Thursday, July 8, 2010

W E E K E N D Edition #99 99/100

Whuck you say??
ROBBLOG #99 99/100??

I know.
I'm taking the easy way out. I'm recycling yesterday's Blog #99 into the W E E K E N D Edition. Firstly, I would like more "Blogettes" to read Number 99.
That's what you are you know. The readers of my ROBBLOG are "Blogettes" to me.
No discrimination here. A "Blogette" is male or female.

Maybe if I wait another two days, even more "Blogettes" will read #99. I am sure it will happen.
So, if you came here today expecting number 100- sorry.
Another day.

Have a great weekend. Here's yesterday's ROBBLOG- again.
**************************************************************************
I was riding my bike through Veteran’s Park the other day and saw two ladies sitting on a bench having a gabfest. I had no idea what they were talking about but what folloaws is the story that came to mind.

Two older gals-Ruthie and Effie are sitting side by side on a park bench under a huge Maple. They are both holding plastic water bottles.

“Good Lord, that’s Hot today Effie!”

“Hotter than Hot Ruthie Dear. It’s the end of days probably.”

“What?”

“The end of days. That old Satan fella is just startin’ to warm us up a bit. Just wait until he gets going and cranks it up to really hot!”

“Effie, are you talking about those folks saying we are all done and dead in twenty- twelve?”

“The Myants you mean Ruthie. Apparently, those Myants stand so tall on top of those pyramid buildings they constructed Ruthie, that they are practically a few inches from Heaven. So they hear the conversations that God is havin’ with his Angels.”

“No!”

“Yes! And it ain’t good. God just doesn’t know what to do and he doesn’t want us to know he’s stumped.”

“You don’t say. ~pause~ Effie one would think that God would just get his huge old armies together and turn a bunch of those water cannons on Bealzaboob, put out his flames and flush him right back down to his hole in the centre of the earth!”

“If only- but that big old Satan has a plan Ruthie. He’s probably letting some of the heat from Hell escape in various ways just to start to cook us very slowly. You know, fire from hell will be a comin’ come through them open grates on the street or at the big holes dug at construction sites. Maybe even from Stephen Harper’s ass! Hah! Hah! Oh! Hah!”

“Effie! What an awful thing to say. You always has to make a joke about Mr. Harper- don’t you?”

“He don’t need my help! Haw! Haw!”

“Well it’s terrible, that’s what it is Effie."
“You know that heat will just keep blasting us like a furnace. That weather guy on channel 9 says this heat’ll keep up for the next few months. We’ll all get so weak and thirsty that Satan will just waltz right up here outta the middle of the earth and blow us all to kingdom come with just a hot, quiet breath. I hear he might even be here now?

“What? Where? Effie how can that be? How can the Lord’s biggest foe- Satan, just be walking around God’s earth- not even noticed. Hogwash!”

“Now Ruthie, don’t be so fast to react. There are more mysterious things in Heaven and Hell than we know or understand- like that screwball of an idea those City Councillors had trying to build a MURF!”

“Effie, you mean like the way someone as ruggedly good looking as Mel Gibson can turn into such a prick?”

“Exactly Ruthie! Now that Mel boy. He be having the Devil on his side.”

“Someone needs to reach out and save him before it’s too late! Haw! Haw! Hee!”

“Huh. It seems funny though… Ruthie.”

“What does Effie?”

“Well this good old earth has served us well. It would be a shame we’d all have to check out before we even know for sure if there’s someone out there somewhere?”

“Where? In Lake Dalrymple- Effie?”

“Lands Sake Ruthie. Not Dalrymple. Up there.”

“On that Maple’s top branch?

“God Ruthie your brain matter is set on stunned sometimes. No girl, I mean way up there in outer space. Have a slog of that water. It’s getting a bit dusty up there in your head!”

“Ohhhhh, better dust than nothin’ at all!”

“It sure would be nice to jump on an Express Space Shuttle and be on Venus by suppertime. I betcha those Venisians would be read nice folk.”

“They are.”

“Why do you say that Ruthie? You talk as if you’ve met one.”

“Maybe I have.”

“Get outta town!...Who?”

“Well I shouldn’t say but old Mr. Evans...”

“Mr. Evans Ruthie?? Old Mr. Evans who hangs out at the Dollar Store downtown most any day of the week?

“Maybe.”

“He’s not from Outer Space Ruthie. He’s just ‘spaced’ out! Haw! Haw!”

“Well, I dunno Effie. Laugh if you must but sometimes I sit on the bench outside that front door too, munching on a bag of chips and drinking a bottle of Canada Dry and if that man isn’t looking up, having a conversation with someone who’s really out there!”

“Ruthie your smart tank is running near empty. Old Mr. Evans is harmless and he ain’t talking to spacemen.”

“You have your opinion Effie and I’ll keep mine. Just wait. Jesus will come down from Heaven hopping mad and scoop people like Mr. Evans and me up to his heavenly bosom and fly us to the safety of heaven and the angels. Then he’ll deal with that Satan guy.”

“and just what about me? Don’t I get to go too?”

“Oh you’ll be lightin’ fires for Satan himself by then Effie. You won’t be saveable at all by that day.”
“You can be a real arsehole sometimes. You know that Ruthie?”

“Ya? Well it takes one to know one! ~pause~ So what’s your point Effie?”

“Nevermind woman, just drink that water up. You got a desert for a brain and it’s cracking up real bad. C’mon Ruthie, let’s go. I need a beer!”

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