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The Best Original World Humor
Sciencitis
By Janet, Mysterious East
Whenever my Uncle Jethro had trouble with his sciences Aunt Daisy-Jane would hit him in the head with a brick. Cleared it right up. She broke a lot of bricks that way.
Telling Time Isn't As Easy As It Looks*
By frandamady, Humpback Whale, Poet, Denizen of the Deep
Learning to
tell time doesn't have to be a psychologically traumatic
experience, even for a whale such as myself, but to me it was. My
mother, otherwise a great mom, thought that I, at four-years-old
or so, should have that skill. To that end she drew a series of
clock-faces with hands in different positions and instructed me
to puzzle-out what, to me, was a hopelessly arcane and confusing
exercise. I didn't do well at all. For several weeks I had
nightmares about snarling clocks. I overheard, or dreamt I
overheard, my mom saying to my dad, "Frank, I'm afraid your
son may have a severe learning disability." My father took
my side. As I remember he said something like, "Whaddaya
mean MY son?" My dad always took my side.
I didn't know what a learning disability was, but I was pretty
sure it wasn't good and that it had something to do with not
being able to tell time. At that age I was not one to displease
his mother. After all, I was in no position to cut out on my own.
I applied myself, and by sixteen I was able to tell time with the
best of them. I did not own a wristwatch I really liked, however,
until I was 37. That's when they came out with digital watches.
If my trusty digital timepiece read 7:24, then, by George, that's
what time it was!
What my mother could never have known was that sometimes even
now, when I'm very tired and someone asks me what time it is, and
I'm wearing my expensive watch, the one with hands, I have a
tendency to say, "The big hand is on the three, and the
little hand is on the two."
But I'm still trying, mom.
*This story, in a slighty different form, won first place in the Humor
and Life, in Particular short humor contest, November-December,
2000.
The Silence of the Clams
By Jarvin H. Pepsicord, USA
"The clams are unearthly quiet tonight, Cap'n."
"Aye," said Captain Stubbs. He motioned with his pipe toward an open hatch. "Has that boy, Hannibal, been down in the clam-hold again?"
________
©Jerry Schatz, 1999 - 2006
