Death By Cashew and Other Such Nonsense

If you were once a loyal follower of the old blog (I'd link it, but I've closed it down) then you've probably noticed that a few of the posts I've put up so far here are just reposts from the old blog.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I mean, I like what I wrote, so I want to make sure that they are still out there. Besides, many of you may not have followed the blog, so the posts are all new to you.

Anyway, I was browsing through the stuff I'd written for the other place, when I ran across a bit of nonsense I wrote and I really had a kick out of reading, so I had to repost it.

Have fun with it.

The following was originally posted exactly one year ago.



I can’t stop eating cashews. I need to put them away. My body is starting to reject them. Good gracious, man! Put the cashews away already!

Okay . . . the cashews are put away.

I miss the cashews already.

I hope the cashews aren’t mad at me. I don’t like it when food is mad at me.

I once offended a tomato and it wouldn’t speak to me for a month. I was so sad.

Cashew, oh cashew
Where can you be
I had to put you away
Before you murdered me

OK, enough of that.

I woke up this morning with On the Dark Side by John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band in my head. You know the song. From the Eddie and the Cruisers movie.

Here’s the video for you:



Let me tell you how it got into my head.

I was sitting on the toilet (just get past it) and I was reading a Jim Butcher Dresden Files novel. In the book Harry mentions a character with the title of Summer Knight. From there I started to think of the song Wild Summer Nights from Eddie and the Cruisers. That stayed in my head long enough for me to tell myself that On the Dark Side was a much better song. So it stayed there most of the morning.

Great, now I have the hiccups.

I hate the hiccups.

H-A-T-E, hate!

My hiccups are loud. Embarrassingly loud. Usually I can just sit and concentrate on breathing and I can get rid of them.

I’ll do that now.

While I do, watch this:



OK, hiccups are gone.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. So I got up and went out for a walk around the neighborhood. As I reached the park just down the road, a man came up to me and asked me if I would push him on the swing.

Now normally I wouldn’t have any problems pushing a grown man on a swing in the middle of the night at a park devoid of other people, but the dog he had with him on a leash made me think twice. There isn’t anything wrong with a man walking his dog through a park in the wee hours of the night, and frankly I applaud the gentlemen for keeping it on a leash, but I would have been more comfortable had it not been a stuffed toy dog. That creeped me out.

So I tell the guy that I can’t help him and he starts to cry. Well, I hate to see a grown man cry so I shut my eyes. When I opened them again I found that I was standing in a wide pasture with the sun shining down on me. In the distance I spied someone riding a horse. Whomever the person was must have seen me as well, because they turned and began to gallop towards me. As they drew closer I began to feel that something wasn’t quite right with the horse. Soon the rider was close enough that I recognized him as the man from the park I was just in, and his horse was actually the stuffed toy dog. I opened my mouth and screamed like a little girl. Then I started to run.

As I ran my surroundings changed and I somehow wound up in downtown Chicago. I stopped and looked around. Not only was I in downtown Chicago, I was in downtown Chicago in the 1920s. So I started to scream again. Soon, the door to a building next to me opened and a giant centipede in a tweed suit walked out. It was smoking a pipe as it walked towards me. As soon as it was standing before me it reached into its jacket, pulled out Tommy gun, pointed it at my stomach and said “Give me all the bacon you have!”

Just as I was about to protest that I didn’t have any bacon, I noticed that I was carrying a messenger bag. I opened it and found it stuffed full of crisp, hot bacon.

So I gave the centipede the bag with the bacon.

The centipede took the bag, handed me it’s gun, and strode off.

Well, I had decided that I had had quite enough of this, so I clicked my heels together three times, said “There’s no place like home” and found myself standing in my front yard, the moon shining down upon me.

I let myself back into my house and got back into bed and promptly fell fast asleep.

When I woke the next morning I was sure it was all just a dream. Of course, if it was a dream, why was there a Tommy gun in my foyer?

Man, I wish a had a cashew right about now.

4 comments:

  1. Must have been cashew withdrawal causing these dreams.

    I've reposted stories from an idle blog of mine too, same reasons.

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  2. um... what the hell do you put on your cashews?! lol!

    Too Funny...

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  3. Love this. It reminds me of that last movie heath ledger made called the imaginarium of doctor parnussis. It's a great movie but the randomness of it is much like this post. Delightful actually, and hearing Eddie singing On the Dark Side too? Swoon.

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  4. Thanks for the comments everyone.

    There are times when I really just enjoy sitting down in front of the computer and just banging away at whatever pops into my head.

    This was one of those times. It's fun going back and reading to too :)

    ReplyDelete