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http://chabdog.com/wp-content/uploads/11-7-totem-poll.jpg
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She was too short to see over the fence so she brought out a stepladder.
by BG
Sometimes life is just not what we want it to be. There are so many things she was good at: Running and jumping and finding her way through the forest. She pretty much held her own when she was out and about with her tribe mates. Everyone liked her, too. The annual competitions came around and there were so many areas to participate in - athletics and music and dance and crafts. She wanted to participate in all of them. When it came to the area of crafts, she decided to work on a beading project. Others chose different areas. She was dying to know what they were doing.
She went to see what it was, but found it was hidden by a fence. Her only attribute that hindered her in life was her short stature, and it was keeping her from getting what she wanted right now. It was so unfair. She so wanted to see the craft project and find out how it would stand up against hers in the competition. She was too short to see over the fence so she brought out a step ladder. Gee whiz. Her project was never going to win against what she saw on the other side of the fence.
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http://www.old-picture.com/indians/pictures/Indian-Totem-Poles.jpg
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"Should we start class now, or wait for everyone to get here?" Anna asked her students.
by RMAF
"Should we start class now, or wait for everyone to get here?" Anna asked her students at the Alaskan public school. A boy in the back of the classroom piped up, "Why are you asking us? You're the teacher."
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http://cliparts.co/cliparts/6cy/5aB/6cy5aBk9i.jpg
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“I am happy to take your donation; any amount will be
greatly appreciated.”
By CC
Lucy Anne stood on the podium in her old Chanel suit – the
only suit she had left in her closet, which would have made her feel
embarrassed in town, but out here, who knew. Nobody cared about appearances but
her, apparently. She closed her eyes and shook her head in disgust. Well, it
was time to get this show on the road.
The microphone whined a little as she spoke. “I am happy to
take your donation; any amount will be greatly appreciated.” They were
raising money for the Grange.
Suddenly an odious smell wafted across her nostrils. A rough
voice broke the silence “I’se got sumpin for ya,” it said.
Jimbo the hog farmer strode through the sparse crowd outside
the Grange and approached the podium. “Ise got a hog with babies fer ya.”
Lucy Anne smoothed down her Chanel suit and looked at her
shoes. Her pumps were scuffed and worn and had grass stuck to them.
“What kind of hog,” she asked.
“Gloucestershire Old Spots,” said Jimbo.
Lucy was taken aback. Gloucestershire Old Spots! Doubtless
Jimbo didn’t know what he had there.
Lucy could make a fortune on the skins. She would have Wilbur make her a
handbag and cover her old Manolo Blahniks, maybe even make her a pillbox hat
with a curly tail. Now that would
impress them.
She banged her gavel.
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She borrowed the book from him many years ago and hasn't yet returned it.
by MD
He'd recommended it so highly to her. "This is the best book ever written," he told her. "Something on every page reminds me of you. It's a love story, a mystery, a philosophical treatise, with a little pornography, all in one." So she borrowed the book from him many years ago and hasn't returned it yet.
The reason was simply because it was absolutely the worst thing she had ever read. It was amateurish, fraught with grammatical errors, misspellings, and misplaced modifiers. "How did this ever get published in the first place?," she mused. "And whatever about it reminds him of me? I'm a good writers, educated, a grammarian, and a prude, to boot. I don't know when I've been so offended to receive such a comparison." So she took the volume out to the flagstone patio of her ocean view villa, perched herself in the archway, closed her eyes, and heaved it into the ocean below.
For his part, he assumed the reason she never returned the book was because she was so fond of this great piece of literature, which so aptly encapsulated her dynamic style and personality, that she was unable to part with it. What he'd not told her when he lent it to her was that it was his own work, published under a pen name and dedicated to her.
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She folded her handkerchief neatly before placing it in the drawer.
by TNT
The beautiful dog, an aristocratic Afghan, ran away from the plebes he knew. They weren't worthy to be his masters. He ran and ran until he found himself on a cliff above the Mediterranean. It was a quiet, lovely spot where the wind ruffled his feather-like fur. He knew himself to be a champion of dogs. He had won dog shows for the plebes - what was his reward? To be shut up in a kennel and fed dry dog food? As soon as he had the chance he would escape and run. He loved running. The plebes were old and fat - they couldn't catch him.
Meanwhile the lady of the Manor folded her handkerchief neatly before placing it in the drawer. She would inform Lord Bentley that his dog had run away when he returned from the club.
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http://greece.greekreporter.com/2014/07/14/10-must-see-ancient-greek-temples/
Valley of the Temples
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“After the blast, I
checked to make sure that he was still alive.”
By RC
I love dabbling with
machines and inventing things that no one has ever invented before. So, when a
friend of mine said he was working on a time machine, I was all ears. Rodrick
was not the kind of guy I would have expected to be making a time machine. He was
kind of goofy—but you know, that’s the way they are sometimes. Heck, Einstein
couldn’t even button up his shirt right.
Anyway, we got started
and together in no time we had it! Now this thing was sitting in Rodrick’s
garage, amid all the clutter—the old bikes, the boxes, the miscellaneous, and
all that—but we had just enough room to sit down in the two seats, surrounded
by piping and tubes and doo-dads, and whatchamacallits, and—you name it.
Rodrick thought he’d be smart, and made a key for the dang machine.
When he said he was
going to make a key, I simply said, “What’s wrong with a toggle switch? This
isn’t the movies, and no one is going to take a trip in it, but us.”
“Oh, but you don’t know
my dog,” Rodrick replied.
So, okay, we had a key.
I felt confident enough that this machine would work, because I helped make it.
And then the great moment came.
Rodrick said “I’ve set
it to go back to Athens in the middle of the Greek period.”
“Fine. Fine,” I
replied. “Just turn the key, Rodrick.” And he did.
The next thing I knew,
we were in a kind of vortex. I wasn’t sure quite what was happening, but we
were being pounded by an air blast and dust was swirling everywhere. Then I
passed out for who knows how long.
After the blast, I
checked to make sure that he was still alive. Yes, Rodrick was fine, and in a
moment he opened his eyes.
“Where are we?” he
said, a dazed expression on his face. Looking around, he saw, as I already had,
that there wasn’t much left of the machine. But we were definitely in Greece.
We sat in the middle of a ruined Pantheon. Finally, after wondering about it
for years, I knew how it was that it had gotten the way we saw it in the
twenty-first century. It was all Rodrick’s fault, not mine.
I write this now just
to let humanity know, because we will never get back to the twenty-first
century, it seems.
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Principal Nigel Pott said the school had been trying to resolve the issue of Chloe's hair since before Christmas.
by GS
A school garden had been a wonderful idea. The students loved working outside and loved harvesting lots of organic produce, especially the strawberries - which tasted real! By the second year there was great demand to be part of the garden club so that some students did not have the opportunity to participate.
As it happened one of the rejected applicants was Chloe. Now Principal Nigel Pott said the school had been trying to resolve the issue of Chloe's hair since before Christmas, and the garden situation gave him the leverage he needed. Chloe had to agree to wash and brush her hair or she would be banned from the garden for sanitary reasons.
Her parents contacted the ACLU to request assistance in fighting for her right to be bohemian. The school board decided to avoid the controversy by overruling Principal Pott and allowing Chloe equal rights in the garden. I will continue to make my annual contributions to the ACLU which I started doing in 1968. They are more needed than ever!
