FEBRUARY PROMPT RESPONSE
I Have a Nose for These Things
And it damn well hurts!
Don’t wanna stick my nose where it’s not wanted, but “Doctor Funny” said we could rearrange February to suit our selfish agendas.
That’s what I’m gonna do.
Dear sluggish Northern Hemisphere folks, summer Down-Under blazes December to March, inclusive.
That said, when I’m Queen of the World, winter is moving — rain, sleet, howling blizzards, frostbitten fingers, frozen radiators, and numb bums — to February. The whole winter — kit and caboodle — will be confined to one month!
This means we can get over Christmas, and let the kids finish their school holidays under the summer sun. The adults can go about their post-Christmas clean-up, enjoy rejuvenating BBQ’s and stupid games of backyard cricket with drunken friends and family.
Then, when February hits, BAM, we go full-throttle winter!
We can mope around indoors, rue the money we blew over the festive season, and polish off whatever Yuletide crap is left behind in the pantry, such as long-life fruit cake and puddings.
When the first day of March arrives, BAM, again! Full-on summer, until the following February. In March, we revert to salads and healthy outdoor activities, until February rolls around once more. Awesome!
Now I can hear you moaning from the opposite side of the globe, ranting on about how that isn’t fair — you already find winter tiresome, and my answer is simple — move, already!
And now you’re complaining about how you’re sure you couldn’t tolerate eleven months of an Australian summer. Once again, my answer is simple — tough titties! As Queen of the World I’ve decreed it, or whatever it is that queens do during insurrections. Don’t forget, I also own the world’s guillotine supply. So, mind yer manners!
Purely from a meteorological viewpoint, I think the cramming of winter into one month makes sense. Nature will have a lot more space to spread global warming around. Maybe that won’t hold water in the Northern hemisphere, but I don’t care. You thick-blooded lot can go freeze off your private parts, especially if you are too sluggish to get off your proverbial large backsides, and move!
Now that we have dispensed with February prompting business, there is the small matter of what happened to me last night. Thinking about it, the occurrence happened in February, so it loosely qualifies for a mention in this article.
8.00 PM, showering.
Having washed my hair, I used both hands to lather up, proceeding to wash my face vigorously. In the process of so doing, the pinky finger on my left hand slid up my left nostril, reaming it viciously. I screamed, wrenched my hand frantically, and almost tore my proboscis from my countenance! I used posher language here to deflect from the fact that I was naked in the shower — nobody wants that visual etched into their mind!
Anyhoo, I was just wondering if any of you have stories of terrible things that happened to you in the shower. Maybe you could whisper them to me in the comments, or even treat this as a prompt, sending your tales to “Dr Funny”, or a publication of your choice. Don’t forget to tag me, if you do — I don’t want to miss your masterpieces.
A personal suggestion: We don’t need to hear about what happened when you bent down to pick up the soap! Unless we do. I’ll leave that up to you.
Now, you may be excused — I have decreed it!
