Thursday, January 26, 2012



A: Tie a yelling gibbon around the old folk tree? (She looks at Zi as if forty-six million brain cells instantaneously escaped...wondering where is the hole)

Z: Feghoot!

A: Your owl's named Feg? (The obscurity of Angelica floats amidst the fact that her response was sort of a feghoot. She preens and giggles...the dogs in the room yelp as if joining in our merriment)

Z: Remember the Fractured Fairytales of Rocky and Bullwinkle? Many of our canard tales are a homage to that style. Parody. False tales. Stories.

A: As we have mentioned before, our series THE FABLE OF SIN-SIN-CINDERELLA is feghoot filled, ribald and naughty funny.

Z: (About to bore with a long dissertation, Zi looks professorial) The parody blanketed in its feeble and oft ridiculous effort to imitate a style or part of another author's work for the purpose of comic effect has been a staple in writing. The idea of touching something others can connect to, yet poking that pointer finger at the ribs of the readers, why, to tickle, silly.

A: The following is a excerpt that points this out.... Did something crawl up inside one of the dogs and die? (Swiggles up her nose resembling a chipmunk as she waves her hand in front of her face while all four dogs look at her innocently)


So three tankards more later, in hobbled a three-legged dog. Eartha did the double-take because it was carrying a gun. The first thought was one tankard too many, then she thought robbery and considered ducking under the bar, but thought better when she noticed Aladdin, owner of a carpet company, laying Rug. Poor Jasmine, she adored the guy, and Rug was enjoying Aladdin. He knew things.

The bartender, wearing a dirty torn t-shirt shouted, "This is a peaceful establishment."

"Woof," responded the dog. The dog sat near Eartha, still scouring the room, looking at each person, studying them.

Eartha asked, "What are doing here with that gun?"

(Note to reader, this is a fairytale so giving latitude to reality is essential.... 'kkkkkkaaaaaay!)

The dog replied in a country drawl, "I'm looking for the man that shot my paw."
"A bowl of grog for my friend," ordered Eartha.

The keeper put the crock of suds on the floor, the tri-pod pooch lapped yet still surveyed the patrons.

A: (Grabs for a pen to make a note, it fails to inkificate [wordsmithing] itself, she discards the pen) There are many stories we all know. Many jokes that the punch line is apparent. Sometimes it is not the pay-off but the trip to that pay-off that can be entertaining. (Grabs a pen from one of ten cups of pens, it fails, discards, grabs another which fails)

Z: (Zi notices the three point shots by Angelia and surveys her discard, head in can, arse examining the ceiling fan, talking, sounds echo) Our model is that old joke where the punch line is they're the Aristocrats. If you are familiar with that joke it has virtually nothing to do with the punch. Every comedian who tries to tell it gives their own twist on the reason for the punch. (Rises with three pens in hand, echo ceases) Many of our tales are just that. It's all about the journey, that winding path full of detours, roadblocks, endless constructions, and delays. Once you reach the destination, the trip is over. Hmmmm, strange analogy on our part but we think it apt. (Puts the pens back in the cup unbeknownst to Angelica)

A: Wordy Wordsome from Wordville, Wordaware has just regaled us! (She grabs one of the retrieved pens, it fails, she heaves it into the can...sighs that cuss-replacing sigh)

Z: Ouuuucccch! That was a little cold. (Eyebrow, left, rose... [For clarification the eyebrow remained on the face, it was the left eyebrow] ...questioning her insistence on wastefulness)

A: You could have just said, these stories are sometimes called Shaggy Dog Stories or Feghoots. They are irreverent dances with inane frivolity, oft pointless and having absurd punch lines. The use of puns is almost a must.

Z: Smarty Smartypants from Smartytown, Smartconsin has re-frosted the cake.

A: Here's another excerpt. (She grabs a was pointless...was about to throw it away when Zi sharpened it for her)

"Eartha, did you hear about the sex offender at Sir Lancelot's Home for the Criminally Insane and Snake Your Best Friend's Lady?"

"What?" She was pawed on her ample posterior, not by the cur, but by a drunk who was taking liberties. Beer brains. Or in this case grog brains, the medieval predecessor to beer brains. Well, Eartha the Pissed demonstrated why the nom, the Pissed, when she snatched the man's belt, he thinking he was about to get lucky, and chased him from the Pub, wiping his fleeing arse, oops, meant whipping his fleeing arse. She returned to her seat with a swagger in her step.

"Eartha...that was my best customer."

"Sorry. What about this sex offender?"

"He escaped."

"Oh!" Camelot was at least a three day trip by dragon, a fortnight by horse."

"The Daily Blab and Burp, our Pub blog, reports he went back to his old evil habits."

For one brief moment TB, the tender, though Eartha was going to seek the perv out, shook his head, and replied, "Here, you read the article." He turned the computer and there it was under the title, NUT BOLTS AND SCREWS.

Z: The afore was a play of words with Spooneristic styling as the design, many of our yarns are built in a like-lab that created Mr. Peabody's Improbable History.

A: Sherman was adorable.

Z: We hope you find our Groaners entertaining and maybe gently thought provoking. Zi pulls out the Staples catalogue to order refills for the pens)


We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at with blog in the subject line and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi
CHRISTMAS EVE...VIL coming soon

Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane

THE FABLE OF SIN-SIN CINDERELLA Series (monthly piece) piece)
Dawn's Reading Nook (Thursday's piece)

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