Fairy Tale — A Contemporary Story

Fairy Tale Characters:

John — the Father
Corey — the prospective Son-in-law
Marie — the Daughter
Knavs — the Wife

Marie brings her boyfriend home to meet her parents. After dinner, Knavs tells Marie’s father, a media celebrity, to find out about the young man. He invites the boy to his study for tea.

“So what are your plans?” John asks the Corey.

“I am a religious scholar and want to marry your daughter” he replies.

“A scholar,” the father says. “Admirable, but what will you do to provide a nice house for my daughter to live in, as she’s accustomed to?”

“I will study,” the young man replies, “and God will provide for us.”

“And how will you buy her a beautiful engagement ring, such as she deserves?” asks the father.

“I will concentrate on my studies,” the young man replies, “God will provide for us.”

“And children?” asks the father. “How will you support children?”

“Don’t worry, sir, God will provide,” replies the boy.

The conversation proceeds like this, and each time the father questions, the boy insists that God will provide.

Later, the mother asks, “How did it go?”

The father answers, “He has no job and no plans, and he thinks I’m God.”

A fairy tale? Hmmmmm . . .


NYT CWP — Today

I’ll apologize for this next section in advance . . .

17 — Underwear for judges? — legalbriefs

24 — Underwear for Frisbee enthusiasts? — discjockeys

34 — Underwear for beginners? — amateurboxers

47 — Underwear for actors? — movieshorts

55 — Underwear for tycoons? — cashdrawers

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Tuesday — I was hoping today’s scheduled rain would appear but, so far at least, nothing other than a little mist early this morning. And, now, the sun is shining.

Got up a little before seven as the cats were moving about. Fed said cats, went out to get the newspapers, warmed water for Charlie’s tea (Lapsang Souchong) and made myself a pot of coffee.

Coffee finished, I was taking my cup to the front room to enjoy and read the papers while the house was still quiet, i.e., Charlie hasn’t turned on the TV in her room. While entering the living room, and about to have my first sip, I heard Charlie asking for help getting out of bed. Ah, well . . .

So, I helped her to her room, opened her windows, turned on her heater and humidifier, got her tea and her morning meds. Then I popped my cooling coffee cup in the microwave — I like hot coffee — and sat down to read (back to front — starting with the comics and ending with the news) my papers.

After finishing my coffee and the papers, I moved to our exercise room (spare bedroom) and sat on the exercise bike for my usual 100 minutes. Nexfilx and Fullmetal Alchemist were on the TV (muted), the iPad was playing music and I was re-reading Walter Jon Williams’ Angel Station.

I finished on the bike, fixed another cup of coffee for myself and another cup of tea (Earl Grey) for Charlie and warmed her morning muffin (banana and chocolate chip).

I was reading my email with KTLA Morning News on in the background and “breaking news” we had another car chase. The doorbell rang — our cleaners had arrived (every two weeks). I helped Charlie move into the living room while they first cleaned her sunroom and then moved with her back into the sunroom while the cleaners did the rest of the house.

Puzzle

The car chase ended with the good guys capturing the bad guy and no one getting hurt. Charlie went back to watching her animal shows and I started in on my puzzles. The cats decided to infest my lap and hinder my puzzling but I persevered. I enjoyed today’s puns and Charlie just groaned at me when I read them to her:

  • 20 — “Explore Alaska it’s  _____.” — morethanjuneau
  • 33 — “Writers and photographers will find Michigan a great place for _____.” — freelansing
  • 39 — “Blow into Maine on _____” — augustawind
  • 50 — “I was afraid to ski, but in New Hampshire I _____” — concordmyfears

Sorry ’bout that folks, but I couldn’t resist — Tuesday does that to me.

The Curse of Technology

Technology Can Get You Killed

Text message Richard to Fred:

Hi, Fred, this is Richard, next door. I’ve got a confession to make. I’ve been riddled with guilt for a few months and have been trying to get up the courage to tell you face-to-face. At least I’m telling you in this text and I can’t live with myself a minute longer without you knowing about this. The truth is that when you’re not around I’ve been sharing your wife, day and night. In fact, probably much more than you. I haven’t been getting it at home recently and I know that that’s no excuse. The temptation was just too great. I can’t live with the guilt and hope you’ll accept my sincere apology and forgive me. Please suggest a fee for usage and I’ll pay you.
Regards, Richard.

Fred’s response:

Fred, feeling so angered and betrayed, grabbed his gun and shot Richard, killing him. He went back home and poured himself a stiff drink and sat down on the sofa. Fred then looked at his phone and discovered a second text message from Richard.

Richard’s second text message:

Hi, Fred. Richard here again. Sorry about the typo on my last text. I expect you figured it out and noticed that the damned Auto-Correct had changed “wi-fi” to “wife.” Technology, huh? It’ll be the death of us all.
Regards, Richard.

Golf and The Wife

Subject: A Golf Story

The Wife — “Where the hell have you been? You said you’d be done with golf by noon.”

Husband — “I’m so sorry Honey . . . but you probably don’t want to hear the reason.”

The Wife — “I want the truth, and I want it NOW!”

Husband — “Fine. We finished in under 4 hours; a quick beer in the Clubhouse. I hopped into the car, and would have been here by 12 noon but on the way home, I spotted a girl half our age struggling with a flat tire.

“I changed it in a jiffy, and next she’s offering me money. Of course I refuse it, then she tells me she was headed to the bar at the Sheraton and begs me to stop by so she can buy me a beer. She’s such a sweetie, I said yes.

“Before you know it, one beer turned into three or four, and I guess we were looking pretty good to each other.

“Then she tells me she has a room right there at the Sheraton, less than 50 steps from our table. She suggested we get some privacy while pulling me by the hand.

“Now I’m in her room . . . clothes are flying . . . the talking stopped and we proceeded to have sex in every way imaginable. It must have gone on for hours, because before I know it, the clock says 5:30. I jump up, throw my clothes on, run to the car, and here I am.

“There. You wanted the truth . . . You got it.”

The Wife — “Bullshit! You played 36 holes, didn’t you?”


Mist and Red
Mist and Red


Subject: A Golf Story — The Alternate Version

The Husband — “Where the hell have you been? You said you’d be done with golf by noon.”

Wife — “I’m so sorry Honey . . . but you probably don’t want to hear the reason”

The Husband — “I want the truth, and I want it NOW!”

Wife — “Fine. We finished in under 4 hours; a quick glass of wine in the Clubhouse. I hopped into the car, and would have been here by 12 noon but on the way home, I spotted a man half our age struggling with a flat tire.

“I changed it in a jiffy, and next he’s offering me money. Of course I refuse it, then he tells me he was headed to the bar at the Sheraton and begs me to stop by so he can buy me a glass of wine. He’s such a sweetie, I said yes.

“Before you know it, one glass turned into three or four, and I guess we were looking pretty good to each other.

“Then he tells me he has a room right there at the Sheraton, less than 50 steps from our table. He suggested we get some privacy while pulling me by the hand.

“Now I’m in his room . . . clothes are flying . . . the talking stopped and we proceeded to have sex in every way imaginable. It must have gone on for hours, because before I know it, the clock says 5:30. I jump up, throw my clothes on, run to the car, and here I am.

“There. You wanted the truth . . . You got it.”

The Husband — “Bullshit! You played 36 holes, didn’t you?”

Palm Sunday

It was Palm Sunday but because of a sore throat, 5-year-old Johnny stayed home from church with a sitter.

When the family returned home, they were carrying several palm fronds.

Johnny asked them what they were for.

“People held them over Jesus’ head as he walked by,” his father told him.

“Wouldn’t you know it,” Johnny fumed, “the one Sunday I don’t go and He shows up.”


Palm Sunday