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Kenny's Bloopers! Scroll
"Sorry" 
Winner Winner 
"That's all folks." |
Kenny & AJ
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Once upon a time, there lived Tyler, a poodle-mix dog.
Tyler was the sane one.
His master, on the other hand,
was something else:
He loved dancing with the Moon!
Full moon nights were his favorite nights for dancing. There was never a reason not to dance with the Moon. Inside out his master would turn, round and round he'd shimmy - up and down he'd bop to a song, with a smile across his moon-faced chinny. Tyler's master truly was insane. "The bottom line," Tyler's master told him, "is that if I can't dance with the Moon, then why get out of bed." So, on those full moon nights, with its white light so bright, Tyler would follow his master to the grove behind their cottage, and watch his moon-dance in beautiful perfect consideration: Tyler thought that his master could not have asked for a better dancing partner. The End =) |
Happiness is not a state of mind, Happiness is the road we walk on. It's our first smile of the day, and our last kiss good night.  “I don’t know,” Frannie answered her little charge with a shake of her head. “No one knows. I've watched him in that globe going on thirty years now.” She waggled her fingers at me. I swept my little hat off in a bow. She continued, “I never let one fingerprint mar the perfection of his glass,” she exclaimed, glowing with pride from a lifetime of exemplary service. She lifted the snow globe off its stand and helped the boy give me a vigorous shake, sending my water-world swirling in an epic blizzard of snow, trembling me with joy. "Oh!" I gasped, my fingers intertwining. Frannie and the boy carried me over to the kitchen window and sat me up on the windowsill. The spring sun shone brightly in the morning sky, filling my heart with happiness. The green fields were mine today—leaf budding maple trees lacing the slant of the hill as far as my eyes could see. A stupendous day. A perfect day. Unlocking my nearly filled journal, pen in hand, I began to write.  Gramp's Cubs aren’t doing well, and neither is he. But he’s the happiest darn guy I ever met. Right to the bone, Mr. Pleasantry he is. He once told me he climbed a mountain and found Grandma up there before she climbed. He just knew. He was looking out the window at the midday sky when I walked in. His hair was washed. I liked that, shiny and combed. Shaved, too, and fresh clothes. He was sitting up in bed, with pillows behind his back, wearing a big grin across his face. “I’ve been dreaming so insanely!” Gramps chuckled, begging me to sit in the chair next to his bed. “But I like it. It’s like watching footsteps in the rain. You just close your eyes and imagine . . . Did I tell you your father and your Aunt Emma were once kidnapped?” “No Gramps, you didn’t.” I bent over slapping my leg with laughter. “Well, I’m fixin’ to tell ya.” I leaned over the edge of the bed and kissed his cheek and returned to the green chair. I closed my eyes, listening, and imagined footsteps in the rain.
 “Me, pick me,” cried the human Rachel, the stunning beautificant displayed her impeccably red-painted nails. The gray cat Samantha, with her vivid green oval eyes, examined Rachel’s profile card that hung on the gate and decided this human Rachel was the one for her. She nuzzled her body along the foot of the cage as Rachel reached through the metal bars. In a flash of light, Samantha dissolved into the cage and melded with Rachel's human-body. Samantha was no more and Rachel was all that remained. "Clang" opened the cage lock, and outward swung the gate. Rachel stepped over the threshold with a “Meow,” and strutted through the feline crowd with a swish of her phantom tail. She pushed through the front door, and met her new world with a cheer. The first human cage in the line held old Miss Mayhew, age seventy, with her balding mass of unkept hair. Her prominent over-bite gave her the look of a bird of prey. She resented everything, resented this whole rite of choosing, resented the fact that her profile card now read “Discard in two days.” Lily, a young tiger-coated American Bobtail, fell instantly in love with her. 
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We tend our garden together,
grown at our wall,
in our small patch of dirt
outside our kitchen door.
The sun has passed by
and no longer bakes us down;
you stand here in your verses,
and I tend our ground:
The daughter of Venus,
the father of Zeus,
we tend our garden together
as we do everyday.
I cut blossoms for our table,
you read me your fresh words:
"Dawn is like love.
Hot will it blaze.
I look to the East
for its rising!"
"Daughter, I am surprised
you would read these words, revealing."
"But Father, it is pass noon after all,
the sun is retreating."
You stand proud, white cap, white collar,
gray long-sleeved blouse,
tucked inside brown skirt with apron.
Journal in hand, you smile.
"Oh Papa, I am not bold, just hoping."
"Your hope," I mention, "is not just in verse."
"It's from tending our garden together,
and watching our flowers grow."
We sit together in a circle,
holding hands, holding thoughts together.
In the center, spinning ever changing,
is what we build our lives on.
We all get older,
We all climb mountains,
We all see reflections,
We all have needs,
We all want warmth,
We all want Fire and Lightning!
The center slows to a stop and stays.
We see Italian Dinners.
