Retirement Planning for Me and Louie

One day I will be living on social security. I may have to live on beans and rice.
My dog will still get his dog treats.

I may be living in a trailer park or renting a room from someone who turns out to be a pervert.
It has happened to me before, but the relationship didn’t last.

I’ll work two jobs and save. My dog will not tolerate a low rent situation for too long.
He will always need a yard to do his business in.

I like rice, but it’s hard to cook it just right. When I eat beans I feel lighter.
I know it will all come out in the end.

Aspiring to Bond

Life is not fair. My body needs 3000 calories a day to feel satisfied.
My extra blubber has held me back from doing a lot of exciting things in life.

I should have been more like James Bond. Beautiful women dying to be with me.
I’d drink martinis, shaken not stirred. My lovemaking incredibly passionate.
My gun ready to fire. A license to kill.

In real life I have shot a Super Soaker squirt gun.
I’m going to call my old girlfriend and tell her, it’s Bond, James Bond.
If I can get three martinis into her we could have a passionate evening.

Cruise Control

These days the only waves I make are when I jump into the tub.
I am a cream puff at work, letting the backstabbing and nasty rumors roll off my shoulders.
I just don’t care.
Maybe it was the long winter, the failed diets, a broken rib, and flaming hemorrhoids.

I’m on cruise control right now.
It hurts when I laugh but I still do. I’m quick with a smile and ready for love.

A Light Diet

I have been lying to myself for forty years.
My 1200 calorie low carb. diet never materialized.
I did manage to lose six pounds which caused my pants to instantly drop in the banana section of Weis market. I was wearing my golf underwear–they had eighteen holes. They were once bright white but that was years ago.
My idea that I was going to work my way up to jogging two miles was another lie. I get very dizzy just bending over and tying my shoes. I walked a mile one day and was so hungry afterward I ate lunch twice.
Stress of everyday living has me snacking all night on comfort foods: chocolate, donuts, cheese Danish, etc. I have noticed that I eat very little between the hour of 6am and 7am.

I may be on a light diet:
when it’s light out I start eating.

Raiders of the Night

We are the men of Easton B,
the raiders of the night.
We are dirty sons of bitches.
We would rather fuck than fight.

We were singing our floor’s theme song.
Nobody showed up for our keg party and five of us are trying to drink a half keg.

They said that after my twenty-first red Solo cup full of beer I ran up and down the hallway wearing only my socks. I had lost touch with reality.
They said that I tore a sink off the bathroom wall.
I had no idea.

They said I put a motorcycle helmet on and knocked four holes in the walls and broke two windows. They threw me in my dorm room closet and blocked the door with my desk. The next day I woke up with a stiff neck.
I gave up drinking for three days after this.

We were the men of Easton B, the raiders of the night.
We were dirty sons of bitches, we would rather fuck than fight.

Unrequited Love

My heart was broken at an early age.
In the first grade I had a crush on my classmate, Patty Hiney. Her desk was in front of mine, and I could stare at her freckles and red hair for hours. Then she told me that she didn’t like me and could never kiss me. My heart was broken. I just wanted to be her friend and confidant.

Then in the fifth grade I was obsessed with my teacher, a nun, Sister Nicebum, whose black uniform allowed me to only see her face and hands. That was enough–I was smitten.
Sadly, the three times she smacked me for poor behavior smacked the love right out of me. I was a bad boy, and the only reason she passed me onto the sixth grade was so she wouldn’t have me for another year.
For a time I loved Patty and Sister Nicebum and that’s what’s important.

The Joker Laughs Last

Oh my God, the school bully just pushed me and called me a pussy.
I’m in the seventh grade and he’s in the ninth grade. He has beaten up four of my classmates.
I have been in one fight with a fifth grade girl–it was a draw.

He wanted me to go in the bathroom with him. I must have had a death wish because I followed him in there. His brother and some other big redneck were in there too. They just started throwing punches, and I took a beating for about ten minutes.

Mr. Hershy, the English teacher, stepped into the bathroom. I threw one punch and split Rodney’s lip.
I walked out of the boys bathroom with little red marks on my face and a torn shirt. Rodney came out with blood dripping out of his mouth and more blood smeared on his face.
The rumor spread that I had beat up the bully.
What really happened has remained a secret until now.

My Real Body

Some people are born to greatness.
When I was born, the doctor looked at my rear end and exclaimed, “Oh, twins!”
I was born with dimples in my cheeks. This is where the angels kissed me.
I have a large head, and lucked out when I found a barber who charges the same price for all sizes.

My real body, which is beneath seventy pounds of ugly fat, looks like a Greek god.
When I lie on my back I look much thinner,
but I look my best when I am standing on my head.
This position is also good for my mental health.
I quickly go unconscious, and I think clearly when I am sleeping.

Breakfast is Served

When I returned to work, I served a breakfast of French Texas toast, Virginia bacon,
and fresh fruit. It was a success.

Mrs. Shaede said, “Stephen, are going to bring my bran muffin, or did you eat it?”
She is ninety-five and in a wheelchair. When I look at her, she puffs out her cheeks and points to my belly, which hangs out of my shirt.
“I’ll get your muffin, Mrs. Shaede.”
Now she is cutting the seeds out of her morning banana. She doesn’t eat banana seeds.

Mrs. Kleinfeld requires six prunes every morning. She walks around all day bent over, and I spread a rumor among the staff that the prunes have her locked in a farting position.

It was a long hard day.

Back to Work

After a three week layoff for a broken rib, I get back to work tomorrow.
I am going to tell my kitchen assistant, Loretta, not to get behind me and smack my butt or anything. If I slip and fall, it could be fatal. If she sees me falling, she is to immediately get underneath me so I don’t hit the hard floor.
When I make comments like this to her, she says that I’m so full of shit my eyes are brown.

I may go to see who is the nurse on duty and tell her what my situation is. If it is Nurse Julie I’m going to tell her that if she sees me laying on the floor to immediately give me mouth to mouth resuscitation.
In a work environment you have to make your coworkers aware of your heath needs.