Comedy ImagineOgrams from Radiance Solutions

 
This is our Anecdotages Page
(they include reader provocation)

 
Mujandipani was deposed from his throne by a bunch of red haired tribes people from the north who came tearing into his country with hurricane like force, whirling and dancing like dervishes and yelling to all and sundry to join in.  How dare they tempt his people with their dark crave-locks and golden skin!  He was presently most uncomfortable in his thin matrassed bedroom at the back of the shack where he was hiding, but he would come out again when they had finished eating and drinking and fallen asleep.
What would he do?  Would he overthrow them with some fantastic plan he was hatching, or would he creep away to find a place in another country?
What do you say readers?  Three bunches of bananas to the winners.  Yes, there may well be more than one of you because he might come up with one plan and then another, but which would come first I wonder?

   
Fungleproon was yet again stuck in his room without answers.  Today he decided to be brave and handle this differently. He would face the world at last. He stepped out into the passage, slowly at first and then faster, down and out the back door.  He wasn’t quite brave enough for the front one yet. Up the dusty road towards the sun he went, until he met an old man with a goat. 
The goat said “Maae Maee” and the old man rubbed its neck fondly while asking the lad where he was going.
“Actually”, said Fungleproon, surprised at the clear sound of his own voice, “I was coming to seek your advice.”
“Then I will turn and walk with you back to my house” the old man said “where we can sit on the stoep and drink lemonade”.
“Yes” said the boy, and offered to lead the goat.
When they both had their feet up and were rocking their chairs to and fro, Fungleproon felt very happy and comfortable.  The old man did not have to press him to start, he came right out with it, and asked “Why do I feel so terrified in my own room at night, and even more terrified during the day of coming out?”
“It’s because you’re an idiot” the old man said.  “You’re obviously better off here with these rocking chairs and my lemonade than you are on your bed, so just come on out like you did today.”

Fungleproon went home later, scratching his head.  He had a terrible time getting through the night, worrying about the next day.  But when it came, he did the same, and just went out again.  The day was hot, and the shade on the stoep very welcome, where a breeze just touched them every now and again.  The lemonade was cool, sweet, and delicious.  He even dozed off for a few minutes after he had finished drinking it.

That night he slept well because he wasn’t worrying about tomorrow, and everyday after that, so things became much better.  Of course he couldn’t just go every day and sit on the stoep with the old man and drink his lemonade.  The old guy had work to do in his fields, and with his goat.  So what else do you think dear readers that Fungleproon might do?  Would he help the old man tend his fields and his goat, or would he seek other adventures, maybe even go to school?

What is the old guy’s name anyway, and why did he help Fungleproon that way?  Why have we heard nothing about Fungleproon’s father or mother or other relatives?  Why does he just walk out of the house as if there is no-one else there?  Have they given up o him already?  What is the local community like and how do they live?  Do they even have a school for him to go to?  Perhaps they all grow mielies (African word for corn).  Do you like milies?  Mielies in Africa might still be free from genetic modification!

Next episode – Fungleproon goes to the moon!  Or is that too much of a stretch for the imagination?  Not mine.  Only joking, maybe he should just go to school after all.

Indigenous Axiozotics might carry him off somewhere though. Creptin Strangefart might fly in under the guidance of his officers the Homing Zones, and rescue him.
The Archexcellent Furblers might adopt him and take care of him better than his parents or even the old man, who knows.
     
           
The purple ball of light that floated into my room looked as if it had several rose petals attached to it.  It smelled fresh and sweet too as it passed me by slowly and hovered in one corner.  I imagined small eyes somewhere in the folds of its surface looking out at me, trying to figure out if I was okay.  But then if it came into my room in the first place maybe it already knew something about me. Maybe it had done research, or been watching me.  Maybe it had chosen to come here because it wanted something.
           
 

Indulgence for Mr Ooze is ice cream in one of those tiny tubs, one of the rare warm days of summer. He eats it with the tiny spatula a few molecules at a time, then licks the spatula clean.  At the end of summer he washes it and puts it away for next year.  He re-uses the tub too – it’s his measure from the big tub in the freezer – much cheaper that way.  If the grandkids come to visit he has to give them whole bowlfuls.  His eyes water watching them scoffing it down.  But they don’t come very often.


Mrs Mergantine goes to aerobics classes on Tuesdays and Fridays and comes home in a sweat.  Her old man makes sure he’s out of the way, but after her bath she stomps around she finds him.  With hands on hips she just looks at him from the doorway and says “Well?”  He never knows what he’s supposed to say, so he usually just keeps silent and pretends he’s busy with his papers or something.  Does she want him to say she looks thinner, fitter, or smells nice and clean, or seems even a tiny bit sexy somehow?  Or does she want to know exactly what he’s been up to while she’s been heaving herself around the place?  Or maybe she just wants to know if he’d like a cup of tea?  What do you think dear readers?

The Mrs Meargantine Quip winner will get a free jab against infection from indecent comedians.


The Squeak-worm family were sick and tired of squeaking everywhere they went.  What was the point of squeaking?  All it did was warn everybody they were coming, and it’s not as if their approach was speedy either, they were not likely to catch anyone by surprise.  Even slugs had time to hide if they didn’t fancy speaking to them.  It had been driving them mad for years, and they had tried many things to stop it, none of which worked.  They had even got together with other squeak-worms to address a petition to God, but they weren’t sure where to send it, so doubted that he had got it.  Nothing happened anyway, until one day Mother Squeak-worm said that she was going to see the Glow worms.  She wondered if they knew why they glowed, as that might shed some light on the business.  Surely glowing also warned people of their presence unnecessarily?  She was sure it wouldn’t be quite as annoying as having the squeaks though.  She even wondered vaguely if it might be possible to swap for a while, just to give each other a break from the tedium.  At the very least it would be interesting from a philosophical point of view to go and visit them, so she set off after much preparation for the long journey.  If she could find any inkling of a reason for anything, it might help her find some meaning in their existence, some sort of sense of purpose that would help them put up with themselves the way that they were.

She had not gone all that far in human terms, though for a squeak-worm it was further than she had ever gone before, over the brow of the leafy knoll, when she saw a boy running out of a farmer’s driveway.  She only knew it was a farmer’s driveway because the good old patient holy cow had explained to her class about farmers.  She had told them about hens, and pigs, and apples and orchards, and even that little boys liked to try to steal apples out of orchards if they could get away with it, it was just part of growing up for humans.  Anyway, the boy came out onto the brow of the hill just behind her and turned towards her, slowing now to a walk.  She was just about to try to get out of his way when she heard someone shouting “and don’t you come back, Pipsqueak!”  Well that really surprised her.  If this boy was called Pip, it was a good name for someone going after fruit, but did he squeak too?  She was so curious now that she was no longer worried about getting out of his way.  She waited a few seconds until he was alongside her and then summoned up all her strength to speak loudly enough for him to hear her, at the same time moving from side to side to produce the loudest possible squeak to help attract his attention.  “Excuse me” she shouted, “Excuse me.”  The boy stopped, puzzled.  “Hello!” she screamed out, and this time he looked down, spotting her.

Next episode in a later edition.








TALL TALES FROM THE PEN OF SQUIB

Pitunianella had served her family for many years on their crazy cracked glazed plates, and tonight was no exception.  Pumpkin fritters were all the rage at her place, and everyone would be delighted.  She was just about to start dishing out when she saw the snake move towards her from beneath the counter.  The whole pile of plates where on the floor before she knew it.  They crushed the snake, and the pumpkin was safe, but lawkes, those plates! SKETCH
Grown kids of elderly parents visit separately and the mother welcomes each one “Hello Dear!”.  Then you have one scene where they all visit at once and they are sitting round the dinner table.  The mother serves them each in turn, "Here you are Dear”, "Peas for you Dear?".  Then another visitor arrives to join them and the father introduces his children, saying
“Do meet my youngsters, Dear & Dear & Dear, and Dear".
Pasta is especially good to eat before a race.
The usual reason is that it gives a consistent
and sustained energy boost, but the other reason
is so that you can continually go ( I pasta, I pasta,
I passed her)
.




The laughing giraffe says that she loves the taste of Pomani tree leaves, and because of her long neck she can reach really high up into the canopy of even the tallest trees, like this one.  .She says she never takes too many leaves from one tree though.  I asked her if it was because she wants to keep the tree alive so it can keep on growing more leaves and she laughed very loudly then said “No, it’s just because I like the fresh young leaves best, so as long as there are enough trees, I keep on moving round.”

The musings of the mighty Pomani.

Well from some of my other stories, you might realise that the Pomani is a tree. But it isn’t just a tree – no tree is just a tree – they all have plenty of time to think, and as this one is a mighty Pomani it is gown older and wiser than most trees by now.  To be sure it hasn’t exactly been able to get about much in the world to test its theories, but that doesn’t stop anything from theorizing.  In some ways trees have more of a chance of getting things right than those who rush about being busybodies, and not thinking too clearly.  Just from watching what’s going on around it the tree can tell quite a lot of things.  For instance, the deer that always come to feed on its berries are always pretty anxious while they stoop to eat.  Their skins flick and twitch, not just to keep off the ink flies, but because they’re on red alert all the time in case anything creeps up wanting to eat them.  It’s a tough world, the tree can see, with a whole string of creatures wanting to eat each other.  You’ve got to be awake and ready to run for it.  Well, not if you’re a tree of course, thank goodness there aren’t too many things a tree might need to run from.  The tree is happy for the deer to eat its berries and for giraffes to nibble its leaves, as long as nothing harms the tree.  The tree seems to somehow know deep in its soul that the deer carries its berries somewhere else so that other trees can grow.  They have seen the little deer poos that the deer will continue to do in their travels, and figured it out.  This tree  also knows that so long as it drops berries, the deer won’t tear at its bark.  In other seasons though, there are methods of keeping the deer from doing too much damage to their bark…. They can produce a nasty taste to discourage it, and the scent of this also transmits a warning to and from other trees of its species that the deer are foraging.

Now the ink flies by the way, are pretty nasty things for a deer, they have to try to keep them away to avoid having their coats covered in whatever coloured spots they might be squirting that day.  The tree thinks they have a different colour for particular different days, but it doesn’t know about weeks because that is a human thing that only the squirty ink flies have found out about.  I believe that I may have seen these flies looking at my diary, which shows different coloured pages for each day of the week, and the weekends stand out particularly well, being red and pink.  I don’t know if these flies have latched onto me because I’m a writer and artist and use ink a lot, or if they just hang around everybody in Africa from time to time.  They have never tried squirting me or anybody I know, but they do bother the deer a lot.  They don’t squirt trees, but it can’t be because they aren’t warm blooded or they’d go for humans as well as animals.  Ah, I know, maybe they only hang round writers and artists to try and steal their ink – that’s why I keep running out so suddenly after one of those warm breezy days when the flies have been visiting!



Griselda & the Wind

Squirtybrain Mkenza looked up from his desk.  He thought he had heard someone coming, but he was mistaken. All was quiet now.  He gazed at the hills in the distance, rising up from the sunny plains into the clouds.  He longed to be up there, fishing.  Now you might not have heard of the Zuti people fishing, but they do, only they do it a bit differently to most people.  Squirtybrain Mkenxa knew that up there under the shade of the Pomani trees the river would be cool, and in the deep pools there would be brown trout lurking.  Well they weren’t really lurking as such, they were just minding their own business, daydreaming about whatever brown trout like to dream about, maybe.
Well, he would go up there tomorrow he promised himself.  He would take his fishing gear across the plains on his bike then hide his bike under some bushed and head on up on foot.  You could often see Zuti people zooming around carrying all sorts of strange things on their bikes.  Sometimes they even herded the goats on them.  They goats liked to get into all sorts of places they shouldn’t – you had to be quick to head them off.
Well, tomorrow would come soon enough  He sat down at his desk again, rubbing his hands together in anticipation for a
minute before bowing his head over his papers.
Well, dear readers, I would like to know what method you think these Zuti people might use
to catch fish please, and what sort of tackle they might need.
 
   

The Adventures of Muckle & Snid

Down on the banks of the Mole River, Muckle and Snid spent most of their summer holidays, and some of winter too.
In the summer they were often in the river, or on it in canoes.
Fishing was a favourite passtime, but there was generally also a lot of messing about with sticks and stones
and an odd assortment of outdoor equipment they had collected from dubious sources.
Muckle particularly liked to chop wood with his short handled axe, and build fires, especially in the colder months,
whereas Snid favoured skimming flatish stones across the surface of the pools to see if he could get them to
skip more times than before - his record to date being seven - but that was only because it was such a small river - he said.
Often they just lazed in the sun and told stories.
One day the story they made up was such a whopper that it swallowed them both whole, like a giant pike,
but they did eventually come out the other side, and it didn't stop them from carrying on as they had done previously.
It was a secret world, away from the family, and the boys loved it.

Fancy a story about Introsepctive Chickens?  Well, we’re going to give you one – it’s the name of a new band. Another time though, so keep coming back if you want to keep up-to-date.
What does a chick say when it hatches these days? It sure doesn't say cheap cheap - so it must be expensive expensive.



NEXT TIME:
Updates on some of these stories - plus:
The case of the miraculous cow crap.
The case of the spondiliscious noonikans.

The owl and the holy ghost.




www.backtothegarden.org.uk


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The One arises through the Many, and the Many arise throug the One

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More about Julia
based in Dorking, Surrey but offering help and support nationally via phone and email

julia@radiance-solutions.co.uk

07955-210252 / 01306-500425 / 07707-200494

"Wherever you are is the entry point." - Kabir



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