Howdy, Stranger!

It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!

Paraprosdokian not RP

AtaakaAtaaka Benson, AZPosts: 171Member Uncommon

The last thing I want to do is hurt you, young lad. But it's still on the list. These were the last words my father spoke to me before heading off to answer the town call, 'Call to Arms! There is an Ogre in the Midst!'

I shook my head upward, then downward, hoping to immitate a nod. From the corner of my father's eye, I saw a smile. You see, I had just broken a family rule, 'Thou Shall not Steal'. I asked God for a doll for my little sister, but I know God doesn't work that way. So I stole a doll and asked for forgiveness.

My dog was only a puppy when my father brought it home one day. It was such a wee little thing with just enough energy to wag it's tail to and fro. He grew quickly that year,  and became a very smart dog. While he couldn't fetch a ball, keep animals out of the garden or even stop peeing on my father's bearskin rug, he trained us how to save bits of our dinner to toss at him when he didn't bark.

We hired a traveler to tend to the garden, in return we would pay him with a hot meal and a warm bed, turns out he just wanted the hot meals and warm bed. After spending days fixing his errors, my mother started feeding him cold gruel... so he left. The last thing he said before leaving was, 'If I didn't say it was your fault for hiring me, I said I was blaming you.'

My mother always told me to make our guests feel like they're at home, even though we wished they were. It was then that I realized that you are never too old to learn something stupid.

Meanwhile, my father who is no great hunter, he told me to be sure you are hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target. We both ended up becoming market campers. He died before I turned 90. His success rings through the town on a cold winter's day. It was his job to shovel snow from the streets. I remember the epic moment that he handed me his worn shovel and said, 'Son, one day this will be yours!' I immediately began formulating a plan to kill the shovel. In fact, on my mantle, you can get a close look at it's head.

My mother will never be equal to my father unless she can walk down the road with a bald head, an ale gut, and still think she is sexy. I leave you with that thought.




Sign In or Register to comment.