You Cant Make this stuff up

Tag: fiction

  • Are you a Felix or Oscar?

    Many of us are north of 50 and have had enough time to determine. Who are the Oscars and who are the Felixes in your family?  You might recall the hilarious series “The Odd Couple” , 2 divorced guys living together with Felix being the perfectionist and Oscar the slob and the non stop adventures with this type of relationship. 

    Here is an overview of the respective personalities: 

    Hotel 

    Felix

    • Checks in for one night.
    • Hangs up every shirt.
    • Folds socks and underwear into perfect little squares.
    • Makes the bed before leaving for breakfast.

    Oscar

    • Staying one month.
    • Half the clothes are still in the suitcase.
    • The other half are decorating the floor.
    • Can’t find his toothbrush by Day Two.

    Car

    Felix

    • Washes it every Saturday.
    • Gas tank never below half.
    • Replaces floor mats and changes oil monthly.
    • Registration and proof of insurance documents – Laminated in a zippered pouch 

    Oscar

    • Running on fumes.
    • Three coffee cups of stains on the seats 
    • #10 tattered envelope has 4 past years of registrations with the latest expired 
    • Petrified McDonalds fries – 2019 under the seat 

    Refrigerator

    Felix

    • Labels leftovers with description, date and time. 
    • Everything organized by expiration date, carbs and calories 
    • Ice maker produces  perfectly square, clear ice

    Oscar

    • Opens the refrigerator, sniffs, “ Still smells okay.”
    • Jar of jam with a thank you note from Jesus to the 3 wiseman
    • Fruit drawer is a penicillin factory 
    • Ice maker is a glacier 

    Remote Control

    Felix

    Always puts it back.

    Oscar

    Where’s Waldo? 

    My wife is pure Felix and I am a pure card carrying Oscar. 

    She makes sure there are 2 softener sheets in the dryer,  

    I contribute a couple sharpies quarterly 

    The kitchen and dishes sparkle,

     My empty, unwashed smoothie cup will need a sandblaster 

    Her clothes are perfectly separated and folded in a drawer

     Mine looks like waste management trash day

    Now it’s your turn.

    Which one are you?

    Better yet…

    Who is the biggest Oscar or Felix in your family?  An example? 

    ⸻

    I

  • There is a goat on my Corvette!

    A white goat standing atop an orange sports car, with visible wheels and windows.

    The Goat, the Corvette, and the Dumpster Surprise

    Sister Sally’s pride and joy was Cotton Tail, a white rabbit with deep red eyes.

    One Christmas, Brother Bill got a bow and an arrow. He was eager to try it out. He launched an arrow into the sky. It arched over the trees and came down directly into Cotton Tail.

    As you can imagine, this puts a serious damper on the holiday spirit. Sally was devastated for months.

    Mom wanted to ease the pain.
    During a country drive, she found a creative solution: a roadside sign that read “Baby Goats for Sale.”

    Easter was just around the corner. Sally’s basket that year included a real, live baby goat. It was nestled in green plastic grass.

    She named him Sticks.

    We did not know at the time that Sticks would grow into an 85-pound, four-foot-tall wrecking ball. He ate Mom’s petunias. He also had a nasty habit of butting anyone who bent over.

    Fast-forward to a big family party after a college football game.

    I had just bought a brand-new orange Corvette, and we were celebrating hard.

    One of the guests had a few too many scotches and stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. On his way, he looked out the window and froze.

    “Martha… you’re not going to believe this, but there’s a goat standing on an orange Corvette.”

    She followed him to the window. Of course, by the time she looked, Sticks had hopped off.

    “I don’t see a goat,” she said. “Harry, we’re going home.”

    Sadly, a few months later, a pack of dogs killed Sticks.

    Dad spotted him in the yard and called out:

    “Michael, before school, you need to bury that goat.”

    Mike did not want to. But Dad insisted.

    So, Mike found a shortcut.

    He dragged the goat to our old wood-paneled station wagon, tied a rope around its neck, pulled it to the end of the driveway, and hoisted it into the family dumpster.

    “Did you bury the goat?”

    “Yeah, yeah,” Mike said, ready to head to school.

    But just as he was about to leave, the Waste Management guy showed up. He opened the dumpster to toss in some boxes — and froze.

    Inside were four hooves sticking straight up.

    He marched to the door and banged hard. Dad answered.

    “Sir, I have picked up a lot of trash in 20 years. But never a dead goat.”

    Michael! Get that goat out of the dumpster