His wife had warned him not to exult in vain praise
But he did not listen, as he enjoyed fame
All was to much and he got a big head
And now he can’t get up – out of the bed
The moral is simple
Humble remain
For the cost of vanity
Will surely be pain
Padre
——————
There once was a lad form West Suffolk
Who felt a bit sick to the stomach
He had eaten ice cream
In quantities obscene –
Appearing the fool and a buttock
Padre
Carl and Linda had followed the instructions precisely, and sure enough the blossom was just where the instructions said. Now it was just a matter of getting back to the checkpoint before the time ran out on the scavenger hunt.
“Fifteen minutes,” Carl warned.
“Don’t get too far ahead, the rules say we need to arrive together,” Linda reminded him.
“Then hurry, Sweetie. Fourteen and half minutes and a hundred thousand is ours.”
“I’m doing my best,” she said as he tugged her along.
Little did they know that the production company had another couple of surprises for them before they could get back to the checkpoint.
Padre
The damp fog refused to burn away, eating up their street until the suburb became still and their house an island. This was no tropical paradise, however, but a bleak craggy isle buffeted by waves. Fog or no, the island home had its own issues, and marital discord and strife made for an unpleasant existence. I say existence, as it was no life. Living always on a knife-edge, perpetually walking on proverbial eggshells, had taken its toll. Now with the creeping fog making escape from the island home difficult, it would only be a matter of time until the damp of the surrounding fog would be the least of their problems.
————————-
Padre
Ginger Rogers
A gingerbread bear
A tangy spice
Or long read hair
Home of witches
The scent of food Chinese
A cake from Jamaica
And such things as these
And ginger itself
A root most ugly
Warted and sprawling
But as tasty as can be
Padre
“Leave me alone,” she snapped, juking around around him on the sidewalk and hurrying away with a quick clack of heels.
“Missy, you really should listen to what I have to say,” Harold called after her.
Turning, she spat, “And why should I? You’re just a servant.”
“Exactly, a servant. Your father’s servant, and he said that you need to come with me now back to the house, or he is going to cut off your allowance again.”
Missy sighed, and then crossed her arms and pulled an exaggerated pout, before slowly following him back to the limo. Sometimes she hated being a billionaire’s daughter.
Padre
Peter Carlson stepped lightly from the Paris hotel where he had just had an important business meeting. He tucked a document securely into his inside jacket pocket, and tapped it twice for good measure before hailing a taxi.
The real estate deal he had just completed brought back memories of his first so long ago in New York. He had been a young man then with only his college tuition money to his name, but he risked it all on that first big buy. He had never looked back.
Now he was on his way back home to the Jiffy Lube, of which he was franchise holder. This Paris deal was going to complete his portfolio. He couldn’t wait to hang the deed to the Eiffel Tower next to his certificates for the Brooklyn Bridge, Mount Rushmore, and the Leaning Tower.
Padre
“Let’s have pizza,” Rich suggested, knowing fully that she hated anything that even hinted at cheese or Italian.
“We could do Chinese. I could really fancy some kung pao prawns,” Sarah said.
I bet that’s not the only thing she’s fancying right now, Rich said snidely in his own mind. “No, we had Chinese last week,” he said allowed.
“Well, I really can’t face pizza, it’s always too greasy and you know I hate basil and oregano.”
Well to bad, Rich thought. You can’t possibly hate it any more than you throwing yourself at Will Dayton at the party last night. “Hmm, let’s just stay in and have sandwiches then.”
“But there’s nothing here for sandwiches except cheese, and I already said I don’t want cheese or pizza,” she replied. “Besides it’s date night. We really should go out.”
“Where then if not Pizza or Chinese?”
“We could just go clubbing and snack as we go,” she suggested.
Just so you can chat up more guys, Rich thought. “Okay, sounds good,” he said after a pause. Two can play at this flirting game, he thought with aflush of excitement.
Padre
Gigi assembled her planners, her calendars, her pens, pouches, and post-its before her on the desk and stood over them like a general surveying maps. Useless, she thought to herself. If she were indeed a general she would have called a retreat. What good was all this stationery in a world of e-Learning?
Pushing it all to one side, she opened her laptop and scrolled to find the tutorials for Google Classroom and Google Forms. She also cleared away some clutter from behind her desk to give a more professional background to Monday’s upcoming “live” lesson. It was going to be a long weekend, and General Gigi now knew how Napoleon must have felt at Waterloo.
——————-
Padre
Amid the fields as quail I did seek
I chanced upon a fairy – fast asleep
She was wrapped quite snuggly within her nest
So I skirted round to give her rest
My compassionate action did not go unobserved
I was spied by her mother as I swerved
Suddenly a flock of plump quail did rise
And my net was filled before my eyes
My gesture thus rewarded I headed for home
Though I never again saw fairies as I did roam
Padre
Padre's Ramblings 