Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Little Fishies in the Water (FF)

"Hey, dudes, where are we all headed?"

"Some guy named Perry Block is tossing bread into the other end of the lake."

"Forget that. He only throws stale Wonder Bread and even slathers mayonnaise on it first. What does he think, we're gentiles?!"

"Brothers, that's not it! Remember we thought the Sierra Club granola spill had wiped out all the female fish in the pond? Well, we found a female!"

"What are we waiting for, let's go!"

"She looks like a female Steven Tyler fish."

"What are we waiting for, let's go!"

"Oh, no!  Perry Block is reading to her from his Halloween opus, Blogpost of Horror."

"Reverse course!  Time to bottom feed."


All right, so I shamelessly took advantage of this week's picture prompt of little fishies in the water to further promote my under-performing Halloween piece, Blogpost of Horror.  Our benevolent ruler Rochelle never said we couldn't use the Friday Fictioneers for cheap and tawdry huckstering, and so I have.

I saw the variegated fish above as on their way to something special, either food, sex, or my great comedic art.  Okay, so they passed on the third; what do you expect?  They're unlettered fish. They've probably never even read Jane Austen (Me? Of course not.)

You should swim on upstream to feed on the entries of the other Fictioneers by clicking on the proper name below. They'll be variegated, free of shameless promotion, and for the most part, free of me and Steven Tyler!

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Blogpost of Horror

Three Tales of (not so)
Classic Horror!


The Sliming
 Invasion of the Body Language Snatchers
The Ex-President's Exorcist 



Blog writer Perry Block and his son Brandon are driving to the remote Overlook Hotel.

Brandon: Dad, why have you accepted a job as a caretaker at an old hotel when you're Jewish and you can barely tie your shoelaces, let alone maintain a building?

Perry:  It will be nice and quiet there so I can work on my blog writing.

Brandon: Nice and quiet describes your fan base too!

At the hotel ...

Scatman Crothers: (to Brandon) You have a certain ability which I call SLIMING.

Brandon:  Aren't you getting your movie parodies mixed up, Mr. Crothers?

Scatman Crothers: No, I mean you can see things telepathically that others can't.

Brandon:  Like those two dead girls? I thought they were part of the floor show!

Brandon goes to check on Perry's writing.

Brandon: (incredulous)  Dad, what on earth is this?!!  (reading)

All work and no play makes Perry a dull boy and he was no prize to begin with  .... All work and no play makes Perry a dull boy and he was no prize to begin with ....  All work and no play makes Perry a dull boy and he was no prize to begin with ... All work and no play makes Perry a dull boy and he was no prize to begin with ....

Perry:   It's my latest post.  

Brandon:  Why, it's far and away the best thing you've ever written! The most intelligible too.

Perry:  Thanks!   AHHHH!!!   What's that green goo squirting at us?!

Brandon:  Oh, it's just THE SLIMING from Ghostbusters.  I knew there was a parody mix-up.

Perry:  Let's get cleaned up and get out of here!

Brandon:  Good. Where's the john?

Perry: Right here. To my left a few steps.

Brandon:  Where?  

Perry:  Right in front of you! 

Brandon:  I don't see it!

Perry:        Brandon:


Brandon:  Oh.  Got it.       

 (Lame, I know. They'll get better.)


 Invasion of the Body Language Snatchers

Dr. Miles Block (voiceover)My name is Dr. Miles Block. I am a successful gynecologist (In real life it should only be!) in Santa Mira CA.  One day an old friend came to my office, the recently divorced Becky Driscoll, with whom I would soon become romantically entangled.

Becky: If you're entangled, Miles, you should use a better cream rinse.

Dr. Miles Block:  Sure, Becky.  Who is that with you? 

Becky:  It's my Uncle George.  He's behaving very strangely.  

Uncle George:  WOO HOO.  Meh.  :*)

Becky:  See, Miles, he doesn't talk like a normal person.

Dr. Miles Block:  Yes, it's as if someone has snatched away the body of his language, leaving 
only silly abbreviated jargon behind.

Becky:  Oooh, Miles! Nice tie-in to the title of this dumb parody! 

Uncle George: WOOT! LOL!  See a pix of my kitty, Mr. Parsnips!  :*)    : @)   : o }

Becky:  Miles, it's horrible!  What is it?!

Dr. Miles Block:  I don't know but we must stop it!  

Dr. Dan Kauffman: (entering the sceneIMHO, u cant stop it, Miles.   STFU! ROFLMAO! 

Dr. Miles Block: What is all thisDan? And I didn't say anything funny ....

Dr. Kauffman: While u sleep, they snatch the body of u're language, leaving u to talk in inane gibberish & become obsessed w/ former Star Trek actor George Takei!

Dr. Miles Block:  What are they, giant seedpods?

Dr. Kauffman: No, Miles, Giant Facebooks! 

Dr. Miles Block:  And this is a good thing because? 

Dr. Kauffman:   Beats me. Ask Al Gore! YOLO! 

Dr. Miles Block: Run, Becky, Run!

Dr. Kauffman:   U cant run, Miles. WOOT! WOOT!  But do run to purchase George Takei's new book "Oh Myyy!," now available on Amazon, iTunes, and Barnes & Noble! WOOT! 

Uncle George:  WOO HOO!

Becky:  Help!  Help!! Help!!!

Dr. Miles Block (Voiceover):  Becky and I ran for our linguistic lives! Finally when we'd escaped Dan Kauffman and Uncle George, I left Becky for a moment. You know, I had to go
 pee pee. (That's a legitimate full word.) When I returned ....

Becky:  I went to sleep, Miles & it happened. I mean: IWTSMAIH!  WOOT!  WOOT!    !!!!!

Dr. Miles Block: Oh, Becky, I should never have left you. There goes the possibility of any stimulating conversations with you  about William Butler Yeats!
Becky: HE'S HERE! LOL! LMAO! ROFLMAO! BTW, making soup today!

Dr. Miles Block (Voiceover): I've known fear in my time, but never fear like when I tried to talk to Becky in full demonstrative sentences and she replied with IWTSMAIH. WOOT! WOOT!     !!!!!!, and got 27 likes to boot! I ran to the highway to warn the others.

Dr. Miles Block:  You're next! You're next, You're next!

Motorist 1:  WTF?

Motorist 2: STFU!

Motorist 3: Luv Mr. Parnips! :&)   

Dr. Miles Block:  Umm,  Dan?  

Dr. Kauffman:  Yes, Miles? YOLO! 

Dr. Miles Block: Where's the happy alternative ending? Y'know, where they finally believe me and they call out the FBI? 

Dr. Kauffman: This is the original version of the film, Miles.  NHE. 

Dr. Miles Block:  NHE? 

Dr. Kauffman:  No happy ending. 

Dr. Miles Block: No happy ending?

Dr. Kauffman:  NHE.     

Dr. Miles Block:  OMG! U're next! U're next! OMG! WTF!!! Poke! Like me on Facebook. 
:*) : @) Impeach Obama!  U're next! U're next! U're next ....
George Takei:  And you're next.


After the above establishing shot, the front door of a house is seen from the inside. A loud knock is heard.

The Mrs:  Who is it?

There is no reply.

The Mrs:  I said, Who is it?

Voice:  (ominously) You sent for me.

The Mrs:  Oh, yes, come in.  Please come in.

The Mrs. cautiously opens the door to reveal ....

Father Perry Block: I am the Ex-President's Exorcist, Father Perry Block. 

The Mrs: But you're not even Catholic!

Father Perry Block: It's all part of an exchange program.  I get to be an exorcist for a month, some Catholic guy gets to be funny. Or think he's funny.

The Mrs: Oh, Father Block, it's been terrible! The things that Reagan has said and done, the spewing bile, the head turning 360 degrees; if only Ed Sullivan were still on, we'd make a fortune!  Is this a case of demonic possession?

Father Perry Block: We'll soon see.  I have to examine your daughter.

The Mrs: My daughter?!  No, it's my husband who's possessed --- Former President Ronald Reagan.

Father Perry Block: No wonder I'm called the Ex-President's Exorcist!  That explains the calls from Hillary Clinton, but I can't exorcise somebody who's alive!

Father Block and the Mrs. ascend to Reagan's bedroom.  As they open the door....

Reagan: Your mother knits socks so well!  

Father Perry Block: (to audience) Got to admit we handled that one deftly, didn't we, folks?

The Mrs:  Ever since the Democrats began praising my husband and talking about how he wouldn't recognize the Republican Party today, they seem to be taking him over! 

Reagan:  You know, Mommy, lately I think government may not be big enough.

The Mrs. screams!

Father Perry Block: Tip O'Neil, is that you?

Reagan sits up and spins his head around 360 degrees. The Mrs. screams again!

The Mrs:  What does it mean, Father Block?

Father Perry Block: It means Reagan is now seeing all dimensions of an issue, not just the one-sided view of the modern Republican Party! 

Reagan opens his mouth and vomits gobs of green disgusting bile.

The Mrs: What on earth is that revolting slop?

Father Perry Block: Oh my God!  He's vomited out the rhetoric of the National Rifle Association!!!  

Reagan: You know, Mommy, there should be some redistribution of wealth for those less fortunate.

The Mrs: Do something, Father Block!  Reagan is turning into a straight Barney Frank!

Father Perry Block:  Come onto me, Evil Spirit!  Take me, not Reagan!  (to audience) Like I would actually do something like this ....

The spirit rises from the body of Reagan, then turns upon Father Block!

Boy, if this doesn't get us readers!

The Spirit enters the body of Father Block.  It can distinctly be seen gritting its teeth and holding its nose beforehand.  Father Block crashes through the window and into the courtyard below, and believe it or not, it's more fun than he ever had as a Jew!

The Mrs. runs down to Father Block.

The Mrs: Father Block!  Father Block!  Reagan is cured; he's arranging tax breaks for millionaires as we speak!

Father Perry Block: Thank goodness.  And ... and ...  this ... this is Hardball on MSNBC, the Place for Politics!

The Mrs:  So!  It was Chris Matthews all along!  

Father Perry Block: Well, things could be worse.  At least I'm not Anthony Weiner!


Friday, October 25, 2013

The Hurdy Gurdy Man

What a miserable existence! Playing this squeezebox in the freezing cold in this godforsaken town at eleven o' clock at night.  For mere peanuts.

Yeah, look at the monkey dance, he's really the star of the show!  Well, I owe Mr. Buckles a lot. Who else was there for me through the lean times?

Thank you very much, sir!  Thank you too, ma'am!

Time to  play the old standard:

God, I hate that song.  Whatever happened to my once promising musical career?  Okay, getting late, quitting time.  Here's what we made today, Mr. Buckles!  Whaddya got to say, fella?

"What have I got to say, Giovanni, you loser?  You don't return to your job at the Philharmonic til you've paid me back your whole damn gambling debt!"


For some reason , I only saw an accordion when I looked at the Friday Fictioneer picture prompt this week and couldn't get that old Donovan song out of my head.  That is, once I got that damn Lady of Spain out of my head.  (Of course, the typical  Hurdy Gurdy Man plays an organ grinder, not an accordion or squeezebox.) 

I'm sure many other of the Fictioneers had more intriguing takes on the prompt, which you'll find by clicking right here on the monkey, the loan sharking Mr. Buckles.

'Twas then that the Hurdy Gurdy Man came singing songs of love .... once he paid off Mr. Buckles, of course. 

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Mind Very Much If She Smokes

Among all the bad habits you can acquire over the course of a lifetime and which I in fact have acquired, smoking cigarettes isn’t one of them.  
Most young people take up smoking in order to be cool. I knew as a kid that taking up smoking had as much chance of making me cool as starting a crocheting club for teenage boys. And so I grew up uncool, but smoke-free.

This turned out to a wise move because smokers today are viewed only a notch higher on the social scale than used car salespersons, porn actors, or members of Congress. So I'm finally cool, at least compared to those desperate pariahs huddled outside office buildings in 10 degree weather blowing smoke rings at each other and wondering if having gotten a slightly cuter prom date back in 1974 made it all worthwhile.

Who on earth would still be a smoker these days? Well, my friend Ellen, for one.

"You're still smoking?" I said to Ellen when I visited her last week. "Why don't you give it up, and be like me?"

"You just answered your own question, Perry," said Ellen.

"Well, that smoke is really bothering me!”  Cough ... Cough ...  Choke ... Choke ... Sputter ... Sputter. “I'm dying here!”... Sputter ... Sputter."

"Perry, we're outside the house and I'm facing away from you."

"I think it's an updraft. It picks up the smoke, catches the Gulf Stream, and whips it all around the planet and back to me."

"Nice try, but you're more likely to be choking on pipe tobacco Benjamin Franklin was smoking in 1763 that's time traveled."

"Ellen, I’m just trying to be a friend and put into practice what I heard years ago in an anti-smoking commercial
Mind very much if they smoke!"
"But, Perry, I'm addicted!  Haven't you ever been addicted to anything?"

"Yes, I’ve been addicted to something since I was 11. But it hasn’t killed me yet!”
I showed Ellen the warning label on her cigarette pack. I'd no idea the warnings had gotten so frank and explicit over the years. 
WARNING:  What are you, a nut job? 
This'll turn your lungs into Gary, Indiana!

"See this, Ellen?" I said brandishing the pack. "What do you have to say now?

“I love the song Gary, Indiana!”
This situation caused for desperate measures. I leaned over and planted a kiss right on Ellen's smoocher! It had been so long since I had done such a thing I almost couldn't find her smoocher. 
“Perry, what are you doing? We're friends!"

"I'm just putting into practice something else I once heard on an anti-smoking commercial - If she reaches for a cigarette, give her a kiss instead."

"That was absolutely the most unexciting kiss I've ever experienced."

"Oh, I agree. I'd derive more tactile pleasure from pressing my lips to a plate of three day old oysters."
I kissed her again.

"Perry, that was the lousiest kiss ever," said Ellen. “One more of those and I'm a lesbian."

"Ellen, one more of those and I'm a lesbian! But have you noticed something? It's stopped you from smoking!"

"You’re ... you're right, Perry! Your bland insipid kissing has worked!"

"Well?" I said.

"Kiss me, you fool!"
And so on that day I had my first make-out session in many a year. It was about as erotic as a mutual fund prospectus and as devoid of passion as a performance by Nicholas Cage, but it did the job for my friend Ellen, who's now flushed her cigarettes down the toilet and taken a job with the American Lung Association.”
Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to propose the strongest labeling yet to be placed on a pack of cigarettes:
WARNING: Continued smoking of cigarettes 
may expose you to the risk of being kissed by Perry Block!

Put that in your pipe and don't smoke it!


Friday, October 18, 2013

The Return of the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer

Some Vampire Weekend! 
 Why am I the one that always has to do the sucking?

Things had become very disheartening for the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer, and normally when you use the words "dis-hearten" and "vampire" in the same sentence, you can expect bad and bloody things to follow.

But that was not to be the case on this particular eve, the eve of All Saint's Day known as Halloween. Vlad looked in the mirror and realized he wasn't getting any younger.  Of course, he wasn't getting any older either. 

"I don't even know what I look like," he thought. "Do I look like the young Mel Gibson in The Road Warrior or the old Mel Gibson in The Beaver?  But Mel Gibson is an anti-Semite.  If I look like the old one, no wonder I don't get more Jewish girls!" 

Above all, Vlad longed for a normal existence."Living eternally is not all it's cracked up to be," thought Vlad, "especially when we get to the point where the sun crashes into the earth 50 billion years from now. That's going to take some getting used to."

Then there was the need to keep up with social references.  Vlad's jokes about Marie de Medici had not been going over well, and nobody seemed to appreciate his spot on impression of  Calvin Coolidge.  Mostly, however, Vlad wished that he could have a human girl friend, someone whose boobs were as enticing to him as her neck.

If only he could be a tit man, not a nape man! 

It seemed to Vlad that undeath was passing him by.

Vlad decided to go see Rabbi Lichtman at Temple Beth Hemoglobin. Rabbi Lichtman was a very wise and learned 1200 year old vampiric scholar who had written the definitive Passover Hagaddah for Vampires, which substituted blood for wine and very skinny dudes for matzoh. 

If anyone would have the answer, it would be Rabbi Lichtman. Well, maybe Alex Trebek, but then it would be in the form of a question.

"Rabbi," said the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer,"I am deeply perplexed. Not to mention plexed and multiplexed as well."

"That's the trifecta!" replied Rabbi Lichtman. 

"Oh, Rabbi," said Vlad, "I want to be human!" 

"Human? That's a tough one, Vlad.  By age 450, one's personality is pretty much set."

"But why did Hashem make us vampires?  Couldn't he have made us dentists, with a thriving suburban practice?  Or better yet, lawyers?"

"Then everyone would really hate us."

"Rabbi, there must be something that can be done. I'm sick and tired of going to the beach wearing Coppertone Protection Factor Number INFINITY!"  

"If you're truly serious,Vlad, there is one place you can go that can make you human."

"I'll do anything to be human, Rabbi, including sitting through one of your sermons."  

"You are serious!  The place to go is:  Bosley Restoration Services."

"The hair restoration infomercial people on TV?"

"Yes, they have a special human being restoration service too.  But there is a problem; they do not always succeed."

"I should have known!"

"Oh, they can always change a vampire to a human, they just can't always give you hair."

Eager and hopeful if still a bit multiplexed  .... multiplexed? .... the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer bade Rabbi Lichtman goodbye, spread his black cape, and leaped into the air. 

A small dark bat flew through the night headed for the Promised Land, Bosley Restoration Services, a land flowing with milk and honey shampoo, where Vlad hoped he would finally become human.

Or at least wind up with hair like Robert Pattinson.


Wednesday, October 16, 2013

When The Big Rains Came

When the big rains came, no one could have ever guessed what would become the dominant life form.

Years of being left outside in sudden downpours unreturned to their natural resting place had toughened them. When the big rains came, they were ready and they prevailed.

There was only one problem. Their mouths were used to being filled to the rim with sustenance, but now there was none. There were no cartons of Coca-Cola, boxes of Coco-Puffs, containers of Jello Pudding and Pie Filling, or anything at all.

They were starving.

One by one the incredible race of shopping carts died out.


So sad!  So next time you're caught in a sudden rainstorm on your way out of a supermarket, take a couple of extra seconds, get a little wet for god's sake, and return the shopping cart to the designated collection area.  The shopping cart you save could be your own!

That's the moral of my story based on the picture prompt above for this week's Friday Fictioneers. You can shop for many other stories and morals from the other Fictioneers by clicking just a few words back.

Well, I'm off to the supermarket. Gonna buy an extra dozen or so boxes of Hot Pockets to leave in my poor little cart, just in case.

Monday, October 14, 2013

The Truth About Columbus

Here's what really happened, folks! 

Christopher Columbus --- do not believe whatever you read about him back in grade school. 

It didn't really happen the way you were taught. The guy simply had himself one hell of a press agent. 

Here's what actually took place back in 1492 when Columbus sailed the ocean green and kind of murky. 

See, even that part wasn't true. 


It had been an arduous voyage for Captain Christopher Columbus and the collective crews of his three ships the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Baby. The year was 1492 and sailing under the aegis of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain, Columbus sought passage to India by sailing west instead of east based upon his belief that the world was as round as Chris Christie at All You Can Eat Night at Red Lobster.

He'd had to kiss a lot of butt to secure such a kickass aegis to sail under.

Now most folks back in the day laughed and scoffed at Columbus, the common belief being that the world was flat like a pancake with delicious maple-flavored syrup poured directly on central Europe and a tasty slab of butter right in the heart of Paris. Nobody ever challenged this view because most people enjoyed the free pancake brunch on Sunday, and there was no substantial ecological movement at the time to bitch about people eating the planet.

Many also believed that a ship traveling west would encounter fearsome sea serpents, islands of vicious cannibals, and the dreaded ends of the Earth, which is why so few people ever bought return trip tickets despite the substantial discount. Dismissing the laughers and scoffers as well as the handful of dudes who laughed without scoffing and/or scoffed without laughing, Columbus set sail  on August 3, 1492.

At first all went well. The ships  caught favorable breezes, the spirits of the men were high, and so was Captain Columbus, who rarely came out of his cabin on the Santa Baby except for more Oreos and Cheez-its.

Then things began to change.

On September 12  the Nina was enveloped by a terrifying sea monster. Wrapping its body around the entire ship,  the Nina was pulled undersea and 320 screaming seamen were plummeted into a watery grave.

"And I left my suit coat on board," whined Columbus, known for having all the sensitivity of a Republican Congressman discussing women's reproductive rights.

September 25 brought more tragedy.  The Pinta was lured to an uncharted desert isle by two sirens, most of the men preferring the taller siren named Ginger but a surprising minority liking better the shorter one called Mary Ann

Once on the isle, they were jumped by a tribe of cannibal Scientologists who forced them to purchase books by L. Rob Hubbard before devouring them.  Many were in training with John Travolta when they were eaten.

"Yonder ahead!" cried the lookout on the Santa Baby on October 14.

"Is it land, mate?" hollered Columbus.  

"No, Captain, it's the end of the world."

"Oh, it's the not the end of the world, sailor. You're just having a bad day.  Things will look up tomorrow."

"No, Captain, my day's been fine.  This is the actual end of the entire world here, sir." 

Columbus thereupon turned about and gazed at the huge volumes of gushing thundering water pouring and tumbling over the sides of the Earth out into space and on into infinity.

"Who knew?" he said, shrugging his shoulders."If only I could build me a hotel and casino here, I'd never have to kiss ass for another lousy aegis again!"

Stumbling into action, Columbus barked orders to his men: "Raise the top mizzenmast! Rig the rigging! Hoist up the John B. sail, see how the main sail sets, call for the captain ashore, let me go home!"

And fortunately the Santa Baby turned about and headed home. Unfortunately for Columbus,  he  never copyrighted his orders to the crew.

"What are you going to tell them, Captain Columbus?" said the first mate.  "There's no passageway to India.  The Earth is flat! 

"Shhhh," said Columbus. "Think I'll say I found a new world with land rich for exploitation and native peoples ripe for subjugation."

"But it's a lie, Captain! How will you get away with it?"

"I'm Christopher Columbus. They'll believe any old crap I lay on 'em."

"But what happens afterwards?"

"Oh, we'll find a way to keep it going."


Know what this means, folks?

1) We are all of us just part of the "keeping it going."  And you already felt insignificant!

2) Despite his achievements, Christopher Columbus was a prick.

3) FREE PANCAKE BRUNCH ON SUNDAY!  And I'm chowing down on Philadelphia.