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Category Archives: Parody

ALAS, IN WANDERLAND, SEA CZAR CITY, VOL. 6, PAGE 37

When I made it out to see my randy granddad at Casa Nova, the old rake had been banished, by Justa, to the garden shed.

“Your daddy, Peaeye, my son Floyd, was no better than me.” said the humble lie eater when he saw me at the door.

“We Hatracks have our hangups, luckily you take after your momma.

She was a Dotes.

They have goodness in grain.

Always feel your Dotes and you’ll do fine.”

I noticed there was a bottle of Niagara, “The Drink That Interrupts The Falls” on his bedside box, so I wasn’t so sure how much code there was in his re-morse.

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NOT ENOUGH ROOM IN THE DOG HOUSE

 

 

SEA CZAR CITY, THE DAIRES. PAGE 40, STILL EVEN LATER

“Look” I said to Horace, ” I came here because I was told there was enough shots in this house to consider it holy and that they came from the both of you.”

“There was some rabbit fire this morning that just missed me by a hair.”

“Look”, I said, “I just don’t want either of you to get hurt” and I almost meant it.

“Yeah, well beat it Eggbert, you bore me” growled the old cooper, showing both barrels.

His first shot got five points for hitting the painting over my head entitled: “The Buck Stops Here”.

The second shot removed the door knob on my way out.

I got the feeling old girdle-gut didn’t truss me anymore.

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SHOWING BOTH BARRELS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SEA CZAR CITY THE DIARIES, PAGE 37, MARCH 20, MIDDAY

I  had just walked in the door (ouch!) when my perceptionist, Helen Wheels said: “Keep your rain gear on Santa, this is going to slay you.

Something buggy is going on out at the Whiplash place.

Old Horace and his daughter Ginny have been drinking.

He’s throwing cats and she’s letting the fur fly.”

I turned around and was heading for that door again when Helen said: “And P.I.”

“Yes.”

“Take a pun, fully loaded.”

“Are you kidding?

You know How Ginny hates my jokes.”

“Yes, but I hear the old man keeps more than cigars behind his Humour Door.”

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DOOR TO DOOR VISIT

 

SEA CZAR CITY, THE DIARIES, PAGE 35, MARCH 20 CONTINUED

Got my Bench Press from News Niceburg.

The lead story was a shirt tale about SoHi of SoHi’s  Quality Tailoring.

Yesterday he collared a thief who tried to pocket the petty cash.

SoHi cuffed him right on the button.

SoHi seams none the worsted for wear.

Stopped at the U Auto Care to see if I could get my Keister out of hock.

Shifty Gears was working on J. Morgan Gelt’s new Ophelia 1600.

According to Shifty, those high price dreads lose their mortal coils after just a few hundred kilometres and should be shuffled off.

Shifty admits, if you pump him, that when he first started working on cars, he thought it was a gas but now he just finds it tiresome.

I drove to Soupermon”s Deli Planet for lunch.

U Auto Care

U Auto Care

 

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SEA CZAR CITY, THE DIARIES, PAGE 33, SUNDAY MARCH 19, STILL CONTINUED

A couple of calls later, there I was in the rain, hollering at door 4 of the Notell Motel for Crab to come out with his clause up.

“Don’t come a glumshoe closer”, Carp yelled back.

I’ve got a marine can opener and if Faster tries to bolt, he’ll suffer more than metal fatigue.

The law can’t touch me.

He’s a freed machine and no one’s property!”

I got an idea.

“Stephen Faster”, I shouted back, “sing Swampy River so I know your alright!”

Sure enough cabin 4 lit up with song and I knew there wouldn’t be a dry eye in the louse.

When I stalked through the door like celery, there was Crab Carp crying, “Make it stop, make it stop!

It;s breaking my heart!”

Tin Pan Pally

Tin Pan Pally

 

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SEA CZAR CITY, THE DIARIES, PAGE 32, SUNDAY MARCH 19 CONTINUED

I told Maggie I’d be in the office bright and surly Monday morning and get write on it.

Not two minutes after Maggie’s hang-up, Willet Fly jingles the candlestick to tell me that Stephen Faster, his singing mechanical man hasn’t been to see the dock since Friday.

The rowbot paddles people along the shore.

Some even go out in his boat.

“Hatrack” said Willet, “if Stephen doesn’t get an oil change in the next twenty-four hours, it could be rust to rust!”

Well it didn’t take an Agate Crystal to deduce that the only competition Crab Carp”s Lovecraft Tours has is a modest little skiff and a warbling hunk of tin.

I jumped in my Keister, tuned the key and listened to it sputter and lie.

I called Piston Pete to pick it up and give me a drive out to the Notell Motel.

“Swampy, How I love Ya, How i Love Ya, My Clear Old Swampy”

 

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SEA CZAR CITY, THE DIARIES, PAGE 31, SUNDAY, MARCH 19

They buried Foggy in Longview Cemetery today.

No one  was at the Reverent  Amos Rant’s service except mortician, Edgar Allen Plotts, Donny, Shelay Lee and me.

It was soggy for Foggy, what with all the rain.

I went back to the Harbour House Hotel.

I turned on “Sargent Singer Of The Mounted”.

The announcer was saying:”Brought to you by Old King’s Coal.

Now it’s time for that chilling cry from the snow show  of the north: ‘Lets Go Mukluk!

Step On It Boy!'”

Just then the phone rang.

It was Maggie Carp.

She writes the complaint column in the Bench Press.

She is married to Crab Carp.

He captains The Lovecraft.

He does tours for the gents to the Mermaid Races and for the ladies, visits to Cory Gillman, the Teacher of Hack Lagoon.

For the rheumatic, there are cruises to Viagra Falls.

“Packit”, said Maggie “Crab is no where to be drown.

You’ve got to find him!”

The Lovecraft

The Lovecraft

 
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Posted by on March 19, 2015 in Diary, Graphic Novel, Humour, Parody, Puns

 

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