Norm Peterson Bought the House Next Door

November 30, 2011 § Leave a comment

Saturday morning was typical.  I woke up hungry but was too lazy to cook anything.  I decided on something simple:  Bison Southwestern Chipotle Dip and Fritos. The combination was a success going in and a nightmare coming out.  It was an unprecedented poop and looked like a broken sausage marinated in brownie batter splashed with a pot of muddy coffee.  I used up the last 13 (actually 26 – I’m a two square bear) squares of toilet paper and had to finish with a facial tissue.  Being plumb out of hole squares gave me an opportunity to go outside.  It was time to go to the supermarket.

I walked outside and noticed a moving truck parked in the street.  The house next door had been up for sale and unoccupied for the last six months and someone was moving in.  I walked over to introduce myself.  After I rang the doorbell much to my surprise Norm Peterson answered the door.

“Norm,” I said.  “I haven’t seen you in ages.  I’m Jon”

“Well, I haven’t been on television in nearly twenty years.  Nice to meet you Jon.”

“Where’s Vera?”

“She died a few years back.  Fell off a horse Chris Reeve style.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No need to be sorry.  She tasted great on a hot dog bun drenched in mayonnaise.  I’m kidding of course.”

“So what brings you to Rochester, New York?”

“I’m a big fan of Genny Light, Jon.  Now if you’ll excuse me I need to finish unpacking so I can sit back and start drinking.”

“If you need anything let me know.”

“Do you have any cold beer in your fridge?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Then I guess I don’t need anything.”

I made it to the supermarket quick enough not to ponder the significance of a drunk from Cheers moving in next door to me.  If any the significance lied in the possibility of future years of entertainment.  Once inside I found the toilet paper and noticed Florence Johnston standing before the Charmin.

“Hi Florence,” I said.  “How are the Jeffersons?”

“Weezy’s got hemorrhoids.”

“What a shame.”

“I tell her it’s because she always has me buy her the single ply sandpaper.  A woman’s asshole is a delicate thing and that TP is too rough.”

“I agree.”

“And it ain’t just that.  It’s so thin that it rips when you’re wiping.  I’m not sure about other women but the last thing this woman wants is a poopy piece of corn stuck to the tip of her index finger, you know what I’m saying?”

“I hear you Florence.”

“Well, I best be on my way.  I’m going to try to wedge some four ply in Weezy’s big black ass.”

“Tell her I said hello.”

“Will do.”

I grabbed some TP and walked over to the beer section.  I figured a six pack would be a nice welcoming gift for Norm.

I arrived at Norm’s with a six pack in each hand and rang the doorbell with my elbow.  Norm opened the door.

“Hi Jon.”

“Hey Norm.  I bought this for you.”

I handed Norm the beer.

“What’s this?”

“A six pack of Genny Cream Ale.  Just a way to say welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Thanks Jon.  You know, you really are a good guy.”

I opened up the six pack of toilet paper, took out one roll and handed it to Norm.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s for tomorrow morning.  Trust me.”

Advertisements

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing the Norm Peterson category at The Benevolent Couch Potato.

%d bloggers like this: