Tarzan's Tripes Forever, and Other Feghoots

The Web's Original Shaggy Dog Story Archive


Poetic Justice?

Category: alt.callahans, Rated G

This is by Sailor Jim on alt.callahans.


Sailor Jim wanders in, his usually devastatingly charming eyes red and watery.

“Sorry for my rather weepy appearance, but I was just attacked for the silliest of reasons. I had written a short poem and was reciting it to my dearest, while walking her to her car, when this woman leapt in front of us and started spritzing mace all about. Well, naturally, I stepped in front of Dian and took the brunt of the chemical assault, all the time attempting to disarm this lunatic.

“That was over two hours ago and my eyes are still irritated. I managed to slap the canister from her hands and pin her arms to her side, while Dian fished out her cell phone and called the university police for assistance.

“It turned out that she was an English major who not only had spent the last three days awake in a frenzy of frantic cramming, but was completely wired on caffeine! She was on her way to class when, overhearing my unlearned attack on her favorite language, in the form of my short poem, finally cracked and decided to enact revenge in the name of her mother tongue.

“Not only took me by complete surprise, but took me in mid-couplet, too … and I cannot begin to tell you how painful THAT can be! “Sailor Jim catches up his usual and, gratefully, a spare bar towel to dab at his tormented eyes. “Well, all I can say is that this finally puts the most basic of truth to the old saying!”

SJ casually sits, waiting.

After a few minutes of fruitlessly trying to guess the punchline, Chris, just knowing he’s going to regret this, gives up and says, “Yes…?”

Sailor Jim, alternating between sipping at his Rum and Diet Coke and dabbing his still lightly tearing eyes, is calmly waiting for someone to take the ba … er, ask the logical question. Finally hearing his cue, he nods a grateful head at Chris.

“Funny you should ask, shipmate. Or perhaps odd is more to the point.(Reckless, at any rate.) You see, that is exactly what the police man asked when he took the slightly deranged English major away!

“He had just put her, handcuffed, in the back seat of his cruiser and was getting ready to leave when I mentioned that the entire event, shameful as it was, at least put the truth to the old saying.

“He paused with his door open and, halfway in, asked (incautiously I felt), ‘Yes … What old saying is that?’ The lady in the back screamed at him, begging him not to ask and nearly sobbing in her desire to halt the inevitable. He told her to hush and repeated his question.

“I grinned at the horrified face of the English major through the back window and replied, with a slight lisp, ‘Why, Ossifer … surely you’ve heard that a rhyme is a terrible thing to mace?'”

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