The Day the Pigs Ate My Little Brother
It was always great fun to visit the grandparents’ farm.
Minnie and Harry Gardiner decided to get into farming later in life –
investing their profits from a very successful business college.
They raised chickens and hogs - as well as (being Gardiners) a huge
vegetable garden with corn, collards, cabbage, cauliflower, carrots, cukes and
strawberries.
One Sunday our Mom took my brother, Larry, and me out to
the Gardiner farm in the “yellow streak”, a big ol’ Chrysler she drove.
After dinner, Larry and I went out to the barn to see the new little
piglets. My brother reached his
little arm through slats of the pigpen to pet one of the little pigs.
Well, the momma sow, Molly, thought her baby was in jeopardy and decided
to take action. She came charging
across the pigpen toward Larry. He
jumped up and started running, scared out of his wits.
Now, Molly weighed about a thousand pounds and she had such a speed built
up by the time she reached the other side of the pigpen that the brittle boards
couldn’t contain her weight and she came crashing right through the fence.
Well, Larry was about halfway across the barnyard,
screaming and crying, with Molly in hot pursuit.
His little legs were churning like lightning and his arms flailing
against the wind but Molly was gaining on him.
He glanced over his shoulder and panicked at the sight of this huge sow
bearing down on him. At that moment
he tripped and fell head first into a large mud puddle in the barnyard.
He slid across the slick mud just as Molly hit the edge of the puddle,
lost her footing and started sliding.
Mud sprayed into the air like a blizzard.
Molly was tumbling, spinning and scrambling to regain her balance.
Now, the seven little piglets
took advantage of the hole in the fence and came scampering across the barnyard
to join in the fun. A little dazed,
Molly sat up in the middle of the mud puddle and watched as her brood danced
around Larry pulling and tugging at his clothes.
Well, Grandpa heard the ruckus and came barreling out the back door,
lumbered across the barnyard and scooped up the totally terrified tiny tike for
a just-in-the-nick-of-time rescue.
Larry was so shaken by the experience he was never again
able to eat so much as a single slice of bacon.
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Last year I had a near death experience that has changed me
forever. I went horseback riding.
Everything was going fine until the horse starts bouncing out of control.
I tried with all my might to hang on, but was thrown off.
Just when things could not possibly get worse, my foot gets caught in the
stirrup. When this happened, I fell head first to the ground. My
head continued to bounce harder as the horse did not stop or even slow down.
Just as I was giving up hope and losing consciousness the Walmart manager came
out and unplugged it.
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Ladle Rat Rotten Hut
Hairs annulled furry
starry, toiling udder warts, warts weicher alter girdle deferent firmer once
inner regional virgin.
Wants pawn term, dare
worsted ladle gull hoe lift wetter murder inner ladle cordage honor itch offer
lodge dock florist. Disc ladle gull
orphan worry ladle cluck wetter putty ladle rat hut, end fur disc raisin pimple
caulder "Ladle Rat Rotten Hut". Wan
moaning Rat Rotten Hut's murder colder inset: "Ladle Rat Rotten Hut, heresy
ladle basking winsome burden barter end shirker cockies.
Tick disc ladle basking tudor cordage offer groin murder hoe lifts honor
udder site offer florist. Shaker
lake, dun stopper laundry wrote, end yonder nor sorghum stenches dun stopper
torque wet strainers."
"Hoe cake, murder,"
resplendent Ladle Rat Rotten Hut, end tickle ladle basking end stuttered oft.
Honor wrote tudor cordage offer groin murder, Ladle Rat Rotten Hut mitten
anomalous woof.
"Wail, wail, wail,"
set disc wicket woof, "evanescent Ladle Rat Rotten Hut.
Wares or putty ladle gull goring wizard ladle basking?"
"Armor goring tumor
groin murder's," reprisal ladle gull.
"Grammar's seeking bet.
Armor ticking arson burden barter end shirker cockies."
"O hoe, heifer
blessing woke," setter wicket woof, butter taught tomb shelf, "Oil ticket shirt
court tudor cordage offer groin murder. Oil ketchup wetter, end end - 0 bore!"
Soda wicket woof
tucker shirt court, end whinny wretched a cordage offer groin murder, picket
inner widow and sore debtor pore oil worming worse lien inner bet.
Inner flesh disc abdominal woof lipped honor betting adder rope.
Zany pool dawn a groin murder's gnat cup end gnat gum, andy curdle dope
inner bet.
Inner ladle wile Ladle
Rat Rotten Hut a raft attar cordage end ranker dough ball.
"Comb ink, sweat
hard," setter wicket woof, disgracing is verse. Ladle Rat Rotten Hut entity bet run end stud buyer groin
murder's bet. "Oh grammar," crater
ladle gull, "Wart bag icer gut! A
nervous sausage bag ice!"
"Buttered lucky chew
whiff, doling," whiskered disc ratchet woof wetter wicket small.
"Oh grammar, water bag
noise. A nervous sort suture
anomalous noise!"
"Buttered small your
whiff," inserter woof, ants mouse worse waddling.
"Oh grammar, water bag
mousy gut. A nervous sore suture
bag mouse!"
Daze worry on forger
nut gull's lest warts. Oil offer
sodden throne offer carvers end sprinkling outer bet, disc curl end bloat
Thursday woof ceased pore Rat Rotten Hut end garbled erupt.
MORAL:
Yonder nor sorghum stenches shut ladle gulls stopper torque wet
strainers.
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Here, indeed, is a story
that'll make your cresh fleep. It will give you poose gimples. Think of a poor
little glip of a surl, prairie vitty, who, just because she had to sisty uglers,
had to flop the moar, clinkle the shuvvers out of the stitchen cove and do all
the other chasty nores, while her soamly histers went to a drancy bess fall.
Wasn't that a shirty dame?
Well, to make a long
shorry stort, this youngless hapster was chewing her doors one day, when who
should suddenly appear but a garry fawdmother. Beeling very fadly for this witty
prafe, she happed her clands, said a couple of waggic merds, and in the ash of a
flybrow, Cinderella* was transformed into a bavaging reauty. And out at the
sturbcone stood a nagmificent coalden goach, made of a pipe rellow yumpkin. The
gaudy fairmother told her to hop in and dive to the drance, but added that she
must positively be mid by homelight. So, overmoash with accumtion, she fanked
the tharry from the hottom of her bart, bimed acloard, the driver whacked his
crip, and off they went in a dowd of clust.
Soon they came to a
casterful wundel, where a pransome hince was possing a tarty for the teeple of
the pown. Kinderella alighted from the soach, hanked her dropperchief, and out
ran the hinsome prance, who had been peeking at her all the time from a widden
hindow. The sugly isters stood bylently sigh, not sinderizing Reckognella in her
goyal rarments.
Well, to make a long
shorty still storer, the nince went absolutely pruts over the pruvvly lincess.
After several dowers of antsing, he was ayzier than crevver. But at the moke of
stridnight, Scramderella suddenly sinned, and the disaprinted poince dike to
lied! He had forgotten to ask the nincess her prame! But as she went stunning
down the long reps, she slicked off one of the glass kippers she was wearing,
and the pounce princed upon it with eeming glize.
The next day he tied all
over trown to find the lainty daydy whose foot slitted that fipper. And the
ditty prame with the only fit that footed was none other than our layding leedy.
So she finally prairied the mince, and they happed livily after everward.
[From My Tale is Twisted!
or, The Storal to this Mory. New York: M. S. Mill Co., Inc., 1946]
* Parze pleedon me for nelling the spame in such a morrect cranner.
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Ay’m yust goin' tell yah, das Axel Lundgren har ban bigest fule Ay ever know. He's alvays gattin' me into trouble. Ay tank de bigest. trouble he ever got me into vas ven ve
first come to dis country. Ve har
ban lumber yack in lomber camp in organ and ve har been dar about fanf or sax
veek an' da boss come to me an' say,
"Lars, Ay tank you an' Axel skall take gun an' go on top of moun-tn an' shoot
deer for fresh meat fer da camp."
Vall, har are da reewer, an'
on da bank of da reewar is da lomber camp, an' yust behin' da camp har ban great
beeg high moun-tn. She's almost
mile oop in da air an' cowered all ower wid rock In stone In log In stump In...
ting like dat. Yust as ve har
startin' to climb Ay say,
"Axel, look! Dar goes deer!
Shoot lim quvick!!"
IN Axel says, "No, Lars, da boss says to shoot
lim on da moun-tn.11 Den ven Aylm tallin' vat Ay tank of lim, da deer got vay
an' ve got ta clime all da vay oop.
Dat har ban de vorst clime Ay har ewer made an' ve got to da top after ve valk
more as sewen mile an' den Ay say,
"Axel, Yust behin' dat tree dar har ban noder
deer; now you shoot lim, or, by yaminy, Aye shoot you!"
Val, he take aim an' bang! He shoot da deer.
Das a great beeg fallar an' ve tie his lag togedder an' put fim on pole
to carry lim back to vere ve clime oop at.
An' Aylm lookin' down to camp an' Aylm tallin' you she's look tvice so
high down as she's look far oop!
Ay saya ta Axel, "How ve goin' ta gat down dar?"
An' he says, "Ay don' know... Aylm so tired; les' roll down!"
An' Ay say, "No, sir, Ay got use fer my neck yat."
An' he says, "If ve stay har, ve freeze ta det."
An' Ay say, "If ve go down dar, ve break
our nack an' Aylm look batter ven Aylm freeze ta det dan ven Ay got my nack
broke."
Ve don't know vot velre goin' ta do an' Aylm
lookin' troo da trees an' vat you tink Ay see?
Ay see old lomber shoot. You
know vat it is... a lomber shoot?
No? Dan Ay tall you vat it is a
lomber shoot: A lomber shoot it is is... a... a... (he tries to illustrate with
gestures) ... itsa... itsa it starts at da top of da moun-tn... (more gestures
and scratching of head... at last comes the happy solution) It's a place vere
you shoot da lomber... (with a self-satisfied air) Now you know vat it is a
lomber shoot!"
Ay says to Axel, "Look, Axel, dere's an' oll lomber shoot!"
An' he says, "By yaminy, Ay har got a gute idee!
Ve'll take a log an' put it in da shoot an' sit on it an' shoot da
shoot!"
An' Ay say, "You bat, if velre goin' to slide
down, velre goin' to sit on someting.
Dere's ban too many splin... 11 (stops - a little embarrassed).
So ve hunt aroun' an' all ve can find is vun log... yust about so beeg...
(illustrates) ... yust beeg enough f er vun to sit on.
Aylm lukin' down to camp an' Ay tal you Aylm gettin' purty coll feet.
So Ay say to Axel,
"Dis ban your idee, so you can go first, den Ay
see how you do it.01 Axel, Ay guess he har gattin' chilblains, too.
He says, "Aylm more tired as you!
You go first an' den ven you get to camp you can bring da log back to
me."
Vell ve don' know vot velre goin' to do an' Aylm
valkin' 'round to keep myself varm an' Ay hit my fute like dis (stumbles) and
vot you tink I find? Ay find oll
... oll ... aa... vot you call dose ting (goes through motions of shoveling dirt
into a wagon) ... a... mm... A shoop scovel ... dat's it... a shoop scovel!
Den Ay say to Axel,
"By Yorge! Ay har got gute idee!
Vun of us skol take de log an' Ay'll take da shoop scovel. An' he says,
"All right, Aylm freeze to det'."
An' Aye says, "All right, you can go f irst, den
you get dere quvicker."
So ve put da log in da Chute an' he sit on it
an' Ay sit behin' him on da shoop scovel.
Den he say,
"Don' forget to roll off ven you come to camp."
An' Ay say, "Mabbe Ay roll off before Ay come to
camp. Are you ready?"
An' he says, "You bat!"
An Ay say, "All right, let her go!"
An' he says, "Ay can't... Aylm stuck... Give her a push!"
So Ay take my fute an' give him a push, like dis
(illustrates') vun... two... tree!
By yaminy! Ay never see anybody go
so f ast! Ay yust gat van luke at
him, den Ay can't see him some more fer da smoke he's makin'. Ay yell,
"Come back, Axel, come back!"
An ven Ay trow my hands oop, dat got me start,
too! 00000000! Ay tall you Ay ain't
got more as tree feet ven Ay vish Ay ver back vere Aylm start from.
Aylm holdin' on to da shoop scovel an' de vind yust go 'If-ff-f-ft" ...
like dot! Aylm turn de first corner
an' dere's ban Axel clear to camp alrady an' yust ven Ay luke, de beeg fule roll
off. He roll off all right but he
don't stop. He yust keep right on goin'.
He's gat dat deer 'round his neck an' first de deer ban on top an' den
Axel ban on top. Ay say to myself,
"Dere, anodder fule break his neck.
You bat Ay stick on de shoop scovel!"
Ay stick on him an' Ay go fifty feet out into de
vater... Splash! Ha, ha, ha, ha!
... Ay ain't gattin' dere anny too quvick, you bat my life! Dot shoop scovel purty near RED HOT! Ha, ha, ha, ha!
'N den
ven Ay svim back to shore, Ay gat to clime to da top of de moun-tn to gat my cap
dat blow off ven Ay start!
By Elias Day
Note: Swedish
dialect. The impersonator has a
lax, shambling posture, hands hanging awkwardly at the sides; few gestures and
these only illustrative. Face blank
and almost expressionless. The
voice: a monotonous sing-song with rising inflection.
It is impossible to give exact pronunciation, so the dialect is spelled
as near as the limitations of the English orthography will permit.
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You must read this aloud (for the full effect). Just say
any unfamiliar words phonetically. It's amazing, you will understand what
'tendjewberrymud' means by the end of the conversation.
This has been nominated for best email of 1999. The following is a
telephone conversation between a hotel guest and room-service, at a hotel in
Asia. The call was recorded and later published in the Far East Economic
Review.
Here goes. . . .
Room Service (RS): "Morny. Ruin sorbees"
Guest (G): "Sorry, I thought I dialed room-service"
RS: "Rye . . . Ruin sorbees . . . morny! Djewish to odor sunteen??"
G: "Uh . . . yes . . . I'd like some bacon and eggs"
RS: "Ow July den?"
G: "What??"
RS: "Ow July den?. . . pry, boy, pooch?"
G : "Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry, scrambled please."
RS: "Ow July dee bayhcem . . . crease?"
G: "Crisp will be fine."
RS : "Hokay. An San tos?"
G: "What?"
RS: "San tos. July San tos?"
G: "I don't think so"
RS: "No? Judo one toes??"
G: "I feel really bad about this, but I don't know what 'judo one toes'
means."
RS: "Toes! Toes! . . . why djew Don Juan toes? Ow bow inglish
mopping we
bother?"
G: "English muffin!! I've got it! You were saying 'Toast.'
Fine. Yes,
an English muffin will be fine.
RS: "We bother?"
G: "No . . . just put the bother on the side."
RS: "Wad?"
G: "I mean butter . . . just put it on the side."
RS: "Copy?"
G: "Sorry?"
RS: "Copy . . . tea . . . mill?"
G: "Yes. Coffee please, and that's all."
RS: "One Minnie. Ass ruin torino fee, strangle ache, crease baychem,
tossy singlish mopping we bother honey sigh, and copy . . . rye??"
G: "Whatever you say"
RS: "Tendjewberrymud"
G: "You're welcome"
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The Bricklayer's Accident Report
(This is a
bricklayer's accident report that was printed in the newsletter of the Worker's
Compensation Board.)
Dear Sir:
I am writing in
response to your request for additional information in Block #3 of the accident
reporting form. I put "Trying to do the job alone" as the cause of my accident.
You asked for a fuller explanation, and I trust the following details will be
sufficient.
I am a bricklayer by
trade. On the day of the accident, I was working alone on the roof of a new
six-story building. When I completed my work, I found I had some bricks left
over which, when weighed later, were found to weigh 240 pounds. Rather than
carry the bricks down by hand, I decided to lower them in a barrel by using a
pulley which was attached to the side of the building at the sixth floor.
Securing the rope at
ground level, I went up to the roof, swung the barrel out, and loaded the bricks
into it. Then I went down and untied the rope, holding it tightly to insure a
slow descent of the 240 pounds of bricks. You will note on the accident
reporting form that my weight is 135 pounds.
Due to my surprise
at being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and
forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rapid rate up
the side of the building.
In the vicinity of
the third floor, I met the barrel which was now proceeding downward at an
equally impressive speed. This explains the fractured skull, minor abrasions,
and the broken collarbone, as listed in section three of the accident reporting
form.
Slowed only
slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my
right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley which I mentioned in paragraph
two of this correspondence. Fortunately, by this time I had regained my presence
of mind and was able to hold tightly to the rope, in spite of the excruciating
pain I was now beginning to experience.
At approximately the
same time, however, the barrel of bricks hit the ground, and the bottom fell out
of the barrel. Now, devoid of the weight of the bricks, the barrel weighed
approximately 50 pounds. I refer you again to my weight.
As you might
imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the building. In the vicinity
of the third floor, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two
fractured ankles, broken tooth, and severe lacerations of my legs and lower
body.
Here my luck began
to change slightly. The encounter with the barrel seemed to slow me enough to
lessen my injuries when I fell into the pile of bricks and, fortunately, only
three vertebrae were cracked.
I am sorry to
report, however, as I lay there on the pile of bricks, in pain, unable to move,
and watching the empty barrel six stories above me, I again lost my composure
and presence of mind and let go of the rope.
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