Write Something Funny
I don’t know if I’m very good at humor writing, looking at past postings, the subject matter of this blog has been about things like droughts, flat tires, lost loved ones and admonishments to spay your cat.
Not the stuff of mirth, no.
When I’m the subject of the joke, I don’t find it all that amusing, but others might. Take for instance the time I went for a drive with some friends and their dog. I sat in back, Bob and Julie had the driver and passenger seats. In the back with me was Roger the Rottweiler. Bob and Julie love Roger and take him everywhere. And Roger loves to ride in the car. I tolerate Roger and because I’m a dog-person myself and I think I’m attuned to what these animals are saying when they communicate with us. For some reason, on this day Roger did not want to go for a ride. He refused to get in, jumping over me and out my open window, running in circles barking. Julie rounded him up and put him back in while Bob fired up the car. Off we go, Julie primping in the mirror, Bob wondering what’s wrong with Roger and poor Roger, spinning madly in the seat next to me. We are almost at the park when I realize what Roger is saying. He’s saying, “ I have to go to the bushes..NOW.” Just as I begin to tell this to my hosts, Roger says it himself, in a way that everyone can understand. Pandemonium is the keyword here as Roger relieved himself there in the backseat. In the moving automobile, in traffic, there was little we could do but scream at poor Roger, which only seemed to make things worse. It’s difficult to say who suffered the most, the leather upholstery or my new hiking shorts and boots, hat and sunglasses. Windows down, pulled to the side of the road, damage control began. Roger sat down now, apparently much more comfortable, and I sat, covered in Roger-stuff, afraid to even touch the door or window handles.
Another time, I was requested to check up on an elderly neighbor who hadn’t been feeling well. His son would be away on a trip and he told me “Gramps will come to the door if you knock.” On my way to work, I pulled in and bounced up the steps. Three knocks and no answer. I knocked again, louder.
Gramps had a heart condition and his son sounded quite concerned. No answer. I peered through the windows but saw nothing. A loud hello, and louder knocks. Now I’m concerned. What would you do? I called 911 on my cell-phone. The fire truck arrived moments later and I briefed them while they rounded up the door-beater tool. One good ramming and the jamb gave way. Inside, no Gramps. Outside, here comes Gramps, out for a walk to get the morning paper. Is that funny? Gramps sort of got a chuckle out of it.
Maybe I can write funny after all.