| || grill, trunk, nobody, bright, butting in.
Image from the Internet.
The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are welcomed!
Do not explicitly reveal any of the actual answer words until after closing time, but embedding them surreptitiously in comment sentences is encouraged.
11 comments:
The solution just leapt right out at me, and the clues were easy too. Guess it's Monday!
Is it springtime when rams get pugnacious? Or is it more likely the fall? Well, those trees in the cartoon are green all year, so that could be spring or fall. No ewes to be seen, though.
Sandy ~ The ewes are smart, keeping their distance when men's nasty work is afoot.
FLN: Wilbur ~ Enjoyed your poem of last night. It reminded me of gym dances long, long ago. It was fun to read of the jock cutting in just before seeing today's cartoon depiction of the same subject.
When I first looked at this Jumble, I thought I knew the solution instantly. But my guess was "Horning In"--the wrong end of the interrupter.
My verse today imagines a different world than that of today's prolific restaurant reviews.
"Yelp?"
At the Bright Star Bar 'n Grill,
nobody tips the staff.
It's a lowlife diner where the swill
is served with a wink & a laugh.
The word on the street is you never complain.
The last guy who did--so it's said--
was found rather dead:
his limbs in the grease drain,
his trunk dumpster a-bed,
& (a bit of a shocker)
in the meat locker,
his head.
~ OMK
Here's last night's take on today's Jumble
Bunky was bright but all in a funk
His 51 Ford was rusted grill to trunk.
That made him a nobody in the teenage chain
What girl wants a loser regardless of brain
He liked Mary Beth she was in Honors Bio
She was coy but cute? Oh me oh mio.
At the hop they danced but a jock butted in
For once Bunky acted, he faced him chin to chin
But before Bunky could deck this uncouth fellow
Mary Lou was off with a nerd who played the cello.
WC
Sandy, yes it was Monday easy. Monday in here not necessarily a gimme.
OMK, was that the Gruesome Diner? In Boston, up to 1971 before Mayor White tore(or burned) all the old warehouses and dilapidated buildings to make easy for the New Boston there was Mondo's.
The feature of this diner was Mrs Mondo and her gigantic pile of home fries and her 18 inch tattooed biceps.
The post club set met the truck driver set from midnight to four am. I love me them old Diners.
WC
"Will Fight"
Bill wanted Jill to grill
their father about his will.
It was packed in a trunk
and Bill wanted a chunk.
Dad planned that nobody
would get part of his potty.
So there would be a fight
to get inheritance right,
with a lot of butting
and some clever deal cutting.
But in the end the kids won
and inherited a ton,
which made their days bright.
"...not to speak of their night(s)."
Eh?
Misty ~ I like how things all turned out for the best, for the kids anyway.
What's with Dad and his fear of losing his "potty."
Is this the ultimate in anal retention?
~ OMK
Misty a succinct account of the inheritance nightmare. Hopefully there wasn't a missing progeny of a long lost love that in a "moment" was adopted. 1/2 becomes 1/4. If Jill had four siblings 1/5 becomes 1/10.
WC
Ol' Man Keith, there are very few words that rhyme with "nobody," and my only possibilities were "knotty," "spotty," and "dotty," so I figured I'd go with "potty" and trust everyone would assume it refers to his pot of money. I also thought of "totty" and just looked it up and it sounds like British slang for a sexy woman. So if I had to do it over I might have had Dad decide to keep his money for his "totty" rather than his children. But--now that I think about it--his stinginess is probably a sign of anal retention.
So, Wilbur, you're right--it's luck that Dad didn't have a "totty" and that there were no other children from the past. My goodness, inheritance is tough, isn't it?
After all that, I must say that both of your poems were wonderful this morning, as always, and make me honored to be the silly one in your poetic circle. So, cheers to you both!
Dear Silly Misty ~ I guessed that's what you were thinking, but you can see how easily language has its own whims.
That was obviously a variation of a Freudian slip--and quite a pip, too.
Wilbur ~ No particular diner in mind. When I was a kid we ate sometimes in a cheap chop house along Union Street in SF. It had an unsavory reputation. I never knew why.
~ OMK.
I believe the diner originated in Worcester 100 years ago and entrepreneurs bought railcars and converted them. Talk about enterprising.
Even if they weren't actually railcars they were shaped that way. Pan fries, liver and onions and of course the XW fav: BLT were among the specialties.
Hash too but it should be homemade from leftover pork or beef with potato and onion. I hate when it's out of the can. And then I want it cooked through not just SEARED.
WC
I like how each of our poems gave "trunk" a different meaning.
~ OMK
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