When the Cat's Away, the Nuffy Will Play

Well, my former goat-meat snack industry business partner, Earl "Li'l Lord Fauntleroy" Fando, is still missing. Not "missing" in the sense of being in a secret location, but in the secondary sense of not reading this blog or being in the immediate vicinity. And you know what that means? Yes, it means everything you ever hoped it meant. Specifically, it means that I, Nuffy Noe, can post pretty much whatever I want. I can go nuts in this Dictionary of Unfortunate Ideas.

I could talk for seventeen paragraphs about the different exciting things you can do with mayonnaise. Here are five examples: 1) smear it on Grandpa's bald head with a paint brush, 2) fill your shoes with it for extra comfortable walking, 3) paint your house with it, using an old gasoline-soaked rag and the freshest Kraft Real Mayonnaise, 4) cover your yard with it so you no longer have to mow but have a lovely mayonnaise lawn instead, 5) freeze it in ice cube trays and enjoy it as a delicious frozen treat called MayonnaICE.

And now, for your everlasting entertainment, a tone poem.

Waiting for You

by Nuffy Noe

Sandwich. Melting Tuna Butter on old crusty elderberry horse toast.

I put it oh so tenderly, oh so gently, beneath your pillow,

while you were on vacation for a month in the Bahamas.

It is waiting for you, like a dog waiting for the newspaper,

Or a Rhinoceros waiting for his daily bowl of rancid fried carrot rinds.

It sits there, so softly beneath your pillow, with the delicate odors,

The tender smells, the soft and gently best scents intensifying,

Like a sound board cranked up to eleven, or a hippopatamus eating yams,

Like a cat thrashing angrily around in a vat of mildewed potatoes,

Or Shoeless Joe Jackson taking a baseball bat to his rabid shrieking cattle,

It is waiting for you right where it needs to be, beneath your pillow,

until you get back next month. A sandwich. A melting tuna butter sandwich.

end