Spring? -- Shove It! (YEAH!!) You Heard Me Right
April 25, 2013
By: O. J. Cunningham
Don't forget to water the grass.
You can just take the Spring of 2013 and "Shove it."
I'm done waiting for the damn sun.
I really don't care (one way or another) if the thermometer ever goes above 45 degrees.
For me, It's over . . .
I'm done. I fold.
Spring is Sprung . . .
The grass is riz . . .
I wonder where the flowers is?
Get my drift?
Hear what I'm sayin'?
WORD!
I don't care any more about the buds on the trees.
My Give-a-Damn is wet and busted.
Actually, my Give-a-damn is in the basement making sure the sump pump is still working.
And. . . Pay close attention to this . . .
I'm tired of all your damn whining and complaining -- YES YOU!
Everywhere you go. That's all you do. Whine, whine, whine.
Stop whining. Stop It! Now! Just Stop.
That's all you do . . .
Whine, whine, whine . . . It's cold.
Whine, whine, whine . . . It's raining.
Whine, whine, whine . . . It's snowing.
Whine, whine, whine . . . It's windy.
Whine, whine, whine . . . I'm wet.
Whine, whine, whine . . . I'm cold.
Shut the hell up!
Put a sock in it, Edith.
Accept the fact.
There's no Spring this year.
Not gonna be one.
Most Likely - There's never gonna be another Spring.
Not this year.
Not Ever.
Get over it.
Think of it like this.
Spring died and went to the inner-most circle of Dante's Inferno.
And it's never coming back.
Stop crying.
And wipe that sour-puss look off your face.
Done, Fini, Gone!
I don't care about flowers.
I don't care about Robins.
My young man's "fancy" first shriveled from all the rain and now has frozen and fallen off.
And I'm not going back to look for it.
Why?
Cuz it's raining.
Raining??
Ha! This is hardly just rain.
Death is at my door.
Raining is not the right word. Maybe downpour, monsoon, deluge, cats & dogs, you get the jist . . .
If that old fart, Noah was here, he'd be comparing the water event of 2013 to the "good old days" when he built that ARK-thingy.
I've been wet so often, I'm starting to smell exactly like my dog.
We've both been wet the same number of times in the past 30 days.
But the dog loves the water.
Me? I got sick two weeks ago and can't shake this hacking cough that sounds like Death (Or, maybe it's Bill Trahan) might be in the next room, tapping his foot (impatiently).
I'm going back into my cave and start a fire. I'm setting my alarm for River Roar . . . (Brought to you by Graff Chevrolet of Bay City and Maier & Associates) . . . Then I'm coming out.
And it better be warm by then . . . Or Else!
I feel warmer and drier already.