Tales for Awful People

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This one is not about Meredith and Justin
October 19, 2010, 11:53 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors | Tags: , , , , ,

A meadow vole tutted to her neighbor the owl “I just feel like I can’t get through to him. What am I getting out of this relationship? There has to be something in it for me, right? I cook and clean and pay all the bills and take care of the baby voles.”  The owl thought about this and said “I wonder if it has anything to do with that stoat I saw him with after his yoga class? He’s always saying he’d just be ‘wiped out’ if he didn’t get to yoga each week.”

Actually, the owl was a jerk. The owl said “You really give 110% to that relationship. Have you thought about taking some time for you? You know, a bubble bath, maybe some emergency chocolate!”

Then the owl went home and called the beaver, and they laughed and laughed!

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The Pushy Woodpecker
October 14, 2010, 1:05 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors | Tags: , ,

Long ago, generic there was a woodpecker who desperately wanted to become friendly with the grubs in the old pine tree at the edge of the forest. Every day she would come knock, medicine knock, doctor knocking at their pine bark door, and the horrified grubs would burrow more deeply into the soft, rotten heart of the tree.

“They must be shy!” the woodpecker exclaimed to her friend the bluejay, who cawed in agreement. “What we’ve got to do,” the woodpecker said, “is draw them out.”

Bright and early the next day, the birds set upon the old pine tree as they never had before.

“Tell me about your family!” the woodpecker called to the first grub she saw.

“Oh, my!” said the grub, and he withdrew his head into the tree.

“Remember our plan!” the woodpecker said to the bluejay, and the birds began to hammer and peck at the old tree.

“It must be awful to be so shy,” the woodpecker rattled off.

“Yes, becoming our friends will be a big step for them,” the bluejay replied.

“You are making me very uncomfortable!” a grub said as the woodpecker’s dagger-like beak came perilously close.

“What do you do in your spare time?” the bluejay shrieked.

The more the birds pressed, the more the grubs retreated, yet still the birds pecked away. Finally, the old pine tree was reduced to a pile of splinters, and the grubs crawled away, vowing to find a new home far, far away from their irritating neighbors.

As to the fate of the bluejay and the woodpecker, I cannot tell you any more than what I know of the legend, which is, of course, too foolish to be true. It is said that they pecked and shrieked until they perished of exposure, but that even in death, their hellish cries of “Did you read that article in last months’ Atlantic? I found it fascinating!” still chill the blood of passing travelers.

New forensic technology, however, leads most experts to favor the theory that their raucous cries attracted a passing hawk, who tore them to bits.

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The Devious Siamese
October 13, 2010, 12:54 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors | Tags: , , ,

Once there was a Siamese cat who had a long-term relationship. She and her boyfriend enjoyed sitting on fences and yowling at each other, cialis but he had terrible manners and would spray urine all over the house if invited to a party. Her friends mewled behind her back about how bad they thought he was for her, treatment and how they hated to do things in groups with him, and what was she thinking?

The Siamese cat overheard them outside as she sat in the windowsill. At first she thought about hissing and confronting them, but instead she cooked up a plan. She and her boyfriend staged a dramatic fight the next time the group gathered in the alley, lashing their tails and spitting at each other. Oh, it was a sight to see and hear!

The next day, she approached her friends, and they all rushed to console her, saying “He was no good anyway, we never liked him!” Then the Siamese turned around and said “Ah ha, we got back together! Now I know how you really feel, you treacherous pussies. You are just jealous!”

Then she went home and found a urine-scented letter from her boyfriend, actually dumping her. Also, her owners acquired an overenthusiastic hound, and she was forced to sleep outside.

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The Drunken Hedgehog
October 11, 2010, 10:55 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors | Tags: ,

Perhaps now is the time to apprise you of the tale of drunken Roger, the hedgehog who lived down the lane. Poor Roger was covered in prickles, and every time he indulged in too much birch beer, he would begin to attempt to take liberties with all and sundry passersby. What an awful nuisance! No one was interested in allowing him liberties, because of his repulsive physical condition. One day a roguish japester rolled poor Roger right up in a Turkish carpet and placed him in the back of a tinker’s wagon! And Roger has not been seen from that day to this.

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The Early Adopting Manatee
October 11, 2010, 10:43 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors | Tags: ,

A young bull manatee was swimming here and there one shimmering afternoon when he ran into a group of other young manatees. They were milling about, sale thinking about starting a mating herd, stomach but the bull manatee had other things on his mind. “Hey, check out my iPod touch,” he whistled. “This new model just came out, see, you can tell by the screen.” The others were grudgingly impressed, as they all had mp3s players that still used wheels. “And that’s nothing, I also got a Gmail account!” The other manatees sighed, for they all still used Yahoo! and Hotmail. “Yeah, it’s great, I can get it on my Blackberry.” This continued for the better part of an hour. Finally one of the other manatees grabbed the young bull’s mini video camera and flipped it up, up, up towards the sunny surface. The bull manatee chirped “Jeez, jealous much,” and swam up, up, up into the propeller of a passing speedboat.

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The Overindulgent Possums
October 11, 2010, 10:40 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors | Tags: , , ,

A family of possums had just one baby late in life, there and they loved her more than they loved their own hides and tails.

At the berry patch, sale the littlest possum would run and shout and pick green berries, seek then throw them underfoot. “Could you ask her not to do that, please?” asked a squirrel who had been a family friend for years. The mother possum fell over and played dead til the squirrel went away. While the mother was playing dead, the little possum stripped so many green berries off the bushes that no new ones would ripen for three weeks.

The little possum and her daddy took an evening trip to the creek, where the raccoon was catching crawdads for his dinner. “Splish, splash!” yelled the little possum, and leaped around in the water until it was muddy, and all the little fish and crawdads swam away.

“I’ll go hungry this evening, I suppose,” said the raccoon. “Perhaps if you’d made her stop—“ the papa possum didn’t appear to hear the rest, because he was playing dead.

The raccoon shook his head and went far upstream.

Finally, it was time for the forest’s big summer party. All the animals spent weeks preparing, and they always had a good time, but over the years they had begun to dread the arrival of the possums. “Could we just not tell them the dates, and then act like it was an accident?” said the passive-aggressive chipmunk at one of the planning committee meetings. Everybody laughed, but the chipmunk had been serious.

Now every year at the party, the predators agreed not to eat anyone, because that would spoil some people’s fun, so no one got too upset when the owl, the wolf, and the bobcat showed up, although some of the timid animals stayed a little nervous.

The possums showed up late, with no covered dish. “Sorry,” the mother stage whispered to the rabbit in charge. “Our daughter has a fever, and she’s been in a mood all day.”

“Then why in God’s name did you bring her?” said the rabbit, shocked. The mother possum shook the trees at their roots, she fell over playing dead so hard. The rabbit sighed and went to check on the keg of birch beer. Meanwhile, the papa possum was smiling beatifically as his daughter clumsily yanked at the muskrat’s fur. “Get off me, please,” said the muskrat. “You better let her do it, Bob,” said the papa possum. “When she gets a notion to braid, there’s no stopping her.” And he laughed. The muskrat knocked the little possum off his head. After a moment of surprise, she began to howl.

“Apologize to my little girl,” roared the father possum. “You are the most ridiculous creature in the entire forest,” said the muskrat, and he shambled away, muttering. Thump! Went the papa possum. “Yeah! Thump!” yelled the little possum, and she threw herself to the forest floor to play dead, too.

“Hey, fellas,” said the owl, “Did we say specifically, that we weren’t going to eat anybody?”

“I think so” said the bobcat sadly.

“No, no,” said the wolf, “I think we promised not to attack anybody. Didn’t say anything about eating.”

“Well, what do you know?” said the owl. “I think that poor possum family just up and died of natural causes.”

“That’s a damn shame,” said the bobcat.

“Can’t blame a guy for scavenging, can they?” said the wolf.

Later, all the animals agreed it was the best summer party in years.

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Hell Is Other Horses
October 11, 2010, 10:38 pm
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In a sun-dappled meadow between two tall mountains, mind there lived a herd of strong and mighty horses. The littlest foal was the pride and joy of the herd, and all the horses put a little extra effort into tending to him because he was so delicate. If the other foals were holding a race, he would hang back and remind the others of how fruitless physical competition is when they could be improving their minds instead. He refused to stamp out his age in exchange for a piece of apple, saying it was demeaning to his very nature. Truly, he was only happy when gazing at his reflection in the stream that cut through the valley. “Art and self-examination are our salvation,” he said. He made the other horses nervous, because although they did not understand everything he said, they could sense his contempt.

As winter approached, the littlest foal grew weaker because he refused to gambol with the other young ones. Others tried to encourage him to join in, but he rolled his eyes and snorted. One day, as he was contemplating something or the other, an avalanche struck. Others raced to save him since he couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, but all they earned was a silent tomb. The foal survived, but the park rangers thought his rehabilitation would go more smoothly in a group setting. So he spent the rest of his life at the Shady Acres Petting Zoo, sullenly eating pellets from the coin dispenser.

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The Crotchety Rhino
October 11, 2010, 10:31 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors

A certain rhino was easily angered, and all the animals of the veldt knew it, so they gave him a wide berth, all except the little tick bird who lived on his back. The pickings were excellent, so the tick bird kept him company.

All day, the rhino complained to the tick bird about one thing or another. “The grass here is too tall,” he would say. “Let’s go to the shorter grass a few miles away, then,” the tick bird would answer. “I’m too tired,” the rhino would say. “You always want to make me walk a million miles a day.” “It’s not my fault the short grass grows where it does,” the tickbird would say mildly. “The long grass tickles my belly, and I can’t reach it,” the rhino would continue. “Well, let’s go to the mud hole, then” the tickbird would answer. “You always seem to like the mud hole.” “I don’t want the mudhole. I want short grass right here and now,” the rhino would say, beginning to snort and stomp. “I’m not the one who controls what goes where, you know?” the tickbird would say, but usually he would say it quietly, because the rhino never listened to him anyway, and it was easier not to make waves.

One day, though, the tickbird did his best to sound an alarm. “Rhino, rhino!” he called, “A jeep is coming towards us! We better get out of here.”

“Aw, man, why do you have to go and ruin my day?” the rhino said. “I hate jeeps. You know I hate jeeps.” “Well, sure, who doesn’t?” said the tick bird, “but I need you to realize that I didn’t call up and order a jeep. I’m saying that since it’s here, it would be best to get away from it.”

“That means running, and it’s so hot out,” said the rhino. “I hate running.” “Rhino, you have to do something!” the tick bird said, getting upset. “The jeep is coming just over the next hill, and I see men with guns inside.”

“What the–? Guns? What do you mean guns? Why are there guns?” the rhino yelled.

“Rhino, seriously, don’t take this out on me. Run while you can,” the tick bird said, yelling as loud as he could. But it was as if his words just bounced off the rhino’s thick hide. Sharp darts began to shoot through the air, and the tick bird was forced to flap away to a nearby tree. He watched helplessly as the rhino was hit, shuddered on his legs, and fell over with a great crash. The tick bird turned his head away and sobbed bitterly.

When he heard the jeep start and roar away again, he was horrified to see the rhino lying motionless with only a flat place where his beautiful horn had been. He flew over to perch on his friend’s back one last time, and he sang a sad song of loss and regret. To his amazement, though, the rhino began to twitch, then to fidget, and suddenly, almost without warning, he scrambled right to his feet. “What happened?” he asked the tick bird, who was nearly delirious with happiness to have his friend back. “Oh, dear me, I’m not sure,” said the tick bird, “but I think those were the anti-poaching campaign fellows I’ve heard about.  They cut off horns to save you from killers.”

“No way! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” roared the rhino.   “Why would they do that?”

“To save your life,” the tickbird said softly.

“Ridiculous,” the rhino fumed.

“Rhino, please, it wasn’t even my idea.  You’re hurting my feelings,” the tickbird said.

“Stop it, would you?” said the rhino.  “I don’t need this from you right now.”

The tickbird sighed.  He knew what he had to do.  Without a word, he flapped his wings three times and hopped an air current that carried him far away to start a new life without the infuriating rhino.

The rhino was left standing in the tall grass, looking rather silly without his horn.  As he dimly began to realize what he had fianlly done, he felt a tick bite his back, and then another.  He called for his friend, but it was too late.  That bird had flown for good.

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The Vain Seal
October 11, 2010, 10:18 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors | Tags: , ,

Once upon a time in Antarctica, there was a young seal who felt fat. She complained and complained that she was unattractive because of this. She annoyed her friends, because although she was a little on the plump side, she was perfectly sleek and gleaming. Some of her friends were even larger, and they assured her that she was a fine looking seal, and then returned to their ice floes and sulked. If she thought so poorly of herself, they wondered, what must she think of them?

The vain seal secretly knew exactly what she was doing. Although she still felt fat, she felt that they were fatter and in need of constant reminders.

One day a fierce leopard seal was swimming by looking for dinner and heard her saying, “Oh, I’m just the biggest fattest seal out here. Seriously.” The leopard seal paused to listen. “You are all stringy ropes of plankton, compared to me,” the vain seal smirked.

“Bingo!” said the leopard seal, and the vain seal never knew what hit her!
(It was the leopard seal.)

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The Muskrat Who Visited the Express Lane
October 11, 2010, 10:10 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors | Tags: , ,

A muskrat got up at noon one Saturday and sauntered down to the grocery store just when it was most crowded. She loaded up a basket with all kinds of roots and berries and bugs and grubs and saltines and grape soda and walked to the back of a long line.

Just as she did, ailment a cashier opened a new register and called for the next person eligible for the express lane. The muskrat ran over, shoving an elderly stoat and a family of rabbits (who had but a single carrot to purchase) right out of the way!

She plunked her basket down on the conveyor belt. The cashier bowed slightly, and said, “Madam, not only are you not the rightful next in line, but you are clearly in possession of more then 10 items.”

“Pish and tush!” said the muskrat. “Everyone here wants to go home, just like I do, and we will waste more time in arguing than you would in ringing up my purchases, which I suggest you hop to.”

“Rabbits hop, madam,” said the cashier, “but I am a wolf,” and then he finished the argument in a rather final way and called a stock boy for clean-up over the intercom.

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