Dec 8, 2016

Jack T Mule

From time to time I post guest submissions. Today's guest writer is Jack T. Mule, author of the as yet, unpublished, Sweetfeed, The Autobiography Of Jack T. Mule. Jack is a lifelong friend and I'm sure you'll love his story even if you don't like mules.

How I Saved Christmas... Sorta
by Jack T. Mule



I’d just like to begin by saying hello to all my fans out there in the Internet. All four of you mean the world to me. What, you expect original jokes from a mule? Look, I’m one of the few talking mules and probably the world’s only blogging mule, there’s only so much I can do. Besides, who’s to say I don’t have four fans?

Anyway, since my lifelong friend and mentor, Billy Jones, encouraged me first to become a writer and now to be his featured guest writer, I thought I might as well tell you what Christmas means to us mules:

For starters, I had ancestors who were there. One of them gave Mary a ride to Bethlehem. Yeah, I know it was an ass that Mary rode and not a mule but it just so happens that my father’s side of the family were all asses-- proud asses-- who can trace their ancestry all the way back to Nazareth over 2000 years ago. You see, for those of you who might have slept through biology class in high school, all mules have fathers who are asses and mothers who are nags-- you know, female horses. As a matter of fact, my mother was an old gray nag. Perhaps you heard of her? She ain't what she used to be so they sold her to make glue.

Now my being a mule and all, I’ve never quite managed to grasp all the nonsense that Christmas has become, especially in recent years. Of course, there is one really good thing about Christmas, that being the fact that for one day a year the followers of one major religion stop declaring war on the followers of other religions and actually practice what they preach. Too bad they don’t wage war one day a year and behave like Christians the other 364.

As I was saying, being a mule and all, I-- like most animals-- see the world in a much different light than do most people. We’re not concerned with presents so much as we’re concerned with living through the holidaze. Thankfully I wasn’t born a pig, chicken, turkey, or goose as I hear this is an especially trying time of year for all of them.

But I was supposed to be telling you how I saved Christmas, right? Well here goes:

It’s been several years ago (I’m not much on keeping up with dates and times, me being a mule and all.) that I, Jack T. Mule, became a very important part of the Christmas celebration. It was late one evening when Billy came by with this friend of his he called, Nick, Nicholas, or something like that. Judging from the long hair, long gray beard, and the red uniform he was wearing, that I thought was what they call, colors, I assumed the old dude to be one of Billy’s biker buddies, but as it turned out, Nick wasn’t into choppers at all. Nick was into sleighs though he didn’t have one with him at the time, choosing instead to ride to the barn with Billy in Billy's pick-up truck. “Howdy Jack,” Billy said. “My friend, Nick, here, needs a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” I hesitantly asked. Years of living around people taught me never to volunteer until I know what I’m in for. I still remember getting stuck pulling that plow for Billy’s grandpa back before I learned to speak English. You see, at the time I literally didn’t know how to say, no.

“Nick needs you to help him deliver presents for Christmas.”

“No can do,” I replied.

“Why not?” Nick asked, speaking for the first time. It was only then I knew Nick knew how to talk.

“No hands,” I answered. “I got no hands so I can’t carry anything.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” Nick laughed. “Good one, Jack. But seriously, you don’t need hands to help.”

“I don't?” I asked, still skeptical as to how I might help out with something as important as Christmas.

“No,” Billy replied, “Nick needs a ride for him and his bag full of presents.”

“Are you kidding?” I asked looking at that big fat dude in red with a toy bag as big as a US. Army mess-hall tent. “What makes you think I can travel all over the world with a load like that? Why ol’ Nick here must dress-out at 400 plus and I’m not as young as I used to be. Besides, there must be a ton or more in that tote-sack of his.”

Well, to make a long story shorter, Nick didn’t need me to carry him all over the world, he just needed a ride to Wooley’s house. Seems the spoiled brat was getting so many presents that Nick had to make an extra trip that year and the contract with the Reindeer’s Union was iron clad. To make the reindeer run an unscheduled, extra trip would have caused a strike with the elves joining-in with a sympathy strike.

You wanna know a secret? It's not the reindeer that make Santa's sleigh fly, it's Santa who makes the reindeer fly. You know the world looks like a much nicer place when you're flying around pulling Santa's sleigh.

Next time, I’ll tell you how I saved Thanksgiving at Stewart’s.

Dec 7, 2016

The Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house,
all Ya’ll was drunk
‘cept for the mouse.

The stockings were scattered
and panties were too,
for all who came by
to see what you do.

The children, ‘cross town
where carols, they’ll sing,
while you and your friends
party and swing.

You in your thong
and me, without pants,
all watched from the couch,
the prostitutes dance.

Our new friends this evening
now know us too well,
and all who are with us
hope no one will tell.

When up on the roof
we heard such a noise
like the pulsing vibrations
of our favorite toys.

While out on the lawn
arose such a clatter,
but we were all stoned
so it didn’t matter.

When in walked the vice squad,
warrants and all,
and you said, “He’s cute,”
pointing at one tall.

And he said, “Hands up,
and do what you’re told.”
But you replied, “Bondage
is getting so old!”

So down at the station
they dragged us all in.
I called my bondsman
to make bail again.

But my bondsman was busy
with problems his own.
Seems he’s in here with us
and no one’s at home.

It’s the night before Christmas
and we’re all in jail.
Do you think Dear Ol’ Santa
might go our bail?

Then we could all party again, New Year’s.

Christmas, Stuck On Red

Santa's stuck at a traffic light.
The darn thing's stuck on red.
We can see him there, just down the street,
his red cap on his head,
his reindeer pawing at the street
a waitin' just to go.
Come on, Santa, run that light!
Santa just says, "Ho, ho ho."

Someone called the police,
tole 'em,"Santa's on his way."
The police, they could only laugh,
said, "Of course, it's Christmas Day."
But the police didn't understand
Santa's stuck there at that light
waiting for it to go green
just like he's done all night.

The children, they're all crying now,
waiting for Saint Nick to come,
shouting, "Come on Santa, run that light,
this waiting's just not fun."
But Santa, he'll not run that light,
Santa, he'll not break the law.
Santa's stuck there at a traffic light
that hasn't changed since Fall.

The street is lined with traffic now
and the horns begin to blow.
People shout, "Get on your way, old man!"
Santa just says, Ho, ho, ho.
It's not polite to run a light
and it's not safe to boot,
so me, I'll just await my turn
as on your horns you toot."

Will Christmas ever get to us?
Will that light go back to green?
Will Santa ever run that light?
Will the people start to scream?
Will the children all stop crying
and does anybody know
will Santa ever run that light
and why does Santa say... Ho, ho, ho?

The children, they're all crying now,
waiting for Saint Nick to come,
shouting, "Come on Santa, run that light,
this waiting's just not fun."
But Santa, he'll not run that light,
Santa, he'll not break the law.
Santa's stuck there at a traffic light
that hasn't changed since Fall.

"Merry Christmas to all and to all a green light."

Dec 6, 2016

Christmas At Wellbright

"It's a hair."

"It's not a hair, it's soup."

"It's soup with a hair in it."

"It's not a hair."

"Well if it's not a hair then what is it?"

"It's food."

"It's not food, it's a hair."

"Okay so it's a hair. Fish it out and eat your soup."

"I don't want to eat soup with hair in it."

"If you fish it out there won't be any hair in it."

"How do you know that's not the only hair in the soup?"

"There's not any more hair in your soup."

"Oh, so it is a hair."

"It's not a hair, now eat the soup or I'll pour it out and you'll get nothing."

Another normal day at the Wellbright Community Wellness Center. Claude knew she would throw the soup in the garbage hair and all if he didn't eat it as she had made him go to bed without his dinner on several previous occasions. That was Wellbright's vision of managed health care. Claude knew it so well he told every new resident, "Don't worry about dying of old age here, you won't live that long."

He wasn't joking.

You see, Claude had been a resident of Wellbright for almost 30 years. While most of the residents were seventy, eighty or even ninety years old before coming to Wellbright, Claude had moved there at the ripe old age of 15 as an invalid who had lost both legs and one arm in an automobile accident that had wiped out his entire family. Claude spent his days parked in a wheelchair wherever the staff decided to put him. Most nights were spent in his room but on more than one occasion they had forgotten to push him back to his room and put him back into his bed.

On a couple of occasions they pushed him outside only to forget about him and leave him outside all night. Then when he soiled his clothes the attendant would punish him by washing him off with the garden hose lying stripped bare on the ground in plain view of anyone who might happen to walk around to the back of the building. Only, nobody ever walked around to the back of the building for had they done so Claude might not have continued to suffer. Claude had hoped someone would come walking around back one day but it never happened and the abuse continued.

When the kids from the local church came to Wellbright to sing Christmas carols each year the staff would lock Claude in his room and if he objected they would inject him with a tranquilizer to knock him out until after the carolers were gone. You see, Claude's face had been so badly disfigured by the accident that just to look at him was more than most teenagers could bear and rather than risk not having carolers for the rest of the residents the staff thought it best that Claude should remain hidden until all the guests were gone.

Claude stared at the flashing lights of the Christmas tree and the beverage cart loaded with pitchers of water, coffee and ice tea and decided on what to do. With his only hand he reached to pull the tree down on top of himself and the beverage cart. As the multicolored bulbs hit the liquids spilled from the cart they began to burst and short out sending 110 volts through his frail body and the bodies of three elderly patients seated within range of Claude's suicide attempt.

The staff insisted that Claude had communicated threats against the three now dead residents of Wellbright Community Wellness Center and the jury wasted no time in finding him guilty of murder in the first degree. Upon his sentencing, the judge conceded there were no prisons within the state that were equipped to deal with patients such as Claude so he sentenced Claude to serve out a life sentence at Wellbright Community Wellness Center.

Jingle Bells?

When I was a kid we used to sing several parodies of the holiday classic, Jingle Bells. I can’t remember exactly how any of them went and most were incomplete so I decided to write my own parody using parts I could remember. I hope you enjoy this version of Jingle Bells.

Dashing through the snow
in a stolen Chevrolet,
over the fields we go.
Cops are on the way.
Engine starts to skip,
smoke is outta sight
and if we end up walking
steal another car tonight!

Oh, jingle bells, shotgun shells,
rabbits all the way.
Oh what fun it is to ride
in Grandmaw’s Chevrolet, hey!
Jingle bells, shotgun shells,
cops are on the way.
Oh what fun it is to ride
in a stolen Chevrolet.

Shootin’ all the signs,
knock that mailbox down,
down another six-pack
while the cops chase us around.
Burnin’ off the tires,
runnin’ all the lights.
Oh what fun it is to ride
in a stolen car tonight!

Lots of pretty lights,
there’s a road block up ahead.
Slow this Chevy down
or we’ll all end up dead!
Dialin’ up the phone,
tell Daddy I’m in jail.
Dad shouts, “Son, you’ll die in jail
before I go your bail!”

Oh, Jingle bells...

Hey, I can't change the fact that I grew-up in a tough neighborhood... Batman smells, Robin laid an egg...

Dec 5, 2016

Presents For Lori

Stockings hang from the mantel;
I’m trying to dry my socks.
That tree blocking my window--
yeah, I bought it in a box.
The presents there beneath it--
yeah, I bought them all
an’ wrapped ‘em all in newsprint
I found at the mall.

(Gift wrap is expensive, you know.)

There’s presents for Cindy,
presents for Sue,
presents for Lori.
Oh yeah, she got two.
Presents for Mandy;
they’re gone and I’m blue.
And presents for girls
whose names I once knew.

Each year I go shopping,
buy the sweetest things
to give to the girl
who makes my heart sing,
but each year they dump me,
alone, and so blue.
But what about their presents;
what am I to do?

There’s presents for Cindy,
presents for Sue,
presents for Lori.
Oh yeah, she got two.
Presents for Mandy;
they’re gone and I’m blue.
And presents for girls
whose names I once knew.

I went to the mall;
to the package return,
but the lady there laughed
when I said I’d been spurned.
She called me a looser.
Said, I’m probably a creep
so I took back my presents
and started to weep.

There’s presents for Cindy,
presents for Sue,
presents for Lori.
Oh yeah, she got two.
Presents for Mandy;
they’re gone and I’m blue.
And presents for girls
whose names I once knew.

So now when they leave me
I don’t take them back.
(Oh, I’d take the girls
but they never come back.)
But their presents I keep
‘neath the tree in my room
as a constant reminder
of relationship’s doom.

There’s presents for Cindy,
presents for Sue,
presents for Lori.
Oh yeah, she got two.
Presents for Mandy;
some old and some new,
and presents for girls
who I never knew.

And presents for Lori.

Kramps Cramps Us

Krampus came to our house
to take our Christmas back;
ate our turkey, ate our goose,
and even ate our cat.
We thought he'd only come and go,
but it seems he's here to stay,
so we'll be very good this year
in hopes he leaves by Christmas Day.

Krampus is a half goat, half demon who takes toys away from children who have been bad. In parts of Europe, on December 5, Krampusnacht (Krampus Night) is celebrated and on December 6, The Feast of St. Nicholas takes place., you can read more about Krampus at Wikipedia.
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