The last time I laughed?
If facetious laughter doesn’t count (had me oodles of that), then I guess I’d have to say January 16 when I was walking my dog and witnessed our neighborhood’s pubescent ginger menace, Evil Opie, launch his Huffy off a rickety wood ramp, go full horizontal and Wile E. himself into an ice-coated snow bank.
“10 out of 10 ya freckled bastard!”
What’s that? You think that may have been a bit facetious?
I guess you’re right, but if you knew this little monster, you’d be laughing your ass off.
Tiny moments of levity…
Ample-Jowled Southern Politician Giving Three Siliconeheads a Case of the Butt-Puckers: Wooooeewoot! I‘ve been hearin’ y’all jabber yer half-answers and cockadoodies to our fist-shakin’ questions for five hours now. My melon’s smokin’ like a blackened brisket. I think we can rightly agree you may or may not be diabolical bastard people. Sound good?
Dorsey (Most Definitely Not Wearing Pants): Yes.
Zuck: <forehead illuminates sign of uncertainty>
Pichai: Whatever. We done? I really gotta boogie.
Politician: OK then. Time well spent. Let’s do this again soon.
Ev Williams: May I say something?
Politician: Sorry, who’s that?
EW: Ev Williams — I’m…
Once upon a time there lived a beautiful maiden — ME!
And the time once uponed was NOW y’all!
My name is Pepperella, rightful heir to the throne of Labradonia, a gloriously magical kingdom 15 miles south of Tulsa.
My mom, her royal majesty, the remarkably sublime Queen Barbarella-Mozzerella-Gulden o’ Muster the Third CPA M.Ed., along with help from my dad, Curt, birft me two years ago.
I sent my 80-year young father an Amazon Echo for Christmas.
HA! Just kidding.
He sent one to me.
“Don’t wait! Open it as soon as you get it! You’ll love it!” exclaimed the raving brainwashed cultist formerly known as the man who rode Betamax to 2002.
“Will do, Dad!” I gleefully responded, thumbs way up.
The box arrived yesterday. I eagerly carried it into the house, secretively retreated to the garage and drop-kicked that little bitch to a dank, dark corner for a pleasant round of robot torture.
“Welcome to hell, cyberpunk. …
Pepper and Diesel are neighbors who like to dig deep holes in hopes of unearthing unmarked burial grounds courtesy of some unscrupulous property developer.
It’s a stormy weekend and Diesel will be spending the night while his owner leaves for a weekend fishing trip.
Young Pepper is so excited to be hosting her first slumber party that she’s not disturbed in the slightest knowing her only guest is a 10-year old male requiring prescription kibble to keep his own flatulence from waking him up at night.