By Laura Grimes
THE SCENE: Mr. and Mrs. Scatter arrive home late one muggy evening after going to The Theatre. It’s October, when mad science takes over without warning. The Small Large Smelly Boy is waiting on the front porch to greet his adoring parents. The He Cat’s nose is just behind the slit door.
SMALL LARGE SMELLY BOY
(Gives his beloved mother a big hug.) I’m ready for a martini with two olives.
(Mrs. Scatter and The Small LSB unhug and open the front door. The He Cat bolts out the door.)
Hi, Jack the Barfer.
(Laughing.) Why Jack the Barfer?
Continue reading What we have here is a failure to concoct a drink
I have a dirty little secret. It’s so dirty I don’t even add commas between adjectives.
It starts out innocently enough. I poke around the fridge and come across a jar with a few floaty thingies and a bunch of brine. And I realize the fridge is full of jars with a few floaty thingies and a bunch of brine. And then I determine to do something about it.
“Honey, are you thirsty?”
“We have too many floaty thingies.”
Mr. Scatter gives me that look through his eyebrows. He mildly shakes his head.
“We have a problem here!” I get a little defensive. I’m a bit sensitive about My Issue and I’m looking for some sympathy. Mr. Scatter knows I have a dreadful disability. Making fun of such an acute condition is not humane.
Continue reading The dirty little secret behind the dirty little secret martinis