Hi, Jodi......This entry to your blog comes at 4:19 A.M., April 15, 2008. It has nothing to do with taxes. I have awoken and re-awakened from a dreadful dream. In this dream I encountered a horrid weapon. Or maybe it was more like a tool. An evil tool. It might have been made of solid gold. Or silver. Wood? Cheap plastic? Anyway, it had magic powers. Or maybe a magnetic attraction to leather. It had a handle at one end and a curved hook at the other. (Well, I guess all hooks are curved. Duh.)
Neither I nor anyone else ever saw the person or apparition wielding this ominous stick, and indeed few have witnessed the stick. ( I think it moves real fast.) But it loves leather. More precisely, it loves shoes. All kinds of leather shoes.
As I awakened I entered that mystical land between slumber and cognizance. It seemed that I had heard or read of this phenomenon. A man in Berlin was hurrying through a busy, crowded bus station during a heavy rain. He was wearing a brand new $300.00 pair of shoes. Suddenly his left shoe disappeared. As he turned to search for it the right one disappeared WITH HIS FULL WEIGHT ON THE SHOE!
During a midnight run, the folks on a packed train in Bucharest lost 137 pairs in their sleep. A woman in Egypt lost a pair of sandals while bending over to fill an urn. She said it felt (or sounded) like a soft, gentle whisper.
A young feller in California always wore socks with his flip-flops. Everyone laughed at him. Anyhoo, he was basking in the sun on a deserted beach when he felt a violent wrenching at his feet. The flops were gone, leaving two deep cotton/blend indentations between the first and second toes.
I found myself drifting back to sleep. As I approached level five the identity of this frightening maniacal weapon of mass detatchment began to come to me. My whole body shuddered and convulsed as I sat up. I had it! It is a Debirkenstocken!
Respectfully submitted by Gene Burton Stalkin'
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** The owner of this blog does not condone, authorize, endorse, or even like this joke. May it be known that these are the types of jokes that I was made to endure while growing up. Feel my pain. Hee hee! Love ya dad!
