Butter Churning
Once upon a time in a butter churning land far away there was a nice little door by a nice little shore where everyone churned butter all the day.
An old man in an old Asian hat always sat by the door by the shore. He would come sit and churn butter while he drowned his sorrows with a bottle of Bourbon.
One night the old man brought too much Bourbon with him. This time he brought a big barrel. As usual he sat by the shore drinking his Bourbon. When all of a sudden the giant weeds who lived in the door jumped out and drowned him instead of his sorrows.
While in the little land of sorrows the population grew because they had hired the weeds to kill off the old buzzard who kept drowning all of the little sorrow people with Bourbon. So my little pretties when you think about drowning your sorrows with Bourbon think of the old man who inturn got drowned instead his sorrows.
Use Vodka!
Written by: Jenny P.
Three men were out fishing when they caught a mermaid. The mermaid said that if they let her go she would give each of them one wish. The first man said, "Double my IQ." So the mermaid granted his wish. The second man said, "Multiply my intelligence by four." The mermaid granted his wish and the man was more clever than the first man. The third man said, "Give me ten times my IQ." The mermaid said, "Are you sure? Why not wish for money?" The man was sure. So the mermaid turned him into a women.
Submitted by: Gina
Poems
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Wither not, my friend
speak aloud with no thought of silence
Allow the mind to drift threw endless terrains of thought
Try not to understand all at once
Take one by one
It's the journey that awaits
Neverending it remains
Take hold of it not w/ fear but with prie and courage
For it is your destiny you seek
Why be afraid of what is to come?
Seek out and understand
for fear is something of a paradox
A wonderous element of the unknown.
Yet we use i against us and not for us.
Use it to your advantage. Learn.
Written by:Me (elizabeth)
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
©1998 Liz Christian
Mail
Geocities