Sylvia A. Winters

If a cat is thrown a lemon, he builds a log cabin and spends the summer in Canada

Posts Tagged ‘Society

The Sorry Tale of the Panda

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A word of advice for you all: Never, ever trust a panda. Especially if he (or she, I don’t want to sexist here!) is smoking a pipe. It doesn’t matter what kind of pipe, tobacco, crack, whatever. A panda with a pipe is a panda with a pipe no matter the minor details.

I once had the sad misfortune to come across a panda with a pipe. My car had broken down in the pouring rain and the nearest building was a slightly dilapidated looking bar by the name of ‘Cuthbert’s’. I walked in, hoping to borrow the use of their phone, and thought that while I was at it I ought to buy a drink, because I was rather thirsty.

So I ordered my half-glass of tomato juice and sat at the bar sipping it, glad to be out of the rain and hoping that my hair didn’t look too atrocious.

After a couple of minutes, this panda came and sat down on the stool beside mine and ordered a whiskey. He brought out his pipe and started puffing away at it. Now, I didn’t take much notice of him until he leaned in toward me and said “I hear you got car trouble,” in very gruff, deep tones, rather like the new batman voice of Phil Mitchell from Eastenders.

“Why, yes,” I said, nodding. “I broke down not ten minutes ago. I haven’t any idea what’s wrong with it.”

And he told me that he was a mechanic, and would take a look for me. So I abandoned the last of my tomato juice and he swigged the last of his whiskey and we headed back out into the rain.

He took my keys from me and tried the engine. He lifted the bonnet and rummaged around for a bit, and when he tried the engine again, it ran as smooth as a glass of Bailey’s.

I made to thank him, and take the keys back, but before I could he shut the car door and took off. Just like that, in my lovely little Ford Anglia.

I have seen neither hide nor hair of this fiend since, and I fear that my darling car is lost forever.

I spoke to the barman and he said that the panda was a renowned car thief, and that I ought not to have trusted him. Well, I was pretty angry at that, because he saw me talking to the panda, and he never said a word to me!

I tell you this tragic tale in the hope that my sore misfortune will warn others to take care against the danger of such creatures, and to prevent it happening to them.

Beware, readers. We must be extra vigilant.

Written by Sylvia A. Winters

September 7, 2010 at 10:44 pm

Pancakes are for Pancake Day!

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It absolutely astounds me that some people have the sheer cheek to continually flout the rules. However, flout they will. This continual disregard for what is right and proper will eventually result in disorder and chaos if we let it continue, and so, I implore any and every reader, to do something.

I don’t care how it’s done, but the making and eating of pancakes on a day that is not pancake day, must be stopped as soon as possible.

My own mother came to me today and seriously suggested that we make pancakes, using a packet mixture, no less! Naturally, I was horrified, and did only what a good citizen can do in these situations. I told her, her sins must be atoned for, and so I erected a stake and surrounded it with straw, tied her to it and had her burnt.

Of course, it was terrible and my heart aches greatly, but it was for her own good and for the good of my country.

For that is the way to deal with these hooligans. We can not allow our society to be overrun with such people.

Pancakes are for pancake day. That is how it has always been, and how it always should be. If not, well, I dread to think of the consequences.

Written by Sylvia A. Winters

August 19, 2010 at 2:50 am

Pterodactyl

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As I’m writing this, the very creature of which I am about to write is perched outside my window, staring at me with large, beady eyes that whisper to me through the silence of worlds. It is he who has haunted me these long and bitter months, and has allowed me no rest.

The pterodactyl, a beast thought to be long since extinct, follows me continuously, the way a sex offender stalks vulnerable young women.

It would lick its lips if it possessed such things; instead it opens and closes its beak with a terrific clacking noise that sounds to me like the drum beat preceding a man’s death- my death. It tells me that I am not long for this world, and so I must hasten my hand.

This creature has not eaten in decades, and I, chosen soul to be damned, will break its fast.

O’ sae me, Lord! I pray- no. It is hopeless. Prayer is the last hope of the truly desperate, and although I count myself so, I will not shame myself by clinging to my father’s trouser-leg. This beast can not be of God, and so God can have no power over it.

It beats its gargantuan wings and shatters glass.

It’s in! It’s in! God have mercy upon me! I can speak no more …

Written by Sylvia A. Winters

August 13, 2010 at 5:58 pm

Lemons

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Today I would like to talk to you all about a subject very close to my heart. Lemons. Now, most people have a negative opinion of lemons, assuming that because they are bitter they must be turned into something sweeter to be of any value. However, this is unfair to lemons, who should be appreciated for their true character. Bitterness is part of their charm, and is not necessarily a bad thing at all.

Look at House, he’s a bitter old miser but people love him for it. If he was polite and sweet we House fans would not be fans at all. House is not a lemon, but he is like a lemon, and so I feel this comparison is just. We wouldn’t want to change House, so why would we want to sweeten up a lemon?

My husband’s a lemon, and I have not tried to change him in any way (except for the misguided attempt to smarten him up for my sister’s wedding – the top hat and candy cane did not go down at all well). He is perfect as he is, knobbly, yellow and yes, bitter.

So when life gives you lemons, take them as is. Sit back and enjoy their bitter charm.

Written by Sylvia A. Winters

July 7, 2010 at 9:36 pm

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