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November 8, 2005

Volume 8, Issue 8

You're late, you're late, for a very important date!

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"Yes, Peter, what is it?" Michael asked.

Peter took a deep breath. "Azrael missed a pickup."

Michaels eyes flashed as he glared at Azrael. "Is this true?"

"It was the time change," Azrael replied. "I got confused..."

Michael rolled his eyes. "I tried to tell the Big Guy we didn't need Daylight Savings time up here ... Could you put him on the list for today?"

"We're booked solid," Peter replied. "With the flu pandemic coming up and the current crop of wars, famine and pestilence, our next opening isn't until June next year."

Michael shrugged. "We're stuck with that, then."

Posted by: hnumpah at November 8, 2005 12:25 PM · Permalink

The green-headed duck dashed through the room and into the kitchen, pausing only long enough to quack, “Laughter is the best medicine, Fred.”

“That’s it?” I yelled after him. “My life is in turmoil and all you have are clichés stolen from Reader’s Digest?”

With a can of peaches tucked under his wing, he stopped again on the way back out. “Sorry, Fred. I need to get to the pond. Today is Migration Day.”

“Why the peaches?” I asked.

“In case I get hungry,” he replied before leaving.

I never thought to ask how he was going to open it.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 8, 2005 12:52 PM · Permalink

Did he take some quackers to eat with the peaches?

Posted by: hnumpah at November 8, 2005 5:01 PM · Permalink

A duck trying to fly with a bag of saltines is just silly.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 8, 2005 8:02 PM · Permalink