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Randy Thoughts & Stuff, #3

I popped down to our local diner, the Sit ‘n’ Stew Café, Friday afternoon for coffee and pie, and guess what? My paperboy, Randy Thoughts, who may just be the smartest person I know, was in there drinking root beer with his girlfriend, Tivka Kaboom. It was a pretty cold day so I was wearing my Snuggie, which always draws admiring looks when I’m out in public. Randy waved and called me over. Tivka just smiled because she’s an hysterical mute.

“Hey, Mr. Zee! You wanna join us?” said Randy.

“That’s very nice of you, Randy, but I don’t want to interrupt the course of young love. I’m just going to have my pie at the counter so I can peak down the front of Yolanda’s uniform.”

“Cool! Tivka says to order the Wounded Zebra Pie. It’s a swirl of white and dark chocolate drizzled with raspberry sauce.”

“When did she say that?” I said.

“Tivka says that Yolanda’s husband knows about you looking down the front of her uniform, and he’s going to come after you with a knife and a gun.”

“Hey,” I chuckled, “are you crazy kids telepathic? Do I need to get a magnetic thought-blocking device in addition to my Snuggie?”

“Tivka says that last part isn’t true, she was just trying to get your goat,” said Randy.

I laughed warmly.

“Oh, I know about you fun-loving youngsters. Having a bit of sport with Mr. Zee.”

That Randy. Always joshing. Still, I made a mental note to find a new hiding place for my goat, Nanny McNibbles, as soon as I got home.

The other day, I noticed that Waste Management, the company that collects the garbage here in our quaint little town, had a big sign on the side of its truck that said, “Providing 17,000 acres of wildlife refuge.” Whew, that came as a relief! I’ve been more than a little concerned about the seagull and rat populations.

You know what slays me? Hookers! They just crack me up, they’re so cute. Really, let me tell you, hookers are just like cats. You start out with one or two, and the next thing you know, they’re all over the place. They’re sprawled on the sofa and sitting on the windowsills and stretched out all over the bed. It takes me something like an hour or more on Tuesday mornings (Tuesday is my weekly hooker day) to get everyone rounded up and dressed and out the door. And sometimes, like the other morning, when I think order has finally been restored to the Zee home, I go upstairs to take my bath and there’s one still lounging about in my hot tub, smoking a cigarette and dreamily scratching her groin. But honestly, how can I get mad about it? They’re so adorable! I just wish they’d accept payment in Fancy Feast.

I have a chronic condition that renders me unable to walk backwards down stairs. So the answer is, No, I can’t help you move next weekend.



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