Senator apologizes to ex-aide’s ex-wives

I’m sorry for the things I’ve done. I know that I’m the guilty one. But what more can I do, than say to you… I’m sorry.

And thank you to the Platters.

Actually, I’m now an ex-Senator. I’ve joined the ex club.

Look, yes, maybe I knew he was beating you all regularly, but he was beating me regularly too. It started out as a fun thing, but it turned ugly early on. Were your marriages like that? Thank goodness my marriage wasn’t. I would come home from the Senatorial office Friday night and my spouse would throw a blanket and saddle over my back and ride me till Monday morning.

How am I supposed to look after my aide’s wives? I never met any of you. How was I to know the guy had more than one or two of you? Sure we’re from Utah, but this is the twenty-first century. Big Love was a hit and that guy (RIP) only had three.

So put your ex in the rear-view mirror, ex-wives, unless a civil suit might extract a few more dollars from him. Get on with your lives. I know he has, with a whole new lineup.




“Why do I have to drive all the way over to Bryceton for ice? I can buy all we need at Hinton’s.”

“The ice here isn’t cold enough. We’ll be up in the mountains for a while.”

“Not cold enough? Ice is ice.”

“Nah. The ice for sale at Hinton’s melts easy. The plant over in Bryceton makes ice that lasts. It’s much colder and you can get it in bigger blocks.”

“What about dry ice?”

“That would freeze grandpa solid. We want to preserve him but we don’t want to have to thaw him out for the funeral.”


For Carrot Ranch

Pulling Back the Sheet



We have visited many countries, stayed over in many hotels and hostels and these days, in private rooms and homes to let, and yet somehow my wife has never seen a bedbug until now.

birds rest in thick reeds
a scream as heron visits
this migrant hotel

For Haibun Thinking

No Blemishes


Blemish? There will be no blemishes!

Picture that empty bay full of beautiful sailboats. Speedboats. Water skiers. Jet skis. In other words, folks having fun.

Those hills? Picture them lined with hotels. Nice highway leading in. Power lines. Gas stations. In other words, civilization. Carved right out of the damned wilderness.

As the chairman of the permit process, you’ll always be in our hearts. We’ll name a street after you. Also a park we’ll build after we clear out a lot of that forest there. There will always be a suite for you in the best hotel, with special hotel assistants haha to help you with your every need.

We understand that getting the permits signed is a tough business. You’ve got to deal with the other board members. For that reason, we’ll not only reward you financially for your time, but provide enough extra for you to use convincing them to go along with us. Plus, we’ll give you a little piece of the total casio action.

Instead of “blemish,” let’s agree on the word “beautify.”



For Pic and a Word


now in warmer times

some birds no longer fly south

down here they vanish


For Haiku Horizons


“Present your present to him.”

“Now, Sir?”

“Presently. After they present arms.”

“That should present no problems, Sir.”

“No, but I have presentiments. I won’t be present when you do it.”

“Don’t worry, Sir. The present to present is present. Sir”


For Daily Prompt

Can’t you see the sign?


“Halt. Who goes there?”

“What? It’s me. Jerry.”

“You can’t be in here.”

“I’ve been taking this shortcut for ten years. It’s an empty parking lot.”

“Mr. Jones told us to lock it up.”

“Mr. Jones has a damned car. He don’t have to walk to work.”

“Just the same, he said to close the gate and lock it. Nobody gets in.”

“Ever since nine-eleven, everybody is locking every gate they’ve got. It don’t make any sense. There ain’t a terrorist in the county. There ain’t a Moslem in the county. Even if there was, what would they do in an abandoned parking lot?”

“Don’t matter. We’re locking it all down.”

“It’s bad enough I”ve got to climb over the fence. I ain’t going around.”

“Mr. Jones says shoot on sight.”

“Mr. Jones is crazy.”

“He may be crazy, but he’s also the the mayor, the owner of Jones’ Guns, and the principal of the dad-burned high school.”


Photo by Sascha Darlington
For Sunday Photo Fiction