Author: Robert Gerard Hunt - page 20

Broadway Boogie-Woogie

As Aunt Peg would have said, “Isn’t that somethin’?” I remember my Great Aunt Peg as a kindly old woman who seemed to be in a perpetual state of amusement.  She ambled about with her stout frame and white hair, her sparkling eyes framed by glacial grooves of laugh-worn wrinkles, her cherubic mouth always somewhere..

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You’ll Probably Need Stitches

Those points are supposed to go down toward the ground. The house in which I grew up had aluminum downspouts that descended from our gutters and curved away from the foundation atop beveled cinder block.  They channeled rainwater adequately, but they were prone to rust and had sharp edges at their openings.  Not much of..

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Dynadormophis Up

What if people could bank, sell, and buy their sleep? It doesn’t matter if you’re dealing with a sleeper or a dynamo, every service call on a Dynadorm unit leads to an angry or incoherent customer.  That’s why there’s such a high turnover rate for us service techs, never mind the money.  I don’t care..

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Hostel Is A Homophone

The bridge from Sandy Hook to Harpers Ferry…and also from lunacy to sanity. “Nothing just happens!  Nothing just happens!” thundered the evangelizing voice of T.D. Jakes as I gnawed on fried chicken from the comfort of my hotel bed.  The congregation shouted its approval of their leader’s assertion that there is no such thing as a..

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Trumpet Lessons

The bane of my adolescent existence. Black Monday. My parents were disappointed with the label I had affixed to the evenings on which my trumpet lessons were scheduled.  Having spent a good deal of money to purchase the instrument itself, they no doubt would have been pleased had their son expressed any measure of gratitude..

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