The Celtic Zucchinis: The Latest to Today's Show

Is it just me, or is this our best one yet?

The Dr. #3

Click here to read the first two.

A strange look appeared on the stranger’s face, and without a word, he began backing towards the window.
The doctor figured that if this fellow was inclined to silence, so much the better for him. Reflecting on the fellow’s plight, Dr. Batwinkler began to devise a scheme to help him, but one that would also lift out of his predicament.
“Well now, my good man, ah, you’ve come a long ways up and I don’t doubt it was healthy exercise, and seeing as we’re coming on noon, well –how about a fried egg?”
“An egg?” he asked bleakly. “Yes. I shall accept it as a last comfort before my impending doom.” Here the fellow buried his head in his arms in a posture highly resembling the Dr. Fritz’s stance several pages ago.
“Come! This way to my eating area.” Dr. Fritz beckoned cheerily, determined to rouse the spirits of his guest. Leading, he navigated out of the office, into the laboratory, past mountains of expensive-looking equipment, and through piles of shabby looking-artifacts. Pausing to switch on a Bunsen burner, he came to a stop in front of an apple crate rested on a stack of musty books. Inside was a large, blue hen.
Uttering the civility of “If I may, Henrietta,” the doctor reached into the nest and pulled out three eggs: two cobalt and one silver. With his left hand, he weighed the silver egg and promptly chucked it in a remote corner of the room.
“My Henrietta has funded many scientific discoveries!” he said proudly, “But those aren’t edible, you know!” Deftly, he buttered a frying pan and heated it, and when the butter began to pop, he cracked the eggs and tossed them in.
All through this, the stranger had remained mute, as passing from the sparse, professional office into the laboratory, a chaotic mixture of science and lore antiques, had astounded him. The large, rectangular room was broken into three-sided nooks by tall, chrome, book and display shelves. They were like houses on a street: all were connected by a long hallway. Everything was neatly labled. Reminiscent of Arabian nights, hundreds of oil lamps lit the room brightly. Another was entirely stocked with greatly varying jewelry catalogued “according to property”. A little ways in the hallway was a cardboard box, marked “No apparent ability” full of plain gold rings. Machinery, lavishly coated in buttons, was dotted here and there like islands. Labeled, “Trash,” an especially large nook was almost entirely filled with broomsticks and curiously pointed hats. *Like a library of the ancient world, parchments, tightly curled, were stored in glass jars. Cracked, worn, and dusty, books occupied every other available space.
As Fritz handed over the expertly-fried, blue egg, the guest noticed that something, on a shelf of musical instruments, was moving. It appeared to be twisted rope. Answering to the doctor’s whistle, the rope picked up speed and dropped neatly to the ground at their feet.
“This, my new friend, is Zither, of whom I mentioned previously. And speaking of introductions, my name is Batwinkler, Dr. Fritz Batwinkler.”
“P-p-p-pleased to meet you. I am Savvel Vastion.” Savvel’s voice and vocabulary lost its magnificent, despairing tone as he became more awed and less focused on awing. “What is this stuff?”
“It is my scientific collection. Which reminds me, I have something in the way of a… business proposition.

* Just so you know, I am not really into witches. Please note that that nook was labled, "Trash."

Critiques? Pointers? Anyone?

Monday's Idiom (Or question?)

A ubiquitous "word" that my mother has always deplored is "Duh."
The expression is found commonly among the youth, working as a response to an obvious question. It is pronounced several different ways: all unattractive and all designed to compel a sense of inferiority in the recipient.
Example:

Person A: "So December 25th is Christmas, Right?"
Person B: "Du-uh" (stressed to two syllables to call attention to how stupid [pardon the adjective] the question is.)

A by far less humiliating response, as coined by my only uncle, is
"Does ten pounds of flour make a big biscuit?"

Not only does it endear you to the questioner far more than the depressing "duh" it is almost guaranteed to produce a smile.

Dadism #3

And our featured quote of the day is: "Gag me with a spoon."

This is undoubtedly more of a vague exclamation than most sayings. "Gag me with a spoon," is not an idiom that reveals some truth about life or imparts any pearls of wisdom. Rather, it conveys a distinct disgust at something disturbing or in most cases, hypo-criticism.

It requires a certain elasticity of facial features to really say "Gag me with a spoon" correctly. Namely, the lip must curl ever so slightly, and one eyebrow must be raised in a hint of superiority.

And "spoon" must not be spoken with only one syllable, it must be given two to achieve the proper element of scorn. "Spoo-oon!" Or in some cases of extreme horror, the expression may be ended with "Gag me with a pitchfork." Please don't ask me why. However, you must be careful: like as not, the only person who can rightly use the expression this way is my dad. If you use the pitchfork ending, people will just look at you like you are weird.

The Reluctant Dragon Fan Club #3.5

Before you read this, read the first, second, and third, or this won't make any sense.

Mr. Barnaby Franklin Ankycra walked in to McDonald's with a chip on his shoulder. Nothing was going to get in the way of his Big Mac. He actually smiled as he endearingly muttered, "Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce cheese etc." Those ingredients were "nectar and ambrosia," to his poor, disillusioned taste buds. He noted that there were no other customers in line, and that the cashier was just standing there waiting. Nothing WAS going to get in the way. He walked up to the counter.

"I'll take a Big Mac," he stated authoritatively. No answer. "Ahem! I'll take a BIG MAC!" Still no answer. He took another look at the cashier. One arm was crooked strangely and her eyes were very... vacant. Then, her lips twisted into a goofy smile, and she began to wave: slowly and kinda like a rodeo queen or something. Mr. Ankycra hmphed, but then spotted a small silver bell on the counter.

Ophelia stands proudly on the stage. Someone hands her about three dozen roses. She smiles and waves graciously at her crowd of adoring fans. They scream wildly, but then fall silent as she opens her mouth to speak. Pearls of wisdom and hilarities fall from her lips. The audience sits, enraptured. This is the fourth meeting of the Reluctant Dragon Fan Club.

Ding! DingdingdingdingdingdingDING! Ophelia is pulled back to earth by the sound of a bell. A disgruntled old man frowns at her. She is once again wearing a McDonald's tie and one of those stupid visor that McDonald's makes their poor employees put on.

"You listen to me young lady, I want one Big Mac right NOW!"

"Yes sir, of course, sir, right away sir." Ophelia mumbles sadly. "That'll be $3.53." She does a quick mental calculation: $12459.72 -$3.53

The Third Chronicle in the Adventures of Miss Penelope Faulty

Also known as "Adventures in Logical Fallacies"
The first Chronicle
The Second Chronicle

Penelope: (disdainfully) "You already asked me that question! I do believe you are going round in circles in your arguments."
Inspector: (indigantly) "I'm going round in circles? It is you who is confusing me."
Penelope: (matter-of-fact-ly) "I never take people around in circles. I infinitely prefer squares. With squares, you can corner people's words or back them up against a wall, and that is physically impossible with circles."
Inspector: (snappishly) "What about rectangles? Ha! You can't find a problem with those!"
Penelope: (haughtily)"You underestimate me, Inspector. Anyway, everyone knows that rectanglar gems are the most unattractive cut possible because they are usually emeralds. Peridots are vastly superior to them and besides, are almost always circle cut."

Inspector: (confusadly) "Wait, I thought you didn't care for circles!"

Penelope: (brightly)"You live entirely too much in the past, dear inspector."

Inspector: (Angrily) "Argh!" Lays head down on table for several seconds "Alright, where were we?"

Penelope: (sweetly) "We were speaking of the past."

Inspector: (stiffly) "Ah yes; the past. Where were you on the 23rd, around 7:00 P.M.?"

The Third Meeting of the Reluctant Dragon Fan Club

(Note: To read the first meeting click HERE. To read the second, click HERE)

Ophelia smiles confidently. She has overcome her fear of fan club meetings and is quite proud of her self. Considering what happened at the last meeting, she has a right to be. Not only that, but she has discovered the perfect place for the meeting; McDonald's.

Why McDonald's? Because of the instant popularity it will grant her. She has thought this over for months;by offering a free meal to each of her supporters she will become the best loved blogger on the world wide web, a must for her self-confidence.

Elsewhere, the CEO of McDonald's sits at his desk, frowning darkly. The stocks of McDonald's corporation have gone down, way down. The CEO is unsure what is causing the drop. At this rate, by 2017, McDonald's will go out of business unless something amazing happens. He decides to fly his private jet down to a nearby location to see if he can discover the problem.

Back to Ophelia, who is at her local McDonald's giving a speech to her fans: "Welcome to the third meeting of The Reluctant Dragon Fan Club!" Ophelia begins tremulously. "I'm fairly certain you all know my name. It's nice to um, er, be able to see the faces of the people who support my blog. To show all of you just how much I appreciate the support of my gentle readers, I am going to treat every one of you to a free meal! So, uh, order up!"

A cheer rises from the fans crowding into McDonald's. They clap, but then start shoving each other for a place in line. For a few minutes, McDonald's rings with shouts as people wrestle for spots in line to get their free meals. The manager begins to panic, shouting, "Order! Order!" Ophelia begins to be frantic also, afraid that this third meeting will turn out like the last one. Just then, to add to the pandemonium, the CEO chooses exactly that opportune moment to show up. "Manager!" he begins, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. It is unqualified people like you who are ruining the reputation of McDonald's corporation. I'm going to see that you are repla-"

But before he can finish his sentence, the CEO is swept away by a wave of hungry Reluctant Dragon fans. Desperate to save himself from being trampled, the CEO grabs onto a post and shimmies up to a safe height.

Ah! Relief!A donut-munching, coffee-slurping policeman barges in to save the day, takes one look at the chaos and grabs the manager by the scruff of the neck. "What kindaofa business are you trying run here! Lookatthe mess you made for me to clean up!"he growls, "Everybody line up! You, stop! CUTTHATOUT!"

With a surprising speed, the policeman has everyone in place. Ophelia frowns, realizing that the line wraps around the inside of the building, and several people are standing just out the door. "There are a lot of people here, and this is going to take a toll on my pocketbook. Well, at least that's everybody."

The CEO, finally sliding down from his perch at the top of the post has noticed the large amount of people, and suddenly hits upon a brilliant market strategy to rescue McDonald's. He knows that if people receive a free meal, chances are that they will become addicted to McDonald's greasy, "delicious" food, and thus, become consistent customers. In the past, attempting this particular strategy has caused companies to go bankrupt if they lose too much money on the free meal, but the CEO plans on taking advantage of poor unsuspecting Ophelia, and her money. He quickly exits the building to spread the word to passersby that "for a limited time only, McDonald's is offering people a first free meal!"

For the next twenty minutes, Ophelia chats with her readers, signing autographs and enjoying herself. Then, looking up, she notices something very peculiar; the line has not gotten smaller, even though most of the fans have already been served. Now, the line wraps two times around the McDonald's building. Ophelia racks her brain to think where they could be coming from. She realizes that word must have gotten out that there were free meals at McDonald's! For a few moments, she stands, dumbfounded, but then she tries to spring into action, attempting to shove her way towards the front of the line to stop the purchases made on her account. But her fans stop her! They shove pieces of paper at her, crying, "I want your autograph!"

Ophelia's dream has come true; she is the most popular blogger ever, yet that dream no longer matters, she must get to that cashier! For the next half hour she persists in struggling, swimming upstream in the current of people. Then, finally, she makes it! Ophelia pants wearily to the cashier, "Don't give anybody anymore free food. I'll pay my tab now."

"Yes ma'am. Your total is $12,459.72. Thank you for shopping at McDonald's Have a nice day," The clerk rants in a monotone.

Ophelia gasps. "$12,459? No, that can't be true!"

"It isn't true, ma'am. You owe McDonald's $12,459.72."

Ophelia slumps down and lays her head on the counter. "Put... put, put it on my tab. Here's $459 right here." Slowly she walks out of the store, the noise and crowd seeming far away. "$12, 459.72. $12,459.72." She mutters over and over again. An employee announces on a megaphone, "McDonald's is now no longer giving away free food. Thank you for eating at McDonald's."

To settle her enormous debt to McDonald's, Ophelia drops out of high school and gets a job at the local McDonald's as a lowly fry cook. McDonald's stocks go up in value and the CEO lives happily ever after.

To be continued...