The Fairy Fucker.
Little sister wouldn’t have been happy about that. She wouldn’t have smiled, chuckled, giggled or guffawed about The Fairy Fucker. No grin would have been seen on her chin, not even if I tried to tell her that the local Pro-Gay defamation league would be pissed with me for calling him The Fairy Fucker.
She was far too engrossed in being the ˜hostess with the mostess. It was my niece’s 9th birthday party and the house was filled with ten thousand screaming kids, a very nice assortment of food, Tinkerbell, music and my new friend, The Fairy Fucker.
Just thinking about it makes me giggle and maybe that explains why I didn’t kick his ass out myself. I like being an uncle. No scratch that, I love being an uncle. Maybe it is because I am 240 pounds of five year-old trapped in a man’s body. Ultimately it doesn’t matter, cuz I am really good at it and the kids love me.
So while little sister is flying around the house and yard trying to make sure that everything is just so, I am pulling out every trick in the Uncle’s Handbook. It doesn’t take long for me to be like the Pied Piper of the party. I have most of the ten thousand children kids at the party following me around, imitating everything I say and do.
I know from experience that this is not a good thing. Even though I like playing Peter Pan I know that having the lost boys trailing me is a recipe for disaster. Inside my head I start to hear Robbie the Robot start saying “Danger Will Robinson, Danger Will Robinson.” But I am in my element and I sort of ignore the robot and the red alert noise that Captain Kirk used to set off on the Enterprise.
Mere moments from now I’ll find myself face to face with little sister except she is not 12 and screaming at me because I have unplugged the phone and she can’t call our parents to tell them how evil I am.
Nope, she is pushing 40 (a fact that I repeat frequently) and she has slipped out of the hostess with the mostess mode and into I am going to kick my big brother’s ass. Well, I don’t know about you but I don’t like having my ass kicked and even though little sister may have a point that pump isn’t going anywhere near my crack.
Angry words are exchanged and we’re transported back to 1982. Just like old times our mother comes over and lays into both of us. Fun time is over and now I am angry. We go back and forth and then the argument is broken up by a scream.
Poor Tinkerbell has discovered that the balloon animal The Fairy Fucker is holding isn’t really a balloon or an animal. Little sister and I exchange a look and a millisecond later I drag the clown out the door and throw him headfirst off of the porch.
I turn and look at little sister and say ‘too bad she didn’t teach him to fly.’ In between giant gales of laughter little sister gives me a big hug and the party resumes.
If I were stranded on a desert island and could only access one blog, it would have to be Jack’s. It would be like having a whole cast of characters ready to do anything at a moment’s notice.
I love the unpredictability of his stories. I never miss a post. Why can’t I quit you JackB, why?
That is very kind Bill, I really appreciate it. This writing gig is fun, I just sit and type and see what happens. There is all sorts of magic around if you look for it and sometimes it is the kind of thing we all get caught up in.