 
## Eighteen Stories With A

## Touch Of Humor

By

### Mario V. Farina

Copyright 2016 Mario V. Farina

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

Electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information

Storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

Correspondence may be directed to:

Mario V. Farina

Email: mario@mariofarina.com

These are eighteen stories with a touch of humor. The titles of the stories are:

Who's Shirley?

Thou Art A Witch

How Jeff Lost The Job

Terrible But I Loved It

Twenty-Four Home Groan Puns

A Rolls With ESP

The Woman In The Diner

Fifteen Minutes Of Fame

They Were Just Being Polite

Remembering The Anniversary

How Are The Seats?

A First Date On A Windy Day

Chinese Fortune Cookies

Learning Inline Skating

Read My Best Puns To Boggle Your Mind

Hopping Powder

The Great Witch Hunt In Hamlet City

Voyage To Mars

**Note: The author of this story reads one of his stories on** _Youtube_ **every day. To see and hear, open** _www.youtube.com_ **and search for "** _Grandpa Mario reads_ **"**

## Who's Shirley?

Marilyn and I were very much in love. We had met in college while taking courses in philosophy. We were within a couple of months of being the same age. Both of us had dated but neither had found the one they could devote the rest of their lives to.

Upon receiving our degrees, we found jobs in the same city but in different companies. Marilyn had been hired as a doctor's research assistance and I had found a junior position as a consultant. Both of us were earning decent wages and our relationship had grown to be more than that of just daters.

We lived in different apartments across town but would often speak of moving in together in order to save on living expenses. Something within us kept us going forward with that idea. I think it was that marriage, to us, meant more than living together for a period of time. We felt this action meant that our relationship was to be a _forever thing_ and _forever_ could not begin until, first, there had been commitments.

Marilyn and I loved to joke and would often play tricks on each other. She was better at this than I. There was many a time when I'd be feeling blue for one reason or another and she'd do or say something that would cheer me up immediately.

We loved having dinner at Olive Garden. Though meals there were not expensive, we had decided to visit there only once every two weeks, and always on a Saturday afternoon. We'd share the cost. Since we went to the same place every time, we got to know the servers well and they began recognizing us. They knew we were not married and referred to us as Marilyn and Michael. One of the servers was a young college girl name Eva. Eva had a habit, when serving, us of using the word _absolutely_ often. We'd ask for more bread and she'd say, " _absolutely_ ," and dash off to get it. Or, we'd ask for our dessert and she'd exclaim, " _absolutely_ ," and scamper to the kitchen. Marilyn and I enjoyed referring to her as _the_ _absolutely girl_.

Being philosophers of a sort, Marilyn and I would often discuss the effects of words. The words we used, placed in various sequences, could give us information, bring tears to our eyes or make us laugh. We shared our thoughts with Eva and she laughed when we told her what we had nicknamed her.

"I'll try to do better," she said.

"Please don't do that, replied Marilyn. We love you just as you are. _Stay as sweet as you are!"_ she sang the old tune. Eva promised she would.

The servers at Olive Garden became part of the family and Marilyn and I invited her to our wedding in October. It was a simple affair at Mount Pleasant Community Church. Marilyn wore a gown that had been modified and handed down from her mother. Eva was a Maid of Honor. I wore a dark blue suit. My best man was Jerry, one of the servers at the restaurant.

Marilyn and I had decided to spend our first night of marriage in a new apartment on Second Street. Then, we were to enjoy a two-week honeymoon at Niagara Falls. After a brief reception at the church, she and I rode in her Smart Car to our new home. Upon entering the apartment, we were surprised to see that a dinner had been prepared by the employees at Olive Garden and had been delivered for us to enjoy.

Eva and Jerry ate with us, then left. Marilyn and I were alone!

Time passed at it inevitably must. We sat and planned. Then, it was about ten. I was in PJs and Marilyn was in the bathroom changing to "more comfortable clothing."

"Mike," she called out, "would you hand me my nightgown. It's on the extra chair in the dining nook." She was holding her hand and arm through a small opening in the doorway.

"Surely, darling," I replied and walked toward the door with it.

She suddenly withdrew her arm. There was a pause. Then,

"Who's Shirley?" she called from the other side of the door.

Puzzled, I responded, "There's no Shirley here."

"You called me Shirley!" she said tartly. "Was that a mistake?"

"Yes," I said. "I didn't mean, Shirley, I meant . . ."

"If you didn't mean Shirley," she interrupted, "who did you mean, Alice, Helen, Trudy?" She spoke angrily.

"No, no," I attempted. I didn't mean Shirley, I meant _surely_.

There you go again! Oh?! _You really meant Shirley!_ This is terrible! _And on our wedding night!_

"No, no, these are two different girls! I mean two different names! Two different words! Let me explain!!

She came out the door laughing. She was wearing a bathrobe. "I was just having fun!"

You were joking, I sputtered happily, then began laughing.

"Yes, just having some fun," she said as she took her nightgown from my hand. "Here, help me put this on!"

"Surely. I mean, _certainly_ , darling," I said.

## Thou Art A Witch

We live in a world of witches. This is more of a problem in other lands than it is in the United States because we don't use archaic language here any more. But we should know more about witches anyway. Here are the facts:

There are many witches in our country. They look like ordinary people, both men and women. There are bad witches and good witches. The bad witches can cast spells; good witches cannot do this but they can remove them where they exist.

If you say to a person, "Thou art a witch!" there may be a reaction. If he or she is not a witch, the individual may be offended, but nothing worse is likely to happen. However, if that person is a bad witch, he or she may cast a spell upon you. The spell will be such that _it may be removed only by a good witch!_

I can't emphasize how important that last paragraph is!

In my youth I was at a diner one time after I had been reading about witches. There was a lovely blond woman serving me and I thought I'd try a new line. I said, "Thou art a witch!" The plan was that if she complained, I'd say I had yearned to be placed under her spell. As it turned out, the woman was a bad witch! She became very angry and, indeed, placed me under her spell. She turned me into a coffee cup! The picture at the front of this book shows what I looked like at that time.

Yes, that is a picture of me at the time. I was actually a coffee cup!

I had not expected this outcome and spent several days in this condition. But I was optimistic. Every time I'd be placed on a table and someone sat there to eat, I'd say, "Thou art a witch!" My hope was that a good witch would hear this and remove the spell. Most of the time the result was, simply, shock. After all, who had ever heard of a talking coffee cup?

After a week of this unpleasant existence, a pretty woman came to have breakfast. She was alone. I said, "Thou art a witch!" I was hoping she was a good witch so that she could remove the spell.

"Yes," she responded. "I am a good witch." I was overjoyed and begged, "Would you please make me human again?" She was willing but in no hurry. She wanted to know more about me. We had a pleasant chat, which was interrupted only when the server, a kindly-looking older woman, came to take the her order. I had found out a lot of good things about the young woman, but all she knew about me, up to that point, was that I was a coffee cup.

We continued our conversation, and I got the feeling that when I was a human again, we could take our relationship up to the next step. Eggs and bacon were delivered to her and she enjoyed this but I had nothing but coffee.

After the good witch had eaten, she changed me back to a human. At that time, I found myself sitting opposite her. We continued to chat. At the end, we exchanged telephone numbers and she left. The server came back and stared at me. "I didn't see you come in," she said. "How could she have?" I thought. I had been there all the while as a coffee cup!

I found this a little amusing and was chortling a little too loudly.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

I was laughing by this time, and I said through my tears of laughter, "I was thinking about the time I said something I shouldn't have and got turned into a coffee cup!"

"What on earth did you say?" the server asked.

"Thou art a witch!" I replied

The woman's countenance took on a severe appearance "That was nasty!" she growled as she turned me back to a coffee cup.

## How Jeff Lost The Job

This a copy of a letter that Jeff Bradley wrote Al Frieden, Manager of Human Resources at Williams Publishing Company.

Dear Mr. Freiden:

Thank you fore considering me for the position of General Topics Editor in you're company. I am hitherto presenting the writen document you requested concerning my qualifications for it's position.

For a number of years I had went to many conferences conserning writing techniques and had gave advise on this topic too whomever asked. In addition, I done critiques on papers that other's have subjected to me. Its always been my disire to help buding awthors. I have had long experience in understanding writen material and I had wrote many a paper on this topic. I had ran workshops dedicated to good writing and everything. I had spoke at conferences and, at times. I had even took documents home to reed, examine, correct, and whatnot. Basicaly, when I worked on them documents, there was alot of improvement.

The thing is, basicaly, I have several manners of expresing myself, you know. I mean, from the time I was a child, OK, I was interested in the writen word. Pretty much, I seen the way that others had wrote and was appailed, OK. I mean, it was always at the tip of my mind, you know. To be perfectly honest, others around me did not appreciate my efforts, right, but I prosisted. I remember, you know, two persons especialy. These were James and Janet Caldwell. Its good, you know, that I tell you about this because him and her were always trying to get polished. Do you know what I mean? I mean, it was dificult helping them.

I had a freind named George. Me and George were trying to loose weight at the time. Me and him would go to a restarant and talked about good writing. We watched our colories. Frankly, I can say that over a period of time, I have ate all kinds of diet food. But geting back to my qualifications, me and him did not always agree. His girlfreind would join us at times. The thing is, her and him did not care for my sugestions.

In the begining, I didn't know nothing about editing or grammur. Now, I have no trouble with these topics. One of my objectives are never to do nothing to cause no confusion. George, on the other hand, don't have no aptitude for good comunication. Being very frank, I can honestly tell you without interrogation that him don't know nothing about grammor. I asked him the other day why don't him try to learn how to talk beter. "George," I said, "Why doesn't you talk beter?" He seen I was sirious but don't say nothing. Long story, short, you can see that I am eager to be of help and all that stuff. But me and him just don't seem to have no agreement on this. Breifly statid, hes a looser.

One day, he come and, like, was exorbitantly angry. He goes, "Why don't you do nothing to help me?" I, like, was surprised, and I go, "I try to asist you all the time." Him goes, "me and you doesn't agree on nothing." Him, like, looks upset, distorted, or whatever. Me? I guess I look abjectly, to. Truthfuly, I have did alot fore for him and tried to help both he and his girlfreind, but him and her have never expropriated any thanks. All this have caused me a lot of duress but I'm geting over it. Their is litle doubt that there not able to express they're expreciation fore nothing.

I hope I have ben able to obfuscate clearly why I diserve the job of Editor. You can see that I learned alot about grammer in my life, and I'm, like a good candidate, you know, for the job, OK? Do you understand what I'm saying? I can start at you're earliest inconvenience and would like to here from you.

Your's Truly,

Jeff Bradley

## Terrible But I Loved It!

Jerry and Laura Thornton had been married for well over a year. It needs to be said that the marriage had been, and was. a happy one! Jerry was an ideal husband. Not only did he love Laura deeply but he cared for her greatly. So, to a casual observer, it would not have been a surprise when he woke one day with an idea firmly ingrained in his mind. _On this day, he must do something special for the love of his life!_ No, it wasn't Valentine's Day; it wasn't her birthday; it was not an anniversary. It was just an ordinary day, a Saturday, but nothing special about _this_ Saturday!

The fact that this was just an ordinary day, made it all the more important that the something special that he had in mind was needed. When a husband does something special for his wife, it needs to be on an ordinary day, he thought; otherwise, _there would_ _be_ _nothing special about something special being done on a special day!_

Laura would be visiting her sister on this day. He had several hours during which the something special that he wanted to do could be done. But, what could he do today that would make the day special for Laura?

Sitting at the computer in the den, he made a list. It had eight entries. From top to bottom, he rejected all the entries on the list except the last one. This was to write a poem for his wife. There was no time to be lost.

He finished just in time. The time he had had for the poem had been just enough. When he heard Laura car arriving home, he printed what he had done. He signed his name at the bottom of the sheet, folded it, and placed it in an envelope. There was no need to seal it; he tucked the flap inside, and placed the envelope on the keyboard of Laura's computer which was located a short distance from his.

Laura walked into the room. She smiled happily when seeing Jerry. She bent her head to where he was sitting and kissed him warmly on the lips. She turned to her computer and, spotting the envelope, picked it up and withdrew the sheet inside. While still standing, she read what Jerry had written.

This was the poem she read:

Laura, Darling

I wanted to do something special for you,

So thought of a card I might send,

But no card that could come to my view,

Would convey the thoughts I had meant to extend.

I thought of making you breakfast in bed,

Maybe waffles or something else that would please you,

But I'm not much of a cook as you know,

And anything I'd make would taste like a shoe.

I could bring you candy or flowers,

But what kinds would they be?

If I brought you something that you didn't like,

'twouldn't be something you'd be happy to see.

I could buy you a gift of great surprise,

But would you be happy with what I gave?

I might think that a coat would please you

When perfume had been what you actually did crave.

Maybe dinner out would have been good for you,

Or dancing all night at a club.

I might take you at a place to twirl,

When you had wanted to go to a pub.

A romantic week at a grand hotel

With champagne and service galore!

I might choose a place in the mountains

When you wanted a cruise far from shore.

Lingerie might be nice for you,

And I would like that too,

But showing up at a shop to buy it,

Would be something I could not do.

There's only one thing that I'm truly good at,

A poem of love I can surely write.

It would be full of words of love and devotion

That would you greatly excite!

So, here it is with great love, Jerry

Looking on, Jerry waited until she had finished, then, expectantly, asked, "What do you think of my poem, Darling?"

" _It's terrible!_ " _she exclaimed smiling,_ " _but I loved it!_ "

" _Sweetheart, I love you so much._

What more could I possibly say?

The only words that fit are,

_You've certainly made my day!_ "

## Twenty-Four Home-Groan Puns

On March 14, 2016, I published book of puns in Smashwords entitled _Read My Best Puns To Boggle Your Mind_. In this book you'll find twenty-four more. As with the last batch, these puns are originals, ones I invented. The last batch treated you nice; the puns were intended to be funny. The ones in this book are mean; they are intended to make you groan. If you didn't read the ones in the last collection, I invite you to do it now. The are free.

1-Making Candy

Susan needed to make more money so she decided to learn how to make candy. At first, nothing worked. Her bonbons bombed, her fruit loops drooped, and her peanut clusters crushed. She was in despair. But she persisted, and, at last, she learned. And, _she made a mint!_

2-A Fowl Story

It is a known fact that the famous Sherlock Holmes once spent some time in jail as a consequence of one of his adventures. In order to solve _The Case of the Churlish Chicken_ , he had gone into a poultry store to pick up a special kind of fowl. Unfortunately, he was in a great hurry and left without paying for the bird. The store owner summoned the police and demanded that they arrest _the distinguished looking gentleman with the cape on._ Which they did.

3-Close Encounters

There is much anxiety over UFOs these days. There are encounters of the first, second, and third kind. Many of these encounters are certainly mysteries, but some sightings can easily be explained. Just the other day, for example, a flight the pigeons went by. This was seen on the radar screens and there was a great deal of alarm. It had not been anything to worry about, however. No one had gotten hurt although there had been a great many _encounters of the bird kind._

4-The Pest

George loved to drink tea. He would come to visit and stay for several cups. He had an insatiable thirst for tea. Eventually, George became such a pest that we decided to "fix him." In order to cure him of all desire for tea, we decided to _drown him with the stuff_. One day, when he came over, we goaded him into drinking ten pots of tea. As he staggered off, we all laughed at how clever we had been in _putting ten pots of tea in a tea pest._

5-An Annoying Ringing

On the hour, every hour, Fred would tap his knuckles with a mallet. This would cause a loud _bonging_ sound. They after day, he did this, and when people couldn't stand it any longer, they signed a petition demanding that Fred _stop ringing his hands!_

6-The Coffee Plantation

When in South America, I enjoy visiting my friend, Pedro Gonzales. He owns a superb coffee plantation. Whenever I visit Pedro, he loves to take me _across his coffee grounds._

7-The Stone Faces

One of the great stone faces on Mount Rushmore was slipping. Some sort of wedge had to be found in a hurry to stop the slippage until repairs could be made. Nothing they tried worked until one of the workers brought a huge grandfather clock. The case was made of solid oak. This item was used to stop the slippage and it was done just in the neck of time. It was fortunate indeed that _a clock had been found that could stop a face._

8-The Space Kid

In early experiments with space travel, they put a two-year-old child in a spaceship and sent it whirling around the world. The toddler didn't like the experience and cried all the way. Everyone who had a radio could hear him cry and felt sorry for him. To this day, this kid is referred to as _the tot who was heard around the world._

9-Where Is One When You Need It?

He was a cowpoke and an amateur inventor. One time he invented a cowboy boot with a phone built into the heel. He felt that now he would always have a phone nearby, no matter what emergency might arise. He made several of these devices in various styles and stashed them all over his house. One day an emergency came up. He needed a phone real bad. But, would you believe it? When he needed it most, he couldn't find _a single telephone boot_.

10-Who Will Wear Them?

The buyer for a colony of bees buzzed off to a fashion show and purchased a lot of new clothes for the bees in the hive. The bee made terrible choices and none of the other bees would wear the clothing. "Oh, who will where these new clothes? Who will wear them?" lamented the bee who had done their purchasing. " _Left the buyer bee wear_!" responded the other bees in unison.

11-Plastic Surgery

The doctor was famous for plastic surgery. I went to see him. He took me into his private salon where there were samples of body parts including lips, ears, shins, etc. And there were lots of customers examining them. One person was deciding what kind of chin he needed, another was looking at ears. In a corner of the room, I saw a person _surreptitiously picking his nose._

12-Maybe Just A Little One

They were walking through the woods in Holland. "Gretchen, can I have a kiss," he asked. "No, Hans," she replied. They walked a little more and he repeated his request. "No, Hans," she said. Suddenly, she stumbled and her shoe came off. He picked it up. "Wooden shoe?" he asked. "Well," she answered, "now that I've thought it over, _maybe just a tiny little kiss._ "

13-Quitting It

Albert had heard that turkey meat is a good food for losing weight. It's nutritious, low in calories, tastes good, etc. But it has to be ice cold in order to work. He tried the diet for six months but didn't lose an ounce; in fact, he gained weight. Finally, one morning, Albert was heard to exclaim in disgust, "this diet doesn't work! As of today, _I quit cold turkey._ "

14-The Ghosts

All the ghosts in the world were having a conference at Spooky Hollow Hotel in the Catskills. Most of the guests were going around taking ghastly pictures of each other. One ghost asked a friend to take a picture of him. "I'd love to take a picture of you," the friend replied, "but my camera's battery is running down. The spirit is willing _but the flash is weak!_ "

15-Taking The Groan Away

He told dreadful puns, which usually elicited groans from his listeners. The louder people groaned, the better he liked it. After a while, the populace took to calling him "groan man." Ultimately, the awful pun-telling got so bad there was no choice but to surgically remove the pun center from his brain. This was done. He took it hard and wept bitterly. Truly, the ordeal had been _enough to make a groan man cry_.

16-Being Sad

This morning I was in the dumps. The fact is that I had been in the dumps all week. There was nothing good happening at all. I was very sad. A change was due. Then, suddenly, it happened! While I was in the dumps, I found a refrigerator and a range that were in pretty good shape and took them home! Finally, I had found something good _while I had been in the dumps!_

17-The Famous General

The famous General died and was cremated. It was desire to take his ashes to a prestigious cemetery for burial. There was to be a ceremony where the president of the United States was to speak. On the appointed date, it was found that there were no planes with which to transport the ashes. Something had to be done. At the last minute, someone thought of using a helicopter. One was found and the day was saved. Someone should have thought of the helicopter sooner for it is well-known that _the early bird gets the urn._

18-Reincarnation

I believe in reincarnation. I've experienced it myself. Once I was a bird; another time, a goat. I'm a human now and elderly. I'm due for another transformation. There are signs indicating this will happen soon. Lately, I've taken to the grassy hills and have enjoyed running around. I haven't had so much fun _since I was a kid!_

19-Why Wasn't It Eaten?

I opened the package of chocolate chips and was about to sink my teeth into one when it cried out, "don't eat me!" I was so startled, I dropped the cookie. I picked it up and was about to bite into it, when again, it exclaimed, "don't eat me!" As before, I dropped it. This happened over and over until, finally, I put the chocolate chip back in the box. I never did eat it. Now, _wasn't that a smart cookie?_

20-Wintertime traveling

I used to be afraid of driving on ice. Last year I solve the problem. I bought a car with four-wheel drive. From that time, I was no longer afraid of ice. I have to admit I was also afraid of _walking_ on ice. It took some ingenuity to solve this problem. Being an amateur inventor, I made a pair of boots that had two heels on each foot. When there is ice on the ground, I wear them. Now, I'm always safe because _these boots give me four-heel drive._

21-Space Travelers

Speaking of unidentified flying objects, a fleet of tiny spaceships arrived recently from Mars. The ships and their crews were so small that they were able to make headquarters on the handle of an axe. The little group of explorers was spotted by a child who decided to capture them with a butterfly net. She rushed to the scene in order to do this but was just a few seconds too late. Just as she arrived, she found that _the space travelers were flying off the handle._

22-The Gift

It was my birthday. There was a surprise party, gifts, and a huge cake in the middle of the room. I saw that the cake had a hinged top and, therefore, I expected that it would open and a beautiful girl would step out. Suddenly, the top began to move and I waited with great expectation. However, instead of a girl, a gentleman, elegantly dressed in a tuxedo, came out. He raised a glass and said, "Happy Birthday to you, sir!" It was all right, I suppose. The party and gifts were nice. But I was a little disappointed _in the pop-up toaster._

23-Butter Substitute

It was a company that produced a truly superior product as a butter substitute. Unfortunately, the company went under some time ago when it received an order for ninety thousand pounds of the stuff. One of the employees had made a mistake in the preparation and much of the order could not be delivered promptly. The error was fatal because _the company had not allowed enough margarine for error._

24-Naming The Season

Few people know that a time of the year was named in honor of Pocahontas. She was famous, of course, for having saved the life of John Smith. But there is more to the story. She was a wizard at adding numbers. She could add with amazing speed. This was discovered on an unusually mild November day in 1620. From that time, in her honor, a warm spell in November _became known as Indian Summer._

## A Rolls With ESP

"When I jingle, I expect you to jangle!" His tone was harsh, not at all consistent with the manner an auto, even a Rolls Royce, should speak to its owner.

This was Henry, the Rolls speaking. I had purchased him in 1940 when I had become suddenly wealthy. Now, instead of my owning him, he had the gall to order me around!

This is a true story but I can't use the names of actual people, places, and things. I'm 99. In 1938, at age 21, I wrote a book called _Gone with the Windlass_ which had caught the imagination of the English-speaking world. It sold countless millions of copies and I became wealthy overnight beyond my most unrestrained aspirations. Millions of dollars flowed into my coffers. Money was coming in so fast, I had no expectation of understanding how much. A movie with the same title as the book was filmed and the money poured in even faster. It was only natural that I should want to purchase _the best car in the world_ , as Rolls Royce was claiming for its make.

The picture on the cover is a photo of the car. It was built in 1939 by Rolls with a body by _Garpere of Paris_. I had a home built in Los Angeles for myself, my parents, and many servants. In the same picture, you can see my home in the distance, as it was then. The home had a three-car garage and I remodeled it so that the Rolls could occupy a more prominent place. The garage was heated and had an early form of air conditioning. I loved the car and I would often go to the garage just to sit in it and smell the marvelous odors of select leather and walnut trim. Whenever I drove the car, I felt as if I was taking a short trip to Heaven.

War came in 1941 and I volunteered. My family promised to give the car the best of care while I was away. I returned to the States in 1945 and eagerly opened the door of the garage expecting to enjoy the vision of my beloved auto. There it was, as lovely as I remembered it. I entered and sat in the driver's seat expecting to enjoy a first ride since returning home. It was then that I received a message from the car by thought transmission. "Not now, Robert!" was the message.

I thought my brain was playing tricks on me, and attempted to turn the key in the ignition. I could not do it! "Not now, Robert," was the message repeated. "I need to be driven by a chauffeur."

It was the Rolls! I realized it was the Rolls speaking to me! This was a car with the ability to communicate with me through thought transmission! "Impossible," I thought. "It was foolishness to believe this!"

"What you're thinking is right," a thought came back. "While you were gone, I taught myself ESP. My name is Henry, after the renowned king. I'm a Rolls Royce. Rolls Royce autos are always driven by chauffeurs!"

Exasperated, I exclaimed, "Henry, I _own_ you. You need to do my will! I cannot accept you as being _Henry, the recalcitrant Rolls_."

"What does that long word mean?" Henry inquired.

" _Won't do it_ ," I replied. "Who ever heard of a car refusing to be driven for its owner?"

"Oh, no, Robert," Henry responded tartly. "Rolls cars are _never owned_. They only serve _their chosen companions_. For the present, you are my chosen companion. But please understand, this relationship is subject to change!"

Despite the fact that what had transpired was beyond belief, I stopped discussing the matter with Henry and hired a chauffeur.

Now, I was able to take my first after-wartime ride. The chauffeur did a good job. I sat in the rear seat and enjoyed the ride immensely. When we returned, I asked the driver to park at the entrance to my home and dismissed him. Henry had sent me a thought message during the ride saying that he wanted to talk to me.

"Where did that buffoon get his driver's license?" he asked rhetorically.

I did not hide my irritation when I demanded, "What's the problem?"

"He doesn't shift me right," he responded. "I have three gears forward. There are ideal shift points for a Rolls with an engine like mine, and he obviously does not know what they are," he said. "I don't like him. Get rid of him."

I wanted to object but knew it was futile. I hired a new chauffeur for Henry that he liked better.

The next problem came when I started dating Marianne Andrews. I had met her at a dance and we had gone out to dinner several times. Things were getting serious.

"I don't want you taking this woman in the comfort I provide," Henry announced. "What?! I yelled. "Who I date is not any of your business!"

"I won't take her," he screeched back. "Use a taxi. When she's riding, she sticks one leg under the other on the seat and this makes me very uncomfortable."

"What you're demanding is outrageous," I shot back. "Rolls Royce automobiles were not intended to make themselves comfortable. They were supposed to make their passengers comfortable. How dare you suggest anything different?"

"I'm not your ordinary Rolls," Henry barbed back. " _I'm a Rolls with ESP!_ I deserve better."

Deeply offended by the disobedience of this car. I purchased a 1946 Mercedes-Benz V 170 four-door sedan the next day and parked it into the second stall of the garage at home. The yelp from Henry could have been heard on the moon.

"Never, never, park an ordinary car next to me in my garage," Henry bellowed into my brain. "Take that piece of junk out of here and park it where the sun doesn't shine," he yelled. "You have a choice. It's either that thing or me. Choose! Choose now!"

The choice was obvious. I took the car back to the Mercedes dealer losing a bundle. I did take Marianne on dates using a taxi a few times after this, but it wasn't long before she pulled down the curtain on our relationship.

I had now taken a dislike to Henry and decided to sell him. The problem was that when prospective customers came to inspect Henry, he would cough, sputter, and spit when I started his engine. Prospective customers would not purchase a car that didn't run well.

When I told Henry how furious I felt about his behavior, Henry retorted with the same level of anger I had displayed. "I am a one-owner car," he asserted. "This is my garage. I will not share it with any other car. This is the way it will always be. Accept what I'm saying as if it were written in the Bible!"

This statement was so forceful, I knew Henry meant every word he was saying. I did not attempt to oppose him but decided never again to ride in the Rolls.

Many years have gone by. I bought a Ford and have driven _ordinary_ cars since 1947. There is another garage on the property for those cars. I never wrote another successful book. Indeed, I never again wrote anything that could be defined as fiction. I got married, had children, grandchildren, and even great grand children. My income has been limited to the royalties I still receive from _Gone With The Windlass_. I'm in good health.

I never answered Henry's last mental message. Henry is still in the garage, perhaps deteriorating from disuse. So far as I know, he may actually be enjoying his years of inactivity. Don't try to find out if he's available for sale. Even if he were, I could not, in all conscientiousness wish to inflict him on to some innocent victim.

## The Woman In The Diner

11On this day, I did not go to the diner at the usual time. I had overslept and it was about nine. The Liberty Diner was a little less crowded than usual. I strolled toward my favorite booth and was unhappy to see a young woman already sitting there. She was reading a book while having breakfast.

There was an empty booth on the other side of the aisle. I selected one where I could keep the woman in view. She had caught my interest. First, she was reading a book. Nobody read books any more! I was a teacher of English Literature at Linden High School and no one knew this better than I. Second, she was attractive, but seemed lonely. Though not actually beautiful, there was a kindliness in her face that more than made up for that. Third, I was lonely too. At thirty, I had let love and marriage effervesce by being too preoccupied with academic affairs. These interests had taken their toll with wasted time. When the magic number of thirty arrived, I felt something should be done about catching up. I couldn't tell what the woman's age was but it seemed to be in a range that I should find acceptable.

The woman had not noticed me. There would have been no reason for this. She seemed thoroughly engrossed in her book. Every so often she would take a bite of food as if she had suddenly remembered to do it.

She had dark auburn hair. I couldn't tell how tall she was since she was sitting. I would have guessed about five-five or five-six, perhaps a little too tall for me since I was shorter than average. She was thin and I was a little overweight. I found myself feeling ashamed of my thoughts. I was here to eat, not to evaluate the availability of a chance personal sighting.

The server came and took my order. It was the usual sausage and eggs over easy, home fries, English muffin instead of toast, coffee. "You're late today, Ben." Trudy knew my name since she had served my breakfast for, at least, three years. My name is Benton Harris. I don't think she knew my last name. We exchanged the usual pleasantries. She attended to another table for a few seconds then disappeared into the kitchen. I turned my attention back to the young woman.

She had captured my thoughts! There was _something special_ about her. I knew not what, but it was something I could not ignore. How could I meet her? I wondered. From outward appearances, she seemed to be the kind of woman that my mind had always pictured as being a perfect wife, kind of face, studious, physically appealing. Another person might immediately have gone to her and introduced himself. I'm not demonstrative. This activity would have been too bold for me.

She appeared to enjoy reading. I didn't think she'd appreciate being disturbed while immersed in a book.

I could try bumping into her as both of us were leaving. No, there would simply be two _excuse me's_ and that would be the end of the encounter.

I could send her a note. No, she'd think I was a masher.

I might ask Trudy to introduce me? No, Trudy might feel this was not a role she should be expected to exercise as a server in a restaurant.

I couldn't let the woman go. I might not see her again. Trudy had brought coffee but not my meal yet. I could go to her booth and ask what was the book she was reading. I was mulling over that idea when my food was delivered. I slowly began to partake.

The meal didn't go well. I kept scolding myself for having been so ineffective. Now, she would finish eating, and I would finish eating, and we'd both leave, and that would be the end of today's opportunity to meet the woman I found myself so strongly attracted to. Yes, I could come back tomorrow at the same time but there was no assurance she would be here again.

Shakespeare, through Brutus, had expressed my thoughts better than I could when he wrote something like,

There is a tide in the affairs of men.

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

On such a full sea are we now afloat,

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.

This might be the day I would remember as _the day I had let the girl of my dreams turn my dreams to a sea of regrets._

I continued eating and kept glancing at the woman from time to time. Once she looked in my direction and I quickly averted my eyes. I didn't want to let on that I had been watching her. I resolved to be more careful.

I berated myself for having failed so miserably. The only plan I could formulate for the future was to come back tomorrow and embroil myself in the same ordeal. I ate without enjoying the food, or even being aware that it was being consumed. I saw Trudy bring the young woman a check. She paid her bill and left some folding money on the table. I returned to my food seething inwardly.

"Pardon me, may I sit here with you?" I looked up. It was _her_! It _was_ her! I felt myself flushing in several colors. "N-no, n-not at all," I stammered. "Please do!" She sat at the opposite side of the booth.

"My name is Emily," she said. "I couldn't help noticing you. You seemed so deep in thought. I was over there reading," she said pointing to where she had been sitting. "I couldn't focus on the words in my book thinking about you. Are you a professor?"

Now that she was closer, I could smell faint scents of perfume. "I-I teach at the high school," I said. "In my spare time, I-I do a little thinking," I said, realizing, with some humor, that this was _as incongruous as stating that Fred Astaire danced a little_.

"I eat here every day at about this time," Emily said. "I bring a book to keep me company but I'd rather talk to someone. Shall we sit together tomorrow so you can tell me what you think about? I would like that."

I readily agreed. Emily and I did meet for breakfast many times afterward. And for many years! Today, as I write this, we'll be celebrating the thirtieth year of our marriage.

## Fifteen Minutes Of Fame

Michael W. Butler was awakened at two in the morning. He was startled to hear a voice though he saw no one. "Mr. Butler, your day has arrived. You're entitled to fifteen minutes of fame. We need to know what kind of fame you desire."

"I can't see you," stammered Michael. "I don't know what you mean. What's going on?"

"You should know by now," the disembodied voice responded. "You've heard of Andy Warhol, haven't you? We're from _Way Up Here_. You're going to receive fifteen minutes of fame today. We can give you almost any kind you want!"

"You're from _Way Up There_? Do you really mean _Way up There_?"

"Exactly, we at _Way Up Here_ have the power to grant you the fifteen minutes of fame that you're entitled to. Do you want fame for inheriting a fortune, inventing something, writing best seller, what?"

"A fortune would be good. Make me famous for that!"

"OK, but we can't give you any money. You would get the fame but there would be no fortune. We don't have any money _Way Up Here_."

"How about me marrying Ms America?"

"Fine! But, there could be no such event. You would get the fame but not the girl! You might get ridiculed afterwards! We don't have any control over Ms. America's life _Way Up Here_!"

"Oh, I see how it works. Could I get fame for having raised a prize rooster at the county fair? That actually happened two years ago."

"No, not really, too trivial. How about fame for wisdom? Have you ever said anything that was wise?"

"I said that _anything you get for free is well worth it_!"

"No, too mercenary. What else?"

"We _get born and then spend the rest of our lives trying to stay out of the poorhouse_."

"No, too pessimistic."

"Let me think. I got it! How about _Fortuitous events prognosticate contingent futures_."

"Sounds wise! What does it mean?"

"I just made it up. Doesn't have any meaning yet!"

"Might be OK. Call WTZ-TV at eight and tell them that. If they accept it, your fame will begin an hour later."

Michael dialed the station and was shunted directly to the station's manager.

" _Fortuitous events prognosticate contingent futures_ ," said Michael. There was a moment of silence, then, " _Deep_!" commented the voice at the other end. "Do you mind if we announce this over the air tonight?"

"No, I'd be pleased if you did!"

At nine, Michael's statement was being heard on TV stations all over the country. He tuned in to CNBC and viewed the announcement.

"Michael W. Butler of Fleecewood Hollow has caught the attention of the world with his profound statement, _Fortuitous events prognosticate contingent futures_." Michael smiled broadly. He was enjoying his new-found fame.

His phone began ringing. The statements from callers were uniformly praise-laden. Several were asking whether Michael would agree to speak at their high school graduation exercises. The calls continued unceasingly. Fame was overwhelming for Michael. He stopped answering the phone.

A reporter came to the door, "Tell us more, Mr. Butler. What does this statement mean?"

"Nothing special that I can think of," retorted Michael, "It just came to me and sounded good."

Within moments, Roger Foxx was seen speaking on CNN. "Michael W. Butler, has just admitted his pronouncement has no meaning. He told us, it simply sounded good." Roger appeared horrified as he broke the news.

It was nine-fifteen. There were no more calls. Michael's heretofore-celebrated statement was never heard of again.

## They Were Just Being Polite

I'm 93 and retired from a full-time job when I was 90. I kept working because the idea of retiring never occurred to me and nobody ever mentioned it

.

Every so often one of my supervisors would engage me in conversation and say something like, "It was tough coming to work today. I wonder if being retired would be a pleasant change. Do you ever feel that way, Andrew?" I'd say, "Yes, I feel that way at times." He or she would give me a strange look and go away.

Other times, a manager might say, "Andrew, have you ever yearned to do some traveling? Wouldn't that be fun!?" I'd say, "Yes, I have yearned to do that." He or she would give me a strange look and go away.

One day, Fred, a co-worker who sat at a nearby desk said, "Andrew, did you know that a lot of people your age are retiring!" This remark caught my instant attention. No, I had not known this! I asked Fred to tell me more. He did. During the next hour or so, he revealed to me that many people leave their jobs as early as age 60 or 65 to begin a new kind of life. The more I heard, the better I liked the idea.

At home, I said to my wife, "Angie, how would you feel if I retired?" Her face took on an appearance I had never seen before. It was a combination shock, dismay, horror.

"Whatever made you think of that?" she managed to ask. "Everything in our lives is going to well. Why change anything that isn't broke?"

"I'm 90," I responded. "Fred told me that a lot of people my age are retiring and they like it!"

"What does Fred know?" she retorted. "He may simply want to get you out of the way so he can take your job," she suggested.

Nevertheless, I mulled over the thought and decided that if I retired, I would not have to get up so early any more, I could watch a lot more TV, I wouldn't have to shave every day, I could just walk around the house in undershorts all day, stop wearing my hair piece! Retiring was definitely for me. But I wasn't sure and wanted to try some experiments.

Saturday, Angie and I were getting ready to go out to a restaurant we'd heard about from my brother, Tony, but had never patronized. Acting on a sudden thought, I said, "I'd like to see how it feels to be retired. I won't wear the hairpiece today."

"You'll do nothing of the kind," she retorted. "You've hit a new high of foolishness!"

At work I wore a hairpiece because I wanted to appear as contemporary as possible. The office was hiring younger and younger people nowadays. The older folk were being transferred or something. I was not seeing any around any more.

Despite Angie's objection, I insisted on going out without the hairpiece. Angie sat behind the wheel and we drove off. (She had taken over the driving some years back when I almost hit a police car from the back while inadvertently going through a red light.) While on the way to Ronzoni's Italian Grill, I sat beside her with an unclad head. This was a first for me. I had never ventured outdoors without artificial hair since I had had a hairpiece made for me when I turned seventy.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I sauntered through the door feeling greatly uncomfortable. Angie had been right. I felt like an idiot. The server performed her duties in an efficient manner, never saying a thing to acknowledge my state of hairlessness. I was greatly puzzled.

"The server never said a word about my missing hairpiece," I said to Angie on our way home.

"What did you expect?" she responded. "We had never been to the restaurant before?"

"Yes, she had never served us before," I responded. "But still, she should have said something. I did definitely look different."

The following week, I suggested we go to the same restaurant. Something hadn't gone well the first time and I needed to find out why. This time, however, I did wear the hairpiece.

Our server was a different person from the week before. On the way home I commented that the server had not commented about my hairpiece. Angie repeated her statement from the first time. "What did you expect?"

"Well, I surely looked different from the first time, didn't I?" I said.

Angie admitted she know why the servers had not noticed my hairpiece either time.

At home, I phoned my brother. "Tony," I began, "Angie and I went to Ronzoni's. the restaurant you told us about, two weeks in a row. I didn't wear my hairpiece the first time but I did the second. Nobody noticed either time _. Both servers_ who waited on us didn't notice! What was the matter with those people?"

"Are you joking?" he asked.

"No," I responded, "This really happened. Both servers came to our table several times. I'm sure they got a good look!"

There was a long pause. Finally, he said, _"I think I know!"_ I eagerly awaited his next remark.

"The people did notice," he stated. "The reason is this: the servers are trained about people who wear hairpieces. The ones at Ronzoni's were trained to be very polite! They didn't want to embarrass you by telling you they had noticed you were bald the first time and not the second. _They were just being polite!"_

I was impressed with his explanation and told him so. With only a few words, Tony had solved my problem!

"By the way," he said just before hanging up, "have you considered retiring?"

I decided I should and did. He's a brilliant fellow, my brother; a little younger than me but a lot smarter!

## Remembering The

## Anniversary

"I should think you'd remember the most important date in our relationship," Wendy murmured, tears forming around the edges of her eyes. "You could have, at least, given me a card."

Ben realized how badly he had hurt his wife. True, he wasn't much for ceremony, but he should have known better. It had been less than a year after he met Wendy that he realized she was the one for him.

Wendy had been a math instructor in the same school where he taught computer science. They began dating, and as they did so, he discovered that she was a no-nonsense observer of holidays just as he was. It was a perfect match. So why was she complaining that he had not remembered their first wedding anniversary.

Women are different, he decided. A part of them says one thing but they really want something else. He was going to learn from this experience and not make the same mistake again.

But habits are strong. Ben would think about June 19 every so often, but most of the time, the date dwelt in the hinterlands of his brain. As the date drew near for his second anniversary, the fact that it wasn't uppermost in his mind alarmed him. To avoid the horrible blunder of the year before he composed a short computer program that would remind him of the date every day from June 1 until the actual anniversary date. He tested the program to make sure it would work.

On June 1, when Ben started his computer, the screen simulated a brilliant explosion of sun-bright lights which quickly turned to a midnight blackness with stars streaking at the speed of light from the inner cores of galaxies to the outer edges of the universe. This spectacle was repeated several times after which the normal start-up procedure took over. Ben smiled There was no way he would experience this panoply and not remember the anniversary.

Day after day the display materialized June 2, June 3, June 4! The program was working splendidly! On the next day, Ben paid less attention to the message. After all, he knew what it was and what it meant. On the next, he paid even less attention. By the time June 10 arrived, Ben was accepting the message as _part of the computer's startup procedure._

Then, June 18! It was a Saturday. At the breakfast table, Wendy mentioned that she needed to pick up some things at the supermarket. It was important she do this, she declared. This started a train of thought in Ben's psyche "Why important?" he wondered. The word, _important_ , vibrated like a tuning fork in his being.

_Important_! _Important_! Suddenly, he stiffened as if struck by lightening. Tomorrow was indeed important! Tomorrow was June 19! "Fool!" he shouted inwardly to himself. How could he had forgotten the importance of June 19?

He needed to do something and he needed to do it quick! Otherwise, he was going to be in the kind of deep trouble that only a victim of a woman scorned could know!

Wendy had left the house taking the SUV. The only vehicle available was the bicycle. This would work! There was a florist on Sixth Avenue only a couple of blocks away. They sold cards. Ben decided to splurge and purchase a bouquet of flowers as well as a card. He wheeled the bike out of the garage, vaulted to the seat and sped to the shop. Broadly beaming, he stood the bike on its kick stand, hastened to the shop's ornate door and entered. He made his way quickly to the card section.

Where were the anniversary cards? he wondered. Ah, there was the sign! The place was packed. Customers blocked his way. No matter, he bulldozed his way through and began perusing the cards. It was important he select an appropriate card!

Something made him turn toward the figure standing next to him. His eyes met those of the other person. They were familiar and so was the face! "Wendy!?" he managed to stammer as she gasped in like manner, "Ben!?"

## How Are The Seats?

My three years of service in the U. S. Army during World War II brought me out of the shell in which I had lived as a child and teenager. I was twenty-three in 1946 when I reentered civilian life.

A character trait that my parents had built into me still survived, however; that of being severely practical. My mind controlled my life far more than my heart did. Getting back to work as soon as possible seemed to be the logical thing to do. After a short stint at the American Locomotive Company, I was fortunate enough to get a job in 1947 at the huge General Electric plant in Schenectady as an Engineer's Assistant. The job did not require a college degree, Though the title sounded impressive, it was a clerical position.

My duties in this job required that I identify renewal parts required by customers for General Electric switches. In this work, I needed to understand and peruse blueprints. I would order copies of these drawings by phone from where they were stored in Building Four. A young woman would answer the phone and I soon learned that her name was Sally. I'd give her the number of the blueprint that I needed. She would make a copy of it using a blueprint copy machine and send it to me by internal General Electric mail.

As time went by, Sally and I became friendly and we engaged in a few moments of amiable chitchat whenever I needed copies of blueprints. Sometimes, when work was slow, I'd order prints I didn't need simply for the pleasure of speaking to her by phone. I liked the sound of her voice and wondered what she looked like. In ordinary conversation, I had learned that she was young, short, thin, and blond haired. I began wondering how I could meet her in person. My newly-acquired feelings of self-confidence did not include the quality of boldness.

One day, I told her that I owned a 1941 maroon Lincoln Zephyr sedan that I was very fond of. She said she'd love to see a picture of it. I didn't own a camera at the time so I drew a sketch of it and sent it to her by internal General Electric mail. The picture you see is a copy the actual sketch that I made. I colored the sketch using crayons.

The next time I phoned, she said she had received the picture and liked it. "The car is very pretty," she said, "but how are the seats?" I took this as a hint that she might accept an invitation for a date and I suggested we have a date so that she could evaluate the seats for herself.

We had our first date in 1949 and we enjoyed meeting each other. It was a pleasant Sunday in June. Magic was in the air. After a few more dates, my heart took over and I popped the question. We agreed to be married after she had turned twenty-one in September that year.

This happened sixty-seven years ago. I was 26, Sally was 21. We became engaged to be married in October, 1949. Sally and I decided we would postpone our honeymoon and put all our savings into a new home. The sum of our savings was one thousand dollars. We hated the idea of paying rent when we could put the money into a house. Our real estate agent told us the most house this money could buy was one that had just been built on the outskirts of Schenectady, New York. This was all right with us and we went to see.

It was a small Cape Cod, with four rooms, basement, and expandable attic, but no dining room, no fireplace, and no garage. The price was $9,500. The monthly payments each month were to be $54.00 for twenty-five years. Both Sally and I had jobs and we thought we could afford this. We signed the necessary papers and decided to move in on October 8, the evening of our wedding.

I have warm feelings about that home. The first evening Sally and I spent there was memorable but the next morning brought its own memory. Sally's father appeared unannounced barely after the sun had risen. He said the reason was that he simply wanted to see if everything was OK. We assured him it was and he drove away in his Packard. I stood at the front door for several minutes with the door open. "What are you doing, Hon," Sally's voice came from the kitchen. "Not much, dear," I replied. "I'm just looking up and down the street to see whether _my father_ is also coming to find out how we're doing."

We didn't know it at the time but this purchase represented the investment that made it possible for us to purchase three additional homes in the future. We moved to more expensive homes as one climbs a ladder to reach new heights. In 1960, we had a new home built in Apalachin, New York, for $17,000. Four years later, back in Schenectady, a new home built for $20,000, and still later, in Clifton Park, a new home for $25,000. The time span from the first home to the fourth had been twenty-seven years. There had never been a problem with making the down payments. The gain in value of the first and subsequent homes had made it possible for us to make purchases as they were needed.

Sadly, Sally died in 1987. We had brought up four lovely girls. I'm a great grandfather several times over. Memories of how the seats were will never leave me.

## A First Date

## On A Windy Day

Matthew Grimms studied his image in the mirror as he adjusted his hairpiece. He was only thirty-eight but had begun losing his hair fifteen years earlier. There was plenty of hair along the sides and back but very little on top. The piece had restored light brown hair to his head and ten years of youth to his appearance.

And now, he was in love. He had met Glenda Robinson at Ridgewood College and had been smitten as never before. She was the new secretary in the Humanities Department.

As Assistant Professor of English, Matthew had occasions to see and speak to Glenda several times during the week.

"Ms. Robinson, I need this outline typed before the staff meeting this afternoon. Would you see if you can fit it into your busy schedule?"

She turned her blue eyes toward him in a way that he found most disconcerting. "I'll try, Professor Grimms. Isn't this the same outline that you gave me yesterday – and the day before?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, it is, but you'll note that I've made some changes. I know it's an imposition, but would you mind...?"

"No problem at all, Professor. I'm sure I can get it done."

Matthew walked back to his office. He wasn't making much progress in getting to know Glenda better. A more direct approach was needed.

He knew where Glenda went for lunch. He thought that an accidental meeting at the Busy Bee Cafeteria would help break the ice. At lunchtime the following day, Matthew caught a glimpse of Glenda's trim figure as she put the cover on her typewriter and strode out the door. It was a beautiful sunny day in early September. Matthew decided that lunch at the Busy Bee today would be a good idea.

"Oh, hello Glenda," Matthew ventured, as he carried his tray to the table where she was sitting. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Oh, no, Professor. I'd be glad to have company."

Matthew gazed at Glenda's attractive face and his stomach began tumbling like a clothes dryer. He hoped that his emotions wouldn't betray him. People had frequently told him that he wore his heart on his sleeve – whatever that meant.

They chatted as they dined. During the conversation, Matthew discovered that Glenda was thirty-one and a recent graduate of Smith Business College. She was trained in secretarial work, but hoped that some day she might go back to school to become a physical therapist. He also discovered two facts that were of great interest to him. Brenda was not married and had no boyfriend. Also exciting was the fact that she was interested in sports cars.

"What a coincidence," exclaimed Matthew. "I've been a sports car fan since I was a kid. As a matter of fact, I was planning on picking one up this weekend. Maybe you'd like to take a ride with me after I do this."

The truth wasn't quite that. Matthew was a sports car fan, true, and had been for many years, but he had trouble fitting his tall, lanky frame into one. Though he had admired them from afar, he had never actually yearned to own one. Living in an apartment very close to the college, he didn't feel the need for a car. But, here was his chance to form a closer relationship with the girl of his dreams. He needed to own a sports car now.

Matthew couldn't afford a new car, so he decided to visit Mark's Used Cars on Saturday. There, he spotted a vintage Ford convertible that glistened in black. He walked closer to get a good look. Mark Baldwin, a heavy-set, middle-aged man with dark hair and mustache to match, exited from the sales office on the lot and approached the young man. "I see you're looking at this beautiful roadster," he declared.

Matthew felt that this was the car for him, but he wasn't going to make it easy for the salesman. "Oh, I don't know," he muttered. "Looks a little dated to me, real old. What are you askin'?"

"Twelve hundred," Mark responded. "Maybe it's a little much for an old car but people have begun noticing cars like this. This car may be worth something in a few years. But if you're serious, you can probably buy the car for less! I gotta make a sale today or fall behind for the month. I can knock off two hundred but that's only for today!"

"How does she run?"

"Like a charm! Here, take the keys. Take a spin around the block. See if you can keep the girls away!"

Matthew accepted the offer and struggled to get into the car. It was a tight squeeze. He started the engine, but didn't bother with a test ride. "What are your finance terms, and how soon can I take possession?" he asked.

"If you check out you can pick 'er up this afternoon. I'll finance the car for you personally. You'll have to rest of the year to pay."

"Done!" For the first time in his life, Matthew was on the way to becoming the owner of a sports car. Well, it wasn't a Jaguar or an Austin Healey, but it was a convertible, and that qualified as being a _sports car_ , he reasoned.

The afternoon was sunny and warm, but a little windy. Matthew walked to Mark's lot from his apartment and rushed through the mandatory paper-signing formalities. The top was still down. He opened the door and, somehow, squeezed himself into the driver seat. There was barely adequate leg room inside. The trick was getting in!

Matthew put the car into first gear and drove off the lot. Shifting into second and third, he turned down right on to Washington Boulevard. He planned on revving up the Ford to see how it accelerated. He mashed down on the foot pedal and the car leapt forward. Exhilarated, he watched as the speedometer hit twenty, then thirty miles per hour. Everything was going fine so far.

Suddenly, Matthew's hairpiece gave an early warning that it was about to become dislodged. Frantically grasping at it, Matthew caught the hank of hair just as it was about to sail from his head. He kept his hand on it while he made a hasty stop at the side of the road. Then he spent several minutes evaluating the situation.

Matthew had purchased his first hairpiece a long time ago. Over the years he had replaced them as they wore out or became outmoded. No one guessed that he wore artificial hair. The store-bought product had never given him a problem, that is, until today.

"Maybe more tape is what I need," Matthew thought. The tape he used came in strips that were sticky on both sides. Several strips on the inside surface of the hairpiece allowed the hair to stick securely to his head. His hairpieces had never restricted him in anything he wanted to do. He had even swum with them. Today, the turbulence of the air surging through the car was more than the tapes could handle.

Matthew drove home slowly and went into the bathroom. He removed his hairpiece and examined its inner surface. There simply wasn't room for more tape. Matthew had to find another way to keep his hair on. It simply wouldn't do to have the hairpiece fly off his head on his first date with Glenda.

Piloting the sports car to the nearby Grebbs Department Store, Matthew purchased a black-and-red plaid sports cap. He placed it on his head over the hairpiece and turned his vehicle onto the nearest wide street. At twenty, then thirty miles per hour, there's was no difficulty, but when the car hit thirty-five, his cap flew off and the hairpiece kept it company. This time, there had been no warning.

Screeching to a halt, Matthew exited from the car, and walked to where the two items were lying side-by-side not more than a few feet apart. Several children, who had been playing nearby, stared at him with a mixture of amazement and amusement. Matthew ignored them as he picked up both items and walked back to his car. Folding himself into the seat, he put the hairpiece and cap into the car's tiny glove compartment and drove off bare-headed.

He went back to the department store and parked. He retrieved the hairpiece from the glove compartment. Ducking as low as he could in the car's cockpit, he positioned the hair on his head and tamped it down. Then he straightened up and adjusted it using the car's small, dash mounted rearview mirror. He then gave it a final tamping.

Inside the store, Matthew purchased a parka. He put it on, loosened the hood and placed it over his head. He eased the car onto the street. His hair stayed in place, but when Matthew began to perspire profusely he realized that this was not a practical solution to the problem.

He tried several other ideas that day and the next but nothing worked. Having found no solution to the flying-hairpiece problem, Matthew dreaded the arrival of Monday. He felt that his romance with Glenda was, not only going to end, but do so ignominiously.

"Did you get your new car over the weekend?" Glenda asked Monday when she saw Matthew.

"Well y-yes, I guess so," he responded.

"You sound a little dubious," she observed. "Don't you know?"

"Well, I did get a nice black Ford roadster, but I didn't drive it much."

"Oh, that's too bad. Why was that? Do you have it with you?"

"Well, y-yes, I guess so."

"You're sounding awfully unsure of yourself, Professor. I'd love to see the car – over lunch and have a ride in it!"

"Are you sure you want to, Glenda. It's a convertible, and it's windy today."

"I love convertibles. The wind won't bother me. Is it a date? My treat!"

At noontime, Glenda and Matthew walked to the school's parking lot. When she caught sight of the shiny black vehicle, she squealed with delight. She ran to it and waited patiently for Matthew to catch up.

"Oh, it's such a beautiful car, and it's such a lovely day," Glenda gushed. "Here, let me help you put the top down!"

"Isn't it a bit chilly for you? Don't you think it might rain?" "Nonsense! It's warm. There isn't a cloud in the sky. And the wind isn't bad. Besides, what's a sports car for unless the top is down?"

The top came down and was stowed neatly in the compartment behind the front seats. Then, Matthew opened the passenger's door and helped Glenda enter.

"The way to get into a sports car is this, he proclaimed. You sit in the seat, then swing your legs in."

"I know how to do it," she replied impatiently. "I'm a sports car fan, remember?"

Matthew got behind the wheel, started the engine, and drove off. "Let's get on to Madison Avenue," Glenda urged. "The traffic is lighter there and we can go faster."

"You know, you're not supposed to drive a new car very fast for the first few thousand miles."

"Professor Grimms, this car has over 40,000 miles on it. It was broken in a long, long time ago."

"Yes, but, the police..."

"The speed limit on that road is forty-five. Hurry! I can hardly wait till I feel the wind blowing through my hair. Do you like wind blowing through _your_ hair, Professor?"

"Oh, yes, yes of course I do. Wait a minute." Matthew's stopped the car, exited and opened the trunk. He pulled out his parka and put it on. the hood covering his head.

"Professor Grimms, what are you doing? It's so warm out. You can't get the sports car feel when you're all bundled up that way!"

"I guess you're right, Glenda." Matthew put the coat back into the luggage compartment and reentered the vehicle. He reached into the glove compartment, pulled out the plaid hat and positioned it carefully on his head.

"That's a beautiful cap, Professor," commented Glenda. "The black in it matches the car color perfectly."

Keeping the speed of the car below thirty-five, Matthew made his way to Madison Avenue. There, he began to increase the speed gradually. He placed his hand on top of his cap, pressing it downward.

Glenda laughed. "You look so funny, professor Grams. Are you afraid you're going to lose your cap?"

"Well, it's expensive." Matthew protested. "Does it bother you if I hold onto it?"

"No, not at all." She smiled "When we get back, if you let me have it, I'll see if I can make the headband a little more snug so that you won't have to hold it all the time."

"That's a great idea. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Downshift into second, Professor, I want to hear the sound of the engine as it revs up."

"Downshift into second?"

"Sure," she grinned. "You know, with the shift lever."

"But, I would have to use my right hand. I'm holding onto the cap with that hand. Wait a minute, maybe I can hold it with my left hand, then let go of the steering wheel for a second, then do the shift."

This complex set of actions required Matthew to remove his hand from his head for a second. That's all it took. The hat flew away and took the hairpiece with it. From the rearview mirror, Matthew could see both items landing on the road some hundred feet to the rear.

He slammed on the brakes. Glenda gaped at him in amazement. After he had brought the car to a standstill, Matthew mumbled, "Wait here," and exited from the car. With hands deep in his pockets, he sundered to where the cap and hairpiece were lying.

He was gone about five minutes. When he returned to the car, Glenda was staring at him enraptured.

"Oh Professor Grimms," she observed. "You're not a kid! I thought you were like those young juveniles they have at the college posing as intellectuals. You look so distinguished! Why do you wear that silly thing? The way you look, I find you look very handsome!"

"Y-you like me this way?" Matthew stammered incredulously.

"Oh yes, I do! Would you do me a favor? Wear that thing in class if you want to, but when you're with me, would you keep it off your head? I like you so much better without it." She laughed. "Then, too, when you're driving the car, you won't have to worry about losing your hair any more."

"It's not important to you that I don't have hair on my head?"

"Oh, Professor, it's not what's _on_ a man's head that's important," she responded. "It's

what's _inside_ that counts!"

## Chinese Fortune Cookies

"This is a little embarrassing, Mr. Collier, but here goes." Robert paused, then tapped his mouth with a cloth napkin, and took a sip of water. "I'm very fond of Wanda Fisher, but she doesn't seem to take more than a passing interest in me. I think she likes me, but I have no way of knowing how much. I'm too shy to say something. You're wise, and you probably understand my dilemma. I don't know what to do."

Robert Drake had needed advice. He had been captivated by the charming Wanda Fisher who worked in the data processing department. Whenever he'd walk by the large picture window of the computer room, he'd see her pressing keys on the computer's console or mounting tapes on the tape drives. He'd stop for a moment to admire her auburn hair, which fell to her shoulders, and stare at the fluid motions of her lithe figure as she glided from one piece of equipment to another. She would notice him, stop what she was doing, and glance in his direction. She'd sweep aside her hair, causing her long earrings to swing to and fro. And she'd smile. Robert would feel himself flush. He'd break eye contact and return to his office.

As a specialist in documentation, Robert had his own office on the fifth floor. His days were spent at his personal computer writing the instructions that employees needed in learning how to use their own computers. Robert was a tall, slim, serious-looking young man in his early twenties. He was conservative in demeanor and grooming, his thin rectangular face, clean-shaven. His dark brown hair was piled high on his head with no particular part, the sides cut short. His usual attire was a dark blue or gray suit with a tie of complementary hue. While working, the only departure from conservatism that he allowed himself on the job was the removal of his jacket and loosening his vest.

Today, Robert decided, was the day that he was finally going to do something about getting to know Wanda better. A 4:45, a little earlier than his usual quitting time, Robert stood and fastened the six buttons of his vest. He picked up his brown leather briefcase and left the office. Six doors down the brightly lit hallway, he entered the office of Harry Collier, Supervisor of the Shipping Department.

"May I see you for a moment, Mr. Collier?"

"Certainly, Bob." Mr. Collier's face broke into a quick easy grin. "What can I do for you?"

Harry Collier, husky, of average height, was in his early sixties. His hair, which swirled below his earlobes to form bushy sideburns, and his small mustache, which partially covered his upper lip, were of the same color, white with a few strands of black giving an overall impression of slate gray. He wore glasses with thin silver rims. There was a small hearing device in his left ear. He wore a beige bow tie, flecked with brown spots over a white shirt.

Harry had already put on his blue jacket and was adjusting a matching felt fedora into place.

"Mr. Collier, you always speak so fondly of your wife. I know my you must love her very much. I'm in need of some advice and you're the only one in this company, that I can think of, as being able to help me. If you would just as soon not..."

"Nonsense, Bob, nonsense! I'd be happy to help if I can. I'm flattered that you would ask me. Why don't you come over for dinner? We can talk then. Don't worry about Matilda. She likes unexpected guests and always prepares plenty. I live only a few minutes from here. Why don't we walk?"

Robert accepted. Mr. Collier put on a gray topcoat and the two men began strolling down Main Street, Robert matching his pace with the more leisurely gait of the older man. It was cool for May and Robert was impressed with Mr. Collier's foresight in having brought a coat to work.

They arrived at a two family, white framed dwelling, walked up the stairs of the wooden stoop and stopped momentarily at the left of two doors. Harry turned the knob. He and his young companion were almost instantly greeted by the round, smiling, unlined face of Matilda Collier. She was about the same age as Harry, somewhat stocky, with short blondish hair. She was wearing a lavender and brown print blouse over a black skirt. Harry took her hand, pulled her toward him, and gave her a smack on the lips.

There were the introduction formalities and a bit of small talk. Robert found that he had formed an instant fondness for Mrs. Collier.

Later, the three were seated at the dinner table, which was crowded with dishes, water goblets, a large platter of roast beef with several cut slices, a wooden salad bowl overflowing with greenery, serving tureens filled with yellow squash, and snowy white cauliflower. The table was draped almost to the floor with an embroidered tablecloth. Mr. Collier tilted his left ear toward Robert. "Now, how can I help you?" He asked?

The men had removed their jackets but Robert still wore his vest. While waiting for an answer, Harry cut some meat with his right hand, then transferred it to his mouth, Continental style, with the fork in his right hand. Taking another cut, he dropped a small piece of meat to the floor where a small, orange tabby appeared as if by magic.

After Robert had asked this question about what to do concerning Wanda Fisher, Mr. Collier smiled. He leaned back thoughtfully in his chair and put one finger to the side of his cheek. "Well...," He mumbled and began rolling up his sleeves.

Matilda was standing at the counter fluffing whipped cream on to the top of three green Jell-O desserts that quivered in individual serving glasses. "I know what you can tell the young man, dear" she interjected. "Why don't you tell him about the China Garden. Tell him what you did."

Harry knit his eyebrows. "China Garden, Mattie? Something I did?"

"Yes, you know – the fortune cookies!"

Henry seemed puzzled, then brightened. "Of course!" he smiled. "Yes, I can do that. Let's finish dinner, then we can talk in the living room."

After dinner, Harry tugged at the knees of his pants, rose, steadied himself on the chair, then slowly turned and led the way into the living room. He settled into a large leather recliner, pushed it back about one third of the way, then placed his hands on the arm rests. Matilda and Robert sank deeply, side-by-side into the overstuffed brown tweed couch facing him.

"Well, it was like this," Harry began. "I was young and in love with Mattie, here, only she didn't know it. And I was shy just like you. So I did a little snooping and found that she liked Chinese food a lot. One day I asked her to go with me to the best Chinese restaurant in town, the China Garden. She said _yes_. That was thirty-five years ago, but I remember the meal as if it were yesterday. I had fresh pork chop suey and Mattie had General Tsong's Chicken. There were noodles, sweet sauce, the main dishes, rice, egg drop soup, and tea. For dessert, we had fortune cookies." Harry glanced at his wife and winked roguishly.

"When Mattie broke her cookie, the fortune on it read, 'An interesting person has come into your life.' My cookie said, 'You have met a woman who will become very important to you.'"

"Both Mattie and I were fascinated by the fortunes and we wondered if fate was speaking to us. We decided that we would go to the same restaurant the following week to see what the fortunes had to say."

"The week passed slowly, but at last, Friday came and Mattie and I went to the China Garden again. We don't remember what we ate. We were too interested in the dessert. At last, two fortune cookies were delivered and we broke them. Mattie pulled out hers and it read, 'You are becoming very fond of the young man who has come into your life.' Mine said, 'Your new friend has become very dear to you.'"

"Each of us was thrilled by what the cookies were saying, but we weren't sure. We decided to go back one more time. This time the cookies were much more explicit. Mattie's read, 'The young man, sitting across from you, loves you very much and wants to marry you. Follow your heart." Mine read, "'The young woman with whom you are having dinner, returns your love. Ask her an important question."

"Both of us felt that destiny was speaking, and I was only too happy to propose. Mattie answered _yes_ right away. We were married the following month, and both of us have been very happy ever since."

"That's a remarkable story," Robert commented. "The fortunes were amazing, but I don't understand. What would be the meaning of this for me?"

"This story isn't quite finished, Bob," Harry replied. "You'll see what this means to you soon. The fortunes of the cookies were not there simply by chance. I had spent half a week's salary to have some unique, professional-looking fortunes printed at a print shop. Then, I had obtained some very special fortune cookies from a bakery who had agreed to create them for me. There went the other half of the salary. Finally, I had made arrangements with the owners of the China Garden, who I suspected were romantics at heart, to serve my cookies instead of their usual ones."

"Oh!" exclaimed Robert, "you won Mrs. Collier with a ruse."

"No, no, not at all, Bob. I was being creative. If it wasn't meant to be, my ploy would not have worked. So here's my advice to you. Be creative. Phone Wanda and asked for a date imitating a well-known personality. Or, stand at the picture window and hold up a sign saying something nice. These are just examples. You know what I mean. Be resourceful! Do something that amuses her. Follow up with a request for a date. She'll say _yes_ , I'm sure."

Robert set pensively for a few seconds, then smiled broadly. "Of course," he exclaimed. "I know what I'll do! I'll phone and imitate a computer voice. I'll say that this is Robert Drake's computer speaking and that Robert Drake has asked the computer to phone Wanda to see how she is. She'll laugh. I know she will. That will break the ice. What do you think?"

"Sounds just right to me, Bob," agreed Harry. "And you can also have the computer voice invite her for dinner and a movie Saturday night," added Mattie.

"Exactly! Just right. That'll work. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Collier, you've given me just the kind of advice that I was looking for!"

After Robert had left, Harry looked into his wife's eyes. "Thanks for the idea you gave me, Mattie," he remarked. "I was stumped for something to suggest and didn't want to disappoint Bob. I feel like a fraud, though. It was _you_ who did the things that I claimed I had done. Remember how I laughed when you finally told me? You were the one with the imagination."

"Fiddlesticks!" Mattie smiled. "What difference does it make who did what? We got together, didn't we? And you helped Bob Drake. That's the important thing."

## Learning Inline Skating

This is a true story. It was summer, 1998. At age 75, some folks might think it's a little late to learn how to skate using inline skates. However, I had seen people gliding so easily on these that I thought I might be able to learn. But I wanted to be safe during the learning process.

I thought that, as I learned, I could control my movements with suction cups at the ends of bathroom plungers. These were being sold at Sam's Club manufactured with extra long handles. I bought a set of two. I also bought a pair of inline skates, kneepads, and elbow pads. I felt I needed _additional_ safety attire. I found a helmet saved from my motorcycle days and a heavy black leather jacket. I determined to use these. I found a pair of work gloves and decided to include them. My safety equipment was now complete. I had forgotten to include one item.

The day of my first learning attempt arrived. With my wife, Ann, looking on with some degree of amusement, I donned the jacket and other paraphernalia I had gathered and walked outdoors with the skates on my feet and carrying a bathroom plunger under each arm. Hobbling across the grass, I positioned myself where the sidewalk began. Ann's look was now one of apprehension instead of entertainment. I was happy to observe that she was prepared to provide assistance and/or call an ambulance if one were needed.

Intending to stay on the sidewalk, I thrust the plungers forward and gave myself a little push. Sadly, I found that the suction cups did not work exactly as I had hoped. They provided no support at all. The walk was too porous. My legs moved forward but the rest of my body remained in place. Presently I found myself sitting on the sidewalk wondering why I had not thought to shove a pillow down the backside of my trousers. When I was able to regain an upright position, I concluded that my attempt to learn inline skating had ended. The plungers went on to more traditional use, the skates were put away and the motorcycle clothing was thrown to the back of the back of the hall closet.

I wasn't dismayed, however. I remembered a statement from Thomas Edison. At one point he hadn't found a material he could use as a filament for the light bulb but soon learned about many substances that wouldn't work. My experience had been something like that. I had wanted to learn inline skating and had found one way that would not work. Unlike Edison, I never tried other ways.

Ann later confessed that, as she had watched my bumbling efforts to regain a standing position, she had laughed so hard that she had nearly had an embarrassing accident.

#

# Read My Best Puns

# To Boggle Your Mind

1

I love puns but feel that the only puns one should tell should be the ones they have invented themselves. These are not the best puns in the world; simply the best ones I invented. I hope you like them.

1 What Dr. Jekyll Used to Do

We all know that Dr. Jekyll would drink a potion and turn into Mr. Hyde. There were other experiments. He began drinking insect repellent and this would turn him into a fly. The next day, he would be Dr. Jekyll again. The people in the neighborhood got used to what was going on and referred to him as the person who a respected doctor by day and a fly by night.

2 How the Great Whale Recovered

The great whale Moby Dick was having stomach problems. He went to the whale doctor and was told that he needed to swallow more roughage. He recommended sailing ships. The remedy work. Moby thrived on a diet of fish and ships.

3 The Beggars Made Money

Three beggars needed to make some money so they decided to go into the shoe business. One of the beggars tried selling shoes but he was no good at this. Another, tried repairing them. He suffered the same result. The third tried designing shoes but his designs were awful. All this goes to prove that beggars can't be shoesers.

4 The Best Milk

Farmer Jones knew that the best milk comes from contented cows. So every day, he would tell them jokes. The cows laughed and laughed. And they gave excellent milk. Pretty soon the word got around. Farmer Jones and the cows got famous and became known as the laughing stock of the community.

5 Suzie Learned

Suzie needed more income so she decided to learn how to make candy. At first nothing worked. Her bonbons bombed and her fruit loops drooped. But she persisted and, at last, she learned, and she made a mint!

6 Directions for Barber Sam

Henry's brain began to grow and he became very smart. But it got so large he needed surgery to reduce its size. Alas, the operation was so delicate, no doctor was willing to try it. But his barber, Sam Snipper, volunteered for the job. Just as we was going under, Henry muttered to him, "Please, Sam. Don't take too much off the top."

7 The Chicken Fads

There is a fad among chickens. They love to have their feathers clipped. So popular is this fashion that chickens wait in line, sometimes for hours, to be clipped. The newspapers have been super busy describing these world-famous chicken barber queues.

8 Solution Found

Mickey Finn died penniless and there arose a problem as to who would pay for the burial expenses. Patty wouldn't do it and neither would Sean. But there was a fellow who had been very close to Mickey. His name was Huck. He arose and loudly announced, "Huck'll bury Finn!"

9 A Jigger of Rye

By accident someone poured a jigger of rye into a pot containing a geranium. Strangely, the plant began to hiccup. Scientists were brought in and discovered that the plant had become drunk from the rye. The news was reported widely and people from all over the country came to see the potted plant.

10 Getting the Light to Work

I walked into a room and saw several men on a ladder trying to get a bulb to light. They were turning it this way and that, but the bulb remained dark. "What are you folks doing," I asked. "That bulb is obviously burned out!" One of the men responded. "Yes, we know that. But we have heard that many hands make light work!"

11 The Versatile Bee

I went into the office this morning and was surprised to see a large bee on the desk. I was even more astonished to hear him speak. He looked me straight in the eyes and announced, "Don't mess with me, sir. I'm not your ordinary bee. I'm a killer bee! Get that? K-I-L-L-E-R." Then he stated with a mischievous grin, "Not only that, but I'm also a spelling bee!"

12 A Good Explanation

Fred had been arrested and was being questioned in the interrogation room. The detective was saying, "Fred, you were overheard admitting that you had stolen Bill's hairpiece. How do you respond to that? "I can't respond to that," said Fred. "All I know is that I didn't do it." Then he brightened and exclaimed, "Oh, I know what happened. I was talking to my friend Helen and told her that I needed to get some money fast. I had bills to pay."

13 Sleeping Dogs

I went to my friend's home to visit and saw there were a couple of hounds sleeping near the fireplace. I remarked about how handsome they were. "Yes," he responded. "They are good looking but they talk in their sleep, and they tell the most outrageous lies." I was astonished. "They talk and they lie? Absolutely amazing!" Just then one of them spoke and said, "I was with Columbus on the Santa Maria." The other responded saying, "That's nothing. I was with Eisenhower at West Point." I said to my friend, "Those dogs are absolutely unbelievable. But they lie! Do you do anything special when they tell such tall stories?" "Oh no," he responded, "My motto is to let sleeping dogs lie!"

14 Getting the Parachute to Obey

I'm a sky diver. Like most sports people, I'm superstitious. For example, on the day of the jump, after I have packed my chute, I stick it with a pin just to show it who's boss. The last time I did this was this morning. I packed my parachute, stuck it with a pin, and made the parachute jump!

15 Something Different

I went to a most unusual funeral the other day. The service was magnificent, the flowers had been selected with perfection, the atmosphere was somber and dignified. However, when we exited the church to continue on to the cemetery for the interment, I saw that the color of the funeral car was pink! Noticing my astonishment, the funeral director said, "Well, why not! The deceased was rich. He could have anything he wanted, and he wanted a hearse of a different color.

16 How Wally Got Away

For committing a terrible crime, Wally had been sentenced to prison for many years. But they made a mistake when they put him in charge of the chicken yard. They had not realized that Wally was a mechanical genius. He walked around picking up pieces of metal and scraps of wood. Secretly, he made an engine and some wings. One morning during checkup, they found that Wally had flown the coop.

17 In the Courtroom

Two fleas were in the courtroom disputing who owned a tasty tidbit that one of them had found. It was almost time for the judge to enter the room. The fleas almost come to blows. Then they decided they had better settle their differences. And they did so before the judge arrived. This was reported widely as an example of successful flea bargaining.

18 Visitors From Mars

Four creatures from Mars came to visit Earth. They accosted a pedestrian and began making demands. The first Martian said, "On Mars, I am a house painter. Take me to your ladder." The second Martian said, "On Mars, I am a barber. Take me to your lather." The third Martian said, "On Mars, I am a shoemaker. Take me to your leather." The fourth Martian said, "On Mars I am from the Bureau of Weights and Measures. Take me to your liter."

19 Specialty of the House

The specialty of the Pelican Restaurant was bird food. No, not the kind that is fed to birds. This food was for humans. I was fascinated by the different kinds of bird dishes. There were chicken, squab, Cornish hen, pheasant, and many more. I ate and ate. Finally, I had had all I could eat. But the proprietor kept suggesting more. "Please, won't you have a little more of something," he begged. "Oh, no," I responded. "Everything was so good, and I'm stuffed. Honestly, I could not take so much as another swallow!"

20 The Annoyance

On the hour, every hour, Fred would tap his knuckles with a mallet. This would cause a loud bonging noise. Day after day he did this and many became annoyed. A meeting was called. The people decided to sign a petition demanding that Fred stop ringing his hands.

21 Tasty Treats

I met a German gentleman in Berlin last year. He raises sheep. He invited me to his home and laid out some hors d'oeuvres. But they tasted funny. I said, "Sir, these treats look delicious but they taste like dog food. Is there a reason for this?" "Oh, ja," he responded. "What else would you expect from a German Shepherd?"

22 Responding to a Request

It was a miserable restaurant but they were trying hard to gain customers by improving service. I was dining there one day and my meal had just been delivered. The server said, "Would you like some ground pepper on your salad, sir?" I said yes. The server left and was gone for about an hour. When he returned, he was shamefaced. "I'm sorry, sir, I could not comply with your request." "What was the problem?" I declared angrily, "It was a simple request!" He muttered his reply, "Sir, I scoured the neighborhood and could not find even one pepper on the ground to bring you."

23 Getting Ahead

I finally found a new job but my new boss gave me advice that landed me in the hospital. He said I should put my shoulder to the wheel. I did! He said I should put my nose to the grindstone. I did! But I was severely burned when he gave me his next piece of advice. He said I should do everything I could to forge a head.

24 The Boxer

When I was very young, I was trained to be a boxer. My trainer did a wonderful job. Nobody could beat me! Other boxers tried but failed! There many challenges but I always won! Finally, the challenges ended and was declared to be the champion boxer. This had all happened at Central Market. One day, Mr. Graham, my supervisor said to me, "Mario, I've been watching you. I have decided that you have been a boxer long enough. Effective today, I'm promoting you to the cash register!"

25 At Saragoga Racetrack

There were problems with the jockeys at Saratoga Racetrack, but everything is OK now. The issue had been publicity. Jockeys complained that they did not receive enough recognition. The management decided to make a movie honoring each jockey. Twenty magnificent movies were made depicting all that was admirable about each jockey. The five-minute films can be purchased at video stores. Ask for the Jockey Shorts. At the same time, you might also ask for the five-minute films about prize fighters. These are called the Boxer Shorts.

## Hopping Powder

In the year 2001, the President of the United States proclaimed a state of emergency. He declared that our economy was being threatened with disaster. Dependence on foreign sources of oil must be reduced!

The discovery of _Hopping Powder_ came in the nick of time. While it did not completely solve the energy problem, the new product did make up for the gap that had not been adequately filled by solar, atomic, wind, and other alternate sources of energy that had been examined up to that time.

_Hopping Powder_ was discovered quite by accident at RPI in 1999. In his steadfast search to find a substitute for petroleum, an elderly chemist, Dr. Wilbur Nevins, accidentally inhaled a few grains of highly refined silicon. The gray-haired professor immediately felt an uncanny surge of well-being and strength. There was a spring in his step that exceeded anything he had ever before experienced. This day, he felt there was no need to ride home in his tiny electric car. He thought he might jog. But he did even better than that! Prof. Nevins _hopped_ to his home.

Dr. Nevins began hopping everywhere he went. He immediately understood what it was that had given him this ability. It was the refined silicon. He called it _Hopping Powder_ or _HP_ for short.

He gave samples of _HP_ to his friends and encouraged them to try it. They began hopping and loved it. In a few weeks, almost no one walked at RPI anymore. They hopped.

Sensing an opportunity for profit, Dr. Nevins quit his job and formed a company to produce and sell HP. He called his company, "Hop, Skip and Jump, Inc."

It was inevitable, of course, that HP would go commercial in a big way. In a matter of months, the large pharmaceutical concerns bought out Prof. Nevins and began producing Hopping Powder in huge quantities. They soon made it available in pill form. One pill in the morning was sufficient to power a person to hop for the entire day.

At first, the hops that people made were cautiously experimental. At that time, hopping exuberantly was only for the bold, but soon, hopping from point-to-point became a perfected mode of transportation. The cost of HP was remarkably low and citizens found that they could travel for pennies a hop. With practice some people were able to hop several hundred feet in a single leap. Others, could vault over towers and across streams.

So enthusiastically did people embrace HP that society became obsessed with hopping. The skies were filled with men, women, and children bounding from place to place. They resemble swarms of mosquitoes.

There were sports events for hoppers (Base Hop and Coast-to-Coast Marathon Hop). TV shows featured hopping games (Hop for the Best, and Sixty-million Dollar Hop). There were toys (Hula Hop and Cabbage Hop Dolls.) Individuals challenged each other to hopping contests. An American became Champion Hopper of the World, a great honor. Hoppers raced against electric cars and invariably won.

There were so many hoppers that traffic laws had to be rewritten. Laws that controlled the hopping of persons, as they travelled to work and play, were humorously nicknamed the _Leaping Lizard Laws_ (LLL). In order to get a hopping license, a person had to pass a difficult test. The most demanding skill to master was hovering for one minute at a traffic light several feet in the air.

Hopping insurance was required by statute. There were several kinds of serious violations that carried stiff penalties. Too many hops per second was one, failure to yield to a hop, etc. Of course, hopping without a license literally grounded the offender.

The clothing industry made jumpsuits for use in inclement weather; newspapers carried hopping news; hospitals began increasing their staffs in order to treat victims of the increasing number of bouncing collisions.

There were problems in the land of course, but there was also a feeling of acute exhilaration. The nation had faced the challenge and succeeded. The United States began importing less and less energy products from foreign countries. There was a great deal of optimism for it seemed that our Western Desert contained enough sand to allow the production of hopping powder for hundreds of years.

OPEC was dissolved. Its delegates went home thoroughly demoralized. But suddenly, in the year 2031 it was found that America's silicon reserves were nearly depleted. The sand in Death Valley and from the Grand Canyon had been entirely used up. The nation began to import sand from SPEC (Sand Producing and Exporting Countries) at the cost of three dollars per cubic yard. This was a very reasonable price for sand and there was no great concern, but as the demand for this energy source grew, its cost began to rise. In 2065, the price of sand leaped to almost four thousand dollars per cubic yard. This was a price that the hopping community could not afford.

Our economy was being threatened with disaster. Something had to be done. The President proclaimed a state of emergency.

## The Great Witch Hunt

## In Hamlet City

The citizens of Hamlet City were stunned when they saw their mayor on television stating that he was a fraud and should never have been elected. With that one announcement, he walked off the set, and, after a pause, the station went to a commercial.

A reporter from the Hamlet City News immediately went to the mayor's home and rang the bell. It was instantly opened by the mayor and he invited the reporter into his home. After the obligatory pleasantries, they sat in the living room.

"What prompted you to make that remark on television," the reporter asked timorously?

"That wasn't me! I was not on television. I was at home when someone, who impersonated me made that phony statement."

"How can you say that it wasn't you? You are one of the most recognizable citizens of the city. Do you have a twin brother?"

"No, I don't have a brother at all. I don't know how it was done. I've seen the clip that shows someone who looks like me making that statement. That individual looks like me, but it wasn't me!"

"I understand that you will be talking to the City Manager about this tomorrow."

"Yes, that's true. I hope to convince him that it wasn't I that the people saw."

"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Mayor. Good luck with the City Manager."

That evening, it was reported on the news that Police Chief Hannigan had been arrested for stealing two notebooks at the dollar store.

The acting Chief asked him why he had done such a foolish thing. Chief Hannigan responded that he had not done this. Despite the fact that the store's camera showed him in the act, someone had impersonated him, he said. Fellow officers at the Station did not believe him.

The inhabitants of Hamlet City were astonished to learn that two of their most distinguished citizens had been accused of reprehensible actions.

They could not have been more surprised when, on the third day, the City Manager was seen forcibly taking a baseball from a small boy on Sixth Avenue. When interviewed by a news reporter, Mr. Wilson denied that he had done this. Nevertheless, he was ordered to report to the police station to explain his side of the charge.

News of what was happening in Hamlet City spread to neighboring localities. The news anchors on several regional channels were having a field day with the astonishing events. Why had these esteemed pillars of this respectable community been involved in such despicable conduct, they were asking?

The Controller for Hamlet city was surprised to receive a phone call from an individual who stated he had important information for him.

"Mr. Benson," the caller had asked?

"Yes, this is Controller James Benson."

"My name is Frank Mandrake. I am President of an organization that I will name later in this conversation. Right now, I believe I can explain what has been happening in Hamlet City."

"Please do, Mr. Mandrake. The city can't believe that these well-regarded individuals could be guilty of the actions they have been accused of."

"This seems to be the work of a person named Wilhelmina Ferris. I don't wish to alarm you, but I must tell you that she is a witch. From the news reports that I have read and heard about, what has happened is the kind of evil tomfoolery that this person does. I know her because the organization of which I am President is called WAA, Witches Association of America. You have probably never heard of this organization, and I can tell you why; we do not want to be well known. However, this association is known to all witches in the country, and all but two of the 381 witches in the United States are members."

"This is hard to believe," said the Controller. "But, tell me more."

"There truly are witches, Mr. Benson, there are _good witches_ and there are _bad witches_. Fortunately, most of them are good witches. You never hear of their good works, because no one would believe that witches do good works. Unfortunately, a few of the witches in the country are evil. This does not mean that they steal, and murder. They simply do malicious things; often simply for the fun of it. I have talked to them, but their natures are difficult to change."

"Is Ms. Ferris a member of WAA?"

"Yes, she is. Since hearing about Hamlet City, I have been trying to reach Wilhelmina, but she has a penchant for staying out of sight, especially when she has done something wicked. She has a hatred for high officials and harasses them constantly. She's well known in the witch community _as the witch with the dog familiars_."

"How was she able to do what she did in Hamlet City, Mr. Mandrake?"

"She developed the art of _identity theft_ to a new level. She can actually _become_ the person she is impersonating. She performs deplorable actions with impunity when the victims are not able to provide an alibi for where they were at the times of the events."

"How can she be stopped," asked Mr. Benson?

"First, I have to find her, and then I'll speak to her forcefully. I believe I can convince her of the wisdom of abstaining from these kinds of activity."

"And the reputations of the victims?"

"There is a way to restore those reputations. First, I must locate her."

"If she is a witch, how can you do this?"

"This can be accomplished with the help of Gladys Vincent. She is a witch that also does good deeds. _She is a finder of lost persons!_ I will ask her to trace Wilhelmina, at which time, I will have an opportunity to talk sense to her."

"And the reputations?"

"That will be the job of Henrietta Loveland. She is another witch that does good deeds. She has the ability to control minds. Despite the fact that three high-integrity individuals in your city have had their reputations placed under a cloud, she will be able to restore their former reputations in the minds of those who were affected."

"When can you start," asked the Controller anxiously?

"I'll begin right away," said Mr. Mandrake. "I'll call you tomorrow."

They hung up.

In mid-afternoon on the following day, Mr. Benson's phone rang. It was Mr. Mandrake. "Ms. Vincent located Wilhelmina and got her phone number," he said. "I called her and informed her that her actions in Hamlet City had been appalling, and she needed to stop. If she did not, I told her, I'd ask the other witches in the organization to ostracize her. She understood that I was serious and promised that she would not perform any further actions of the kind that she had been doing."

"I'm very happy about that!" exclaimed Mr. Benson.

"Then I talked to Ms. Loveland. I explained what Wilhelmina had done and would she please restore the minds of the people that she had befuddled to their former conditions. She willingly acquiesced and did what I requested. It will be as if the three unfortunate events never occurred."

"Why are you doing this for us, Mr. Mandrake?"

"Because I'm a warlock, a male witch, Mr. Benson. I deem it my call to seek where injustices exist and do that I must to rectify those conditions."

"I don't know how to thank you! I would like to repay you in some way! How can I do this?"

"You can understand that, as a witch, I would like to keep a low profile with your city. Your appreciation is all the thanks I need."

They hung up on that note.

The next day was a beautiful summer day. The sun was shining and the humidity was low. There was a feeling of goodwill in Hamlet City. That is, until 6:00 p.m. Suddenly, on television, the image of James Benson, Controller of Hamlet City was seen as he was about to make an announcement.

"People, of Hamlet City," he began. "I have been Controller of this illustrious city for several years. It is now my duty to tell you, that I have been stealing money from your coffers since I began this job. I am a thief and deserve to go to jail!"

Witch, Wilhelmina Ferris had misbehaved again!

## Voyage To Mars

My name is Rex Snyder. I'm not an astronaut but Mrs. Snyder and I are on our way to Mars. We left Earth on January 1, 2040. Today is March 1, 2040 and we're a little more than half way to our destination. A great deal of progress was made last year in power generation and space technology. A new form of propulsion was discovered named fusion flame. A luxurious space vehicle was built by NASA, which enabled my wife and I to begin the trip and travel in relative comfort while underway.

The distance from Earth to Mars varies from moment to moment. The minimum distance between the two planets is about 40 million miles but in traveling from Earth to Mars, we'll need to travel many more than 40 million miles; actually about 150 million. Because of this, NASA chose a happily married couple to make the trip. My wife and I are living in a bullet-shaped vehicle that doubles as a space ship and a luxurious home. It has every modern convenience that happy home owners could wish for. We won't need to do any "driving" since our entire trip has been computer programmed. When we get to Mars, we'll simply orbit the planet, then return home. There will be no landing. The entire trip was planned as a political coup. Several competing nations have been preparing to travel to Mars and our President decided it was imperative that our country be first. The voyage was begun even though the planning for it was only partially complete.

During the time the voyage was being planned, there was a contest throughout the United States to select the most eligible childless couple to go, Happily Lucille and I were chosen.

It's been fun so far. On January 1, 2040, there was a short dash on a runway at Dallas airport. When _Mars One_ reached a velocity of about two hundred miles per hour, it rotated skyward and escaped Earth's gravity within a few seconds. Our ship is traveling at about 25,000 miles per hour. Lucille and I spend our time looking out the picture windows, enjoying elegant meals we prepare using the Fusion-powered range, reading, watching TV, listening to music, and, otherwise simply enjoying a life of leisure. We'll be returning to Dallas on or about March 1, 2041. We'll arrive at Mars on or about July 1, 2040. We'll need to stay in orbit with Mars for a few days before the window for a return trip to Earth opens. During those orbits we'll be taking thousands of pictures.

This trip is tedious despite the comforts. Lucille and I knew this when we were chosen to make the trip, but it will all be worth it because of the service we're providing for humankind. I know she and I will be greatly honored when we return and I've been composing our arrival speech.

May 1, 2040

Something important has happened since I wrote the first part of this story. After March 1, life continued happily until today. NASA hadn't told us but several weeks after Lucille and I had begun our trip, further advances in space technology were made and another couple was launched to travel to Mars. Their ship was _Mars Two_ and it was twice as fast as ours. Around lunchtime, as we were looking out our starboard picture window, we suddenly observed Benny and Helen Brown looking out the picture window of another space ship as it overtook and passed us on its way to Mars. We learned later that Benny and Helen were going to arrive at Mars well before us, and that our ship had been turned around for a return to Earth. This was disappointing but, at least, we thought, we'd arrive on Earth in plenty of time to get a small amount of glory.

May 15 2040

Today, as we were speeding toward Earth, we were looking out the port window and unexpectedly saw Grace and George O'Brien looking out the starboard window of still another space ship aimed toward Mars. This was _Mars Three_. Even further advancements had been made in technology and this ship was much faster than _Mars Two_. It was going to arrive at Mars before _Mars Two_. The latter ship had also been turned to return to Earth. This was bad news but we thought we'd arrive back on Earth first.

June 1, 2040

Alas, this will not to happen. We've just seen _Mars Two_ forging ahead of us on the way to Earth. A few days from now, _Mars Three_ will go by in the same direction. NASA told us that, actually, _Mars Three_ will be first to arrive at Dallas. This will be on July 1. Grace and George O'Brien will get all the honors. Three weeks later, Mars _Two_ will land. Lucille and I won't get back until September 1, 2040. Our ship has been declared obsolete. There will be no welcoming ceremonies for us. What is worse, our ship will not even land at Dallas. As a convenience to NASA, it will be redirected and parked at a huge storage yard in Houston.

NASA has scheduled our return to Dallas to be by bus but, at our own expense!

Note: The author of this story reads one of his stories on _Youtube_ every day. To see and hear, open _www.youtube.com_ and search for " _Grandpa Mario reads_ "

