Wednesday, February 10, 2016

The Legend of Johnny Applehead (FF)

FF - Friday Fictioneers
Copyright - The Reclining Gentleman

According to popular legend, in the early part of the 1800's a man named John Clapman traveled about the countryside in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and elsewhere planting apple trees.

Often going barefoot with no place to sleep at night, John Clapman was dedicated to beautifying the landscape of the new nation.  Over time, he became known as Johnny Applehead.

As Johnny Applehead continued his travels he began planting flowers, shrubs, and bushes as well as apple trees.  Soon he also began leaving garden gnomes, small windmills, picket fences, metal chimes, and aprons with the words "Kiss Me, I’m the Cook" on them.

Today Johnny Applehead Enterprises is America’s largest distributor of garden gnomes and barbecue aprons. According to popular legend, the man named John Clapman was no fool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I'm happy to present this history lesson to my fellow Friday Fictioneers as I realize most people know very little about the legendary Johnny Applehead.  I myself have extensively studied Mr. Applehead for many years with special concentration in Johnny Applehead garden frog figurines, which are awesome!

Also awesome are all of the Friday Fictioneers, whose takes on the above picture prompt will blossom if you click here

Now, who wants to order some chimes?

Monday, February 8, 2016

The Day the Man Stood Still



"Dr. Kropotkin, we've got to operate immediately on these twins! Time is of the essence! Where's Dr. Carson?"

“I’ve heard he's on his way, John … There he is, coming down the hallway right now!"

"Thank goodness!"

"Oh, no.  Not again."

"Not again what?"

“He's stopped walking. He's just standing in the hallway."

“Why?!!”

"Seems he's bad at walking down hallways. Superb at neurosurgery, bad at walking down hallways."

"What can we do, Dr. Kropotkin?  Everyone's waiting!”

"We've got to try to entice him out of the hallway.  Either that or he'll be standing there until the cows come home.  Actually, until the cows come home, take their shoes off, have dinner, and bang their wives!"

"Dr. Kropotkin, I’ve got an idea:

 Hey, Dr. Carson!  We've got hot fudge sundaes here in the Operating Room! With wet walnuts, maraschino cherries, and whipped cream too!"

"Not working, John.

“Hey, how about this:

Dr. Carson, look at Nurse Johnson over there! You know, the one with the great big bazooms? She'll be working next to you all through the eight hour surgery! Wanna come in now?”

“I could have told you that wouldn’t work, John.”

“Why?”

“Dr. Carson is a leg man.”

“Oh. Hey, I know:

“It's Jesus, Dr. Carson! He’s ready to sit for the portrait with you.”

“Uh, John?” 

“Yes, Dr. Kropotkin?”

“Jesus and Dr. Carson already had their portrait painted together. They went out to dinner afterwards.”

"Then what the hell do we do, Dr. Kropotkin?!!"

”There's one more thing to try, John:

"Dr. Ben Carson!  This is David Muir of ABC News. You are due on the stage immediately to begin the debates for the Republican Presidential nomination.”

“OMG!  Now he’s going right into the OR. Why did that work?”

“For some reason the guy thinks he wants to be president.”

“Will calling him to a Presidential debate always get him going down the hall?”

“I don't see why not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Champion Sax And A Girl Named Sandra

Champion Sax and a Girl Named ... 
What the hell does that mean anyway?

"Just what are you doing on Facebook?" I asked Sandra, the woman I'd been seeing for the last several weeks.

"Same as everybody else.  Irrevocably wasting up to one-third of my remaining life span."

"That's not what I mean," I said.  "Why are you using a current picture of yourself on your Facebook page?  You're a Boomer, just like me. Even the best of us peaked over 20 years ago."

"Oh, so you're saying I should be like you, using a picture that's so old it's approaching puberty?  Don't I look okay just like this?"

"I think you look great. But why not bamboozle the virtual world into thinking you look even greater?”

"Okay, if you want I'll post a younger picture of myself. But, Perry, you're too focused on appearance. You have other fine attributes more important than appearance."

"What are they?"

"Can I get back to you on that?"

As Sandra went to get a picture of her younger self, I called after her.

"I've been wondering: why doesn't anyone call you Sandy?"

"They used to, but then back in college people started calling me Champion Sax and a Girl Named Sandy."

"That's adorable!"

"Not if you hate the Doors," she said, returning to the room. “Anyway, here's the picture." 

I looked, blinked, and gasped.  And gasped again.

"Why you ... you ... look like ...  Scarlett Johansson! You look like … Mila Kunis!  You look like …. the child of Scarlett Johansson and Mila Kunis should there be such a thing!”

"Well, thanks, I guess back in the day, people said ...”

"I don't think you should post this picture."

"Why?"

“Because there's a lot of perverts out there!  A lot of guys with thick dandruff and coke bottle glasses named Kitchell who'll be salivating over you while building full-size models of the Starship Enterprise in their basements!”

"So I'll block them, no problem."

"And there's lots of radical groups and terrorists, some of which may try to recruit you!”

“You don’t think I know enough to avoid terrorists?”

’’What if they’re giving double coupons?  And there’s cool guys of Boomer age with full heads of thick gray hair who may be charming and accomplished and interested in you!”

"Well, that doesn't sound bad."

"Doesn't sound bad?!  Post this picture and before long you're engaged to some good-looking Boomer who turns out to be an unrepentant Doors Fan who listens to the Soft Parade while he dresses up like Robby Krieger!"

"First you say ‘post it,’ then you say ‘don't post it.’"

“Let's just say I’ve evolved on the issue. Like Republicans do."

"Okay ... okay ... I won't post it."

"Good!  Now how about we go out for coffee?”

"Sure.”
"Oh, one more thing?"

"Yes."

"Can I have the picture?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

The World's Narrowest Football Field (FF)

© Erin Leary
FF-Friday Fictioneers


The four of us decided to stop in the little town by the river for lunch, and we asked the waiter if there were any tourist attractions to check out.

“We’re proud to be the home of the World's Narrowest Football Field,” he said, and he tossed us a football and we went to take a look.

What a bizarre field! It was laid out wholly on lily pads with bushes for sidelines and goalposts.  We struggled to stay in-bounds, got soaked, and had a fun time.

"Why are you guys so drenched?" asked the waiter as we returned.

“We’ve just come from the World’s Narrowest Football Field,” I answered.

"The World's Narrowest Football Field is by the high school.   You've just come from the World's Narrowest Poison Ivy Patch!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I only hope I didn't play too badly in the above game on the World’s Narrowest Football Field since it may be some time before I ever play again. I've heard of someone being a break-out star, but this is ridiculous.

Oh well, I might as well pass the ball to the other Friday Fictioneers, and you can check out how well they've played the game regarding the picture prompt above by clicking here.

"Touchdown!"  No, I'm not talking about the kind you score in a football game. It's me scratching the nether parts of my body which are just itching the hell out of me!