Struck By Lightning And Stuff

Posted on October 9, 2019 by sungmokoo

Golf_in_the_rain_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1054166

Mark Twain said, “Golf is a good walk spoiled”. He also said, “My butt itches like crazy”.

It is amazing, mostly awkward, how one’s life can change drastically within seconds. Take, for example, Alec Trissity, a thirty something man trying to get nine holes in as the mother of all storms brewed around him. If he had bothered to listen to any of the competent meteorologists, he would have known the severity of the situation.

Lightning crackled across the black sky, followed seconds later by a rumble of thunder. It was beautiful. Alec was too busy to admire it, for he was searching for his damn ball. He was more than sure that he got it on the green. For shits and giggles, he checked the hole. Lo and behold, there it was. Holy hell, he had just made a hole in one! As if to congratulate him, the lightning, thunder and rain doubled.

Continue reading →

Enough!

Posted on October 6, 2019 by sungmokoo

I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, chess is the Pauly Shore of good times.

Jerry Riggs took his finger off the white pawn and said, “Check.”

His opponent, Alphonso Stern, thoroughly flabbergasted, uncomfortably out of shape, retorted, “My God, man, that was your opening move.”

Continue reading →

Bluff

Posted on October 5, 2019 by sungmokoo

What_fearful_shapes_and_shadows_beset_his_path_-_The_Legend_of_Sleepy_Hollow_(1899),_frontispiece_-_BL

He was half glad he was blind, as the other half of him wished it could see what the hell smelled so bad.

The blind man, or as he preferred, visually challenged person identifying as male, I.C. Knutting, was in a bit of a predicament. More on that after this: the true meaning of his initials I.C. was never known. His weird parents took it with them to their shallow graves. Shallow, not in depth, but shallow as in superficial, as in, his parents faked their deaths to avoid the responsibility of raising him. They were complete jerks that way, and it further defined their morbid sense of humor.

Many assumed, and they were wrong, it stood for Ichabod Crane. After all, his parents were huge Washington Irving enthusiasts, and I.C. looked like the living embodiment of the fictional character.

Continue reading →

Out Of The Frying Pan And Into A Bigger Frying Pan

Posted on October 5, 2019 by sungmokoo

'Old_Man_Praying',_drawing_by_Vincent_van_Gogh

“Dear Lord, it’s not you, it’s me.”

Thomas Knockers was in a bad way, and it was obvious. He had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. The veins looked like overlapping routes on a GPS. A greater display of his discomfort was in the way he pressed the palms of his hands against his head, above the ears, as if trying to play a stubborn accordion. He was experiencing the mother of all migraines.

Continue reading →