This is DAX.

It is short for duck with an ax.


Because he is a duck with an ax…duh

I don’t know how long I have had him or where he came from.

I guess he just showed up and never left.

When I drive, he listens.

He just stares at me with that grin while holding that ax.

That’s what makes him companionable.

That he listens….not that he has an ax.

The other way around would just be strange.

For more entries to this weeks challenge press “here



Square Footage

Keeping caught up on finances is much like dangling a apple on a stick just out of reach of a horses mouth.

He thinks he is going to get it, but no matter how hard he tries…..he doesn’t.

To attempt to earn a little extra fruit, I picked up a job on the side.


To make ends meet I took on installing laminate wood floor in my neighbors house…..his entire house.

It’s not a mansion or necessarily a huge house, but 800 sq. feet of floor is a daunting task for 1 weekend.


I worked a total of 16 hours this weekend. With the help of my handy Wife, I installed 795 sq. feet.

5 short.

Why you ask?



“Oh, no…you again?”

Betelgeuse-“Yes sireee, Mr. red on the head like a..”


Betelguese- “feeling a little sensitive are we….I`m feeling a little, ooh, anxious if you know what I mean. It`s been about six hundred years after all. I wonder where a guy, an everyday Joe like myself, can find a little *action*.”

“You’re in the wrong place to find action wearing that stripes getup. Where did you escape from….prison?”

Betelgeuse-“You released me from my prison, funny bone.” He says as he looks at my Dc Comics Flash statue and then continues.

Betelguese: (kicks over statue) Nice F*ck*n model (as he grabs his genitals)
Honk honk

“Hey, that’s a collectible figurine you undead wannabe!….beetlejuice beetlejuice beetlejuice.”

Betelgeuse- “Crap”

I couldn’t finish the last 5 because I was tired and frustrated.

I still am.

I think I will try to relaxing by watching an old movie.

Any suggestions?

I’m still chasing the apple, by the way.

The Learning

Things I found out this weekend-

-Teenage girls still like to give teenage boys hickeys… know territorial neck marks.

I don’t know why…

-Teenage boys still lie to their parents about hickies….by trying to say its not a hickey, but a mark made an object that leaves a mark eerily similar to one that would be made by a teenage girl trying to suck the “quit looking at other girls” out of said teenage boy.

I still don’t know why…

Finally, I learned the answer to the question that has been perplexing me since I began questioning.

-Why don’t eggs taste like chicken?

The answer is as follows…

The meat of chicken is the bird’s muscle tissue.

An egg is simply the amniotic fluid(white) and the placenta(yolk) that a chick embryo will grow in.

You arent eating muscle when you eat an egg, so it wont taste like it.

Now that I know this I have effectively taken eggs out if my diet.


The Brain Freeze

Listening is not one of my better qualities….

“Huh? Did you say something? Sorry, I was just telling myself I need to listen more.”

My brain is busy. It got stuff goin on up dere.

In the car, coming back from grocery shopping, my wife was having a conversation with me.

I would nod my head, and say, “uh, huh” at what I thought were the appropriate times by picking out pauses and roughly every 3rd or 9th word she would say.

It’s s complicated system that my busy brain has devised for me to seem interested in what is going on around me. When actually, I am visualizing me riding a full grocery cart down the parking lot. Feet up on the step, wind in my hair, one bad wheel threatening to fall off.


While she is talking, and I’m nodding, and driving, and visualizing my infantile behavior, my brain throws another thing into the mix.

A song starts playing….in my head. I think I am singing it….in my head.

When all of the sudden my wife says,

“What in the world are you mumbling, why are you grooving while you are driving and have you even heard anything I have said since we got into the car?”

My reply…,

“I’m not mumbling…I am reciting the lyrics to ‘Manic Depression’ by the legendary guitarist and artist, Johnny Allen Hendrix, the Voodoo Child, better known as Jimi Hendrix.
And you were just talking about …umm….well…eggs Benedict?….no wait….ummmm….summer tanning…”

I’m starting to get the “wife glare”

If you are married and anything like me….then I am sure you have seen it.

So….i just give her a cheesy smile and go back to singing…

Duh, nuh nuh nuh nuh, duh nuh nuh nuh nuh

“Woman so weary, the sweet cause in vain
You make love, you break love
It’s all the same
When it’s, when it’s over, mama
Music, sweet music
I wish I could caress, caress, caress
Manic depression is a frustrating mess”

At least my terrible rendition got a smile.

After that she quit listening.


In The Dog House

I really thought I knew her. I do know her…for over 4 1/2 years. But yet…I feel I don’t know her at all.

I found out the hard way. I found her passed out on the couch, all spread eagle like a common floosie. Maybe she’s drunk…I don’t know how..we don’t even have alcohol in the house. Maybe she was with that dirty dog down the street.

And to thing we named her


What will I tell the kids?


The Write Start

I have made the decision to jump into the realm of possibly putting the time and effort into considering opening up my imagination and carefully piecing enough words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs, pages and chapters together to create a book.

For this venture into the unknown, I needed something to create the words on.

My iPhone works great for posting on this blog but not so much for creating my subsequent masterpiece.

For Father’s Day, my wife commandeered a PC from her parents to aid me in my journey.

To steal a term, I call it-

“The Dark Tower”

That’s the name of the PC….not the book. I’m a few shingles short of a roof but I’m not crazy.

My step daughter who loves to type wanted to try it out. So she pushed the “on” button to the monitor and waited….

And waited….

“I think this thing is broken…” She confidently stated.

“’s not broken, you need to turn the power onto the black rectangular box that is next to you on the floor for it to work.” I replied

“Oh…my bad.” She said with a hair flip and a smile.

She hit the power button. It sounded like a aircraft was leaving the runway.

She then asked,

“Where is Microscope Word, so I can type?”


“Thanks. What should I type?”

“I want an essay on ‘Why chickens don’t have lips.” I said.

And here is what she wrote…..


I may have to rethink my plan. How could I possibly top that?