Leslie's Omnibus

From the Rowdies in the Back of the Bus

Nancy V. sent these photos, cautioning that they are the result of strong drink. Somehow, I get the feeling that this is what the gang in Helen is going to look like round about Sunday morning, especially after the Chatham Artillery Punch:




Mr. Moogie

Buckaroo Bonsai and I


Mullet Boy (Yep. I've heard about him!)

God help us all.

From Elizabeth -- Kids' Sunday School Letters to God

Dear God:

  • In Sunday School they told us what you do. Who does it when you are on vacation?
  • How did you know you were God?
  • On Halloween I am going to wear a Devil's costume, is that all right with you?
  • Are you really invisible or is that just a trick?
  • Did you mean for giraffe to look like that or was it an accident?
  • Do animals get to use you too or is there someone else for them?
  • I went to this wedding and they kissed right in the church ... is that OK?
  • Did they really talk that fancy in Bible times?
  • Is Reverend Coe a friend of yours or do you just know him through the business?
  • Did you really mean do unto others as they do unto you, because if you did then I'm going to fix my brother.
  • My grandpa says you were around when he was a little boy. How far back do you go?
  • I know all about where babies come from. I think. From inside mommies, and daddies put them there. Where are they before that? Do you have them in Heaven? How do they get down here? Do you have to take care of them all first?
  • Thank you for the baby brother but what I prayed for was a puppy.
  • Please put another holiday between Christmas and Easter. There is nothing good in there now.
  • Why is Sunday School on Sunday? I thought it was suppose to be our day of rest.
  • I wish you would not make it so easy for people to come apart. I had 3 stitches and a shot.
  • If we come back as something else, please don't let me be Jennifer Horton, because I hate her. Thank You. Love, Denise
  • Please send Dennis Clark to a different camp this year.
  • Maybe Cain and Abel would not kill each other so much if they had their own rooms. It works with my brother.
  • I want to be just like my Daddy when I get big but not with so much hair all over.
  • I bet it is very hard for you to love all of everybody in the whole world. There are only 4 people in our family and I can never do it.
  • Of all the people who work for you, I like Peter and John the best.
  • My brother told me about being born but it sure doesn't sound right.
  • If you watch in church on Sunday, I will show you my new shoes.
  • I like the story about Chanukah the best of all of them. You really made up some good ones!!
  • I would like to live for 900 years like the guy in the bible.
  • We read Thomas Edison made light. But in Sunday school they said you did it. So, I bet he stole your idea.
  • It is great the way you always get the stars in the Right places.

Boudreaux & Band-Aids
(that's pronounced BOO-dro, for y'all not familiar with Louisiana)

Boudreaux staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Thibodeaux.

He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Clotile.

He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step.

As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump.

A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful.

Managing not to yell, Boudreaux sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his buttocks were cut and bleeding.

He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood.

He then hid the now almost empty box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.

In the morning, Boudreaux woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Clotile staring at him from across the room.

She said, "You were drunk again last night weren't you Boudreaux?"

Boudreaux said, "Mon cher, why you say such a mean ting?"

"Well," Clotile said, "it could be the open front door, it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly......it's all those Band-Aids stuck on the downstairs mirror."


Feisty said...

LOVE the pictures!!

; )

Anonymous said...

Sad but true. Although I have *much* better pictures of Moogie.