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Bonny Mots
by M. V. Montgomery

I could tell you what I think, but then you’d have to kill me.

Two wrongs don’t make a right, but three lefts will.

I slipped and hit my head in the candy store and got up slowly, seeing Starbursts.

Flying into China with my two kids, who had become restless in their seats and were hitting each other. “Easy, you two,” I said. “Don’t you know, there is a one-child policy in this country? If you don’t behave, I’m going to have to decide right now which one of you has to go.”

Sometimes, life is just messing with you. For example, I’ve always had trouble keeping a straight face at the dentist’s office, which he finds annoying. So right before my next appointment, I thought I’d schedule a Botox treatment. This backfired because when I was asked to “open,” I couldn’t.

It’s crazy fun to walk around with your shoelaces tied together—you be trippin.’

Crack is whack, so why not pull up your pants, young man?

The other day I was out driving and got into an accident with a Mitsubishi Mirage. I didn't even see it coming—it suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

I was surfing the Net and saw the pop-up ad, “Date 40+ Women,” which sounded to me like an invitation to a whole different lifestyle. Until at second glance, I saw they meant women over 40.

Eww. Get a room, sista—preferably a bathroom!

Seriously, I hope you find your Prince Charmin.

I must be looking good, because the other day at the Target the cashier was checkin’ me out. Then I went to the grocery store, and the cashier there was checkin’ me out, too. Finally I stopped at the drug store to pick up a prescription and even that cashier started checkin’ me out, which was a little weird, because he was a dude, but that’s cool, I’ll still take the compliment.

Definition of a chamberpot: relief pitcher.

Anti-nuke protest: Hell, no, I won’t glow.

I’m sick, so be forewarned, my humor is particularly infectious today. Yes, I’m another Billy Ray Virus.

I’ve been carrying around some excess gravitons lately and definitely need to start an exercise regimen soon. But I don’t want to overdo it, either—maybe start out with some escalator ‘robics?

On our trip, my sisters and I decided to keep an online log. But each time I made an entry, one of my sisters started a new thread, and then the others joined in until the page was filled. Are they “flooding” me? I wondered.

My scientific nerd friend Dougie never showed up at my party, or so I thought, until later that evening I bade one guest goodbye at the door. I spotted Dougie running laps around the house.  “What are you doing?” I called out. “You told me to circulate!” he shouted.

My friend and I were out driving and passed a strip mall with a big-name bedding store. “Uh-oh,” I said, “Don’t even try to negotiate with those people. They are mattress firm.”

I would hate to become a zombie. In my opinion, a mind is a terrible thing to taste.