Elevator! Elevator! We got the shaft! The cheerleaders are doing a bang up job tonight. My prom date is co-captain. Her blond hair bobs into the air as she drops down to do a split. Her bouncing skirt revealing for a split second something that I would never get. My life is like that. You can’t always get what you want. I couldn’t get what I really needed.
I thought I would grow up to be a secret agent. Women with incredible bodies would want me inside of them. I would kill bad spies often with a hail of enemy bullets coming right at me. With one shot of my shiny black revolver I would kill them. My love-making would be legendary. My gambling winnings in the millions. One night sleeping with a woman whose name was Pussy Galore. I thought I would be Bond, James Bond. Killer, Lover, Good shot. This never came about. We always have our dreams.
An old man went into the sperm bank and says to the nurse, “Miss, I want to make a contribution.”
The nurse laughs and says, “Get out of here, old man!”
He says, “Please, nurse I can do it.”
Cocking one eyebrow, she hands him a jar and says, “Go in that room. You have 15 minutes.”
Exactly 15 minutes later, he comes back with an empty jar.
He hands it to the nurse and says, “Nurse, I twisted and I pulled, but I just couldn’t get the lid off the jar.”
A man went to see a psychiatrist.
He was totally naked and totally wrapped in Saran Wrap.
The psychiatrist looked him over and said, “I can clearly see your nuts.”
One winter many years ago, I put a noose around my neck and stepped off a chair.
My weight snapped the thin rope almost immediately, but not before the pipe it was tied to pulled out of the ceiling and sprung a leak. Somehow I had scraped my wrist. A bead of blood came out of the scratch, and I put a Band-Aid on it–with antiseptic.
Boy! Did that sting!
As winter approaches, my good mood deteriorates and here I am again thinking, get the rope out.
But, I know from experience– I can’t do it.
I’m chicken, and I can’t afford the plumbing bill.
Spring will return. Carry on.
My dog, Louie, was on his third bowel movement at the park. A woman was watching us, so I got behind Louie and blocked her view, giving Louie some privacy. But, there was just a small fart and no dookie– a kind of misfire much like when I go.
“Aren’t you going to pick it up?” yelled the lady from one hundred feet away.
I walked towards my car, and she yelled again, “Pick it up, you jerk! You ruin the park for the rest of us.”
When I was younger, I would get angry and insult the wrong people, lost good jobs, and got in all sorts of trouble. I looked at that lady and yelled,
“Fuck you, you old hag, mind your own business.”
Somehow, I briefly felt younger. She said she was calling the police, and I yelled,
“I don’t care if you call Obama.”
I got in my car and backed up as she walked towards my car, writing down my tag number. It flashed through my mind to back the car up over her. But, that sort of behavior is way behind me.
I am a wise old man now, so I drove forward and headed home.
Oh, the pain and the agony. Back at the dentist after a fifteen year absence. He is prying at my teeth with a sharp metal hook. Every time he hits a nerve my feet want to shoot up in the air. Next he is at me with some sort of ultra-sonic drill. Now I remember why I stopped going.
There was a cute receptionist, who informed me as I was leaving that I would need six more appointments at a total cost of over 4000 bucks. I am thinking that maybe I really don’t need teeth. I don’t chew often, and when I smile I will shut my lips.