Laughing Along With A Limerick

Here’s your Monday smile – it’s limerick time. Send in your own or here’s a prompt for you –

LOOK

Here are a few limericks to make you smile this Monday. The prompt was DATE. My apologies if yours doesn’t feature here. I have scheduled this post and your limerick may have been sent in after my surgery; if so I’ll be posting it when I’m feeling better.

Keith Channing:

I felt like a bit of a fool

As I stood by the side of the pool

Although I’m too poor

To buy Deglet Nour

Why on earth should I not eat Medjool?

–

It’s sad, but I have to relate

When my wife asked me out on a date

I looked at my lunch,

My pants in a bunch

And said I’d too much on my plate.

–

A man who was slightly more mellow,

A charming and affable fellow,

Got as far as line three.

–

A man on his hols in Penzance

Thought, “I’m smart, maybe I’ll take a chance.

I know I’ll do more,”

And he got to line four.

Richmond Road’s in response to Keith’s:

Hey, Keith, I’m impressed with your verse

Is it art? Or is it a curse?

At first you did fine

But each subsequent line

Made your rhyme sound progressively worse.

And Keith’s response back:

Your comment doth please me, my friend

And I pray that your praise will not end.

Composing a rhyme

Doesn’t take too much time

But they’re minutes I’m glad to expend.

And two more from Richmond Road:

I remember when you couldn’t wait

For my call “can we go on a date?”

‘Cross the threshold I carried

You, after we’d married

And now, you’re invariably late.

–

I’ve lost all regard for the date

It’s today, and tomorrow can wait

Don’t try to be clever

You can’t live forever

Just be happy before it’s too late.

Christine Mallaband-brown:

I had an appointment with the doc

So I decided to wear a pink frock

Then I thought it’s no date

And I got there real late

Wearing a jumper and only one sock!

Paul Mastaglio:

Her name was Kate

And she was very late

So I checked my phone

To see why I was still alone

Only to find I had the wrong date.

Kim Smyth:

My hubby and I never dated

‘Twas fate for us to be related

It just took one dance

And little romance

For us to become so elated!

Ritu:

There’s one thing I really hate

When preparing for a romantic date

Depilate, or not?

Hairy legs are not hot

In case we decide to mate!

Lyncrain:

Did I tell you about our first date

Actually it’s a stroke of fate

The odds of us meeting

In person was fleeting

Online relationship to soulmate.

Zack and Zelda:

September’s calendar shows smudged date

Less-than-happy reminder I’ll be sixty-eight

I never planned to stay this long

Outlived my wardrobe and heart’s dreamy song

But maybe God’s best comes to those waiting late.

***

A Trip Down Memory Lane: My favourite Toy

We all have a favourite toy from our childhood, don’t we? A teddy that we took around with us, wherever we went, no matter how tattered and torn it looked. Or a doll or soldier that we lovingly created stories for. Well, my favourite toy was the Tree Tots Tree house.

Mum and Dad didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, but Dad always put some money from his wages aside, determined that I’d have a special Christmas present. And when I was four, he bought me the most wonderful Christmas present ever! I can still recall the excitement I felt as I tore the paper off. Dad had a massive grin all over his face and so I knew it was something special. I remember just staring at the present. I couldn’t believe I had something as spectacular as this dolls’ house that was sitting right before me. But it was no ordinary dolls’ house – it was in the shape of a tree. If you pushed a button on top of the tree, it sprang open to reveal a house! There were three rooms – a kitchen, bedroom and living room. The treehouse came with furniture – not much but enough – a car with its own garage, a family of Mum, Dad, a boy and a girl (who had a swing to play on), and a cute little dog (who had his own mini treehouse kennel outside).  

But, there was more – stairs down to the ground, but in addition to those, there was the most wondrous thing – a lift – and in the trunk of the tree! There was a special handle at the side of the house, which you had to turn. I’d never seen anything like it, and I thought it was the best thing ever.

The tree house had a strapline too – ‘Your friends from the magic forest’. I have to say that although the set was fantastic (and so much better than my Fisher Price dolls’ house, which seemed quite bland in comparison), I’m not quite sure what was magical about it. Yes, it had the lift, but a mum, dad, two children and a dog and fairly ordinary rooms, furniture and car didn’t exactly scream magic! Ah, I hear you cry, it was the forest that was magic. But I didn’t have a forest. And surely, if it was a magical forest, there should have been a fairy or elf somewhere?! Of course, I didn’t question it at the time. It’s only now, with my cynical adult eyes, that I am. To me, as a child, it was magical.   

My mum says I would play with my tree house for hours and hours. Of course, when friends came, Mum made me share my toys with them. I have to admit that I was rather reluctant to let anyone else touch my precious tree house, but Mum said sharing was important and naturally, when I went round my friends’ houses, I expected to play with their toys. But this was my special tree house! Thankfully, most of my friends were very careful.

It wasn’t to last though. Not everyone was gentle with my prized possession, and when Mum and Dad had some of their friends over one day, my heart sank as their three much older daughters made a beeline for my tree house. I suppose it could have been worse. They could have broken the whole mechanism, or lost some of the family. But, to me, they committed the most heinous of crimes – they broke the lift! I was distraught. They’d ruined my precious toy.

I did get over it – of sorts! I still played with the tree house, but it just wasn’t quite the same after that.

And did I still share my toys? I did, but I made sure I hid my favourite toys away before anyone came round!

Photo credit: http://www.thisoldtoy.com

Can You Tell A Story In…

It’s Thursday and your new five-word challenge is here. Last week, I wanted you to come up with a PLOT. This week, I want you to think about what the word ORANGE means to you. So can you tell a story in five words, using the word ORANGE in it somewhere?

Here are your PLOTs from last week:

Kim Smyth:

No plot so no story.

Ritu:

My plot’s bigger than yours.

Can you plot the way?

My story’s lost the plot.

Christine Mallaband-Brown:

Lost the plot this week?

Growing cabbages in the plot.

The plot line was bizzare!

I plot a straight course.

Pot not plot, you fool!

Have chosen my grave plot.

EDC Writing:

Plot? No idea, just write.

Paul Mastaglio:

Put in the story’s plot.

The plot thickens, keep stirring.

I’ve lost the plot again.

Kim Blade’s Writing:

Life’s plot always seems obscure.

Writer’s block halts my plot.

Plots direct the story line.

Characters and plots are intertwined.

Epic stories have numerous plots.

Rhen Laird:

Still writing plot’s worthy ending.

Lyncrain:

Plot away I certainly shall.

Count on me to plot.

Every picture has a plot.

I loved his graveyard plot.

Moral compasses lack a plot.

The deed to the plot.

Ah, the plot simply thickens.

***

A Blogging Break – Of Sorts

Unfortunately, I’m going to have to take a brief blogging break as of today. I’ve injured my shoulder and am having surgery today – and, naturally, the shoulder I’ve injured is my writing one! So I’ll need some recovery time after.

I’ve scheduled a number of blog posts for while I’m recovering. I hope you enjoy them and please leave a comment – I just may not be able to reply for a while!

My five-word challenge and limerick challenge are scheduled as usual with prompts for you, though I won’t be able to publish everyone’s responses for a little while. Have fun!

***

Funny Of The Week

Sounds like a reasonable request…

Laughing Along With Limerick

Here’s your Monday smile – it’s limerick time. Send in your own or here’s a prompt for you –

DATE

Here are a few limericks to make you smile this Monday. The prompt was POUT:

Keith Channing:

You see, my mum said with a pout,

You’ve no idea what life’s about

You run through the town

With your skirt upside-down

And your knickers are on inside-out!

–

To answer your lingering doubt,

My brother said, frying his trout.

When we get some rain

I’ll go fishing again,

And that’s what this drought pout’s about!

Christine Mallaband-brown:

I said with a great big pout

You know my greatest doubt

About going to sea

Is how the waves will be

If the water gets into the boat!

Trent’s World:

I’m going to pout and scratch my head

For all thoughts of limericks are dead

No rhyme today

I’ve got nothing to say

Perhaps I’ll go back to bed.

–

Ah, those rhythms came out wrong!

Like some demented children’s song!

I think I’ll shout

Then sit and pout

And fret and stew all day long.

Paul Mastaglio:

About this theme, I know nowt,

My face said with a pout,

So I put down my pen,

Returned to my den,

And refused to come out.

Kim Smyth:

My studies have me filled with doubt

They’re causing me to now pout

But practice makes you better

So, now I’ll type a letter

And, with confidence send it on out!

Lyncrain:

Will you just eat the dang sauerkraut

You’re hurting her feelings with your pout

I can’t do it, Momma

Cease with the damn drama

I gagged … out it all spewed in one spout.

Ritu:

She turned and posed with a pout

Of her beauty, she had no doubt

Lips inflated

Bust elevated

But to me, she just looked like a trout!

Zack and Zelda:

We’re never too old to pout

Too mature, saintly?  Rule them out

Overwhelmed, we become toddlers

Needing kind mollycoddlers

And sweet treats a-plenty, no doubt!

***

Book Review: Nothing Important Happened Today @will_carver

As soon as I saw the cover for Will Carver’s Nothing Important Happened Today, I was intrigued: Nine suicides. One cult. No leader. Then I read the blurb:

Nine people arrive one night on Chelsea Bridge. They’ve never met. But at the same time, they run, and leap to their deaths. Each of them received a letter in the post that morning, a pre-written suicide note, and a page containing only four words: Nothing important happened today.

That is how they knew they had been chosen to become a part of the People Of Choice: A mysterious suicide cult whose members have no knowledge of one another.

Thirty-two people on that train witness the event. Two of them will be next. By the morning, People Of Choice are appearing around the globe; it becomes a movement. A social media page that has lain dormant for four years suddenly has thousands of followers. The police are under pressure to find a link between the cult members, to locate a leader that does not seem to exist.

How do you stop a cult when nobody knows they are a member?

I was hooked and I hadn’t even turned the first page. And when I did, I didn’t want to put it down. Will has a way of grabbing your interest and then some. Talk about a complete and utter page turner. It’s not often you read an original and unique novel, but Will seems to have got it spot on.

You need to be ready for dark twists, for brutal honesty. This is no gentle read. But you will care for the characters, you will have your heart in your mouth, you will wonder how it’s going to end.

At first, I thought this was Will’s debut book, but I was thrilled to find out he has written others. They’re certainly on my TBR pile.

–

Can You Tell A Story In…

It’s Thursday and your new five-word challenge is here. Last week, I wanted to know what you thought about SHOES. This week, I want you to come up with a PLOT. So can you tell a story in five words, using the word PLOT in it somewhere?

Here are your thoughts on SHOES from last week:

Darlene:

My shoes are my life.

Shoes can change your life.

Possible, with the right shoes.

Take anything but my shoes.

Kim Smyth:

I’m a shoe freak, yo!

Sparkly shoes, flip-flops, whatever!

No more platform shoes, unfortunately.

Sensible, but stylish, shoe love!

Ritu:

I don’t like wearing shoes.

Buying school shoes – the pain!

Where’s the other bloomin’ shoe?

High heeled shoes are punishment.

I buy shoes for comfort!

Christine Mallaband-Brown:

My shoe is too small

My shoe hurts my toes

I bought one new shoe

I’m wearing my new shoe

New shoe causes no pain…

Thoughts on a shoe theme…

EDC Writing:

Lost shoes. Sole walking home.

Trent’s World:

Ouch! Damn blister! Damn shoes…

Paul Mastaglio:

Shoes are made for walking.

That’s just what shoes do.

Shoes to walk over you.

Kim Blades Writing:

Shoes are clothing for feet.

I don’t like wearing shoes.

High-heeled shoes cripple me.

Tight shoes can cause bunions.

Feet without shoes can breathe.

lyncrain:

Shoes invite two step moments.

Sanandi-jacq:

Shake off shoes. Tootsies breathe!

Changing shoes for changing times.

Feet count. Not fancy shoes!

Furry shoes sale! Brand: Hobbit.

Rhen Laird:

Old feet rebel against shoes.

And something different from Richmond Road:

Shoes upon the road below

Protect me from the snow

Shoes are made for warmth

That’s something that I know

Shoes they make the man

Socks they make the heat

Sure, I love my shoes

But here’s something I’ll repeat

Love is good for love

It’s something of a treat

What’s the good of love

If you’ve got cold feet?

***

Flash Fiction Story

As many of you know, I love writing flash fiction. Here’s a new story for you:

Escape

I stop, tears streaming down my cheeks. Soft whispers caress me, building in sound slowly, the harshness of the words with them. The snap of stiff wood to my right, a yell of triumph to my left.

Fingers of fear creep over me, prodding, pressing, pulling, refusing to leave me alone. My feet find movement and the relentless rain stabs at my mouth, my nose, my eyes.

I think of my pursuers. I know what they did to Annie; I know what they’ll do to me.

A shimmering light catches my eye. How can I have ended up back here? Pretty pools of sparkling blue dance on the water, mesmerising, motioning me forward. I’m sure I can see Annie. She is smiling, beckoning me.

Hands grab me. Rough, snatching handfuls of hair. The ducking stool awaits, but I am no longer afraid.    

***

Funny Of The Week

Spoilsport…