| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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June / July 2006 Contest Results |
The Horror
By
Sean Ellis, New York
Living in
Amityville, Laura and I are frequently stopped by out-of-towners and
asked “Can you take us to the Horror House?” We comply and lead them
directly to our house and the three children. That is true horror.
At least ghosts
and phantoms only work at night and you can get some rest during the
day. Our girls, Sarah, age 6 and Kerry and Kayla, age 2 alternate eight
hour shifts and manage to haunt us 24 hours a day.
With three small
children in the house someone is always screaming or crying. Usually,
it’s me. There’s nowhere to hide. They even get me in the bathroom,
faxing papers under the door or picking the lock and entering my
fortress of solitude like they’re executing a search warrant. Sometimes
I fantasize it is the police and they’ve come to take me to the peace
and serenity of Cell Block A.
OK, I
exaggerate. The truth is I can’t be away from my kids for more that a
few hours without missing their interrogations. However I am checking
the Geneva Convention Code of Conduct to see if the methods used by my
children can be classified as torture. If so, I have earned a Purple
Heart and Laura the Distinguished Medal of Valor for bravery in combat.
It perplexes me
when I think that at my job people actually listen to what I say, seek
my council and follow my instruction yet at home these three small
poltergeists blatantly ignore my orders to stop standing on the couch.
I often wonder if the great leaders of the past found themselves in
similar situations. Before Napoleon crowned himself king, did he first
chase around his little ones. “Put those knickers on, we’re going to be
late for my coronation!” Did George Washington ever utter the words
“Stop touching your sister!”? It has been theorized that Abraham
Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address was so short because his son was tugging on
his leg proclaiming he had to go potty.
Children are the
great equalizers. They have no regard for who we are or our social
status. They want a cookie and they want it NOW! And being good parents
and wanting to provide for them and wanting to avoid the humiliation of
a total meltdown in the supermarket, we rip open the Oreos and hush them
up.
I recently tried
this meltdown strategy at the office and whined incessantly for a raise
and more vacation time. My request was denied so I flailed my arms in
the air and threw myself to the floor and began sobbing uncontrollably.
My court date is later this month. Apparently, the special bond between
parents and children does not transfer to the workplace.
So we forge on
like most parents, with plenty of beer and wine and a daily call to the
church asking for an exorcism. If a priest ever decides to investigate
maybe he can say mass when he’s here. Taking the kids to church... now
that’s another story all together.
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