It Was A Week That Was Shot To Pieces (standard:humor, 900 words)
Author: Godspenman	Added: Jun 28 2020	Views/Reads: 1024/748	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Fainting is always an option, but the person who refuses to allow his week to make him weary will reap God's blessing.

I only made one mistake last week, which is something of a record for
me. I try limiting mistakes to one at a time, but not always in 
sequential order. I once tried to make my mistakes in a logical order, 
but it turned out to be a mistake. 

The one faux pas I made was taking Monday off. 

I proposed to the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage that we take Monday
off late Sunday evening, suggesting a contest to see who could sleep in 
the longest. The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage readily agreed to 
my plan. 

This should have been a tip-off for me. 

On Monday, we decided to have a "loafing contest" to see who was the
best loafer. Up to this point, I assumed superiority in this area. Many 
things fall into the category of not being able to do by Yours Truly 
but not this. Therefore, I concluded I had this contest in the bag. 

Monday turned out to be a terrific day. Unfortunately, my wife won the
best loafer contest, but it was all in good fun, and we certainly 
enjoyed our day off. 

That was Monday. 

Starting on Tuesday, my week took a decidedly different turn. 

First, my computer crashed, leaving me stranded. Nothing is quite as
frustrating as having your computer out of commission for a long time. 

I set off to take my computer to the repair shop. On the way, the car
radiator broke. How these things break, I have no idea. All I know is, 
the little red light on the dashboard was on, and I knew I was in 
trouble. 

I barely got the car to the garage. When the mechanic lifted the hood
and examined my engine, he rubbed his hands with mischievous glee. When 
he looked at me with a smile smeared all over his puss. I knew I was in 
trouble. 

"Reverend," he taunted, "Your radiator is shot to pieces." 

I had no idea what that meant, but knew it involved lots of money being
transferred from my account to his. 

I left my car there. What else could I do? 

My wife picked me up, and we took my computer to the repair shop. When
the repair person looked at my computer, she rubbed her hands with 
mischievous glee and looked at me with a smile splotched all over her 
kisser. I knew I was in trouble again. 

"Reverend," she sneered, "your hard drive is shot to pieces." 

I had no idea what that meant, but knew it involved lots of money being
transferred from my account to hers. 

I left my computer at the repair shop and we drove to the optometrist to
have my eyes checked. When the doctor saw me, he rubbed his hands with 
mischievous glee and looked at me with a smile glowing all over his 
face. I knew I was in trouble. 

"Reverend," he observed, "your glasses are shot to pieces." 

I knew what that meant and perceived it involved lots of money being
transferred from my account to his. 

I left my glasses at the eye doctor's office to be repaired. 

Now I do not have glasses to see. 

Fortunately, I don't have a car to drive, nor do I have my computer to
work with. I do have backup glasses, but they are only good for backing 
up. Somehow, a theme was developing for my week. 



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