Where's the chicken?

I dropped a piece of chicken,
I know not where it went
The chair, the stairs, the ottoman?
Down the heating vent?
I looked high, low and in between
Then underneath the rugs
Though I guess I needn't worry
'Twill be eaten by the bugs!

The ballad of Old Greasy Thighs

I once worked with a largely unpleasant fellow. He was largely unfriendly, largely unsocial and largely large. He needed a specially designed chair to support him that looked like it was purchased off of a Paramount lot after shutting down one of the multitude Start Trek incarnations.
However, antisocial behavior was not his most off-putting characteristic.
You did NOT want to use a restroom after him.
Not for the usual scatological reasons, but for the unearthly residue.
After he exited the stall, the toilet seat sported a coating of greasy dark fuzz. The fuzz was reminiscent of the cheap coating of "fur" that adorns inexpensive plastic toy animals.
What it was, and how he transferred it, is nothing that I care to know.
Hence, the nickname "Old Greasy Thighs".
If you ever work with him, be sure to carry gloves, a scrub brush and disinfectant.
Or use a neighborhood "Kwik-Kee-Marte" restroom. It is likely to be less offensive.

Little Larry's Limerick

There once was a man name o' Neddy
Who liked to eat lots o' spaghetti
He also ate greens
And occasionally beans
And bread whenever 'twas ready!

Tragedy leads to Treats

Dear Blog Community Members,

It is with heavy heart that I relate the following: Yesterday
afternoon Timmy the Tape-gun was severely injured in a work related
accident. His injury was not a total surprise, as Timmy was getting
up in years and he had lived a hard life. In fact, he had just completed
a 12-step rehabilitation program at the 3M wing of the Betty Ford
Clinic for an adhesive-sniffing addiction.

Nevertheless, Timmy was loved by most, and certainly respected by
all who knew him. He will continue to work, but sadly not to the levels
for which he was legendary.

During his convalescence (and probable retirement) Timmy will be
succeeded by a younger, stronger but hitherto unnamed tape-gun. To
remedy this anonymity, we are offering a contest to name Timmy's
successor.

Please send your ideas for an appropriate name for this strapping young
tape-gun.

The winning entry will receive the following treats:
1) A smile
2) A note of thanks from the Brotherhood of Packing Products
3) Blog bliss 

The winning entry will be based on originality, creativity and clever
use of language (English or otherwise). Off-color, racist, or otherwise
offensive entries will be immediately disqualified, printed out, stomped on,
torn to pieces and unceremoniously flushed.

Judging will be held on Wednesday January 15th, rain or
shine. So enter often!

VOID WHERE PROHIBITED, INHIBITED OR INEBRIATED.

*SPONSORED BY "FRIENDS OF TIMMY MN CHAPTER 9B" AND
"BIG REYNOLD'S FORK TINE ALIGNMENT AND SPOON RE-CONCAVING
SERVICES, Because your flatware needn't be".

Things are looking down

Many have noted that I tend to look down at the ground while I walk. I will not deny it; the truth is the truth. What is the reason for my downcast gaze?
-Am I severely depressed? (Eyore syndrome?)
-Are my shoulders weighed down by problems unfathomable?
-Am I so concerned with the sanctity of all life, that I keep a constant vigil to make sure that nothing living is trodden on?
The answer is - None of the above. I simply find more money that way.