Escape from St. Josephine’s

Philbert Housley Drysdale III was the first second grader to be in the detention room at his school in a very long time. What’s worse, Sister Margaret Hosenfish told him that he would surely go to hell for his offence. You see, he had kissed a girl. It all started very innocently during recess. Lucinda Hollander had touched his arm while playing tag; and something had come over him. He wasn’t sure what it was—but he did know that he had reacted. Now he was stuck in detention with the likes of Harris McGillivary; the toughest sixth grader in St. Josephine’s Primary School. If he survived this day, maybe hell wouldn’t be so bad.

Yes, he would be in detention until the end of the day—or until he copied the sentence “I’m a filthy little pervert,” six million times—whichever came first. Harris McGillivary had already thrown enough spitballs at him to create a pile on the floor three feet tall. Harris got away with this behavior because he paid off the detention monitor with moonshine from his father’s still. It was a warm day for March, so the windows of the detention room were open. Philbert stared at the children playing outside in gym class. He longed to jump out of the second story window and join them; or maybe just escape from St. Josephine’s once-and-for-all. But alas, he was stuck.

As luck would have it, there was a fire drill that fateful day at St. Josephine’s. After the drill it was discovered that Father Binkley had several students under his robes for safe keeping. Some of the students were crying, but Father Binkley said it was God’s will. Why did God want these children to cry, wondered Philbert Housley Drysdale III? But why should he care? Because according to Sister Margaret Hosenfish he was going to hell anyway. He wasn’t sure when that would take place; maybe after school.

He was beginning to grow tired of the spitballs that were being fired relentlessly at his head. At about this point, he decided that he would do something about it. After all, he was already in detention and he was also going to hell. What more could they do to him? So when the janitor came into the detention room, Philbert Housley Drysdale III saw his chance!

He removed the mop from the janitor’s bucket and then slammed the bucket, dirty water and all over Harris McGillivary’s head. Running out of the detention room door screaming, he ran over three other students before he escaped into the bus garage. Luckily, one of the buses still had the keys in the ignition! So he started the bus and drove away. If he was going to go to hell, at least he was going to have a good time getting there!

While driving down the freeway at 110 miles-per-hour in the stolen school bus, Philbert Housley Drysdale III noticed another bus stalled on the side of the road. Since he was going to hell anyway, he decided to stop. The broken bus belonged to a rock band and they were so happy that Philbert Housley Drysdale III stopped, that they recruited him to play drums in their band. Then they took off to Des Moines to their next gig.

That night after the concert, Philbert Housley Drysdale III kissed several girls and he thought to himself that if this was hell, it was better than being at St. Josephine’s Primary School!



Kevin J. Curtis – Copyright March 29, 2012

Mega Millions and the Bat Poles

I don't buy lottery tickets very often but I bought one for Mega Millions for tonight's estimated $540 Million jackpot.

This morning as I was trying to get my baby boy's kicking legs and arms into his clothes, I wondered if there was an easier way to get dressed. I began to think of how Batman and Robin slid down the bat poles (in the old TV series) and were instantly changed into their crime fighting clothes!

As I discussed with my baby son what we would do with the lottery money if we were to win, we decided that we would have Bat Poles in our new house!

When I told my wife about the idea, she just shook her head because she seems to think I am silly. So I said to our son, "If mommy doesn't like the idea of bat poles, she doesn't need to use them!"

The "Hoodie"

This morning I drove past the police who had detained a young man wearing a hooded sweatshirt--with the hood over his head. I was also wearing a "hoodie," as it was 40 degrees outside. In fact I wear my hooded sweatshirt a lot; but I rarely wear the hood. I usually have a hat on instead.

As I continued driving, I saw several more people in "hoodies" that did not have police questioning them. After the whole Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman thing people (who don't normally wear them) are wearing "hoodies" because they say it is a (racial) prejudice issue.

Personally, if I was being "persecuted" because I was wearing a hood, I would get a hat. One could argue that a person has the right to wear a hood. I would agree. I would also agree that said person has a right to swim in shark-infested waters with chicken carcasses strapped to their arms and legs. The intelligence of such a decision could be questionable.

Perhaps this sounds racist to some of the easily offended types--but I remember when I was younger and African-American men liked to dress nicer than everyone else. Now, the trend among young people is to look like street thugs and to wear "prison pants."

Maybe I am too old to understand this whole thing--except that I believe a lot of people are pushing their personal agendas here. Instead of everyone dressing like a hood, perhaps we should "pretend" that it is okay to look respectable. That's just my opinion.

Cutris gives you Answers to Junk Email

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Make your "junk" bigger!"
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Click here to update your (insert bank, credit card, etc.) account.
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...and finally,

I am a poor, yet beautiful Russian girl. You are the man of my dreams! Please respond to me so we can live happily ever after!
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How to Avoid Trayvon Martin vs George Zimmerman

First, don't pretend you're a cop if you aren't and follow "suspects" while carrying your gun.

Second, don't (immediately) jump on top of someone and pound the crap out of him if he might be following you.

This is a prime example of what happens when two people with a chip on their shoulder cross paths. Either one could have made a better choice and avoided this tragic result.

Now, the hate-mongers who want to use this to promote some racial agenda should make better choices too.

Hunger Games spoof

The Satiated Games

Premise
Hero Dogness takes the place of his babysitter who is forced by a corrupt School Safety Patrol to participate against other youth from 13 different classrooms in an eating contest where the loser doesn’t get dessert!

—KJC

Song for my Son

I made up this little song for my son on Tuesday evening (March 20, 2012).

Kevin J. Curtis

Staff Sgt. Robert Bales

The debate continues as to whether the U.S. soldier accused of killing afghan civilians may be suffering from Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Staff Sgt. Robert Bales may have experienced too much war when he went on a shooting rampage that left 16 Afghan civilians murdered.

Can we send people into war repeatedly? Can we send them back after being wounded? Can we really expect that someone can witness the horrors and tragedy of warfare and not be permanently changed in some way? After four deployments in ten years and twice being wounded, what can and should we expect that a human being can handle?

I'm not condoning the action, but it just so happens that my latest novel (not yet out) Lapse of Humanity deals exactly with this issue. Society creates warriors, sends them to war (sometimes repeatedly) and then "we" can't integrate them back into civilian life. This is a tragedy for everyone involved. Prosecuting the individual will not fix this issue. The system needs fixing.

Back End of a Deer

Across the railroad tracks from the place where I get paid to go and make data work, there is a swamp and a woods--that kind of reminds me (a little bit) of the wildlife refuge where I would probably rather be most days! Anyway I went for a stroll over there and saw some deer. Here is a picture of one running away.

Click on picture to enlarge and click back button to get back.

Without Much Ado About Nothin'

Celina Robschneider would go to the docks every morning to see if Roberto Forecast had returned from the sea. But most days she was disappointed because Roberto was still out to sea; catching clownfish and ridicufish. On those days she returned home to have a breakfast of pine needles, freshly mown sedge and garlic sauce. Celina hadn't been in the country very long, but she had already picked up many of the bad habits of the locals. One of these compelled her to say the made-up word "snikalore" after every sentence.

"What-will-you-have?" asked the barkeep, as Celina rode in on her donkey.
"Beer… snikalore," replied Celina.
"What did you call me?" asked the bartender; now suddenly offended. "You take your ass and get out of my bar!"
"I didn’t mean to call you 'snikalore;' snikalore," said Celina. But the barkeep just looked angrier so Celina rode her donkey back out of the door.

Now out in the street, Celina looked toward the sea and saw no sign of Roberto's boat.
"Well," she said, "I guess I'll go home snikalore."
Then she slapped her ass and rode away.


–KJC

Hiking with my Son

My wife and I took our son for a walk around the Maplewood Nature Center on Saturday. Though he is just over two months old, I must say that I was impressed that he kept up with me step for step!

Transformation

He sat in the dark staring intently at the horizon. Nothing happened for nearly half an hour; and he finally shifted his weight as he sat quietly on the rock ledge. Birds were chirping loudly as he continued waiting. Down below him somewhere in the dark, was the swamp and beyond that the tree-line. He could almost see it all now as the colorless night rubbed against his eyes and the wind blew briskly across his head.

Then, it happened. The tip of brilliance began to show above the horizon. It was blinding and he had to avoid its direct glare. All around him the colors began to come to life—as blues and greens and reds flashed across the skyline.

The sun was up now and shown so brightly that he stood up and turned away from the blinding eastern sky. He would continue his walk now. It was morning.

—KJC

Burping

As the father of a baby, I have learned the importance of burping. While adults are encouraged to stifle their burps in public, babies are encouraged to let loose. In fact, after finishing a bottle we adults tilt our babies upright and pat their backs to stimulate burpage.

Sometimes babies don't burp. This is bad, as it can lead to gas pains or spitting up. I have become the undisputed champion of burping my son. My wife has many, many things she does best for our boy, but I am the master of burps.

One of my tricks is to lie him on his back briefly after an unsuccessful burping attempt. Often this is enough time to wash out a milk bottle. It is also common when he is on his back for changing, that he will spit-up. This observation developed into my master burping plan.

A minute on his back followed by tilting him upright and rubbing or patting his back (or my patented combination of both) will almost always result in a loud belch that would embarrass any adult out in public! My success rate is nearly 97%!

Fog Monster

There was a fog this morning.







This zoomed in section of the same photo shows a fog monster coming down the road!

Click on the photo to make it larger (and click the back button to get back)!