Thoughts to Ponder

Leo's Very Own Thoughts to screw up your day. Poems: Maybe!

The moon doth wax and wane,
No it don't,
That's what we put on our cars,
and name our kids

Life is not the way
of the setting sun  (What!)

Evolution speaks of great enterprises
fit for a King (now thats right)

If I am alone,
then what is this thing,
when I pick the tomatoes

I am not made from what I chose,
but the DNA,
from which I rose

Where is God,
is he in the sky,
I can't know until
I look him in the eye

(hang on it gets better)

Being religious,
they will pray for you
but an atheist would call
a doctor (Uh, cull that)

If you really,really,really believe
in a God
Would you please,please
ask him
where I lost my Pipe. (I really need to know that)

(These are some of my thoughts from
the other night when I was cutting my toenails.) Cull that too.

More good stuff when my nails grow. (Dang)

How To Beat The Socks Off your Wife In An Argument

Well, I’m back. I would have been back sooner, but I had to mow my lawn Normally I write my articles first and then I mow my lawn, but my wife got to me first. It takes about two days to do it right, (that is stop for a cold drink, nap, watch the news, etc.) If I don’t do it right it takes about two hours. (according to my wife).And if you add that stupid lot next door that only serves two purposes, (it holds our storage room and grows grass.) it’s a big distraction from writing articles. This time I didn’t want to do it. That caused the usual argument. Sometimes a man has to stand up for himself and put things in the right order of priorities, firmly but politely.

“I have to write an article.” I argued.

“O.K., a and an, that’s two,” she replied, now a little peeved, ”Takes about two seconds, what else?”
God , I hate it when women try to pull their education on me in an argument.
O.K. , but she has descended into a writer’s territory now. Us authors know about that kind of stuff.
"But I don’t know if I want to write about “an apple” or “a car,” I prodded her.
“Well, it depends if you are writing about any “apple” you have to use an indefinite article like “an” since “apple” starts with a vowel. But if you are writing about a specific “apple” you have to use “the” like in ”The Apple in the Garden Of Eden.” “Now can we mow?”

Holy crap! Can you wait just a minute while I write that down. I might need that sometimes. Well, evidently she had been punished enough, which was evident in her next statement.

“Besides I’m baking something you like very much,” she teased.
“A chocolate cake!,” I almost shouted, losing my cool.
“No” she grinned.
My heart fell.
“The chocolate cake,” she corrected again. “Mind your articles”
“The triple layer, double frosted, double fudge chocolate cake that I like”
Now I was catching on. She lost that argument big time.

Thinking about “The” Chocolate cake that was baking, I thought what ever happened to the sweet agreeable little girl that I used to sit with in the back seat of my ‘57 chevy,at the drive in movie (And for you read between the liners doing your little computing, I could have bought the ‘57 chevy much later and yes drive in movies were still around until about the seventies.)

And what the hell did the Garden of Eden have to do with anything. That’s just like women, they try to confuse you, but I have learned not to be confused. I can see past all that. I’m also sure of one thing, when Mother’s teach their daughters to bake chocolate cake, it’s for lots of reasons other than housekeeping.

They know what they are doing. Men are going to have to learn some things other than driving tanks.
Just then I ran out of gas in the middle of the lot.

I was half through the lot mowing when my son drove up with more junk to store in my store room.
“Why don’t you build your own storage,” I asked. as we struggled with an old torn sofa that would look better in the junkyard.

“Gosh, Dad we don’t have the extra cash until we build our home.
“And when’s that,” I asked hopefully.
“Oh, in about 2 years or so,” he said nonchalantly, ”Dad, could you help me with this car engine, it’s pretty heavy”

     “How did she run out of gas,” I moaned, to my wife, who had just received a call from our daughter.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I would guess that a better way of saying it would be she used it all up”

“But she’s got a new car,” I sputtered. “They don’t run out of gas , do they”

     Standing in the middle of the freeway, holding an empty gas can, I’m thinking. Is this all fathers are for, to peddle gas on the freeway for my daughter, build storage buildings for my son and mow my wife’s grass. My daughter had spun off after the fill up with a quick “Thank You Dad, you’re the greatest” Shouldn’t I get paid or something? It seems to be much cheaper to have your father bring you gas than to buy it at the station. I felt a little lonely on the side of this busy thoroughfare holding my empty gas can.


“Why does he have to fill my storage up when they have storage all over town,” I said to my wife.
“ Well we don’t have too much in there.”
“I have lots in there ,” I countered.
“It’s mostly junk, for example that old car seat you have in there takes up a lot of room.”
“That’s not junk.”I said. “It’s the back seat from my ‘57 Chevy. Don’t you remember the nights at the drive in in that back seat”
“That wasn’t me!,” she turned around sharply. I never did sit in the back seat of a ‘57 Chevy with you” “You had a ‘65 Dart when we were dating.”
“’65 Dart!,” I exclaimed.
“Who did you sit with in the back seat of a ‘57 Chevy ?”
“You,” I screamed.
“Wasn’t me,” she screamed back,” Now who was it?”
“I have to get back to mowing,” I passed The chocolate cake on my way out.

In my ‘57 Chevy seat in the now crowded storage, I was now completely confused. ‘65 Dart. Garden of Eden. ’57 Chevy. The chocolate cake.
What has happened to my memory? Am I getting senile?.
So I decided to write this article and here it is: “a” Well, I told you I was confused.

Any how now I'm sitting amongst my son's junk. My daughter's car is probably getting close to empty again, the mowing isn't finished yet, my wife is asking questions I can't answer and worst of all I don't know if I will get any of THE CAKE


     At that moment though in my deepest despair, I heard the familiar squeaking of the storage door. My wife peeked inside, walked over to me in my '57 Chevy seat, sat down beside me and with the brightest smile handed me the biggest slice of triple layer, double frosted, double fudge chocolate cake I had ever seen. "Now I have ," she said still beaming.












“

AN HONEST POLITICIAN, AT LAST!

AN HONEST POLITICIAN, AT LAST!


By
Leo Ponder

If  I am elected I promise to do all I can to promote myself and do all I can to make as much money as I can. I will ignore my constituency and vote the way I feel personally. I will not support a bill if it means a fight and is unpopular. Also, if elected, I promise all my promises will be kept, if I deem them necessary at the time

I will not be partial to lobbying groups, I will pick the one that I consider most beneficial to myself, regardless!

Furthermore, I and my office will be open for any input on any issue that I deem important. I don’t care about tradition unless it suits my purposes today and not many do.

I personally promise to stay out of controversial subjects such as , welfare, social security, taxes, abortion, and scandals if it might affect my re-election. You can also be assured that I will object to any investigation of
Anybody for anything, since it might affect my own integrity in office.

Patriotism was a very important trait in the establishment of this country especially for George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and so on but because of such moral decay and personal greed that is rampant today I will not be bound by such oddities.

Nothing I have ever said can be held against me since everything I have ever said I really didn’t say, Only the things I should haqve said that affect the things that I say now are really the things that I have said, and I really mean that!

Let me end by stating that I need your vote and an willing to do anything to get it and I mean anything! I am glad to have been so honest and straightforward with you today, unlike my sleaze ball competition who is not honest with his promises, My ambitions are sincere. Thank you for your vote.

MY TRUE SURVIVAL STORY

Everyone needs to learn survival

By

LEO PONDER





I leaped the log in hot pursuit, tree limbs slapping my face, my home made spear at the ready. Bramble burrs snatched at my trousers, reducing my speed, but with surges of super effort, I managed to keep my prey in sight.

I was nearly dead with hunger and I knew that this might be my last really

good chance to snare a decent meal. I had been reduced to some kind of pre-historic monster forced kill for my food. In other better times, I would have been nauseated by the level of savagery that I had now sunk. I had no qualms about what I would do if I caught this prey. I would snap the neck, tear out the heart and wolf down my spoils with much relish and blood.

Suddenly, I came upon a clearing that ended at the brushy banks of a river just in time to see my prey disappear in the brush. In two or three bounds I crossed the clearing to the spot where it had entered. My heart dropped. It wasn’t a river, just a small stream. It would escape by running downstream. What rotten luck! He would have been trapped if it had been a river!

But I hadn’t been trained by the best to be outwitted by even such an intelligent animal as this. An animal that was so ferocious that nothing could withstand it’s attack. I knew exactly now what it was up to. It was not running but circling to gain an advantage. I had to admire it, even though at the moment we were mortal enemies.

I wheeled and headed across the clearing to cut him off downstream. It was my only hope. This species had never been known to cut a chase and run scared. It didn’t ever consider itself prey. That’s how many had died violent deaths, just at the moment of seeming victory.

It was legend that this particular beast had psychic powers that defied

Explanation. Probably not true but I seemed to hear my name from a distance during the chase. If it was true I would just have to ignore it. I remembered the old adage, “Sticks and stones (and beasts) will break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”

Crossing the clearing to the right I slid down the bank into the small stream, my heart thudding like jungle drums announcing terrible news. What if I was wrong? What if the beast went upstream instead of down? But that would be stupid. They know their scent would wash downstream giving away their location. Firmly anchored in my survival techniques, I decided that I was in exactly the right spot.

I found a flat heavy rock with a deep hole in the middle and pushed the butt of my home made spear firmly into the indentation. I positioned the rock on the stream bed with the spear pointing straight up. On my knees I grabbed the spear firmly in both hands. Now I had a strong, deadly trap that would easily pierce the toughest skin. If and when the beast sprang, and these always did, I would guide the spear straight to his heart

Sitting quietly, I noticed that darkness was not long off. I could not see to the far end of the stream but considered that an advantage. If the beast came close without seeing me, then I could pull the old surprise bit by making a sudden noise when he was close, he would spring from instinct and without any caution.

Suddenly, again, I heard my name. This time it was very close. O.K. names won’t hurt. I cut my breathing to small gulps but my heart wouldn’t co-operate. It felt like a sledgehammer.

This was it! Here he comes! Moving so stealthily and furtively, he seemed to be part of the stream. Thank God for my training. He stopped very near, huge gathering muscles preparing for attack. He had seen me but I could still use the spear for the strike. My name-My name, right behind me. He must be trying to confuse me so he can spring! So that’s how so many have lost their battle with this brute. And never lived to tell anyone. But I will be smarter, I will not look behind me. I will kill this thing and live.

He sprang! Something behind me cuffed my ear and I broke the spear in the rock where it fell useless, into the rippling stream.

Watching the beast in mid air, knowing I had only a split second to live, I at least wanted to know what had caused my demise. I twisted to look behind and seen the most awful sight a small boy could behold in those circumstances. My Mother!!

Hey! Hey! I’ve been calling and calling. Sakes alive, boy, can’t you hear at all! There’s more of that you just got on your ear when we get home. Get up out of that water. I done told you not play in this creek again. Now trot yourself straight home and call that good for nothing dog with you. He’s just as muddy as you. Lord, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you two. You’re going to take your bath and go straight to bed without any supper.”

If she had been only a few minutes later, and not interfered I would have had my supper.

THE DUMB NEIGHBOR AND THE SMART NEIGHBOR

THE DUMB NEIGHBOR AND THE SMART NEIGHBOR
By
Leo Ponder



My dimwitted, redneck neighbor across the street was waving frantically for me to come over. He was sitting in that stupid car seat from a ‘57 chevy in his front yard.
Desperately I tried to think of some excuse and continue my now frantic watering with
renewed interest, but my name wafting on the late evening stillness stopped any attempt to ignore him.
“Hey, Bud”
“Over here”
I stabbed at my chest and mouthed in a last ditch maneuver.
“Me”
“Yeah, c’mon over. I got a cold one”
The last time I was over for a neighborly chat we discussed upholstering the chevy
seat and how he was going to acquire the rest of the car, piece by piece. (oh, I forgot
he did have a mangled 283 chevy engine which would fit a ‘57) After that visit I found
myself comparing him with the engine. Both were a quart low and slow.
Resigning myself to the inevitable, I turned the spigot shutting off the water, and ambled across the street. He jumped up and disappeared into his house. An instant later he was out with a beer in each hand. Well, I thought, the beer was cold and it had been a warm evening. I poured half the can down in one gulp. At least maybe the beer would numb my brain. And maybe this time he would have something human to
say. As usual, I was wrong.
“What’cha doing, Bub”
(Oh I’m out practicing my walk in space using my water hose as a mock thruster, after my liftoff on the Endeavor next week)
“Just doing a little watering”
I totally expected his next question to be, “What’cha watering.” I couldn’t even begin to go there for my answer. But he fooled me.
“Yeah, my grass needs it too”
(Well Gotta go, I could say, draining the rest of the brew, my grass is dying)
“Wait” He dashed in and returned with another can.
“Hey, man looked like you need another one, you downed that so fast. Sit down and sip a little slower. I only got two more” He pointed at what looked like two new $4.98 lawn chairs from wal-mart. I sat. Wondering why.
“You can be the first to sit in my new chairs from wal-mart”, he affirmed my suspicions.
“Thanks,” I muttered, “I haven’t done that in a while”
“They are still on sale if you want one. $4.98 Great, huh?” He grinned.
“I had a little left over from the sale of my land, so I purchased those chairs with it”
“You sold your land?,“ I asked incredulously. “That prize acre you have had for 15 years,
that all the businesses have been surrounding”
“Yeah, 5,000 smackers”
“5,000 dollars? You said you were offered that much 10 yrs. back. If you had kept it, you probably could have sold it for much more” I now realized what a poor business man he was too.
“Well, I got a little anxious. It only cost me 500 bucks back then.
Well what could you expect, I thought, from someone that bought 4.98 wal-mart
chairs.
“And you only got two chairs” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“Oh, no,” now he became excited, “I got more than that. Wait, I’ll show you. Be right
back. From our previous boring conversations I fully expected him to return with the
title to a dilapidated ‘57 chevy or worse yet two more chairs. He did neither.
He came back holding a crumpled looking letter. What stupid thing did he do?
Send off for some movie star autograph or what?
“Remember that old man that works with me? The one that still had a family, some still in school? I talked about him having to work at his age? Remember?
In wonderment I nodded.
“Well he almost died last week. He was in the hospital and his wife and three kids didn’t
have a car to visit him so I took them for a visit. You know they are very poor. Well
read it”
His face was beaming as he shoved the letter in my hand. I read it.
Dear Sir,
We don’t know much about you except what John has mentioned from his job,
but we know that you were sent from God. His new Pacemaker is perfect and the Dr.
said it was a miracle that he lived long enough for him to implant it.
He will be out of the hospital tomorrow, and the Dr. said he would be able to live a
normal life and even go back to work. If he had died we would have been grief stricken
and don’t know what we would have done. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for
paying for it. We’re sorry it took all your money. We don’t know how but maybe God will let us re-pay you someday even though you have said to forget it. You are truly a
gift from God.
God Bless You,
Edna and children

As I read, my own stupidity crushed upon my brain and I felt worthless against the
charity of my stupid neighbor. He was right. He did have more, much more than two
chairs, one of which would hold a vain and holier than thou neighbor. He had the letter
and he had a big heart. A heart that I was convinced would never need a “Pacemaker”
I stood up. He was still standing there beaming and as excited as if someone had just
presented him with a brand new ‘57 chevy.
I asked him if he would do one more small favor.
“Sure,” he said, still beaming with that enviable happiness that few shrewd business men
experience.
“Shake my hand,” I said
“Sure,” he agreed, taking my hand, looking a little perplexed but still happy.
“I gotta go,” I said. I turned and walked hurriedly away.
“What’s the hurry,” He yelled, in his idiotic way. “You didn’t finish the beer”

“I have to go learn all I can about building a ‘57 chevy,” I yelled back.
“All Right” He was pumping his fist in the air and grinning

A Chapter a week From My book

I will publish a Chapter from my Book (Mother Nature) whenever I can. I will leave the first

Chapter up until I get enough followers.

Every other week or so I will include a little humor since the book is a bit gruesome.

I will publish one of my Dozens of Articles mostly on humorous situations in Ordinary

Family Life. I hope you can relate

The first installment will include the first and second Chapters of "Mother Nature". Enjoy (I hope.


-----------------------------------CHAPTER I--------------------------------------

It was a terrifying night. Kaleidoscopes of eerie lightning annealed perfectly to
the steady staccato of thunder. The wind conspired to drive the rain into a seething
cauldron of images that formed and just as swiftly disappeared, creating the effect of
malevolent spirits drifting in and out of a tempest. Neither man nor beast ventured
forth from their abodes as a seemingly angry Mother Nature proclaimed her unchallenged
supremacy. Except for Cato. It was a perfect night for his growing needs. Needs that had
almost become uncontrollable lately since the last big storm. He would be satisfied tonight, that is until the next “advent” as he called it. Tonight was a “factor three”. It had
to be or he would perish. Three beings spirits would become entwined with his and his
destiny would rise to higher plateaus of Godliness, finally acquiring the supreme state
of God to whom all worship flows. The storm was a sign that it was true. He would not fail!

-----------------------------------CHAPTER 2-----------------------------------

As first light filtered through the rising mists of early morning, the city was eerily quiet, awakening was slow as if the inhabitants were making up for lost sleep after a night of being kept awake by the brutal storm. Limbs from the beautiful pin oaks that lined the
boulevards lay scattered indiscriminately stripped by a formidable force of nature. Some
huge trees, weakened by the long drought, had toppled across the streets, giving up hundreds of years of life to the whims of one maniacal weather event. But the city would
recover and life would resume. Unknowingly, as yet, to recover from this night, the still sleeping city would have to dig deeper than a few torn branches, they would also have to delve into the unknown mysteries of twisted and psychopathic human nature.
And on Elm Street it was quiet. An older car pulled into the drive of 1108, the lights flicked off, a figure emerged and trudged up the walk toward the side door, hugging a large paper bag. A slight jingle of keys broke the stillness and the door opens slightly as the figure fumbled with the light switch just inside.
Marie Alice Trent, 46, mother of five, devout Sunday school teacher, loyal personal maid and winner of last night’s twenty five dollar church bingo jackpot is about to meet the substance from which nightmares are made, changing her life forever.
Backing into the now well lit kitchen, she deposited the bag of cleaning supplies on the counter next to the door, inserted her thumb under the strap of her shoulder bag and set it beside the paper bag. Closing the door quietly she turned toward the interior of the immaculate kitchen finally facing the table with it’s gruesome contents. Three manikins, so she thought since they were headless, sat back to back in the middle of the huge cherry
wood table. A table that she had polished and cleaned meticulously, countless times. She tried to scream but was cut short by the smell of fresh blood and death. It was a silent scream. She turned, flung open the door and stumbled down the side walk toward her car.
Three blocks away a fast food and gas clerk just opening his business for the day
received his first customer. A terrified, incoherent and distraught Mary Alice Trent, unemployed personal maid at 1108 Elm.
As the morning deepened into a sullen overcast the chainsaws started the ritual
of clean up and in the distance the sirens announced a ritual of their own.

Chapter I

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