You moron... it's oxy.......

I'm positive, I think.  That, is the title of the book I will never write.  Realist.  It's kinda like, I wanted to be a major league baseball player.  That is, until.  Until, mebbe the 11 and 12 year old league - some crafty pitcher threw me a curveball.  This is like wayyyyy before I learnt me some good cusswords from friends, relatives, movies, yada.  But....... I said "The HELL was that?"  THAT, is when I knew I'd never be a major leaguer.

The pitcher was awfully good.  I was of the age some know-it-all neighborhood snotnose spoiled Christmas for us all. ("Ha, HE still believes in Santa!")  Funny, ha ha, so did I.  I was 'tween the age of my Schwinn Tiger being too small for me, and, using my one curse word, howinthehell would I even shift ten gears?  Deafening silence, so to oxy, moron.

We loved us some mulberries back in the day on Miller Street.  Lived on Miller hunnerd years, then, bought the house from folks when they moved, lived a few more years. It's always been Miller STREET to me.  It's only a block and a half long street.  The other day I drove past... on the half block, noticed the sign Miller AVENUE.  Using a word I heard, mebbe age 14, I call bullshit.  It's STREET you idiot!

Victor, get back to your damn mulberry story.  Oh yeah, thanks.  We, the neighbor snotnoses, would be up there downing mulberries like there was no tomorrow - until our bellies hurt good, so to oxy.  Ricky's mom would always open the back door and holler "Ricky?  Climb down, we gotta go!"  I'm a moron oxy, that confused me.  'Climb↑down ↓.  I had a silent scream as Ricky motivated on down.

Got a little older and that song came out........ "DO THIS, DON'T DO THAT, CAN'T YOU READ THE SIGN?"  You forget, you moron oxy you, I am onea them never made the honor roll (had a literal blast in school though)... was C+ or M+, depending on how your district judged us chid'ren.  I'M STILL HAVING A HARD ENOUGH TIME UNDERSTANDING THE LANGUAGE, LET ALONE THE WRITTEN SIGNS!

Crash landing. WHAT?  Wise fool.  HUH?  Original copy. AHM, how can I count wit my fingers on that one?

Life, I find, is controlled chaos.  "That's another fine mess you've gotten me into", right Oliver?  Fine mess?  Hey, that's my living room floor!   Things I drop can sit for days 'cause it seems like they're two elevator floors away!  Ahm, Victor, that's what I would call an accurate estimate.  Aye yai yai, I give up.

To the small crowd that stops by here, thank you. (Small crowd slid right pastya didn't it? God awful.

This may be old news (huh?) but I use plastic silverware (?) and paper towels {?} due to cost, and, laziness.  I have given up on women, they clearly misunderstand me. {?} Why even start a relationship 'cause at some point, civil war (?) is gonna break out.  Good grief (?) Charlie Brown.

Well, my shoulder is kinda aching.  I'm either gonna put some Icy Hot (?) on it, or, I could grab that loosely sealed (?) bag of peas from the freezer, even though they've got freezer burn (?) and put on it.  Whereinthehell (learnt that one 'round age 16) did I put the peas?  They're behind the jumbo shrimp (?) Victor you moron, oxy.

Needta clean house, but, that'd be a minor miracle (?). That, or, a definite maybe. (?)

Victor?  Yeah?  STOP WITH THE (?) WOULDYA?

(?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?) (?)

Cruel kindness, sorry, kinda. A dull roar went over the crowd. Small crowd Victor?  Nah, just a crowd.  I used an exact estimate of it.  Kinda like those census takers, they always come up with those found missing.  Their errors are growing smaller year by year.

I'm off to see the Wizard. No, that ain't it.  I'm off to pee.  It's an old man thing, the only choice I have at present.  I'll avoid the mirror - pretty ugly.  Brings me a sad smile.  Victor, it's just too bad your blogs aren't seriously funny.  Bite me.

I'm deceptively honest in that I ain't got no catchy ending. I'd attempt humor but, it'd drop like a lead balloon.  Victor, 5 of your 7 readers left twenty paragraphs ago, intense apathy I think it was.

Yeah, I need a day off.  I'm tired of blogging, it's like a working vacation.  I need a guest host.

Or, a 65 year old blonde named Calgon, rich, divorced, hard of hearing, doesn't speaky English.  Calgon, emmene-moi.  That's Calgon take me away, in French.

Even odds that'll happen.

I'm positive, I think.  Sorry, kinda.

By Hank Henry Gibby Gibson

Love, Victurd