An Uss in the Gruss

Posted on Sep 18, 2011 02:05:14 PM

COMEDY OF THE WEEK – September 18, 2011

Sponsored by: ASS – Otherwise known as, The Association to Stop Swearing

AND NOW, PRESENTING THE HILARIOUS COMEDY:

An Uss in the Gruss

“Shut up, Henry!” Charlie yelled.

“ROARRR!” Henry exploded, ignoring Charlie and smashing his dinosaur into his block building. It smashed and crashed loudly to the floor. The noise startled poor Elsie who was playing nearby, and she started to cry.

“Charlie, don’t talk like that, and stop yelling at Henry,” I said as I picked up a teary Elsie in an attempt to comfort her. “Henry, really,” I said. “Do you have to do that?” I questioned, gesturing to the fallen tower of blocks. I don’t know why I asked such a ridiculous question. I knew from experience that of course Henry had to make noise, and asking him if it was really necessary was as laughable as asking Peeve if he needed to sniff other dogs’ poop.

“Yeah, Mom,” Henry answered matter-of factly without any acknowledgement to Charlie’s irritation or Elsie’s distress. “The dinosaurs have to DESTROY the buildings…ROARRRR!” he screamed again as he smashed his dinosaur into another pile of blocks, making a noise that was a little less startling but still pretty loud. Elsie whimpered as if she might start crying again, but she stopped as she became engrossed in watching Henry play.

“STOP!” Charlie yelled again. “You’re such a pain Henry!”

“Charlie, enough!” I scolded. “Henry’s just playing.”

“I don’t care,” Charlie said, shrugging his shoulders. “I have a test to study for. Henry, go somewhere else.”

“ROARRRR!” Henry yelled again as he looked right at Charlie. Charlie held his tongue briefly, giving Henry a look of controlled fury, but when Henry crashed his dinosaur into the block piles and began loudly chanting, “STEGASAURUS! STEGASAURUS!” Charlie lost it.

“Look, if you don’t get out of here I’m going to turn that STEGA-SORE-ASS into a MEGA-SORE-ASS…”

“CHARLIE!” I yelled, quickly interrupting him. “You can’t threaten your brother, and that language is beyond inappropriate. You can’t talk like that in front of him.”

“Like what?” Henry said, looking up as if he hadn’t been paying any attention anyway. He was use to Charlie getting a little irritated with him. I was momentarily relieved, thinking that the language had bypassed him, but then he added, “What? What, Mom?”

“Nothing, Henry,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, do you mean the ‘A’-‘S’-‘S’ word?” I looked at him with complete shock, and then I turned my astonished eyes on Charlie, thinking that he had something to do with this. Then Henry added, “It’s okay, Mom, I already know that word, but don’t worry, I won’t say it. We used that word at school the other day, but Kayla told me that it’s a swear.

“What do you mean you used it at school the other day?” I questioned.

“Well, Ms. Lutton was spelling the word ‘grass’ on the board, and Oliver said that if you take away the ‘G’ –‘R’ you get another word, and then Kayla said that it’s not another word, it’s a swear. She said that her older sister said that word, and her mom sent her sister to her room for, like, two weeks. She wasn’t even allowed to use the bathroom.”

“I’m not sure that is true Henry,” I said nervously laughing.

“Oh, yeah, it is,” he insisted. “Kayla says that her sister is really bad, and she gets punished all the time.”

“Okay, well, what did Ms. Lutton say about the word?”

“She said that in some of the chapter books she reads, the word ‘ass’ is an old –fashioned way to say ‘donkey,’ but she said that if you are not reading a book about a donkey, you shouldn’t say that word.”

“I think that is probably good advice. You really shouldn’t use that word at all, Henry.”

“Yeah,” Charlie piped in again, obviously listening and not concentrating so much on his studying, “your teacher is ASS-tonishingly smart, Henry.”

“Charlie, stop, that’s enough of that,” I said, as Charlie laughed and cracked himself up.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Henry said, trying to assure me that he understood. “I don’t even use the letters ‘A’ – ‘S’ – ‘S’.”

“What do you mean you don’t use those letters? How can you not use those letters, Henry, they’re in lots of words?” I asked with confusion.

“Kayla showed me how to spell ‘GRASS’ with a ‘U’ instead.”

“Henry, you can’t change the spelling of things. There is no such word as ‘GRUSS.’”

“Well, I don’t care. I’m not taking any chances,” Henry said. “I don’t want to have to go to my room for two weeks.”

“Henry, you can use the letters ‘A’ – ‘S’ – ‘S’ when it is appropriate. If you replace those letters with ‘U’- ‘S’ –‘S’ instead, your teacher will think that you don’t know how to spell.”

“Yeah, Henry,” Charlie added. “If you’re going to use a swear, you have to spell it right,” and he laughed again, continuing to crack himself up with his own little stand up routine. He then continued with, “If you don’t spell things correctly in cl-ASS, you won’t be able to p-ASS.”

“Charlie, that’s it!” I angrily commanded. “You’re not helping. Just get out of here, and go to your room.”

Charlie didn’t move. He ignored me and just kept laughing with his usual voice-cracking cackle.

“See, Mom,” Henry said, as he attempted to explain the situation by pointing and then throwing his hands in the air. “You’re sending Charlie to his room ‘cause he keeps saying that word.”

“That’s not why I’m sending Charlie to his room, Henry. Charlie is just being rude and obnoxious, that’s why he needs to leave. He’s purposely trying to confuse you, and I really don’t appreciate it, Charlie,” I said, re-directing my attention to Charlie who was grunting and squawking out laughter with every breath. He had amused himself to the point of barely being able to speak, but he managed to add a few more words.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mom. Are you ASS-king me to leave?” he mocked and laughed, and then continued testing me. “I will ASS-ume that you want me to apologize for har-ASS-ing you. Sorry, but, do I really have to go to my room because I’d much rather go play b-ASS-ketball, you know, and practice my p-ASS-es.” Charlie then erupted into fits of squeaky, side-splitting hysterics.

I was really angry with Charlie, now. His clever wit often interfered with the serious conversations that I tried to have with my younger children, and it really pissed me off. I was just about to let him have it, when Henry distracted me.

“Is Charlie swearing, Mom?” Henry asked, kind of confused. Henry’s lack of clarity with regard to this matter made me feel incredibly irritated because Charlie had obviously succeeded in completely defeating my attempts to properly explain how to correctly navigate the word ‘ASS’ for Henry.

“Damnit, Charlie! Just get the hell out of here! I said, exploding with frustration and complete lack of thought to my own vocabulary.

“OOOOOOoooo, Mom swore two times,” Charlie teased, as he finally started up to his room, still laughing with the up and down pitch of teen who’s laugh had not caught up with his voice change.

I tried to collect myself, but Henry looked pretty horrified with me.

“Whoa, Mom,” he said with astonished eyes. “That was really bad.”

I didn’t really know how to handle this anymore so I decided to play along with Charlie’s immature antics. I took a deep breath.“Fine! You know what, Charlie. Don’t go to your room!” I yelled. “I want you to get outside and start mowing that ‘GRUSS!’ Your father wanted you to do that days ago, and I’m tired of you procr-USS-tinating! GO!” I said, gesturing towards the door.

Charlie was still laughing hideously, and after hearing my own adaptations to his swearing game, he added snorting to his already distinctive and disturbing vocalizations of amusement. Henry and I watched as he smirked, trying to suppress his hideous noises, then quickly mashed his feet into his shoes, and went towards the door. As he passed by with his big, obnoxious grin, I said, “And quit acting like such an ‘USS!’” He erupted into fits of laughter again, and I kind of smiled too as the tension was released. Charlie went outside and shut the door. Henry looked at me and kind of smiled.

“You mean ‘ASS,’ right, Mom,” he said, very directly. “You want Charlie to stop acting like an ‘ASS,’ I get it,” he chuckled.

“What do you mean ‘you get it?” I asked kind of nervously and with confusion because I didn’t get it at all.

“Well, Charlie sounds just like a donkey when he laughs so this is one of those times when you said it would be ‘appropriate’ to use ‘ASS’ right?” he concluded, very pleased, and nodding his head to emphasize that he really understood my earlier explanations.

I wasn’t about to disappoint Henry, so I concurred. “Yes, Henry. Absolutely! This would be a very appropriate time to call Charlie an ‘ASS.’” Henry nodded his head and went back to playing with his dinosaurs, as I heard the lawnmower start.

S’more Homework

Posted on Sep 18, 2011 02:01:09 PM

TRAGEDY OF THE WEEK – September 18, 2011

Sponsored by : Forever Edible Foods – These are foods that, for whatever reason, remain tasty no matter how old, stale, squished, or melted they might become. They may come with a warning label that emphasizes that they should not be consumed after the expiration date, but independent testers are now deeming these foods to be edible under any circumstances. Please be advised that our testing may be biased since our testing department has only been able to hire pre-teen boys. They are the only applicants that are interested in our current taste-testing positions.

AND NOW, PRESENTING THE COMEDIC TRAGEDY :

S’more Homework

“I had a terrible day!” Lanie exclaimed as she burst through the front door after school. She was mad.

“What is the matter?” I asked.

“This,” she said, and she showed me a Science paper with the grade of a C+. I didn’t think there was anything really wrong with this grade, but it wasn’t like Lanie to get a C+. I figured maybe it was a particularly difficult assignment.

“Did you have a problem with the assignment?” I questioned, wondering what could have happened.

“Yeah, I had a problem, and it’s name was Michael,” she hissed as her little, red cheeks puffed like she was about to spit venom. “I hate him! Boys are so stupid.”

“Oh, honey, that’s not very nice.”

“So!” she shrugged. “Michael isn’t very nice either.”

“Well, maybe that’s why you got paired with him. You are a really nice girl so maybe the teacher thought that you would be able to work with him,” I said hoping that by complimenting her I could distract her out of her  bad mood.

“I don’t want to be a nice girl if it means I have to work with stupid Michael. He just sits there and does nothing. He never helps me with any of the projects. He can’t do anything,” she emoted dramatically, as her body went limp, and she collapsed into a chair.

“Oh, come on, now, Lanie, I’m sure Michael could have helped you with something.”

“Oh, yes, you’re right, Mom. He did help me,” she said as she placed her hands on her hips for emphasis. “He helped eat all the marshmallows.”

“ Marshmallows?”

“UGH! You’re not even listening to me!”

“I am listening, Lanie, but you haven’t said anything about marshmallows. I don’t have any idea what you are talking about.”

“The marshmallows, Mom, THE MARSHMALLOWS! The ones for our project that I told you about a week ago.”

“I’m sorry, Lanie, I really don’t remember. Why don’t you start at the beginning,” I said as I tried to make my apology sound sincere, but truthfully, I found her dramatics and expectations of my memory to be a little annoying.

“Oh, fine,” she sighed as she collapsed her shoulders with the theatrical flair of an expert drama queen.

“Last week we had to design a structure out of marshmallows and toothpicks that would support a cup of marbles, and Michael ate all of the marshmallows.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know!” she yelled.

“Well, honey, didn’t you notice that Michael was eating all of the marshmallows while you were working together? Why didn’t you say anything to him?”

“Oh, great, so this is all my fault now?” she said throwing up her hands. “Just forget it, Mom, forget it.’

“Lanie, I’m not blaming you, but you could have spoken up and told Michael to stop.”

“I shouldn’t have to! Mrs. Norton told each team that we would get just fifteen marshmallows and as many toothpicks as we wanted to construct something to support the weight of the marbles. She said that the marshmallows were not for eating, and that if any team decided to eat their marshmallows, they would not get anymore. She also told everyone that they were old marshmallows from the previous year so they were stale.”

“Michael ate year-old marshmallows? That’s gross. Why would he do that?”

“How should I know, Mom! Probably because he is a boy so he’s an idiot.”

“Lanie stop.”

“I can’t stop. I’m too mad.”

“Well, how many stale marshmallows did Michael eat?”

“He ate, like, ten of them.”

“And you had to make a structure with just five marshmallows?’

“Well, yeah, but I knew it was, like, going to be impossible.”

“Did you talk to Mrs. Norton and tell her what Michael did?”

“I tried to, but she said ‘no exceptions.’ She said it was my responsibility as a member of the team to make sure that my classmate followed all of the rules. ‘No exceptions, Lanie,’ she said. And then she said, ‘What were you doing while all these marshmallows were being consumed?’”

“Well, what were you doing?”

“Oh, so you’re blaming me too. This is so unfair!” she concluded in a huff of anger.

“I’m not blaming you. I’m just trying to understand what was going on at the time,” I said, trying to sooth her irritation a little.

“I was doing what we were supposed to be doing. I was drawing in my notebook and designing our structure. I made this really cool plan for how to build the supports for the cup using fourteen marshmallows and a bunch of the toothpicks. Michael had his head down so I thought that he was drawing a plan too, and then I thought we were going to try to combine our ideas. I didn’t know he was eating all the marshmallows. I didn’t notice. I was trying really hard not to have to look at him at all.”

“So Michael ate all of the marshmallows?”

“Well, pretty much,” she shrugged, “and he might as well have eaten them all because you can’t do anything with five marshmallows.”

“So, Mrs. Norton said that she wouldn’t give you any more marshmallows even after you told her what Michael did?”

“Yeah. She said, ‘Well, that will be part of your team’s challenge now won’t it?’” Lanie said again, sternly, with a furrowed brow, attempting to imitate her teacher.

“So what happened?”

“By the time I got back to my table after talking to Mrs. Norton, Michael had eaten another marshmallow.”

“Seriously?” I questioned, trying unsuccessfully to stifle my laughing.

“Mom, it isn’t funny.”

“I’m sorry, but don’t you think it’s kind of funny?” I asked smiling, hoping to get her to see the lighter side to this situation. She really needed to relax a little.

“No,” Lanie said flatly, but I could see a small hint of amusement in her angry eyes. She quickly dismissed any fleeting thoughts of humor and quickly added, “Actually, Mom, I think Michael is totally disgusting. Those marshmallows are from last year. He is weird and gross.”

“Did you ask him why he ate all the marshmallows?”

“No, I don’t care why,” she said wrinkling up her face in obvious disgust and scrunching up her shoulders. “He’s just an idiot, so I yelled at him and said ‘What the heck am I suppose to do now?’ and then he got all mad at me and said, ‘Who cares! Just shut up, Lanie. Give me some toothpicks, I’ll do it.’ And then he grabbed everything and just randomly shoved all of our toothpicks into the four marshmallows that were left. Our structure looked like someone had just run over a porcupine. It was so stupid. I tried to fix it by straightening out some of the toothpicks, but then Mrs. Norton told us that our time was up.”

“What did she say when she saw it?”

“What do you think she said, Mom? Obviously, she couldn’t say anything good. Our structure was the worst one in the whole class. She just said ‘Hmmmm…given what you two had to work with here, I would say that at least you made an effort,’ and then when we actually had to balance the cup of marbles on the structure, and it balanced for about half a second, she said, ‘Well, it held up for longer than I would have thought.”

“I’m sorry, honey. Sounds like you had kind of a rough day. Maybe if you talk to her about how hard it is for you to work with Michael, she will switch you.”

“Yeah, I guess, but I doubt any of the other boys are any better. I bet Kelly and I could make something good, but she says the girls get too chatty when they work together, and the boys get too silly if they work together, so I’m still going to have to work with some other stupid boy anyway. I hate Science class.

“Maybe she’d let you work alone.”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it,” she said, finally sounding defeated, but at least calm.

“Well, what about your grade? Did you ask Mrs. Norton if you could improve your grade somehow?”

“Yeah, she just gave me an extra homework assignment.”

“She gave you some more work to do?” I questioned a little mischievously.

“Yeah, she just gave me some more,” Lanie said with some confusion because she knew I was thinking, but she didn’t know why I had such a goofy look on my face.

“Some more?” I said smiling, and emphasizing my words so that she would get it, but she was serious, and just getting angry with me.

“Yeah, I just said that, Mom!” she yelled.

“Some more work? Some more? Some more? S’more?

“Yes, some more, some more, some more!” she repeated, still not getting my little joke.

“S’more work? Get it? Don’t you think that’s kind of funny? You know, marshmallows…s’more work…get it?” I said giggling.

“That’s not funny, Mom,” she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she took her backpack and left the kitchen in disgust.