I hate it so much when I’m right. He was going on and on, enjoying his little strip tease that nobody wanted to see. I half hoped he would cut to the chase and start shooting. And he still wasn’t answering any questions, really. If anything, I had more of them. I started calculating reaction times and action times. Could I move quickly enough that he couldn’t react in time? It seemed unlikely, so I’d have to wait for a diversion to move the over/under on reaction time. Geez… I was starting to think like Connie. Wait a minute. What did he say? He said he didn’t want to tilt the table. My little brain fish were getting frisky, swimming furiously in their little bowl as it heated up. Flipper wasn’t the only one controlling how things went down. There was some change in the whole setup at work. I could only hope it would be enough, and that Flipper would wind down before I lost consciousness from sheer boredom.
No FDA – Fishbowl Displays of Affection. … Actually, I prefer to imagine this scene occurring in the ocean or some other natural habitat. Then, my belief in the ubiquitous nature of nattering nay-saying nannies will be confirmed.
When I was but a wee one, I learned that fish do not fart, and from this I concluded that they must also be humorless, like our purple friend here, because really, who wouldn’t find a lusty anal trumpeting at least a little amusing? Then I learned about the Herring, the exception to the rule, who actually uses rectal emissions as a form of communication. From that day forward, my life took on new meaning. My vocal cords fell silent and my mouth was but a necessary loading dock en route to the flatulent freeway. I ate anything and everything in my double down study of which foods were the most fruitful for furrowing my sails. Contrary to the logic of my less imaginative peers, cruciferousness was my calling card and l could name every legume on sight, from the mung bean to the pigeon pea. Defining my own personal food pyramid was only half the battle though, as it took much practice and discipline to train my abdominal and sphincter muscles to do my bidding, and by the age of nine I had the only six pack in my entire school. Sure, I was considered a bit weird, but there was no denying the power of the laughter that ensued when reciting my times tables with erudite inflection. By age eleven I could deliver the pledge of allegiance with sincerity while simultaneously displaying my true American spirit of ingenuity and unique individuality. My wind was strong. The only thing that could compete with my symphonic renderings was the uproarious laughter and giddy applause. I was given the moniker Toot Suite, and I wore it proudly. It wasn’t all shits and giggles, however. There were both highs and lows. There was the particularly dark time just prior to the cancelation of my guest appearance on American Idol, but that is a tale for another time. No need for such a downer on this fine Fall Sunday.
One bossy small fry trying to tell two Big Fish how to run their short lives? Kissy kissy; smack that smelt! (Just steer clear of Flipper’s mob and/or school….)
painedsmile about 6 years ago
Because it’s too mild?
Bill Thompson about 6 years ago
What triggered that fish?
Meh~tdology, fka Pepelaputr about 6 years ago
“We”?
Who says you were invited?
Howard'sMyHero about 6 years ago
A Humpin’ Toad lure would break up that fishy philandering ….
Brass Orchid Premium Member about 6 years ago
Later, we can chase down and devour our children!
*Space Madness* about 6 years ago
BLOW AND SUCKER WITH JELLY WATCHING.
Brass Orchid Premium Member about 6 years ago
I hate it so much when I’m right. He was going on and on, enjoying his little strip tease that nobody wanted to see. I half hoped he would cut to the chase and start shooting. And he still wasn’t answering any questions, really. If anything, I had more of them. I started calculating reaction times and action times. Could I move quickly enough that he couldn’t react in time? It seemed unlikely, so I’d have to wait for a diversion to move the over/under on reaction time. Geez… I was starting to think like Connie. Wait a minute. What did he say? He said he didn’t want to tilt the table. My little brain fish were getting frisky, swimming furiously in their little bowl as it heated up. Flipper wasn’t the only one controlling how things went down. There was some change in the whole setup at work. I could only hope it would be enough, and that Flipper would wind down before I lost consciousness from sheer boredom.
Happy, happy, happy!!! Premium Member about 6 years ago
Never kiss a Parrotfish.
Huckleberry Hiroshima about 6 years ago
Oh come over here. Purple is the new orange.
Radish... about 6 years ago
There’s a brand new dance but I don’t know its name
That people from bad homes do again and again
It’s big and it’s bland full of tension and fear
They do it over there but we don’t do it here
.
Fashion David Bowie
coltish1 about 6 years ago
No FDA – Fishbowl Displays of Affection. … Actually, I prefer to imagine this scene occurring in the ocean or some other natural habitat. Then, my belief in the ubiquitous nature of nattering nay-saying nannies will be confirmed.
6turtle9 about 6 years ago
When I was but a wee one, I learned that fish do not fart, and from this I concluded that they must also be humorless, like our purple friend here, because really, who wouldn’t find a lusty anal trumpeting at least a little amusing? Then I learned about the Herring, the exception to the rule, who actually uses rectal emissions as a form of communication. From that day forward, my life took on new meaning. My vocal cords fell silent and my mouth was but a necessary loading dock en route to the flatulent freeway. I ate anything and everything in my double down study of which foods were the most fruitful for furrowing my sails. Contrary to the logic of my less imaginative peers, cruciferousness was my calling card and l could name every legume on sight, from the mung bean to the pigeon pea. Defining my own personal food pyramid was only half the battle though, as it took much practice and discipline to train my abdominal and sphincter muscles to do my bidding, and by the age of nine I had the only six pack in my entire school. Sure, I was considered a bit weird, but there was no denying the power of the laughter that ensued when reciting my times tables with erudite inflection. By age eleven I could deliver the pledge of allegiance with sincerity while simultaneously displaying my true American spirit of ingenuity and unique individuality. My wind was strong. The only thing that could compete with my symphonic renderings was the uproarious laughter and giddy applause. I was given the moniker Toot Suite, and I wore it proudly. It wasn’t all shits and giggles, however. There were both highs and lows. There was the particularly dark time just prior to the cancelation of my guest appearance on American Idol, but that is a tale for another time. No need for such a downer on this fine Fall Sunday.
Sisyphos about 6 years ago
One bossy small fry trying to tell two Big Fish how to run their short lives? Kissy kissy; smack that smelt! (Just steer clear of Flipper’s mob and/or school….)