The Short Humour Site

Home : Writers' Showcase : Submission Guidelines : A Man of a Few More Words : Links

Writers' Showcase

Matha, Fathafaka
by Albert Russo

In Timothy - that’s in the New Testament - I read a passage called ‘Recommendations to Women’, which nearly made me go off my rocker, I was so mad.

‘Women should be dressed modestly and chastely - denims didn’t exist yet -. They should listen to their fathers, their uncles and their brothers and obey them with downcast eyes—so that goons like Firmin can continue to swap partners without any shame! -. They shall not have the right to teach or order men around. In silence and meditation, they shall always live.’

But here comes the worst, Adam was not the culprick, but ‘Eve, who had let herself be seduced by him and who thus became guilty of transgression’.

I wouldn’t dare show this to my mother, she would toss Unky Berky’s Bible, or what’s left of it straight into the fireplace, among the burning logs.

I hair-assed him (not setchually, I insist, coz you ninnies have twisted minds, I know) to give me some information concerning my father, since my mom refused to oblige (you can’t force grrrowlups, if they don’t want to) on account that she went through hell and high water during the short time they stayed together. She said we’re better off to let lying dogs sleep, though I have an inkling he’s wide awake.

Now, here, my mother has missed a fonda-mental point sfar as I am concerned - even if she never was a fonda-mentalist at heart, but a staunch felinist -: my Goddess-given right to know where that father of mine is hiding, after his escape into the jungles of Brazil.

I have no intention of letting no lying dog sleep—though everyone needs a rest once in a while - and I shall do everything I can to fish him out from wherever he is, so’s to face his big daughter (which he dumped, by the way, when I was a baby), even if it means that I have to drag him to Court. I’ll wait a little, so’s to get the benefit of his doubts.

That my mom should consider him only as an ex, without putting herself in my tight little sandals, drives me bananas. This is so typical of adults. They consider us as negligible non-edibles (to say ‘entities’ makes me feel cheesy-queasy), as if we always took our wishes for pipedreams, with the excuse that our personality hasn’t been shaped yet. How old must one get to start enjoying the fruits of democracy? - my favorites, by the way, are mangoes and papayas, then avocados, then pinapple, even if these come from banana republics where the only freedom people have is to shut the fook up, if they don’t wish to disappear incognito - that must be a human type of mosquito - with the probability of being dumped in alligator-infested rivers.