The Short Humour Site

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

Writers' Showcase

So Sayeth I
by Albert Russo

My religious friends will say that I’m a blasphemer, and some of the fanatic fathers of my Islamist sisters - yeah, it’s always the men who wreak havoc on our planet - would chop my head off if they could, calling me Salmana Rushtits.

But since I’m living in the West and I deem freedom of expreshun an unalienable right - wow, ain’t that a swell highfalutin phrase the intellettuces use to sound important! - I want to tell it the way I feel.

Bonka - that’s how I call my darlin pussymousy of an uncle (‘pusillanimous’, come on, now, let’s not exaggerate with them Shake’em pear words, on account that three quarters of my readers would desert me pronto presto and get so depressed, with such a complex of inferiority, that they would have to be locked up in a looney bin for a while, consulting a sigh-kayak-tryst thrice a week in order to return to their senses.

Oh, so you complain that I’m jumping from our hi-tech, hi-crazed 21st century to my ghostly appearances in the Bible times! Who’s the writer here and what’s the imagination for if you can’t use it? Do I meddle with some of your muddled asinine comments, that have neither heads nor tails? Then too - stick this into your lil dingling heads -, how could I counter those biblical bozos gone haywire without the experience of our collective history of thousands of years? Not that this collective history helped any during World War Two or with the genocides in India and Pakistan just after independence, in Rwanda, in Syria, and in other regions of the world, still to come, coz men are the darnest creatures that were ever invented. Thanks again, dear Goddess, you seem to greatly enjoy these vicious and unvirtual war games.

Unky Berky claims that I’m an agnostic - what an ugly word; for some reason it reminds me of wriggling and slimy worms. When he explained its meaning I just said uh uh, so be it. It ain’t so bad, since I’m supposed to question the existence of Goddess without being an extremist like them atheists who call her an impostress and say that all She represents is bunk and chickenshit.

True, I often think there must be someone up or down there, on account that there are too many things we can’t explain, and that brave Darwin doesn’t have all the answers to the mysteries we face, like what happens to us when we conk out. Does our soul continue to live, where and in what form? Between you and me I would freak out if they all decided to visit us while we’re asleep, or even worse, if they appeared in some nooks and crannies of the cellars of our homes. Haunted houses is ok to watch in horror films once a year, and only when you’re tipsy, so that you get so confused you forget to be scared.