Get Lucky!

hahahahaha. Nice pics, Njaco!!!

I was getting annoyed now.
I shoved the box outside into the hallway with my foot and started to close the office door. The box continued to vibrate and hum and I could hear Phil down below ask, "Who is it?" But just before I closed the door, I saw a shipping invoice taped on the side of the box. I ripped it off as the box started to shake up against the door of the office next to mine and I quickly ducked back into my room as someone opened the door. Dixie was still on the couch but she had crossed her legs and was swinging the one leg up and down rapidly. She was failing the reflex test. I opened up the invoice and found that the person who had ordered it was named Major Roy Franklin. I didn't know any Major Roy Franklin. I didn't know anybody in the military let alone the Salvation Army.
Dixie spoke up.
"Not for nothing but I have things to do. Are we finished here?" she asked.
"Do you have to leave so soon? I was just about to poison the beer." I replied harshly.
"Buckie is gonna be pissed if I don't get paid." she said.
A moment passed.
Followed by another moment.
"Buckie?"
"He's my boyfriend but I owe him money. If I don't come back without some money, he's gonna kill me." she said, trying to bring a tear to her eye. Instead it looked like she just took a Botox injection.
"Well, I'm not a bank and I didn't order anthing from you," I said, "I gotta find out whats happening around here. You can stay or you can go - up to you."
She made a face like she just ate some Brownswager and uttered a few choice words under her breath. I was hoping she'd slip into something more comfortable...like a coma. I picked up the telephone book and started to search through the pages. After a few minutes I found what I was looking for. I grabbed the phone.
A squeaky voice answered.
"Hate-O-Gram. Your payback is our greenbacks. Can I help you?"
"Yeah, listen, that was great! I ordered that hate-o-gram on Slade downtown and it was beautiful. I want to order another one but I can't remember which credit card I gave you. I don't want to mess this up. Can you tell me the name on the card number I gave you?"
"Sure!" he replied. I could hear him shuffle some papers and punch some keys on a keyboard. He started singing something under his breath. "Rhinestone Cowboy" by Glen Campbell. He must have had a brain tumor for breakfast.
He finally came back on the phone.
"Charles Luciano." he said, "you know, we have a buy one get one free special. Do you have anybody else we could send to?"
"No, no," I shot back, quickly, "Thats ok. I'll get back to ya."
Suddenly he sounded hurt, like I killed his puppy or stole his boyfriend, "I'm sorry. Did we do something wrong? If the performance didn't live up to expectations we have a money-back guarantee. We're sorry if it didn't work."
His voice was getting on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. "Don't worry about it, there's no way I could like you less." I said and hung up.

Dixie was giving mouth-to-mouth to the Blue Ribbon as I hung up the phone. It looked like the second best thing she could do with her lips. Charles Luciano, the mobster? I thought. Hes been dead for 40 years! Somebody was playing a prank and I was the target. It was starting to get dark outside when my door rattled again as someone was knocking from the outside. Looking through the glass of the door I could see it was the stooge who rented the office next door with a pile of magazines in his arms.
What now! I thought and opened the door.


We apologise for the fault in the subtitles. Those responsible have been sacked.

Her, beer and BBQ in that order and I'd be a happy man...! Great stuff mate!!

nice!

Excellent!!

Great work NJ keep it up (pun intended for lucky)

Hmmmm.......

"Hey, Slade!" my next door neighbor shouted, "You mind keeping your mail to yourself. I don't want this crap!"
He threw the pile of magazines down with a loud crack onto the floor and then stood there, staring at me. I picked up the top mag, 'Warts Illustrated' and immediately saw that it was addressed to me. Somebody was playing games again.
"I really don't know what you're into and I really don't care but can you keep your filth off my doorstep!?" he huffed, took a look at Dixie, smiled and then walked out the door. I went through the magazines and found they had all been addressed to me. 'Better Gnomes Gardens', 'Sluts Unlimited', 'Quarterly Review Monthly', 'Trailer Park Landscaping' and 'Incestor's Business Daily' to name a few. There was even a book, 'Chicken Soup for the Nambla Soul' wrapped in a plastic bag. Dixie was finished with her beer and belched half of the alphabet.

"Here, this is for you." I said and tossed her a copy of 'Octogenarian Upskirts', "It's nae use to me, ye're welcome to it." She just stared at it. Waiting for her to say something intelligent was like putting a candle in the window for Jimmy Hoffa. I grabbed a copy of 'The Fashionable Goiter' and sat down next to her on the couch.

This was starting to get me pissed. Somebody was trying to get to me but I couldn't figure out who or why. It all started with that invitation to the Brown Willy. I pulled the paper out of my pocket and looked it again. On one side was the invoice for the adult toys and the other was the message. The invoice side had the name blacked out with crayon. I sat for a second with it in my hand then I held it up to the light from the lamp on my desk. Moving it around, faintly I could make out a name.

Slevin Kelevra

Well, that didn't help. I knew of no Slevin Kelevra. Never heard of him. I had never heard of any of these people! Do I look like a people person? But before I forgot them I grabbed a pen and wrote them down on the invoice.

Major Roy Franklin
Charles Luciano
Slevin Kelevra

I looked at Dixie who was following a fly walking around the arm of the couch. If she spoke her mind, she'd be speechless.
"Hey, did Buckie tell you who called him?"
"No." she said, vacantly.
"Can you ask him?"
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"Sure, over there," I said and pointed to the door behind the inflatable doll, "but take the phone and ask him who called for you."
"But what do I tell him?" she quizzed.
"Just tell him you're here for the night and you're gonna make 1000 euros. Ok?"
She nodded like a bobble-head and disappeared into the bathroom.


Sam få sända med posten. Han icke lik brevlådan. Spöklik sakerna de är skedde. Man, I love doing subtitles. Especially for deaf people. I can play around with them cause they can't hear me. Like this: What is Helen Keller's favorite color? Corduroy. haha haha.

Go NJ !

Outstanding!

Love it!

Wouldnt ya just figure, my 2000th post is in this thread hah

and the lamb.....
lies down.........

ON BROADWAY!!!!!!!

Very nice!

I wonder who "unsure" is?

lmfao!!!!

lmfao!

I was about to settle behind my desk and wait for Dixie when, impossibly a knock came to my door.
I'm not even going to print what came to my mind.
"WHAT?" I yelled and started to look around for something to throw. The bowling ball looked good.
"Delivery" came the answer in a startled voice.
Getting up from around the desk I grabbed a trophy that I had won in a 9th Grade Spelling Bee. Holding it above my head, ready to swing, I opened the door.
I was met with a kid who appeared to be barely out of High School let alone his mother. He had more pimple craters on his face than Elizabeth Taylor had husbands and a T-shirt that read 'I wish my lawn was emo so it would cut itself'. He was holding a white bag that appeared to leaking at the bottom. As he stood there with a Mona Lisa smile I suddenly caught a smell creeping into the office. It was if he had wiped himself with Morbier cheese! Holding my nose I asked him what he wanted. He looked at the trophy held high above my head and uttered,"Delivery....sir."
"Delivery of what?" I asked.
"Your food delivery. From Chin Tu Fat's Vegan Soul Food Market?" he gulped, eyes steady on the trophy. I tossed it on the couch where it broke.
"Food? I didn't order any food! And I'm not paying for any food! And what the hell is that smell?!!"
He relaxed alttle and looked like he wanted to pick his nose for relief.
"Thats the Tabbouleh salad. Theres also stuffed eggplant, blackened tofu and freshly made hummus. Its already paid for. We took your credit card over the phone, Mr. Palmer."
Palmer? I grabbed the receipt he shakily held out to me. The credit card was from a Mr. Emerson Lake Palmer. Then I saw how much it cost. Cripes! They were charging $256 for this bag of rabbit food! I grabbed the festering bag, mumbled a "thanks" and started to close the door.
Stunned, Potsey asked for a tip.
"Don't throw a brick straight up." I said and slammed the door on one of his pimples.

This dude Sam, is a tool. Hey, I got a question for deaf people. If blind people wear dark glasses, why don't deaf people wear earmuffs? hahhahahhahh. I kill myself!! hahahah!