Wednesday, November 14, 2018

"HAPPY THANKSGIVING" (UPDATED VERSION) By Jerry Silvers


“A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE SECOND THANKSGIVING” 
                                     
               
   
                   
When the second Pilgrim ship landed on “Dodge Rock” in the year 1622, they were   greeted by the American Indian tribe called Wampanoag. Their chief Massasoit and Zero Mendal who was leader of the second settlement became in time good friends.

The Indian harvest of 1622  was a yearly celebration for the Wampanoag.  Zero was happy to share in this celebration with Chief Massasoit and designated this celebration as “Thank Goodness”, since it arrived just in time before they all starved to death.


Zero: “Welcome your Highness King Massasoit” he said as he bows in respect. What brought you here today?  I am very upset as you can see, we traded you many of our fine goods for seeds that failed to grow. We are now starving and have nothing to contribute to this celebration.”

Chief: “Did you water and fertilize crops like we instructed?”

Zero: “What’s wrong, the river was too far away from our settlement. Everyone was too weak from starvation to carry buckets of water. What happened to the rain you promised us?
 And what kind of fertilizer did you suggest, buffalo chips, not on my crops.”

Chief:  “Those buffalo chips are imported from the western lands. We trade them for many wampom with the tribes who roam and live on the western plains. Your crops will thrive on them.”

 

As a standby to this conversation, Count Guniff interrupts, “Chief, my name is Count Horacio Guniff, I am very interested in this new fertilizer and maybe you and I can come to some kind of business arrangement.”

Zero: “Stay out of this Count, I’m in charge of this settlement.”

Chief: “We come with big harvest celebration. We come to share our bountiful harvest and hunt. We brought turkey, deer, and lobster, along with many kinds of vegetables, corn, and fruits.”

Zero: “What kind of Turkey?”

Chief: “There is only one kind of turkey on tribal land.”

Zero: “What I mean, is it a Butterball or Kosher, I heard a Kosher turkey is really the best?  Did your medicine man make a blessing over the Turkey?”

Chief: “Me no understand.”

Zero: “What about stuffing, you can’t have a “Thank Goodness” turkey without stuffing.”

Chief: “Stuffing, what does stuffing mean? Is this an insult? This is one hell of a prized turkey? Insults about our turkey, we now go home!”

Zero: “No, don’t go, it’s only a Puritan joke.”

Chief: “What is a joke?”

Count: “Come over here Chief, how many of those Turkey can you supply me and what about something they call Tobacco. We both can become very rich shipping them back to Europe. You get what I mean?”

Chief: “What does white man mean by the word rich?” I have plenty of food and many wives. I don’t need to get rich.”

Zero: “You, Count leave the Chief alone and get the Pilgrims to start the fires and prepare the table for our guests. If you mention one more time about special deal with the Chief, you will be removed and locked in the stockade post for the duration of the celebration.”

Chief: “Our tribe has plenty of these buffalo chips to trade, not only a good fertilizer, good to make camp fires and good in winter to warm your feet under blankets. I know Europeans will be very happy to receive such a good trade. We heard from other settlement traders what they call whiskey. We want to learn how to make this whiskey, we trade you for whiskey.”

Zero: “Chief we are Puritans we do not indulge in strong drink. Now, we do like wine for our religious ceremony and maybe a gourmet dinner once in a blue moon. We make wine from grapes and crush them with our feet in a large vat.”

Chief: “Smelly feet, me no like already. You take buffalo chips as trade and I give you plenty of grapes and tobacco.”

The second Thanksgiving (really Thanks Goodness) was a success, it saved the Pilgrim starvation in the winter months with all the turkey leftovers. They were the first to invent the Doggie Bag, as they visited each Indian camp and shared their celebration and this helped stave off their starvation diet.”
                                                          
                                              **

Count Guniff struck the first commerce deal with the Indians to ship products from “Dodge Rock” to Europe. Everything they sent was welcomed with open arms except the buffalo chips. In recent times archaeologist were excavating the original settlement came upon several buildings with large quantities of petrified Buffalo Chips. This was a complete mystery to the scientific community, since herds of Buffalo were not common in this area of the country. 

However, among the official documents discovered in a metal lock box during their excavation, were authorizations return papers issued by Horacio Guniff Enterprises for the return of ten tons of Buffalo Chips from several British firms.

“We now wish you a very Happy Thank Goodness!"
                                                           

                                                                 ***

Copyright 2018 Summerlin’s Writers and Poets Workshop, Las 
Vegas, NV.

Also visit our Summerlin's Writers and Poets Workshop blog for more Thanksgiving postings. Your comments are appreciated by all our workshop members. 

summerlinww.blogspot.com 


 


Friday, November 9, 2018

"BURT AND LONNIE TAKE A VACATION TO PARIS" By Jerry Silvers


Burt and Lonnie Reynolds were vacationing in Paris and while strolling along the Seines River at a local art festival, a man runs into Lonnie knocking her down and ripping her purse off her shoulder. Burt attempts to run after the assailant but is blocked by two young accomplices. In Lonnie’s purse were their passports, credit cards, driver license, and some cash. After reporting the attack and robbery to the Paris police, they went to the U.S. Embassy to get a re-issue of their passports and canceling their credit cards.
                                                          **
Scene is a rundown bar with only one patron sitting at the bar.


A young boy approaches this stranger. The locals know Humphrey as an out of luck American trying to return home.

Boy: “Monsieur, the waitress just pointed you out, some friends have sent me to find you and would like to meet with you.”

Humphrey: “Get away kid, can’t you see I’m busy?”

Boy: “I’m serious monsieur, this involves enough money to get you back to America. Just follow me and see for yourself. “

Humphrey decided to take a chance, he barely had enough money to pay the bar tab. He had nothing to lose.

The boy directs Humphrey to a rundown apartment complex where he meets Reno. The boy finds himself a seat in the corner of the room so he could listen to the conversation.



Reno: “Mr. Humphrey, my name is Reno. I know you have been trying for almost one year to return to America after they took away your passport. I have an offer to not only provide you with a passport and a substantial amount of money just to accompany my associate with you to New York City.”

Humphrey: “Who’s this person, is he a terrorist? No way am I getting involved in national security, I have enough problems with the law.”


Reno: “His name is Blake, he is part of my international business and I need you to guide him to my American contact. That’s all you need to know and once he finds them, your job is done, you will receive $10,000. Here is an envelope with $500.00 to settle your accounts and be ready to leave on the 15th. Yes or No Monsieur?”

Humphrey: “I need your assurance I will not be involved in any unlawful situation, you know I have a record and this could put me away for a very long prison sentence.”

Reno: “I can assure you, this will be easy money for you.”
                                               **
On the 15th of the month, Reno makes arrangement to pick up Humphrey and Blake deliver them to the airport. He introduces Humphrey to Blake handing him an envelope with his new passport, airlines tickets, and directions to Blake’s rendezvous with his American business partner, Hernandez.

On the flight, Humphrey is sitting next to Blake who remains silent, but Humphrey can feel Blake’s anxiety, he is drinking a little too much alcohol. Humphrey mentions this, but Blake brushes him off, that he can handle it.
Just before landing Blake confides with Humphrey his anxiety to meet Reno’s partners.

Blake: “I need you to be there when I meet Hernandez, I’m afraid I will screw up and feel better with you there. I’ll give you half of my contract, $5000.00 if you come with me to meet him.”

Humphrey: Okay, but it better not be any hit operation?”

Blake: “I’m to pick up this large sum of money owed to Reno and arrange for the next delivery of stolen gems to Hernandez.”


(At a garage location located on the outskirts of town is Hernandez office)
Hernandez: “I’ve expecting you Blake, who’s this guy with you, we were supposed to meet alone?”

Blake: “His name is Humphrey and he’s the guy Reno arranged to have him help me into the country. He’s alright, Reno checked him out. Hand over the money and here’s the documents on the next shipment coming in.”

Blake and Humphrey leave with a briefcase with close to a million dollars.

Blake: “This is where we part. Thanks for covering me.”

Humphrey: “How are you getting back to France with all that money?’

Blake: “Who says I’m going back to France?”
Humphrey: “Don’t be a fool, Reno and Hernandez will track you down and you’ll never get a chance to spend a penny of it.”

Blake: “If you are so concerned, why don’t you join me as my body guard and I’ll cut you in for 200 grands.”


A car pulls out of the alleyway and Burt opens the rear door.

Burt: “Hi fellows, get in and I’ll give you a ride to the bank so you can make a deposit.”

The money gets deposited into Burt’s safe.

Burt: “Sorry Blake, Reno owes me this gambling money and he never trusted you, it was sort of a loyalty test. Now get out of here, but let Humphrey stay. Humphrey, I want to offer you a job, it’s time you get off your bar stool and be the man of your reputation.”

Humphrey: Yes, I’m really home!”
                                               
                                                ***

© Jerry Silvers - Summerlin's Writers and Poets Workshop - Las Vegas, NV.


Do you recognize the little boy in the photograph with Bogart?
Your comments are appreciated. 

Friday, November 2, 2018

"THE KANGAROO PHOTO CHALLENGE" By Writers Workshop - Las Vegas, NV.


                 
This is our November Photo Subtitle Challenge. We will be taking submission throughout the month, so keep checking back for updates. Your comments are appreciated. 

“This baby plays outside the pocket.” (Mitch Phillips)

“Kang, ah roove you!” (Geri B.)

“Out of the Marsupian Ma’s arms. (Geri B.)

“Out of the pouch into mom’s paws.” (Geri B.)

“Don’t be afraid, it’s only human kids dressed up in Halloween costumes.”  (Jerry S.)

"Did those mean little Joeys make fun of you because you couldn't jump as high as they could? Come to Mommy for a hug. I'll give you some tips so next time you'll jump higher than any of them!"  (Alice Magrane) 

"Aww, come here little darlin'...let me hug you! Don't let those big jumpers intimidate you...nothing's ever as bad as it seems!" (Jeanne Marsh)

"I'm a little short handed right now." (Roger)

"No, you can't climb back into Mommy." (Roger)

"Sorry, you won't fit anymore." (Roger)

Poem, By Ann Kmit, 

Kangaroo Challenge
Once
When I was a mother
With three little girls
I sent my oldest out to play at
Henrietta’s, my neighbor
I was so preoccupied - so busy
I had almost forgotten my daughter . . .
At suppertime, I rushed to pick her up
Henrietta’s children were playing happily on the floor
but
I found Henrietta sitting in an easy chair
Holding my daughter, much like the Kangaroo mother
Comforting, loving and unhurried  . . . and
I needed that lesson
Thank you, Kangaroo for the reminder
***






Thursday, November 1, 2018

"WHAT MAKES ME, ME" By Jerry Silvers



                     
Gee, I am so happy to stand before you today with the opportunity to finally tell you what made me, me.

It was my grandpa Bill and his eggs. Yes, I said eggs.

My grandpa, my pa and all his three kids are all into eggs.  Grandpa started his chicken farm in Southern Illinois with just one hen, her name Gertrude the Producer, by gosh she could really lay some fine tasting eggs. Grandpa and grandma even decided to unofficially adopted her as their daughter.

No, we didn’t have any roosters. Grandpa’s brother Chester had a chicken farm down the road to supply grandpa with all the hens he needed to grow his egg business.  

My dad followed the tradition of naming all 300 hens. He remembered every one’s name and even talked to them. Be truthful, I think he was a little wacko in the head. Pa had Gertrude secretly buried next to grandpa Bill in the family’s church plot.

During my daddy’s time I was assigned the cleanup attendee, a pretty nasty job. My brother and sister collected the eggs and fed the chickens. I do remember pa got upset at me one day for suggesting to have chicken for dinner and just wouldn’t forgive me for the idea of sacrificing one of his children.

As I recall, we ate a lot of vegetables and eggs growing up. My first taste of chicken is when I ran off one day to Kentucky Fried Chicken and gouged myself on everything on the menu. The family did notice I was gaining weight and put me on a strict diet of hard-boiled eggs and water for two weeks.

The chickens were happy, I guess I was too. We never starved and they did provide us with a good steady income. Easter was especially fun for me. Each year I painted a bunch of eggs with psychedelic luminescence paints and put them in several hen’s nest. This made them quite upset, they didn’t lay eggs for two whole weeks. The family never discovered the reason why, they blamed it on that day’s thunderstorm.


Gee, I want to thank everyone for allowing me to finally tell you the truth what made me, me. As a thank you, I brought everyone in our workshop today one of my Easter’s psychedelic eggs with a tiny little surprise inside.
                                              ***  

I want to honor and dedicate this story to a great comedian and actor Jonathan Winters. When I wrote on this topic, I had him in mind as the main character. Watching him on the Johnny Carson Show and Mort and Mindy series, showed off his great talent to transform into different comical characters. Born Nov. 1925 – Died April 2013.

© Jerry Silvers - Summerlin's Writers and Poems Workshop - Las Vegas, NV.

This topic "Eggs" is for the month of November.

Your comments are appreciated. 


Wednesday, October 24, 2018

'TO COVET OR NOT TO COVET THE COPPER SPOON PLANT" By Jerry Silvers



         
“My name is Nero, the Emperor of the Roman Empire. My foreign legions have conquered most of my neighboring countries and brought back great wealth and numerous slaves. I shall cherish their devotion to me and accept these fine gifts as loyalty to my throne.
Enter Claudius the head of his tribunal: “Your highness, the Black Plague has entered our city and our people are dying in the streets and in their homes. What shall we do? You may want to consider leaving Rome with your family.”

Nero: “Oh my God, my God, what is happening here, just look at these nails. How can I go into the throne room looking like this to make any decisions? Claudius call in my manicurist to come immediately and tell her my toenails will also have to be done.”

 He signals his attending guards, “Bring me my consigliere, release him from my dungeon, clean him up, and we will have a banquet in his honor.”
Later that day in the royal court, the guards accompany consigliere 
Maximus Minor to the Emperor’s throne.

Nero: “How have you been? Did you find my presidential accommodations satisfying, it was in the best section of my dungeon? You look nice and clean; did you brush under your nails behind your ears?”


Maximus bows, “How can I serve you, my King?”

Nero: “Maximus, I want you to travel to the country of Flanders and bring back the coveted plant they call the Copper Spoon. Its powers are supposed to protect their people from the dreaded Black Plague. Visit his Highness Budnick II and negotiate a trade deal for the plants and their gardeners. When you come back make sure you stop in Greece and bring back some of their magnificent pastries, the gooey kind.” 

                                   
Copper Spoon flowering plant.                  

                                                                **
Three months later, Maximus Minor returns to the Emperor’s court.
Nero: “What took you so long? Did you bring me the magical Copper Spoon plants and how about those Greek Pastries?”

Maximus: “I bring you news from the King of Flanders, Budnick II, and he sends his respects. Here are your Greek Pastries, they might be a little stale, I traded them for the only Copper Spoon plant that I brought out of Flanders after the Greeks imprisoned me for crossing into their country without the appropriate entry papers.”

Nero: “These Greek Pastries are to kill for. That reminds me that slave Mendel, let my regatta cheese spoil.”


This is King (Sol) Budnick II and his current queen.

Maximus continues: “Your highness and exalted one, I discovered the Copper Spoon is being grown by monks living in the Monastery called Miraculous Order of Purgatory. These monks cultivate the crop day and night for the King. He sells the plants to the rich and doubles the price to his peasants. The monastery is guarded day and night by his Knights of the Kitchen Table. The King Budnick proclaims there will be no sale or cultivation outside of his country. As king I will make a declaration of death to anyone who disobeys this ruling.”


                                                   
 Nero to Maximus: “I want you to go back to the Kingdom of Budnick and offer him twice the amount for his Copper Spoon plants. And if he refuses double that figure.”

Maximus: “And if he refuses?”

Nero: “I’ll show that dim witted numskull. Send in all my loyal Generals!”
Maximus: “There is only one loyal General left, and we are not too sure about him.”

             
Nero: “My General Anthony I want you to take charge of your legions and march them to the frontier of Flanders. You will be well rewarded for your services.”
                                                       **
Back in Flanders, King Sol Budnick II contemplates the Roman Legions at his door steps. When the emissary Maximus arrives, he takes him into a private room of his castle.

Budnick: “I want you take these wonderful French Pastries as a gift to Nero and tell him of course we will sell him all the Copper Spoons he desires. With this new volume I will have to exile additional Monks to the Monastery of Purgatory. Please be sure these pastries are only for the King, they are a very delicate desert prepared only for his majesty.”

You heard about Nero playing his fiddle as Rome burned, they got that all wrong. The true historical notes say, King Budnick’s pastries were so hot, it burned his esophagus and he died. His General Anthony took charge and fiddled his way through Nero’s queen and all her hand maidens.

                                                   ***

©Jerry Silvers - Summerlin's Writers and Poets Workshop - Las Vegas, NV.
Comedy Writers Network Nov. 24, 2018.

Visit our Summerlin's Writers and Poets Workshop to read all the new postings on October's topics:
summerlinww.blogspot.com 

Thursday, October 18, 2018

'ELEMENTS' A Poem by Henry Gibson


ELEMENTS -A POEM BY HENRY GIBSON 

I used to like fresh air 
when it was there.

And water I'd enjoyed  it
until we destroyed it. 

Each day the land was diminished
I think I am finished.

***
"How to Write a Poem"  A Poem by Henry Gibson

You may find it difficult to write a poem
if the subject matter continues to roam.

How funny little tidbits seem to arise in your mind
surprisingly disappear and leaves you behind.

Don’t fret over finding the right words

it will probably end up in the trash bin with your poem about Scandinavian birds. 

***

"PIGEONS" A POEM BY HENRY GIBSON

Pigeons droppings can be really nasty
especially if it lands on your new Fedora Hat 
it becomes really a disaster much faster. 

Pigeons cooing can be annoying
if it interrupts your afternoon nap and 
it finally stops your snoring.

I still love pigeon as long it is
combined with my Shake and Bake
kitchen.

***






© Rowan and Martin's Laugh - In.
Images and poems of Henry Gibson--By Jerry Silvers

 Laugh In cast













                                                              Fascist's acting role. 
















                                                                Country Singer

Judge
 Remembering a  great comedian and actor!

Monday, October 15, 2018

"YOU TALKING TO ME?" By Mort Harris


We had lived in this condominium complex for several months.  One Sunday, I was busy in one of the outdoor parking spots changing the spark plugs on my car.  My little nine year old daughter was standing next to me watching.  Somebody with a raspy Southern drawl began shouting “Yankee, do you hear me Yankee?  Are you a yellow New Yorker?” 
I was hoping there was another New Yorker around.  I didn’t see another soul anywhere.  He must have been directing his threats to me.  I peeked with one eye over my left shoulder.  He was BIG!  I was afraid to see him with both eyes, he was liable to look BIGGER!  I could hear his taunting rants.  I knew I was in trouble.  I ignored him as long as possible, hoping he would go away.  He sounded like a southern red neck, I had met his kind before, always itching for a fight.  Maybe he was still bitter over the Civil War.  Abraham Lincoln should have let them stay in their cotton county behind the Mason Dixon line, then I wouldn’t be in this predicament now.  In the words of Bill Maher, “if at first you don’t secede, secede, secede again.”
“Yankee, you scared?” he kept bellowing.
His threats were drawing a crowd of curiosity seekers and those who love to see a fight.  I took an instant dislike to them; I knew I didn’t have a chance against this guy.  The best punch I could muster belonged in a bowl.  I panicked, dropped my tools and bolted out of the complex into the street.  Actually, that was my first desire but my daughter was standing by me looking frightened and the thought of being ridiculed and shamed in front of the gathering crowd coming to see me dying, kept me there.  While plotting to maybe plead for mercy, a figure appeared before me. “Who are you?” I asked.
“I am Ares, God of War,” he said.  “Where is your courage?”
 “I don’t have any.”
“You can lick him easily.”
“Well, you tell him that.”
“He’s a patsy,” said the God “I could crush him with one hand.”
“Fine,” I said “then you fight him.”
“Don’t you see what a coward he is, picking on a scrawny shrimp like you?  Now,” said Ares, “repeat after me, I am strong.”
“I am strong.”
“Now say, I am not afraid.”
“I am not afraid” I stuttered, “I can lick anybody,” I repeated what he said..
“Now,” said Ares “are you ready to meet him?”
“No!”
The God sighed in exasperation.  “Think of yourself as a member of a Brooklyn street gang.  Nobody would dare to tangle with you.  Now get up and face him.  What are you waiting for?” 
“I’m saying a prayer for the dead.”
“Now go” he insisted.
I pulled my full five feet five inch frame together, flexed what few muscles I had, tried to look as mean and ugly as a gangster and turned toward him.  He looked larger to me now that I was standing.  He had an ugly snarl on his face.
“Now” said Ares, “say out loud, ‘hey, are you talking to me?’  Now say it.”
I walked slowly toward this bully and yelled, “Hey, are you talking to me?”  I was surprised that it came out of my mouth, it almost frightened me.  I moved closer, my body bent in attack mode, both fists clenched, waiting for his death blow.  Instead his face softened.  He dropped his hands to his side and looked away.  I was astonished.  I went back to my car while my daughter was waving her fist and shouting “gotta a problem with that?” 
“Shut up” I said through gritted teeth.  Ares appeared again.  I thanked him for his help, flexing my arm triumphantly, searching for a muscle to show off to Ares.  “You made me realize that I had courage.  I know that I am a strong person and present an inspiring figure.  I am a tough, lean, mean, fighting machine.”
“I don’t think so” said Ares.
“Why not?  Didn’t you see that guy melt when I faced him down?”
“Yea” said Ares, “when he saw the halo I put over your head.”
                                   ***

©Mort Harris - Sun City Writers Workshop - Las Vegas, NV.
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