Wandering Wendy

Wendy was born in a wonderland
Or a wander-land if you please
For she was often known to go wandering
In the midst of the willow trees

From just a wee lass she’d heard whispers
Of wizards and witches and such
Who waited for children to whisk them away
And feed them to werewolves for lunch

Not one to wilt from such long-winded tales
Or whine from the thorns that will prick
She waved off the warnings from well-meaning folks 
And wandered off into the thick

She followed a wheel-rutted path that led in
And soon heard a warble or trill
Perhaps just the wind or a trick of the mind
A wren or a whippoorwill

With strong-willed suspicion she continued her way
Walking as fast as she could
When she felt something wicked was watching
From the darkness so deep in the woods

Without any warning a witch did appear
Face withered and bleached white as snow 
Her thin wrinkled neck wore the teeth of a wolf
A wart graced the tip of her nose

She stared at young Wendy with black wrathful eyes
Winked and then gave her a sneer
I’ll grant you three wishes to test your desires
So you’d better wish wisely, my Dear
For if you are greedy or show weakness of will 
And wish for more wishes or gold
The test will be over and the wager you’ll lose
As the winner I’ll be taking your soul

Wendy wasn’t one to get worried or fraught
And was always well-mannered and nice
So she weighed all her options like a good Welshman will
For to wilt would be too high a price

Here are my wishes so please listen well
I’ll promise I won’t wax or wane
I wish you were a young child just ‘bout my age
With beauty all seek to attain

I wish for you wisdom in all of your ways
That you no more cause children to weep
Wherever you roam all will seek out your words
For the good you will sow you will reap

My last wish is selfish and wrong I suspect
Though wistful I must go ahead
I wish we would never remember this day
When we wake we’ll be sisters instead

A whirlwind of lights washed the darkness away
White heat from the flash warmed her face
When she opened her eyes the old witch was no more
A mere child stood there in her place

Wendy gave the young girl a wide smile 
Let’s be going was all she would say
Our mother will surely be worried by now
I think we should call it a day
-Kenneth Goorabian

‘til Death Do Us Part

Either this man is dead or my watch has stopped.

-Groucho Marx

I don't believe in an afterlife, although I am bringing a change of underwear.

-Woody Allen

A few days before our wedding I was dying.  Really.  Laugh away.  I was convinced I would never set foot on Italian soil for our business trip/honeymoon.  I would undoubtedly clutch my chest and crumble to the ground, all the while watching the wedding ring roll across the floor in a grainy, black-and-white, slow-motion like a scene from an Orson Wells movie before I could croak out, “I do.”

The phone call to future wife went something like this. Or at least how I choose to remember it.

Bonnie:  Hi, Babe.  What’s up?

Ken:  We need to talk.

Bonnie:  What?

Ken:  I’m dying.  I won’t live to see Milan.

Bonnie: (Crickets)

Ken:  Don’t weep for me.  Just start a home for abandoned hamsters in my name.

Well, it went something like that.  Bonnie agreed to meet me after work, (so much for compassion), picked me up and we went to the doctor.  Luckily, I was still alive by the time we arrived at the office. 

After checking my blood pressure and pulse, I was weighed and measured (for undertaker’s purposes, I surmised) and invited to spend some time alone in a cold drawer… er…room, waiting for the doctor.

Side Note: Doctor’s visits are like Disneyland, where you’re convinced you're near the ride until you reach the corner and discover something constructed by the same sadists that designed rat mazes.  Only at the doctor’s office they shuttle you from room to room and you don’t get cheese.

After a wait that seemed no shorter than showing up at DMV without an appointment, a female doctor (who could have played Gidget if they rebooted it today) entered.

Doctor Gidget:  What seems to be the problem?

Ken:  Holy minestrone, I’m dying. (All right, the Gidget quote wasn’t in there, but I wanted to say it.)

Bonnie:  He’s not dying.  We’re getting married.

Ken:  She’s an optimist, not a doctor.

Let’s cut to the chase.  She checked my heart and lungs (both still there) and then pronounced me fit, and free to get married.

Ken:  It’s not that I don’t believe you, but is there anything else you can check?

Bonnie:  Stop.  You’re not dying.  We already paid for the trip.

Ken:  You can carry me in one of those urns, but not a fancy one.  Something plain, in blue…  I’ve always looked good in blue.

Bonnie looks at the doctor and shakes her head.

Doctor Gidget:  We can do an EKG (My first thought was Electrocute Kenneth Goorabian, but that’s how my mind works) if you like.

Ken:  How much will that cost?

Okay, I was in for $80 so far and dying or not, I am a freelancer.

Doctor Gidget:  $60

Ken:  Let’s do it. If I’m dying who cares about the bill.

Bonnie: (Gives me a look that would scare a terrorist off a plane.)

After a few minutes, the doctor came back with the results.

Ken:  How much time do I have?

Bonnie:  Oh, my gosh.

Ken:  I just bought these shoes.  I want to get some wear out of them.

Funny how the mind works.  Apparently, it was a simple panic attack due to my already-existing generalized anxiety, the wedding, the trip abroad, moving, yada, yada, yada.  The doctor presented me with my first Xanax prescription.

Lesson I learned:

I’ve seen my share of doctor shows, so I knew what an EKG was, but was not so happy when I came out looking like a dog with mange after they hacked away my chest hairs to attach the electrodes.  My chest looked like a smiley face.  If I had to do it all over again, I would visit both a tanning and waxing salon before submitting myself to this procedure.  I really want to look better as a corpse.

Kenneth Goorabian

www.kennethgoorabian.blogspot.com

Confessions of a Cereal Killer

\

“I like any cereal. I like the idea of eating and drinking with one hand without looking.”

-Jerry Seinfeld

“Four out of five doctors say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I guess the other guy sleeps in a lot.”

-Kenneth Goorabian

Honey Nut, oh, Honey Nut, how I love thee. Let me count the ways.

I won’t really list them, but… I will sing their praises.

For those who poo-poo America’s contributions to gourmet cuisine, consider this:  The very first breakfast cereal, granula, was invented in Dansville, NY, in 1863 by James Caleb Jackson. He was the owner/operator of Our Home on the Hillside, later renamed the Jackson Sanatorium. Whether this change from home sweet home to insane asylum was due to consuming vast quantities of sugary loveliness has never been proven, but rumors abound.

Before long, surgeon and health spa owner, John Harvey Kellogg, got wind of Jackson’s granula, and renamed it granola (I read that as a play on vowels and plagiarism – but who am I?). And to add another twist, Kellogg was then quickly bested by a former patient, C.W. Post. What did Post offer to the mix? His tooth-shattering creation, Grape-Nuts, championed by tree-huggers and dentists alike. Post was the first to offer a discount coupon in his cereal boxes. Not sure if this coupon was for the product or dental services.

Kellogg retaliated by adding prizes. Soon there were millions of baking-soda submarines, comics, and other fabulous toys that caused us to feverishly rip apart the box like a spoiled kid on Christmas morning. Pure genius.

After half a century gobbling down truckloads of sweet grainy goodness, drowned in gallons of milk, I’m still hooked. How could I not be? What’s better than dessert for breakfast?

I must confess that during the writing of this piece I mercilessly killed Cap’n Crunch. The whole box.  I feel nauseated and a bit remorseful, but it had to be done. Perhaps this is a cry for help.

Nah.

Forget about the cavities and hyperactivity. Grab a bowl, a spoon, and cereal of your choice because…

Theeeeey’re alllll great.

Kenneth Goorabian

www.kennethgoorabian.blogspot.com

Less Talk-a-Lot, More Chocolate

“Nine out of ten people like chocolate. The tenth person always lies.”

-John Q. Tullius

“Chocolate’s a lot like sex. I always finish it too soon.”

-Kenneth Goorabian

If veggies were made of chocolate

I’d chew them up in bunches

Every meal would be filled with glee

Dinners, breakfasts and lunches

I wouldn’t hide from lima beans

Squash I’d gobble down

I’d roll in fields of broccoli

All covered in gooey brown

And if offered cauliflower

I’ll admit, I used to hate

If veggies were made of chocolate

I’d gladly fill my plate

Kenneth Goorabian