 Comedy: October 02, 2019 Issue [#9780] |
This week: Trash Talk and A Comedic Story of Terror Edited by: Ẃeβ࿚ẂỉԎḈĥmas  
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My favorite time of year is here. Autumn with vibrant colors surrounding me. But it's also October, the month of spooks, ghosts, goblins and all things horror. Let me ask you something -- do you ever add comedy to a horror story?
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Hello folks! Happy October. This site will be glowing in the dark, bursting forth with all things scary. But, before I get to the humor of horror, I need to do some venting about garbage. No, I don't mean air-venting due to smelly garbage although it was beginning to look that way. I mean my irritation due to the slacking-off of the weekly removal of disposable waste as per contracted with this particular company for years. Read on ...
Trash Talk:
Each Wednesday, I and my trash bin await its pick-up. However, for some reason, after years of using this company's service, they have inconveniently forgotten that I exist. My neighbors' trash is gone, mine still lingers at the curb.
Months ago, when I returned from Florida after a fall and winter of fun in the sun, I took my garbage service off hiatus and ready for a half a year of weekly trash collection. For some reason, whether changes were made at the office or new drivers had not received the start-up order, I've had to contact the office to inquire about delivery. Their response was, "Oh, sorry we missed you. We'll send a truck for a special pick-up." The following week I saw the truck passing us by. When it returned up the street later that day, Web-Lock flagged them down and asked them why the garbage wasn't picked-up. They told him, "It's the wrong bin."
This is when I really wanted to do some trash talking, but held my tongue -- a very painful thing to attempt for a witch.  "What? This bin has been picked-up for years by your company, now it's the wrong bin?"
"Yes, we don't take the blue bins."
Again, an office complaint, a special pick-up, and a drop off of a new bin -- a smaller bin, and still a blue bin. After weeks of them finally picking up my smaller blue bin and never taking away the larger, more offensive bin, I decided to ask questions of my neighbors.
"Barbara, your garbage pick-up is the same day as mine, but you have a green bin. It's the same size as the bigger bin I used to have but they refused to pick-up. Now I have a smaller bin and find that there is a bias against my bins."
She laughed and told me she still had her old Waste Management bins and the present company took over their route. She said she also has a huge recycling bin that gets picked-up every other week. Now, I'm fuming. "You mean to tell me that you just started with this company by default, get to keep the bigger bin AND have a recycling bin too? That's so unfair! I've had this company for years when we had the choice between the two companies. I should have seniority or something. Now, they treat my trash like trash!"
She said it wasn't all that easy to get her garbage picked-up. She actually drove a few towns away to complain at the office in person. After that her garbage was never a problem for them. Deciding I wasn't being treated equally in my neighborhood, I replaced the smaller bin with the larger one that was equal in size to my neighbor's. I waited for the garbage truck to come down the street. When asked why they are bypassing my house, they said, "We don't pick up that large blue bin." 
Another office call, special pick-up on it's way. I watched for the second truck as it came to collect my garbage and went over and spoke to the drivers. They said I have to call the office and complain, yet again. I told them how many times that's been done all through the summer. And, that I've been cheated out of the larger sized bins my neighbors have since they thrust the itty-bitty bin upon me. The driver said they were from the business side of the company not the residential, and were told to do a special pick-up. However, he had mentioned things weren't running as smoothly as they should, and that they were understaffed. He took mercy on me and dialed the super secret number that changed my trashy world. He contacted dispatch and said to deliver me a brand new 128 gallon bin plus a recycling bin. She looked up my account and said the new bins would be delivered the next day and the old ones would be taken away.
I was so happy with that driver I could have baked him an apple pie. He handed me a piece of paper with a name and a phone number. He told me it is the direct number to the local dispatcher who runs the area. He said the other "local" number that was given to all the customers isn't really located here; it's a "local area code" that's forwarded to Arizona." Arizona!
"You mean to tell me that I've been dealing with their home-state location rather than an office in my state, and, the company's been fooling us into believing we are calling our local area office?" There was a smile and an emphatic nod from the driver. Folks, you may, if you wish, insert all the "trash-talk" words I wish I could say right here and right now. Thank you very much! 
Scary can be Funny, too! 
Many years ago I told this story in a Comedy Newsletter. It's worth repeating to make the point about humor and scary entwining.
When Halloween is approaching, separating reality from the fantasy of ghouls, witches and things that go bump in the night, can sometimes be confusing. One day, I worked relentlessly rigging up ghosts, skeletons and little gravestones in the front yard behind a tall iron gate displaying a sign "Good to Seeum Mausoleum." Yes it was perfect to scare the stuffing out of the little goblins.
That evening, after all the preparations on the outside of the house were finished, I was exhausted and decided to go to bed and listen to a little late night radio. Some of you may be familiar with its format, which includes tales of ghosts, aliens and other inexplicable happenings. I must tell you before I go on, I'm not good with buttons. No, I don't mean the ones on clothes, either. I mean buttons that are attached to electronic appliances such as stereos and digital recording devices; okay, even multi-purpose radios sometimes. They just do not cooperate with my fingers for some reason. Inevitably, I would have to call Web-Son to come fix the problem with the satellite receiver, when only fuzzy dots show up on the screen. These words would follow, and still do to this day, "Mom, did you play with the buttons again?" Of course I did, folks!
That being said, let me take you back to the dead of night, radio in the background, and a topic that is frightfully creepy with a guest who recorded the voices of spirits. He traveled to infamous haunted places, cemeteries, and turn-of-the century sanatoriums. My spine was tingling with the sound of voices from beyond. I started drifting off to dreamland, but could not let myself fall completely asleep because the subject matter was fascinating.
It was getting close to three a.m. and there was this eerie voice calling from beyond the grave. Just as I felt the goose bumps springing up, I heard this music playing softly and solemnly in the background. It was a couple minutes before I realized the radio shut off by itself! I guess it was one of those buttons I played with earlier. Nevertheless, there was a distinct melody ever present in the atmosphere. I decided to get out of bed and investigate. I checked to see if my son was in his room and not doing the wandering around the house. With him safely in bed and asleep I proceeded to protect our home.
I walked quietly and carefully down the hall in the dark because I knew every inch of the home with the lights off which gave me an advantage. I had my weapon in hand, my back along the wall and ready to aim at the intruder playing the mysterious music in my home. I reached the bottom of the staircase and nearly jumped out of my skin. I heard the little melody rise to a resounding "H-a-l-l-e-l--j-a-h!" With my heart in my throat, I attempted to take a logical, grown-up approach to the situation.
I strolled down the path toward the music, and found my stereo blaring. Yes, Handel's "Messiah" was left in the unruly machine. I realized that earlier that day I was pushing buttons. Evidently, there is a built in alarm clock on the cd player. How convenient is that?!!
I laughed at myself and thankfully didn't wake up my son, to have to live down the shame of my inability to correctly push buttons. I was thankful that I could chuckle over the little spook in the machine. After all, instead of pushing buttons, I could have been pushing daisies!
 Happy Halloween!
Until next time--laugh hard, laugh often!
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It's that time of year
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Quick-Quill 
I'm in my office holding on to my chair to keep from falling off. I have been to Bah-ston and have friends from the upper east coast. I love how you drop the 'r's. My MIL was British and added an r to my name and anything that pretty much ended in a vowel. When I was young I moved from KC,MO to Los Angeles. They made fun of the way I said "I" they said it sounded like AH with a soft ee at the end. Who know I could affect an Missouri accent in 2 years. Then I married and moved to Minn-e-sooo-tah for 30 years. Now I live in Oregon and people I talk to on the phone ask me where I'm at. I tell them and they say "you sound sort of Scandinavian." I tell them I used to live in Minn-e-sooo-tah they laugh and say "Yep that's what I hear?" I've been in Oregon 12 years. How do I still sound like I'm Minnesotan? Maybe because I visit my daughter a couple times a year? I'm an empathetic speaker. I hear accents and in a short time of being in a person's company I may start to sound like them.
Yes, in Boston an "r" is pretty much added to anything ending in a vowel! I figured make this newsletter an easy introduction to Boston-talk before I go into many of the other nuances.  I may come back to it in another nl someday. I don't know about Oregon, but I think it may be similar to some Washington state accents. I had an employee at that placed I managed, and she would say "wirsh" for "wash" my clothes. Add that to all those Midwesterners hanging onto their "Rs" like they were gold, I couldn't imagine her ever getting her "wirrrrrrrrrsh" done! 
BIG BAD WOLF Feeling Thankful 
Try listening to some of my Youtube videos when I'm excited. When I was younger, I talked like an Auctioneer.
I've listened to you on youtube, BBW. You have a great voice! Perhaps you weren't excited when I was listening? 
Your garden videos are always great, and I have enjoyed them. Thanks for your feedback, BBW. 
🐕GeminiGem🎁 
I grew up mostly in Vermont. At the age of 17, I moved away from Vermont to Wisconsin. I finished my last year of high school in the Midwest.
I noticed that my classmates would parrot some of my speech and then giggle like mad. It wasn't done meanly, but it puzzled me and made me feel very awkward. I finally figured out that these kids thought I had an (amusing) accent! I could never hear it in my own speech, but my classmates had tons of fun with it.
After a while, the giggling stopped. Did they get used to my "accent"? No, apparently I am accent fluid. I started pronouncing things like a Midwesterner, and my New England accent slid by the wayside. To my ear I still pronounce things as I always have.
It's true one can lose the accent when moving away from a certain region at a younger age. I was in my mid-twenties when I moved to Illinois, and kept my accent. I moved to Texas, and I still had my accent, but my husband a native Midwesterner had that illinois accent, and we had four kids when we moved when we moved there. The oldest who had much schooling in Illinois picked up that accent, the next oldest had a mix of Midwest and Texas. The next youngest daughter spoke with a complete Texas drawl, and the baby girl spent a lot of time with me before going to school and picked-up my New England accent. People wondered how they could all be from the same family by the time we got to Wyoming! My son, born in CA, seemed to have no accent at all! I guess if you blend too many of them in one family the accents become neutralized. 
Dragon is hiding 
You sound like an Aussie.
No, not really. I used to watch an Aussie soap opera called "Prisoner Cell Block H" or something like that, many years ago. I could detect their accent clearly and it differed from the Boston version. MA and RI, specifically Providence, are different accents, as well as Maine and Vermont in how they place certain accents on certain parts of a word. CT, and Western MA don't have the accent that those near Boston have. I think it's their proximity to NY influence.
Thank you for all your feedback! We editors really appreciate it.
See you at the end of the month -- yes, you get me twice in October. 
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