About This Blog

This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!

The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.

I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.

Wednesday, 9 February 2011

Homer & Marge (Part Two)

(The Mad Lady was kind enough to post this for me on her blog on February 7th.  This is for those of you who have yet to pay her a visit)

The door slammed.


Feet stamped upstairs and wood was put under immense strain as a bedroom door was almost wrenched from it's hinges.


More stamping feet on the stairs made their way back to the hallway.


"Is that you? D'ya get the Bud?".  Homer twitched at the thought of a beer, but kept his eyes on the game.

"Bastard!" said Marge once more for effect as she entered the lounge. "I could kill you, Homer. I really could".

In her hand was a box of condoms. She took one out then threw the box at Homer.

"What've I been'n done now?"

"I'm pregnant you idiot!" she growled as she peeled the wrapper off the condom.

"Congratulations Us!" said Homer.  "Woooo-Woooo!  I think."

Marge placed the tip of the condom over two fingers and rolled it down.  It split almost immediately.

"Look!" she spat at Homer holding her hand up and waving it in his face.

"Funny!  That's what happens when I use 'em too.", came Homers reply as he watched his team fumble yet again.

"You ... you ... Oooooooooooooo!  I could strangle you!", cried Marge.  "Did ya read the box? Huh?  Did ya? 'Made in 1959' it says!  Jeez! We already have four kids!  What are we gonna do with a fifth?  How're we gonna manage?"

"S'pose we could sneak another one in without being noticed if we tried"

"I meant financially, smart ass!"

"I reckon I could get my boss to print my pay cheque on a piece'o rubber ... make it stretch, y'know? hahahahahahaha!"

The lounge door slammed behind a fuming Marge.  She once again stamped her way up the stairs and stormed into the bedroom.  The windows rattled as that door too was slammed shut.  In the following silence, there was an audible 'click' as the key turned in the lock.

Homer, still in front of the TV, looked up at the ceiling and shouted "Are we still on for the Cop and Hooker game tonight Marge? Marge?"


  1. Wow, maybe marge should of noticed that she was popping out babies like it was her job. She could always give the last one up for adoption?

  2. For one minute of pleasure you get 18 years of misery :-).


Any and all comments are welcome ...