Everything your mother didn't have time to tell you because she was too busy struggling!
Monday-Punday #20
Here’s a Pun Fact:
Ferdinand Feghoot is a character invented by Reginald Bretnor, writing under the pen-name Grendel Briarton (an anagram). He stars in shaggy dog stories, usually in a science-fiction style, in which he saves the day in a horribly punny way. These ultra short stories often were complex and involved, which made the resulting pun even more hideous … and funny.
About 80 of Bretnor’s stories were published in Fantasy and Science Fiction Magazine in the 50s, 60s, and early 70s, under the title “Through Time and Space with Ferdinand Feghoot”. Most were original, but some were suggested by others and rewritten in his own words (and credited).
He has been used by so many authors in such a manner, that such stories are now commonly known as Feghoots — sometimes even if they don’t star Ferdinand himself.
She got emerald rings, a diamond broach, a mink fur coat, a sports car, a beach condo and several valuable blue-chip stock options.
Mary had a little lamb,
It’s fleece was black as soot,
And everywhere that Mary went,
His sooty foot he put!
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.
Alas, Jack couldn’t clear the flame.
Now Jack-Hot-Pants is his name.
Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard,
To get her poor daughter a dress.
But when she got there, the cupboard was bare …
Simple Simon met a pie-man,
Going to the fair.
Said Simple Simon to the pie-man,
“What have you got there?”
– – – – – – –
Naming the Club
After his weekly game of golf, John went home, cursing all the way home at the sand traps as usual. He never could get out of one in under a dozen strokes. It ruined his game, since he played spectacularly well in all other conditions… but one single sand trap could put his score in the triple digits.
It being Wednesday, he had to go shopping, but he was in a foul mood. Luckily, his usual tea and some buttered scones helped him relax somewhat. (Yes, in fact, he had always wanted to be a lumberjack. Why do you ask?)
He sipped the tea, containing honey freshly collected from his own apiary, from a cup decorated with bees, on a matching saucer, with his scones on a matching plate. Of course, these matched his clothes as well (as if normal golfing clothes aren’t hideous enough), and most of the decor of his house. Indeed, he was such a collector (and proud displayer) of anything to do with bees, that many of his associates thought him rather obsessed.
After shopping, he parked in his garage, and passed by his workshop. Inspiration struck. He decided to invent a new golf club, that would help him get out of sand traps better. After all, he had tried dozens of different kinds of the traditional “wedges”, and none did him any good.
For months, he analyzed and researched and built prototypes and tested them. Most wound up tossed into a water hazard, wrapped around a tree, or just plain broken. Finally, he made one that would do the trick. Every time he landed in a sand trap, one stroke, or at most two, with this new club, would get him out of it, and land his ball right where he wanted it.
Of course, eventually one of his foursome (that’s golf foursome; get your mind out of the gutter, those are in bowling!), Richard Roe, suggested marketing this marvelous new club. He had several meetings with assorted sporting goods makers, including many that specialized in golf, but there was always one awkward moment, that went something like this:
“I call it my sand club.”
“No, I mean like a model name. It needs a catchy name. You know, like the Big Bertha drivers.”
“Well, can’t you think of one?”
“No, sorry, not until you sign on with us.”
“And then, of course, if I don’t like the name you think up, it’s too late for me to exercise any control. Right?”
“Well, usually, yes. We might be able to work around it, but….” <shrug>
So, he sat and thought about different ways to name it.
At the start of next week’s game, he asked for some help in that department from the rest of his foursome. Midway through, one of the others, Joe Shmoe, got stuck in a sand trap, and was having a devil of a time getting out of it with his usual club. John lent him his new club, and Joe was out of the trap and on the green on the very next stroke, just three yards from the cup. In his excitement, Joe forgot to switch clubs, but found that John’s new invention worked very well also for putting the ball right into the hole.
The next partner noticed this. When he got his ball onto the green, he said to Joe, “Let me borrow that …
bee-nut putter’s Sand Witch!”
“Author of Swirling. Advocate for black women finding love across color lines. Creator of The Pink Pill.”
It’s a new year and with it, perhaps new incentive to finally pursue what you...
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