Overcome Odour

  So, I have a really good excuse for not posting until so late where I am, but you probably don't care. Cool news, I may be having a guest blogger soon. No details yet, but she's pretty awesome. For that to happen anytime soon, I would need at least one review from somebody who hasn't yet. Please? Halloween is coming soon, so that post should be fun. Anyways, here is what all have you waiting been for. Wait, did you just read that wrong?
    Vivian Galosh truly was grateful. After Stanley's death, she had a very small income and no way to pay Boy Blue's  enormous rent. What the giant had done was incredible, since she had so many children and no way to feed them. The home was incredible, but would it have killed him to spray it first? It stank. Badly. Mrs. Galosh's children exactly filled the lace holes, leaving her in the very smelly bottom.

     She had tried everything. Her shower was inside the shoe, so as soon as she got out she smelled again. Her friends at sewing circle and book club suddenly started to forget her invitations after she started testing various perfumes. She even lit incense until she began to feel vaguely light headed and hungry. The solution seemed non existent and Vivian despaired for her social life. She needed to get out of this house! 

    Patty, her youngest, was the eventual savior. She was the one who discovered brand X drier sheets. 

Let's give thanks this isn't us

Hi. I'm so sorry about last week. It was Canadian thanksgiving on Monday so I had to help get ready for all my relatives. I'm back though with my thanksgiving post. I know it's late, but I couldn't resist. Go scour mother goose readers, because you probably read it wrong.

   Thanksgiving dinner that year was rather awkward. The entire family had come together but Peters seat was noticeably empty. His wife had come but was sitting alone off to the side, still unused to people after her solitary confinement. Needless to say, they served Apple pie rather than pumpkin. There were so many children running around that tea cups smashed and shattered this way and the teapot whistled all night long. Poor Vivian Galosh sat, abandoned in the corner thanks to the pervading odor of feet that surrounded her. Finally, grandmother Hubbard called them all to the table. Her basset hound lurked in the corner, gnawing on a  milk bone(he had no teeth anymore, much like grandmother herself).
   At the children's table, miss Muffet fed the baby mush on a spoon while all the little Galoshes squabbled over who had to sit next to her. Jack and Jill sat at the adult table to accommodate casts and bandages. The prayer was said and the vegetables were brought out first. They were passed around, casually skipping the man rocking back and forth humming 'The Wheels on the Bus'. Finally, the goose was brought out. Jack burst out crying to see it, crying for his mother. Or possibly calling the goose mother? They blamed his head injury and finished the meal amicably, if stiffly. Finally, everyone was thrilled to realize that it was eight'oclock and they had a whole two moths until they had to do this again.
 

A rather predictable tumble

Everyone knew this would happen. For once, you may have read it right. 

    The unnamed social worker stood in the middle of a crowd of cops clutching a small bundle. The crime scene tape was up, the evidence labelled. It looked like the scene of a twisted case on CSI. The only difference? There was no body. They were lucky. 

    The small bundle she was clutching hiccuped once and began to cry softly. She was alarmed to see that the pale blue of the baby's cheeks had barely faded. Steeling her nerves, she pushed her way to the front of the crowd. The commissioner of police stood in front of her, caterpillar mustache and all, glaring. 

    "Just where do you think you're going with our biggest lead?"

    " To my car. Unless we get some heat and formula your 'biggest lead' will develop hypothermia." 

    Grudgingly, they let her pass under the tape. Ignoring the mob of reporters surrounding her, she hid the infants face and dashed to the car. Inside, with the heat blaring and the baby nestled under layers of blankets, she allowed herself to remember what had happened that night. 

    It had been a druggie to find the baby, nestled in a small wooden cradle. He called the cops about a ufo crashed into a tree. The dispatcher sent out one car, to arrest him and bust whatever party he was coming from. It wasn't anything special. There was no caravan of cop cars. Just two caffeine fueled cops on the graveyard shift. 

    They arrived just in time. The small wooden vessel had begun to rock gently in a sudden breeze. It grew harsher, and faster and the cops could hear a baby screaming inside. Suddenly, it fell. The nearest cop stretched his arms out and caught the baby just before it hit the ground. The cradle was smashed in an eerie preview of what could have happened. 

    She shook her head in disgust that somebody would leave a newborn baby alone like this, up a tree in the middle of October. It must have been somebody with a sick sense of humour though, because the gentle rocking would have soothed the baby at first. But when the bow broke, the cradle would fall and down would come baby, cradle and all.