Granny, Get Your Gun

Well, ya know, I been bloggin from the time I was a-bouncin up and down on my grand daddy's wooden leg. Bloggin and a -bouncin and splinterin', too, by jingos! And if I got a splinter in my ball bag, I'd yell just like an old dog. And then that's when granny would come by with the healin compound. And she'd shake it all up and get it all fizzin and then drink it all down and punch me in the liver to take my mind offn' the pain. And if she were here today, she'd take five valiums and guzzle half a micky of brandy and say, 'Where's my house?' But then, afterwards, she'd say, 'What did you do, boy, to drag me back up out of Whitby?' And I'd have to say, 'Well, granny, I wrote a blog and it wasn't interesting enough.' And then she'd say, 'What's a blog?' And then I'd say, 'It's like a telegram, except without paper, ink, or horses.' And then she'd say, 'Sounds to me like you have no life.'
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© 2010. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.