The Short Humour Site

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

Writers' Showcase

Cynthia Dall's Ankle Socks Taste Like Raspberries
by M. J. Nicholls

Aww… the rats done chewed up me Leslie Garrett albums. Blighters! Ho-ho-ho… I have a sweet idea (sweet like sugar, stupid like a wombat). How’s about I learn the difference between Yazoo & Yahoo? Guh-haw, guh-haw, guh-haw.

Yazoo is a delicious milkshake. Bananas and fruits compressed into a cow’s love. Yahoo is a delicious search engine. Words and ideas squeezed into a motherboard of hate. Gather round, ye hobos and schlocks, and hear ye the tale of the Yahoo Yazoo Scandal!

Oh, it began, like so many scandals, at the bottom of Cynthia Dall’s inflatable shoes. The former lover of Bill Callaghan (lo-fi alt-rock misanthrope and one-time Smog leader) was attending a counterculture bash in New Somewhere (a town in America that bears no relevance to the tale) when a wasp ate her ankle socks.

Munch-buzz! Munch-buzz! The wasp nibbled and slurped and gulped and guffawed.

Oh, Ms. Dall, your ankle socks done taste like raspberries!

“Pardon, Mr. Wasp?”

I am enjoying your ankle socks, you hipstress you.

“Do you mean to say, Mr. Wasp, that my socks have a flavour to them, such as one might taste in, say, food?”

You’re pretty. Let’s make honey, even though I’m a wasp and not a bee.

“No thanks, Mr. Wasp. I intend to take these raspberry-tinged ankle socks and introduce them to a cow right away!”

I patented that idea, hussy.

“You be wasp. Me be woman and hipstress extraordinaire. Better stick to sucking socks, sugar.”

Curse you, Cynthia Dall!

So Cynthia (or Cynth) went from the bash and walked into a field. Locating a lonesome cow (Joe), she introduced his udders to the flavoursome qualities of her ankle socks.

“You like, don’t you?”

Oh, Cynth! What is this madness I am feeling? Fie o’ fie on the fee-fiddle!

“Be calm, cow. You are but a pawn in this new milkshake revolution.”

Oh, Yazoo! Let me love your socks as I love grass!

“Yazoo, eh? Hmm. Sounds like a good name for this milkshake revolution thing. I will flavour all the milks in the world, sell them in brightly coloured plastic bottles, and they shall be called… Yazoo!”

So it began. Some annums later, when James Stewart’s daughter Millie invented the internet (rubbing three cables and a stick together), Cynth struck chocolate milk (in a figurative sense) and plopped her venture online. The man responsible for inputting every word onto the internet, Biff – a former Frank Zappa roadie – misspelled ‘Yazoo.’ Can you guess what the misspelling was? Can you? Oh, you fiend! Guess, lover!

Yes – Google. Cynthia went on to be the CEO of Google. The Google inventor now sells flavoured milks form his beige tepee somewhere inside the crescent shape that forms when pixies weep. Woe is he.

So, ack-ack! That was the Yazoo-Yahoo scandal. I trust that your nodes were charged by that mini-tale. If not, you will meet your dragons when the blimps come back from their Air Hex.

Munch-crisp. Jet into the future.