Davezilla: Clean Humor, Filthy Comments

Phyllis Glabstrubber.

Phyllis Glabstrubber. American. Bunions are acting up again. The glasses help smelling flowers. Never paying $4.95 for a lousy paperback again. Bra is too tight. Dying for a Virginia Slims 100. Nope, don’t like the Pepsi Clear, either. Call that a dog? Damn kids. Toilet papered the trees again last night. Shoe’s coming apart. Running out of the Gold Bond powder. Think I’ll upgrade to first class on this flight.

Dear Heavyset, You sat next to me in the first class section of flight 427 this evening. I wasn’t ruffled when you accidentally dropped your lead-filled carry-on bag on my crotch. I stifled a scream when you dropped your styrofoam cup of scalding decaf on my kneecap. I resisted the urge to break your pinky when you became uncontrollably flatulent during takeoff.

Then you got out your reading material and that was simply too much. Really. The “Tao of Texas Holdem Poker”? Please. Perhaps I could have overlooked this as merely a lack of culture in your life. I tried to ignore it. Make excuses for you. Then you began making flirtatious glances at me while reading “Dating for Dummies” and that was more than I could stomach.

So, from the bottom of my heart, please. Get a clue. Sincerely,
Davezilla

The next time one of the cats demands roasted corn for dinner, avoid looking in the litter box.