Monday, December 25, 2017


I always wanted to be a Sandhog. Yep building those tunnels underneath water, connecting one landmass to another was my dream. I would sit on the beach in Coney Island just a couple of blocks from our apartment and look out at the ocean and imagine connecting Coney Island, Brooklyn to Sandy Hook, New Jersey by tunneling underneath Raritan Bay.

I felt I had sand in my veins, but most of it was in my bathing suit.

Mother felt I would be better as a Neurosurgeon because of my dexterity at playing pickup sticks. Actually, she wouldn’t mind me going into any profession, long as letters appeared after my name.

I felt my destiny was sealed after seeing a movie about Sandhogs called “No Time for Love” with Fred McMurray and Claudette Colbert. I came home transformed. My older brothers were sitting at the kitchen table and I said to them why don’t one of you mugs get up and give me a seat. They both stood and proceeded to pummel me to the floor… that was my first experience with the bends.

At suppertime, I would make tunnels in my mashed potatoes and try to hold back the gravy until the tunnel was just finished. My mom would ask how do you like the mashed potatoes?”

And I replied, “They taste great but the consistency caused three cave-ins and I lost two of my best men… because of you.”

“I’m going out for a drink.”

“Wouldn’t you rather play pickup sticks?” she said. 

I disregarded her offer and left for the corner candy store.

 Mr. Fleischmann asked “what can I get you sonny?” and I replied, I’ll have an Egg Cream and don’t skimp on the chocolate syrup.”

 His younger daughter Rachel looked at me with awe.

Listen, Mr. Fleischmann said, “When have I ever skimped on the chocolate syrup you little pisher?

I shrugged off his remark, took my drink to a corner table where Rachel enthralled by my assertiveness joined me.

“Michael what’s come over you, talking to my father that way?”

“I had three cave-ins and lost two of my best men, I needed a stiff drink before I tell their families.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Listen kid you’re the kind off girl I need to be with… guys in my racket need a pretty girl to come home to. How good are you at making mashed potatoes?”

“I tried once but they came out thick and lumpy.”

“I knew you were the girl for me. Meet me at the beach tomorrow and we’ll talk some more.”

                                                Next Day

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“I’m going to be a Sandhog, and I want to build a tunnel to Sandy Hook and name it after you.”

“I don’t think Brooklyn needs a tunnel from Coney Island to NJ, especially one called, The Rachel Fleischmann Tunnel.”

“It will be called the Rachel Godfrey Tunnel.”

“You’re planning to marry me? Michael I’m only nine years old and you’re 11.”

“Why are you putting obstacles in our path? You’re just like my mother.”

“I’ll take that as a complement. Your mother is a very wise woman.

“How come you’re so against this?”

Listen Michael last month you wanted to be a Canadian Mounty after you saw “Rose Marie” with Nelson Eddy and Jeanette McDonald. I can’t live my life this way.”

“You seemed okay with it the other day?”

I was humoring you. You still need an adult to help you cross Mermaid Avenue. Did you think you can take the subway to Canada?”

“Maybe you’re right. Do you want to go to the movie and see Dr. Kildare?”

Now you’re talking Michael. I’ll bring candy from the store.

Copyright 2017 Summerlin's Writers and Poets Workshop - Las Vegas, NV.

Author Mitch Phillips, all of his books are available on

Your comments and recommendations are appreciated. 


Tuesday, December 19, 2017


(Mr. Tudball, with Swedish accent) “Mrs. Ah-huh Wiggins, would you please come into my office and bring your steno pad. Mrs. Wiggins, I can’t hear you!!!! You keep forgetting to press the intercom button. It’s the red button on the intercom, how many times do I have to go over this with you.”

He mumbles to himself “My Gut, how did I ever hire this stupid woman?”

(Wiggins) “Okay Mr. Tudball, don’t let yourself get into a thither, I’ll be right there.  But I have to tell you I have to leave early to do some Christmas shopping.”

As she sits in his office checking out her nail polish, the phone rings and rings.

“Well Mrs. Ah-huh Wiggins are you going to answer the phone?  Never mind, I can see your mind is somewhere else.” (He mumbles something under his breath.)

“Hello, no I’m not ready to give an interview” (And slams down the phone). Are you ready Mrs. Wiggins for my dictation, where the hell is your note pad. Your sitting on it, right?”

Accusations update:    

It has come to the attention of the local media and Tudball Corporation executive board that three former secretaries have come forth with allegations of sexual harassment while working under Mr.Tudball employment. Of course, Mr. Tudball adamantly denies all these accusations. He tells the media, that they are trumped up charges as part of a hostile takeover of his company and to replace him.

They ask the two women and one man, why after twenty to twenty-five years they are now coming forward with these accusations. Their lawyer spokesman said, “It’s the feeling of my clients, since both Hollywood and political representative are now under scrutiny for these predatory misconduct, they feel Mr. Tudball being a very successful entrepreneur should face the same consequences and pay for these past misconducts. They all claimed mental anguishes with years of professional therapy required to overcome the sexual abuse.”

One woman said twenty years ago Mr. Tudball was once a spitting image of Gary Grant, (Really?) in the way he dressed and the slick way of talking me right out of my clothes. One time he even threatened to jump from his seventh story window unless I agreed to go on a weekend trip with him. When he was on the outside window ledge, she locked the window and quit.

The Second woman accuser, said twenty-five years ago, he looked like Gary Cooper (Really?) and that he insisted she sit on his lap while taking dictation. He was very international with Russian hands and Roman fingers. He had a foot fetish and thought my big toes were the most beautiful part of my body.  

The third individual, a man, accused Tudball of a 3-1/2-year relationship with him. He said Tudball had a seven-year itch in only 3-1/2 years and left him stranded and heart broken. He constantly flaunted, in front of me, the beautiful women in our office to make me jealous. I was never good enough for him or as his secretary.
Tudball dictates his resignation letter to the board of directors and Mrs. Wiggins returns to his office for his signature, sits down and starts buffing her nails.

(Tudball) “Mrs. Ah-huh Wiggins, I’m sorry you’re going to be losing your job today, so I am going to make a confession to you, but you must keep this as our secret between us.  (Thinking she is not too smart to begin with.)   Promise?”

“I promise!”

Twenty-five years ago, I became an agent for the Swedish government when they purchased Tudball and associates. I was recruited as an agent; my mission was to funnel funds into this country to influence the American Elections. We contributed millions and sometimes billions of dollars from both Russian and European countries to influence the election outcomes and in some cases, pay for play activities. Most of the American elections with negative ads and political contributions, we accomplished our goals.  Tonight, Mrs. Tudball and I are leaving for Stockholm to enjoy our retirement days in luxury funded by the Swedish government.”

“Not so fast Mr. Tudball, let me introduce myself, I’m FBI agent Donald Wiggins. I’m really a man posing as your secretary and an undercover agent. Our government finally uncovered the Tudball Swedish conspiracy, but we needed proof. That’s where I came in.   Now, Mr. Tudball, your entire confession is on tape. You’re under arrest as an agent of a foreign country to influence the American elections.”

“Your next stop Mr. Tudball is to meet our special prosecutor. We already made reservations for you at our nearest federal prison of our choice.”

Copyright 2017 Summerlin’s Writers and Poets Workshop – Las 
Vegas, NV.


Scan down to read several new posting of original comedy stories and poems by just some of our very talented members.

Monday, December 18, 2017


 The year is 1948 and our man Red, as he is known in the Brooklyn neighborhood is the local handyman. Always laughing and cracking a job, he brought good cheer to his customers and children just like every day was Christmas. Red had several neighborhood obstacles to contend with such as muggings, and even one customer an 85-year-old woman answering her door completely naked. He would turn around and excuse himself, saying he had to go home, he forgot his glasses.

His motto: No matter what the leak and even when your spring is broken on your hide-a-way bed, just call your local handyman Red.

This is Martha his childhood sweetheart. She works at Macy’s Department store as a sales clerk during the day and at night she wanted to be a nightclub torch singer. Red was devoted to her and her ambition, he followed Martha around to all her singing engagements and vocal lessons.  Even though Martha had a pretty good voice, her stage presence took away from her singing talent. The first night she was on stage she was introduced and fell flat on her face in front of the microphone, the audience roar with laughter. When she dropped the microphone on her foot, during a tender love ballad, it happened again and again. People came to see the new comedian and she started to indulge them with more trip falls and humor.

Christmas was around the corner and Red wanted to buy Martha a special present, like an engagement ring. However, she told him many times she was not meant or interested in marriage. Her focus was her singing career.

On December 5th, Red won the Brooklyn lottery. No one ever new how much he won, but the neighborhood came alive with Red’s prospect of purchasing Martha some prize possession. All the underworld neighborhood characters came out of the woodwork trying to sell him fur coats, jewelry, or investments. They had no takers.

Instead he presented on that faithful Christmas day two tickets on the Queen Mary to sail to Paris.
When they arrived in Paris, Red looked up all the music variety clubs and personally spoke to the people in charge to give Martha a chance to entertain their audience. It happened the first night, a standing ovation, Parisians loved her voice, and forget the pitfalls. She found her audience and was determined to make a success there in Europe. Red returned alone to the Queen Mary’s return trip totally lonely.

He spent many nights in the ships lounge drinking his misery away and listening to several musicians and singers. One young French singer, FiFi was her name, besides being such a wonderful and talented singer, Red thought she was a real looker. He invited her to join him for drink. She told him she was hoping for a career a singing in New York. Red had an idea about introducing her to all the local spots in Brooklyn. He would become her agent.


It worked, she was to become the hit of New York City thanks to Red and at the same time become his future wife.  Red’s world changed in the years to come with the birth of four daughters and his own talent agency representing many new and upcoming entertainers. He even received a letter one day from Martha with a check for $1000.00 thanking him for the best Christmas gift she ever received. He wrote her back sending back the check and telling her, that she gave him the best Christmas gift that year by allowing him to meet his wife, FiFi and having four beautiful daughters to celebrate many Christmas’s to come.


Copyright 2017 Summerlin’s Writers and Poets Workshop, Las Vegas, NV.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!


Tuesday, December 12, 2017

'MORTIMER' By Morrie Greenberg

My friend, Mortimer Kadookis, marches to a different drummer. 

Can I prove it? I met him getting off the train last week and asked him how the train ride was. “Lousy,” he answered. He said the seats faced each other and unfortunately, he had to look backwards during the whole train ride. I asked him why in the world he did not ask the passenger facing him to trade places with him. He quickly replied, “Oh, I thought of that, but there was nobody there.”

As we started walking toward my car, I noticed he walked with a cane that was much too long for him. I suggested to him that he saw off about 4 or 5 inches from the bottom and he’d be more comfortable. He looked at me like I was stupid and reminded me that that would do no good at all. “It’s up here that it’s too long, not down there”, he replied.

When we went to area where there was brighter lighting, I noticed he was wearing one black shoe and one brown shoe. When I called this to his attention, he looked down and exclaimed in surprise, “would you believe it, but I have another pair of shoes just like these at home.”

Well, now you see what I mean by marching to a different drummer, but he’s an old friend and I like him very much.

Copyright 2017 Morrie Greenberg

Our author Morrie Greenberg, his books designed for home study are available on  

Scan down to read over (25) original comedy stories and poems by just some of our very creative comedy writers.

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Saturday, December 9, 2017



 (Peggy – Buddy’s Wife) “You Listen to me Buddy, I want you to pick up that damn phone and call my mother and apology for ruining her Christmas dinner. You know she spent the whole week preparing this meal and you and your friend Jonathan’s antics embarrassed her in front of the whole family. I was so embarrassed we had to leave early.”

 (Buddy) “All right I’ll call her, but I don’t care, I didn’t expect a tofu turkey, you know I love to eat, especially last year's her turkey and spiral ham were delicious.  I could not believe your family going at it like it was their last meal, and the way it looked, it could have been.”

“Buddy, just call her and make her feel good after all her hard work.”

“Hello Helen, this is Buddy, I want to apology for being such an ass at your dinner last night. I don’t know what got into me. I hope you forgive me?”

She hung up!

“You know Peggy, it’s all your uncle Jonathan’s fault, it seems like your mother always has me sitting next to her brother at the dinner table and like always he seems to get me into some kind of conversation and trouble.”

“Buddy, he likes you. He just can’t get along with anyone else in the family.”

“You know he’s not right. From minute to minute I don’t know who I’m talking too. Last night we’re sitting at the table and he says, “Just look at this spread, don’t you think there’s something strange, I sure do. There’s definitely a conspiracy plot here.”

Standing up he announces, “As security commander, I’m calling for a lock down of these premises.”

“What’s wrong Johnathan don’t you like tofu turkey, soybean potatoes, tofu salad, your sister went to a great deal of work to prepare for this holiday dinner and you should thank her.”

“What do you mean, I’m not going to thank that old witch in the kitchen, she’s  a plant for the vegetarian conspiracy."

“That is your sister.”

“That’s exactly what they want you to believe, she a plant as sure as I’m Harold P. Morgan county commissioner. As commissioner, I going to have my CIS research team test samplings of everything on this stupid table. I am sure there are hallucinogenics that they want us to consume to control our minds. I’m telling you Henry (My names Buddy; Sorry Buddy) there’s a conspiracy here and let’s gather samples of everything on the table, hurry get some baggies from the kitchen. Don’t just sit there stupid, start scooping it up.”

“Jonathan, stop, everybody is looking at you. There is no plot against us.”

“Henry, you don’t mind if I call you Henry, I don’t like the name Buddy. Now listen here Henry, as our President top staff adviser, yesterday I flew down to Washington and had a special meeting with the President right in his oval office. He apologized for not taking me into his confidence sooner about this new vegetarian conspiracy.”

(Peggy) “Buddy, see you played right into his hands and now my Mom is all upset and banish him to the backyard stockade. You and Jonathan just made a mess of everything and were leaving.”

“I’ll call Jonathan right now and apologize for getting him locked up for the Christmas holiday dinner.”

“Buddy, I’ll track you down if it’s the last thing I do.”


Copyright 2017 Summerlin's Writers Comedy Workshop - Las
Vegas, NV. 
Scan down to read several new comedy postings for you to enjoy and share.

Also visit our Summerlin's Writers Workshop Blog: 
Dec. Topic: Christmas and Holiday stories and poem.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017


Colleen Casteel a former member of the Writers Workshop once posed the question to our group. Why do you write and I responded in my best Brooklyn accent. “because I don’t talk so good.”

And that remains the case. I’m going to read my stand up piece and hope you will be pleased. I may look up from time to time to see if anyone leaves… Nervous laughter is okay.

Tonight this will be a learning experience for me. I will find out whether I should go out into the world and embark on a standup comedy career while I can still stand up. Or remain in the accepting embrace of the writers work shop.

My mobile with the little animals and birds that turned and fluttered when air from the heating system created wind currents mesmerized me. Sometimes I touched them and watched them turn and twist. I fell in love with them.
One day my reverie was broken when my mother interrupted and said to me. Honey I think it’s time you found a job.

At present I’m on a longevity diet. I eat oat meal, oat bran and drink oat milk. And just this week I realized that horses’ eating the same diet only gets them to about thirty years of age. I must say while on that diet I’ve developed an impressive gallop.
So I switched to what elephants eat. Tree bark and succulent roots. They live into their Seventies. If you see me in Star Nursery with my arms around a tree it’s not because I’m a tree hugger–I’m just having lunch.

At this point I’m going to anticipate a question. Has this restrictive diet helped me live longer and I have to answer. It only seems longer.
By now you all must think you tuned into the Nature channel.
In my search for longevity I discovered the longest living animal is the tortoise…some living into their hundreds.

That’s when I realized I should let the tortoise be my guide. That’s if you’re not in a hurry,

We have many similarities. I take forever to finish a project. I drive so slow I make sure to turn on my emergency flashers so people will think I’m having mechanical difficulties. They used to beep and shake their fists at me. Now they open their windows and ask if they can help.

I visited my friend’s house recently–you see they have a tortoise. I arrived at lunch time, and had a chance to bond with Max, their tortoise. His advice to me was don’t worry about what you eat kid. Just take it slow–you’ll live longer.

I know what you’re thinking. A talking tortoise?  Remember Dr. Doolittle?
Max told me he eats a daily diet of fresh vegetables like kale, dandelions, collard greens and sometimes a little squash.
It’s a hell of a lot better than Tree bark and succulent roots that elephants eat.

Now when I go to the super market I never use the express lane. So I went to Smith’s. Loaded up on the food I mentioned, got in my car, turned on the emergency flasher lights. When I got home I put on the Nature channel and wondered what TV would be like in the year Twenty one hundred.
Let me get back to the human world. And put my quest for longevity on hold.

After a break in on my street
I wrote on my entry ways. “No Money, No Guns, No kidding” and went out for the day. When I returned my house had been broken into and there was a note on my kitchen table saying. “Just Checking.”

I had a dream the other night that I was standing on the ledge of a five story building and a large crowd formed below. And in unison they looked up and yelled. “Don’t Spit.”

I went to the Stutters convention at the Sands. Their theme song is. If I loved you words wouldn’t come in an easy way.

In the adjacent room was the Hypochondriac’s convention. They were late getting started. No one would touch the door knob to enter the room.

I have a gambling problem. When I called one eight hundred Gambler, I got a recording that told me, at the tone… press any number from one to nine.

I had to hock my furniture to pay the rent. Now when I have company…I meet them at Walker Furniture.

At my first Gamblers anonymous meeting a member said. “How much do you want to bet I break my addiction before you?”

He lost.

Thank you for being such a great audience.


Copyright 2017 Sun City Writers Workshop - Las Vegas, NV. 

Our author Mitch Phillips and his new book
"Keeping It From Harry" available on 

Scan down to read over 25 original stories and poems by our workshop comedy writers. Your comments and recommendations are appreciated.

Visit our Summerlin's Blog to read 
several Christmas and Holiday Stories.
This is our topic for Dec.