Monday, 26 December 2011

DICK AND TOM'S CHRISTMAS

DICK - Well Tom, did you get to see Santa this Christmas?

TOM - You know I didn’t.  You put sleepy drugs in my hot chocolate.

DICK - Yeah had to Tom, you remember last year don’t yer.  You wet the bed three times you were so excited, and I was wearing blotting paper jimjams.  I nearly drowned!

TOM - Yeah but you say that.  You also wet the bed that night.

DICK - My jimjams got so heavy with wee I couldn’t get out of bed to go to the bog.  And you tell me, whose fault was that eh, mister reject bladder?

TOM - The yellow fountain was good though weren’t it?

DICK - Yeah that was fun.  My yellow fountain was better than yours.

TOM - It went up higher but mine was more yellow.

DICK - Your wee fucking glows Tom.

TOM - Thank you Dick.

DICK - Nah Tom it’s not a compliment, your wee really glows like it’s radioactive or something.

TOM - Digital?

DICK - Lethal more like.  I wish Santa would bring us our own beds.

TOM - Tell me about it mister explosion bottom.

DICK - If my bottom songs annoy you why did you give me ground fart spice and a signed fart from Johnny Fartpants?

TOM - We ain’t ‘ad a fight yet this Christmas ‘ave we Dick?

DICK - Perhaps tomorrow eh Tom?

TOM - Fingers crossed.  Thanks for my socks Dick.

DICK - No worries Tom.

TOM - Thinking about last year, it were lucky I wet the bed so much though weren’t it, what with you trying to set fire to yer farts an all.  I think it saved the bed from burning.   Dick, do you think I should wet the bed now.  You know, just in case.

DICK - If you want.

Friday, 9 December 2011

A WRITER NAMED STEW by BOB CHRISMAN



A Writer Named Stew

There once was a writer named Stew
Who wrote prose as he sat in the loo.
When he ran out of ink
He raised such a stink
'Cause he had done nothing but poo.







Mr. Bob's Bio:
Potty-trained at an early age, Mr. Bob grew fascinated with bathroom humor. His very religious mother forced him to create euphemisms for bathroom activities and that led to composing limericks his mother (rest her soul) wouldn’t approve of.

Mr. Bob resides in Kansas City , Missouri , USA where he writes short stories and the occasional limerick for Dick and Tom.