One out of Three ain’t False

One of these vignettes is true. The other two were dreams. Can you guess which?

Uno

They came in cars. A Mini and a Morris-minor both painted a shade of teal echoing the plumage of their passengers. There were no less than five inside each vehicle and a few more perched on the roof. Native parrots. Kea, Kākā, kakapo, kākāriki. All as big as the humans the cars were originally built for and by. Each bird had learned one or more phrases of human speech. They would shriek their pet-phrases at random intervals as if afflicted with Tourette’s and the bird-brained cacophony was hilarious. Then another vehicle pulled up. A white van this time. My grandmother hopped out of the van and kicked Liz up the ass. Then she got back in the van and drove away.

Dos

Young kids don’t think that way. That’s what a lot of women say. Bullshit! I was only five years old the first time we visited Toronto. School starts at age 6 in that part of the world. My age was more suited for the equivalent of what we call Kindergarten in New Zealand. Standing-desks were not trendy back then, but very common in school-type environments. So there we were standing by some table busy working away at … Goodness knows what … I can’t really remember, but that was probably when I was playing with the plastic castle that had a trapdoor leading into a secret room that could be accessed by locating the camouflaged sliding door on the side. The girl standing next to me was engrossed with something equally fascinating so I looked around to make sure no-one was watching, then bent down and looked up her skirt.

Tres

The beautiful and mysterious world of calligraphy. I don’t think the teacher was explaining it very well. Not my fault that I couldn’t read the blackboard from where I sat. Fortunately, my pencil-case was loaded for bear. I stopped scribbling with the blue ink and switched to felt-tips in bright colours. Then highlighters. At least two other kids at the same table followed my lead — either from boredom or rebellion — and we were soon making a fine mess on our pages. By the time my masterpiece was ready for grading I had used a decent amount of cellotape to ensure that the remains of my peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwhich would remain fixed to the page. The thesis scrawled in bright red tomato-sauce “Remember: The bigger the spider, the bigger the mess.”


© Grumpy Axolotl

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Windy-Pop

Chelsea smiled. She was well aware that passing wind was a ridiculous passtime, but it was a fun way to let off some steam. And besides, she enjoyed it. Having the sitting-room all to herself in the evenings was a pleasant consequence of her new hobby, and Charlie –Chelsea’s lumbering old chocolate-Labrador– had no objection. Verily, Charlie was an expert in the field himself. But there was a remarkable downside: the feng-shui.


(C) Grumpy Axolotl

L’oiseau. Ngā pātai.

Bonjour. Ko wai tō ingoa?
Tēnā koe. Je m’appelle Manu. Comment tu t’appelle ?
Ko Bewilderbirdee taku ingoa. Kei te pēhea koe?
Très bien, engari kei te hiamimi ahau, et toi ?
Çe va. Merci.
E hara i te mea he aha. Je ne suis pas fort, engari J’aime manger les chattes, e wāhine mā.
Auē! E hika! Hei te wā titoki e hoa.
Oui, oui. À bientôt. I put my head on backwards to sleep. Kua kore he tangata inaianei. Kei hea tōku wai?


(C) Grumpy Axolotl

Carefree

Dailypost Prompt: Carefree


They come in all shapes and sizes. Actually they don’t really; they are all made out of tiffy-taffy and all very much the same. It’s the packaging that varies wildly. Walking down that aisle of the supermarket, it always fills one with superstitious and suspicious awe and wonder. The explosion of colors, patterns, styles. The uplifting mantras of confidence, hope, protection. The miracle of life, the mystery, the wish for a hysterectomy, the .. what the fuck?

That’s enough copy. Buy Carefree(R) Tampons today. becarefree.co.nz

When the Rubber meets the Poet

I love my rubber duckies,
All lined up in the tub.
Smilling at me comically,
When I reach down to scrub.🛀🐤

I love this rubber dog-bone.
Fucked if I knows why.
I only have it on loan.
It isnt mine to fry.🐶

I love my rubber-spiders.
They came from my Aunt Mabel.
Eek!, they freak the dinner guests,
When left out on the table.🕸

I love this rubber chicken.
I got a cracker deal.
Police still looking for me.
It really was a steal.🐔

I love my rubber balls.
They bounce like nothing else.
You were waiting for that one.
But nothing rhymes with else.⚽️

I love this rubber suit.
It complements my flippers.
I don a kinky snorkel,
And go diving with the strippers.👯

I love my rubber-panties.
I love the way they feel.
But when they catch my lady-bits,
By golly – do I squeal!💃✨