Illustration Friday: Chicken - The Death of Gerald Arthur Rottenheimer

Well it's been so long.

Sorry....

I made a new year's resolution you know. 

Apparently carrots make you turn orange. Did you know that?

So I have given them up.

But before you laugh, I have to point out that it's a well known fact that the carotene in carrots makes human skin turn orange.

Of course you have to eat a certain amount of carrots per day.

But I think that even the remotest possibility of having a vegetable make you the laughing stock of the other commuters waiting at your bustop just isn't worth the risk.

You probably might say that people who have a financial need to catch the bus (as opposed to having a private chauffeur) don't matter. But I can tell you that they do. Sometimes it's even a life or death situation.

In my neck of the woods, examples abound a plenty.

Consider, for example, that 'just' last year, just up the road at my 'local', we had a ninety three year old bent backed bus commuter named Gerald Arthur Rottenheimer throw himself under a shopping trolley at the supermarket - all because he had been seen the previous day waiting for a bus in the rain without wearing - yes you guessed it - the correct 'bus mounting boots'.

Now you might never have heard of "bus mounting boots". But that doesn't mean that they are of no importance.

Before you start to giggle in disbelief I would like you to pause for a moment - perhaps just even close your eyes for half a minute and think about poor Gerald Arthur Rottenheimer.

You see Gerald really didn't deserve to go that way.

Even though Gerald didn't smell the best, he always made sure that his slicked down silver grey hair was parted neatly in the middle. And this head hair was immaculate in the way that it matched the thatch of hairs that sprouted from both his ears, and his nasal cavities.

As for clothes he was quite the connosieur (why do I always pick words I can't spell?). Quite often he was to be seen wearing shirts that were only stained at the front - and I only caught him waiting at the bust stop once without his trousers.

But he'd had a good excuse that day... He told me in a whisper that Mrs Crabbit from number five had made a visit to his apartment in the morning and the only way that he could escape from her amorous clutches was to lock himself in the bathroom and clamber out the window (three floors up mind you) shimmy down the drain pipe and dash to the bustop in the hope of sucour - all without his trousers.

So now you have the picture - a ninety year old, bent backed, silver vaselined haired, trouserless man, with a thatch of lush nasal and ear hair, a man who, though he washed monthly, still  didn't smell too good, in a fit of hellish embaressed manic despair, throwing himself under the runaaway shopping trolley of a thrice unwed mother, the shopping trolley itself filled to the brim with used babies' nappies and no  name 500 gram brand cans of spaghetti.

It's not a pleasant way to go, is it?

That's why I gave up carrots.

Because of Gerald.

See you soon, maybe tommorow :)

Oh if you click the images, it gets bigger.

Thank you for looking.

Oh there are some star thingies and a poll. I didn't put them on, they came with the template. I have to figure out how to delete them. Must be in the html code? And sorry my banner is off centre. All the best blogs have off centred banners ;)