English Toffee


Thanks to Na’aman Yehuda for this nice pic (or Todah rabbah, of course).

To our cousins across the pond — if they (or YOU) can spot the references that I put in the story along with some other “goodies,”  you get extra credit.

I also dedicate this story to Dale Rogerson who asked the musical question, “Don’t you have anything else to write?”  OK, so she didn’t express it that way, but, yes, it is a NEW story.  Have at, peeps.  Love you Dale! 😉



They shook hands on the bus.



“Where you from, John?”

‘Here in London.  You?’

“Iowa.  I’m here to meet a girl.”  Tim showed Emma’s photo.  John looked it over, impressed as hell.

‘You have marvellous taste. You fancy her?’

“How did you know?”

‘The colour in your face.’

“Really? My face changed color?”

‘Oh, I realised it, all right.   Here’s some of my advice —- have her stir your tea anticlockwise. Oh, here’s my stop.’  John stepped off the bus.  

“ ‘Anticlockwise?’ “   Tim paused, shook his head, and scoffed, “Britishers!”

John adjusting his bowler, proceeded down the street, sighing,  ‘Americans!’



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Whose Names I Don’t Know

Thanks to Cuzzin’ Shelley for this nice pic.

Whenever I see a window, I think of someone looking out seeing whatever they want or wish they could see.  So, I thought of a guy sitting by his window looking up at the stars through a telescope and thinking of many things — mainly answers to questions.

This story was first published on May 28, 2014.  Before we begin …

EDITOR’S NOTE: One night, a HAM radio operator named Kevin, who originally hailed from Flanders, intercepted a transmission.  It was the voice of a woman who told a tale of her and her brother being marooned for centuries. The language spoken, he told me, sounded something like a sort of “High Flemish,” if there were such a thing. “I felt very sorry for the woman transmitting,” he later told me. “She sounded so sad.” He copied it down in English, went to the library, borrowed a first edition Caldecott book, took to the radio and hoped the message he was sending would be heard.

It was!



He heard the signal from star “Ni-Etrell’s” third planet, “Gna-Jala.”

Gna-Jala —- where his lovely Koo-Brindii and her brother were lost forever, centuries ago.

The message, barely readable, sounded almost like a lower version of his own language.

“… Kevin.  Our planet … called Earth.  I intercepted her signal … seems … toward Alpha Centauri … If by … you’re reading this …  how sorry I am for … loss.  She … on Earth, immortalized in …  book.  I … read it to you … her memory.


‘My dear, do you know,

How a long time ago,

Two poor little children,

Whose names I don’t know,

Were stolen away … ‘ “


The legend of The Green Children of Woolpit served as the inspiration for this story.


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Tune In Tomorrow


Another blast from the past.  Thanks, Ted, for the photo, always intriguing.

Also a shout out to a one Mike Franklin whom I knew many years ago, who is responsible for this.


I called my brother.  He came over, popcorn at the ready.  We sat down and played it … my newly acquired DVD of the old Batman series.  I slipped the disc into the player. No Batman.  Instead, of our beloved TV series we saw a guy dressed as a doctor talking about proctology.

“A training film?  What in the good …?  I checked the disc.  It said, “Butt-man” in magic marker scrawl.  Someone pulled a prank.

“Imagine … somewhere a group of doctors is watching Batman.”

Bro shook his head.  “… while expecting Butt-man and Boy Thunder Meet the Monster From Uranus.”



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Boy, Did WE Get A Wrong Number


Photo by CE Ayr.  Thanks, CE.

An anecdote from days of my working in the news biz.  Originally published August 27, 2016.  Please enjoy!


The police report came through to the news assignment desk at WMXT.

“Mike Bradley, 38, found dead in Lake Quivira due to boating accident.”

The news sent producer Amy and associate producer Angie, into a stunned silence.  Mike Bradley was their Assignment Editor!  And he had a boat at Lake Quivira!

“Angie, you don’t suppose …”

“Lemme get this. I’ll call the house. ”

Angie dialed the phone.  Mike Bradley’s voice answered.  “This is Mike.”

Angie sighed.  “Oh, Mike!  I’m SO happy to hear your voice!”

Mike chuckled, “I’m so happy that you thought of me as still being 38 years old!”


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Git ‘er DONE!

Thanks, Jan Fields, for this really intriguing pic.  A bit of a challenge, but here we go!

Americans will get it and not be amused.

Europeans will not get it and will STILL not be amused.

OK, so it’s probably a bit lame.  I’ll blame Russell for this simply because he’s here this week and because he’s here this week.



An unusually cool Texas night saw the lining of tents along the street corner at the State Fair.  One tent caught his eye.  He ran to The Hat Tent and plopped down the money for the perfect chapeau. He tried it on and turned to his friend.

“Well, who do I look like, Bob?”

“Larry, The Cable Guy, who else? Come on, we’re late as it is.”

They ran to the side of the outdoor platform. Bob tossed him his new hat.  “Knock ’em dead, man!”

The announcer approached the mic.  “And now, ladies and gentlemen —- Larry, the Cable Guy!”




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A Slow News Day?


The Queen has posted a prompt that reminds me of my old days of working in TV.  It looks like a piece of equipment on a live shot from a mobile unit.  Unfortunately, sometimes the reporters on a live shot become news stories themselves due to the tragic consequences.

We now join Reporter Kelly and Engineer Dan on the scene where Kelly is trapped in the live truck.


“No!  Kelly, don’t!”

“I gotta get out of here!”

“That’s just it!  A live wire’s tangled in the mast.  Truck’s electrified, so are you!  Step on the ground you’re DEAD!”

“Dan, that pole’s gonna crash down any second!”

“Listen, put both feet together, jump out, LAND on them together.  Then, take TINY baby steps toward me.”

Kelly nodded and jumped. After ten steps, she fell into Dan’s arms as the pole crashed on top of the truck.

“You OK?”

Kelly nodded, panting.  “The truck.  What’ll we do now?”

He shrugged. “We thumb a ride and declare a slow news day.”


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Stood Up?


Thanks, Dale, for this gorgeous picture.

One of my favorites from December 7, 2016.


John’s blind date never arrived.  He waited in his favorite restaurant for one hour, 55 minutes, five glasses of water and three breadsticks.

Julie, his favorite waitress, saw his sad look.  “Maybe her phone didn’t charge.  More breadsticks?  More water?”

“No thanks, Julie.  I’ll give her fifteen more minutes.  After that, I’m going home.”

“Um, my shift’s over now.  I’ll have Brandon see to you, OK?”

“OK.  Have a good night.”

Fifteen minutes later, Julie emerged from the kitchen spiffed, dressed splendidly and drop dead gorgeous.

She sat down by the stunned John.  “Sorry, I’m late.  I had to work.”


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Better To Hold The Phone

CE Ayr.jpg

Pictures (as this one seemingly discarded — you gave up FINALLY, CE?) make great wallpaper in the basement.  And speaking of wall paper …

From September 10, 2014.


Since Pop worked out of our home in those days, our new cordless phone was his pride and joy.  So, why shouldn’t his office be the bathroom … the one off to the left of the front door?  The toilet sat below the window sill and he could look out onto the porch as visitors stopped by saying, “Hi, come on in.  I’m on the phone.”

Who would know, right?

It worked.  Until …

A visitor stopped by, saw Pop in the window conducting both kinds of business and doubled over in laughter. “I know what you’re doing.  I papered that room!”




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Mob Rule


Roger Bultot.jpg

“Pete Thompson.”  Nick Rapelli trembled, repeating his new name.

“Right.  Get used to it.  Car’s outside.  Move!”  The agent led Rapelli out the porch door.

Rapelli slid into the back of the sedan.  “I can’t thank you boys enough.  Where are we going?”

The driver answered, staring ahead, “Rainbow City.”

A cold, paralyzing fear hit Rapelli.  “Rainbow City?  You mean where they found Oscar Mazzarelli encased in cement …???”

“You win the prize, big man —- for fingering Tony Gardello and sending him to Leavenworth, you win big.”

The car returned from Rainbow City five minutes early —- and minus one nervous passenger.

(photo courtesy of Roger Bultot)


Wow!  It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?  I’m sure the Queen is speechless since I didn’t inform her.  But, now that the world has slowed down to MY level, I thought I’d occupy my time with better things.

How is everybody?



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“And In The End …”

… and believe me, I DO mean it as far as this story’s implications.

Thanks to Connie Gayer who provided us with (almost) Russell’s best side (should have aimed lower).



Dale and Shelley turned around at the sound of, “Ladies!”

Dale was shocked.  “Kent!  What a nice surprise!”

“Thanks.  Shelley asked me to write myself in as a guest star, so here I am.”

Shelley pointed. “We’re watching Russell dig a hole.  He’s the past master at it.”

Kent laughed.  “And falling into it, too.”  He called out.  “Hey, Russell, what’s it for?”

Russell stopped digging.  “A little surprise for Perry and C.E.”

Dale was shocked.  “You’re not going to bury them, are you?”

“No … new outhouse.  I hope it’s deep enough for them.”

Kent looked at Shelley. “Never!”



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