Tag Archives: wife

The Farmer In The Dell Pt One

29 Jul

The Farmer was in his dell. He was instructed to be there by a little piece of paper.

The paper simply said:

Go to the dell.
Wait for instructions.
Or Else.
C.
 

Ok, thought the Farmer. I’m here. Now what? Or else what?

After about twenty minutes of nothing, the Farmer called, “Hi-Ho!…..Hi-Ho! Anybody there? Hello? Derry-o, anybody there?”

No answer. Apparently the country side of Derry was deserted today, which did not help with the mysterious note with it’s day wasting instructions.

The Farmer sat down.

Off in the distance several tiny dots appeared. As they got closer the Farmer could make out the Pastor’s wife, a small boy, a woman dressed in a nurses uniform, a cow, a dog, a cat, and a rat. Behind them were two big angry men carrying two big angry guns.

Oh my god, thought the Farmer. The Farmer had no weapons and those guys looked big…and angry.

The Farmer slipped back into the brush of the dell. He peeked out, easily concealed by the bushes.

What to do? What to do? The Farmer’s mind was racing.

The group was on the outskirts of the tree line now.

One of the men with the guns barked, “We rest here. 5 minutes.”

The humans looked exhausted. They sat down, no literally fell down where they stood. The Pastor’s wife flopped right in front of where the Farmer was hiding.

The animals huddled together, except the cow which began to graze on the grass.

The angry gun brothers put there guns against their legs and lit cigarettes.

The Farmer waited a minute then tried to get the Pastor’s wife attention.

“Psst, psst,” he hissed at her but she just sat there.

“Hey,” he tried a little louder, almost too loud, as he glanced at the men with guns.

They looked like they had begun arguing over something stupid like politics, or religion, or industrial death metal, or political religious industrial death metal. Whatever, it didn’t matter…what mattered was at some point they laid their guns on the ground. They seemed really preoccupied. Their backs were slightly turned away from where the Farmer was hiding. This was the Farmer’s chance.

In one quick ninja-like swoop, he put his hands on the Pastor’s wife’s hips and took her.

To Be Continued…

A Big Barrel Of Crackers

20 Jul

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Where do you suppose Cracker Barrel got it’s name? Did crackers come in barrels way back in waggoner times?

Thank god the box was invented, because I do not want to lug a big barrel of crackers home from the Target store. Can you imagine the size of the shopping cart needed?

What if I needed a barrel of crackers, a barrel of pickles, a barrel of fish (to shoot), and a barrel of fun (to roll out) and of course, a barrel of monkeys all in one shopping trip?

Inconvenient!

Anyway, the wife and I decided to have lunch here before work today. Even though we have dined here many times, mostly because it’s right down the street, and quite honestly because it’s cheap, I just find lots of things funny about the restaurant.

The first thing I thought was odd was the fact that I got a coaster for my drink and my wife did not.

When I said to her, “Hey, that’s odd. I got a coaster for my drink, and you, my wife,  did not…”

She said, “Yes, they bring coasters with all the diet drinks. Keri* always gets a coaster too. She drinks diet as well.”

That makes sense, except my wife was drinking a sweet tea. (Or in the south pronounced as a sweeeeeeet teeeea.) I pointed this out, but my wife only shrugged. You see one is a light brown drink, and one is a black drink…and they look completely different.

So, Cracker Barrel…why the need?

“I don’t want to be labeled as a diet drinker. I think that’s what they are doing, ” I told her. “What if they are trying to segregate us in case some Regular Cola Commandos bust into the restaurant and are commanded to shoot all the people with coasters. What then, huh? I’m a dead man!”

I crumbled up my coaster and stuck it in my wife’s purse. I leaned over to the table next to us to warn them to do the same.

They just gave me a blank stare.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “Besides, what if they were instructed to shoot all the people without coasters?”

Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.

The next thing that caught my attention was when my wife ordered some sort of summer special entree salad, and the waitress remarked (very excitedly),

“It’s really good. It has an Italian dressing, and this is the first time Cracker Barrel has ever put cucumbers on a salad.

No way…first time ever? Cucumbers on a salad? Somebody call Gordon Ramsey and tell him about this.

Look at the bountiful array of cucumbers! (Three I think.)

Cracker Barrel has a pretty distinctive look, unless of course you’re in an Applebees, Chilis, Longhorn, TGI Fridays, Fudruckers, or any of a thousand restaurants that have random objects covering the walls.

Cracker Barrel in particular, specializes in random objects from the 1920s. Things like old signs, old tools, old newspaper advertisements, and this random old black guy:

I’m thinking about starting a company that supplies random objects to restaurants to hang on their walls.

Where would I get my supplies? From Applebees, Chilis, Longhorn, TGI Fridays, and Fudruckers.

—–

I got the beef brisket. It didn’t come with a sauce though. Shouldn’t brisket come with a sauce? It’s too dry otherwise.

I asked for a side of BBQ for dipping. I like to dip. Dippable** foods are way more fun than undippable foods.

It was good, but presentation needed a little work.

This could be:

  • Beef Brisket
  • Beef Jerky
  • Flatworms

Let’s not forget the Cracker Barrel Country Store:

Perfect for that secret 5 o’clock martini.

A little pink pistol for all the little…pink cowboys and pink…gangsters?

The grumpy George Washington trivia game?

A jar of glass dildos? For the kiddies?

This I was told was for scrubbing pots and pans. Let’s go with that because I already did a dildo joke.

So this where Grandma got those scary knick knacks that you swore were always looking at you…and you were pretty sure came to life on nights of the full moon.

And since this is Central Florida, by state law, you have to sell flamingos and Santa Claus climbing a palm tree. (in a jar…in July…at 25% off)

*Her friend is  named…Keri.

**Apparently dippable is not a word. Spell check is suggesting: disposable, which makes this sentence have a whole different meaning entirely. Disposable foods are way more fun than un-disposable foods. Un-disposable is not a word by the way.