Fridays at the Funny Farm: This Means WAR!

Fridays at the Funny Farm: This Means WAR!
Gather around, boys and girls!  Before we get to today’s funny, we need to have story time!

Once upon a time, many (many) years ago, a perfectly well-behaved teenage girl took eleventh grade French.  The girl made good grades and caused no trouble.  If she was a little talkative, at least she and her friend Hufflepuff did their illicit chatting in French.  (Heck, they probably should’ve received extra-credit for all that practice.)

The French teacher, however, did not believe they deserved credit.  She believed all smart children should be perfectly behaved.  When her constant pacing and patrolling didn’t evoke the silent robot students she wanted, she called Little Anne’s mother and announced in her thick Polish accent that, “Little Anne is a schtraight-A schtudent, but schee likes to schit-a-schat.”  When Little Anne’s mother stopped giggling, she grounded Little Anne and delivered an anti-schit-a-schat lecture.

Let’s pause for a moment and discuss that thick Polish accent.  The French teacher was not French.  She was not French Canadian.  She was not American.  She was, oddly enough, Polish.  She was a very clever lady.  She spoke Polish, French and German fluently.  The one language in which she lacked fluency was English.

She was also rather odd.  If she heard someone misbehaving and couldn’t identify the guilty party, she might randomly choose a scapegoat or she might send every student on the ‘guilty’ side of the room to the office.  (Seriously, she would send 15-20 kids to the office at a time!)

There was also an evil older boy in the class.  He sat behind Little Anne.  He spent his time copying off Little Anne’s papers and trying to touch the girls’ bottoms.  He was good at misbehaving, and the French teacher rarely caught him.  One day, the evil boy was making noise.  Each time the teacher turned away he would make the sound, but when she turned back he was focused on his textbook.  The French teacher sent Poor Little Anne to the office for making noises.

At the office, Anne was upset.  She was afraid she’d be punished.  However, the nice vice principal told Little Anne not to worry.  She said, she knew the teacher was ‘temperamental’.  She also said, since Little Anne never caused trouble she wouldn’t be punished.  She gave Little Anne a nice place to sit and let her read a book.  Little Anne didn’t read though. Instead, she thought…and thought…and plotted revenge.

If the vice principal didn’t suspect Little Anne of causing trouble, that might mean she could cause a little trouble without being caught.  If the evil boy, who sat behind her, took the blame it would be fair since he’d caused her current trip to the office.  Finally, Little Anne had the perfect plan!

To keep people from being suspicious, she waited a full week to put her plan into action.  The only person she told was her dear friend, Hufflepuff.  She did the necessary shopping and was ready to strike.  What did she buy you ask?  Well back then, in the Dark Ages, they were called Snap-Pops.  However, they’re now called Pop-Its.  Whatever name they’re called, they’re little wads of tissue paper packed with gunpowder and sawdust.  They’re harmless, but make a loud firecracker bang.

Little Anne made a small opening in the seam of her skirt pocket and put about six of the Snap-Pops in the pocket.  She folded the pocket up, so they wouldn’t fall out.  Then, before class started, she went innocently to sharpen a pencil.  At the sharpener, she pushed a hand in the pocket and let it unfold.  Then, with both hands visible and out of her pockets, she walked back to her seat.  A small shower of Snap-Pops rained gently and silently to the floor.  Little Anne was careful not to step on any of them.

The little noisemakers blended in beautifully with the ugly marbleized tile floor.  No one but Little Anne and Hufflepuff had a clue that anything was amiss.  About twenty minutes into class, the French teacher began to pace as she gave a dictation exercise.  Little Anne tried to look normal, but held her breath each time the teacher paced near to a popper.

Finally, the French teacher paced solidly onto one of the little noise makers!  BANG!!!  A noise like a shot rang out!  She leaped into the air and landed on another one!  BANG!!!  She leaped again and squealed.  The noise she made sounded just like a chihuahua that’s been stepped on.  Pandemonium broke out!  The teacher immediately began to demand the guilty party confess.  However, no one came forward.  Eventually, a search was made.  It seemed the mystery was solved, when the empty box of Snap-Pops was found…….in the evil boy’s left jacket pocket!  (Bwa-ha-ha-ha! This, dear sir, is for all the bums you’ve groped! Take that!)

He received three days of in-house suspension.  (Believe me, he had groped enough bums that nowadays, he’d be in jail for sexual assault.  He totally had the three days coming!)   The teacher learned to survey the floor before she began pacing.  And, Little Anne switched to German at the end of the term.  She left her life as a master criminal behind and returned to her existence as a well-behaved slightly schit-a-schatty school girl.

Now, on to this week’s Fridays at the Funny Farm:

Our Homestead Became a Home Front War Zone!

Several years ago, my friends and I were reminiscing about our childhood high jinks.  This story was mentioned.  The kids were all gathered around with us.  Since my children are homeschooled, I felt safe telling them this tale from my slightly chequered past.  That was strategic error number one.

This week while buying air filters in Wally-World, I noticed boxes of Pop-Its for sale with the Fourth of July stuff.  Envisioning the kids tossing them on our large concrete front porch I bought them each a box.  You got it! Strategic error number two!

I rose early this morning.  I was downstairs eating breakfast and working on blog stuff for a couple of hours before the kids were up.  Finally, the tea caught up with me and I needed a potty break.  Rather than heading upstairs to my bathroom, I chose to use the downstairs ½ bath.  This is typically only used by Sam (who doesn’t have his own bathroom) and guests.  Clearly, someone had expected Sam to be the first on the scene!  Because, as I turned to sit, a loud BANG! rang out scaring the beejeezus out of me!  Upon inspection, I discovered, that I had not been shot.  Instead, someone had placed a popper in exactly the spot where Sam would have stood for his early morning bathroom visit.

Seriously, that was what it sounded like!

Being the calm rational parent I am, I didn’t kill anyone.  Instead, Little Anne’s criminal tendancies surfaced, and I  began to plot.  I was able to deduce which of my little darlings was the probable guilty party.  So I waited until the miscreant was at breakfast, then proceeded to tape a popper to the lip of HER bedroom door frame.  An hour later, she went up to do schoolwork.  The door shut with a serious BANG!  To her credit, she didn’t squeal.  Instead, there was a muttered minced oath and silence.

As I expected, she assumed Sam had retaliated.  When pulling on his boots to go feed chickens, Sam was startled by his own BANG!  She’d taped a popper to the heel of his boot.  He was putting the boots on near where we stand for target practice.  I swear Sam jerked the boot off and looked to see if he had accidentally stepped on an unfired cartridge.  Sam, unaware, he was being paid back for something he hadn’t done, assumed the culprit was Jonah.

Jonah, in his turn, got a serious shock when his bathroom drawer emitted a mild explosion.  He recognized it for what it was.  However, since he’d been innocent and unknowing through the entire episode, he was ready to prank the entire county until he found the right person!  However, due to diminishing ammunition, he came out and began investigating.

At this point, there must have been a whispered conference.  Unfortunately, they seem to have figured out I was somehow involved.  I think they’ve ratified a peace treaty based on defense against a common enemy.  I’ve been tiptoeing, inspecting door frames, and peeping around corners all day.  Seriously, I keep waiting for my tea cup to explode!

I think I might need to stop by Wally-World for reinforcements…or maybe I’ll pick up a 100 count strand of black cats!  (Insert maniacal laughter here!)  I keep envisioning the hullabaloo that will ensue if Liam gets caught up in the flying shrapnel!  But for now:


We shall pop on the benches,

we shall pop on the landing,

we shall pop at the fences and in the bedrooms,

we shall pop on the heels;

we shall never surrender!

UPDATE:  Our war correspondent informs us that since the date of this dispatch, the family mother was the not-quite-innocent victim of an exploding toilet seat.  Also, the family father was taken out by a shower curtain ‘bomb’.  There are rumors that the shower curtain was a paid hit.  Apparently, the assassin confessed to accepting a contract from the mother. The mother issued a brief statement, “He knew I didn’t want to talk to someone, but he said, ‘Yes, she’s right here!’ and handed me the phone.  Clearly, such traitorous behavior must be stamped out!” 

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