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When They’re All Gone

I was going to start this post with a HIGH PROFANITY WARNING, but then I read this hysterical post in the Chicago Tribune, and decided to engage in some creative profanity so more might enjoy my rantings.

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Always knew this day might come, yet it still took me completely by surprise.

I am entirely out of flonks. Flonk bereft. My field of flonks is not only barren, it is overfarmed and sown with salt; flonk dust is blowing in the wind. I thought it was a temporary thing, but upon further review I appear to have chronic pernicious flonk-anemia. I’ve looked everywhere, with nary a flonk to be found. All the usual spots are empty, dust and crumbs littering the corners. Moths flew out of the flonk-wallet, and there was not a flonking thing under the couch cushions.

Thought I’d found a diddly-darn, but Rhett Butler wasn’t giving it up, the selfish rogue. He did, however, send his kind regards. How gentlemanly of him.

I own and have read the various books out there about not giving a flonk (or rather, about being more selective about the flonks you do give), but I’m so far gone that I don’t give a flonk about the books or the fact that I have absorbed their contents.

Yes, it is the tushy-end of winter. Winter can go flonk itself as well. Flonk itself sideways with an ingrown cactus. The Polar Vortex bull-poopy that piddled all over the upper Midwest this winter can definitely do various unsavory things to itself with a red-hot poker and a series of acidic compounds. So I know winter is partly to blame for my bank of flonks being deep in the red, but I can’t lay it all at winter’s frigid feet; I was having a hard time balancing my flonk account before winter took my soul hostage.

I never thought this would happen to me; I thought I was flonk deficit immune. I thought it was possible to divvy up flonks into increasingly smaller and smaller flonklettes, so that everything could get a flonk crumb. Alas, I recognized far too late that flonks cannot be divided. While you think you’re parceling them out, you are instead flinging your flonks around willy-nilly, and before you know it, you have not a single flonk left to give.

At this point, I have no idea how to go about gathering flonks again. I really do not give a flying flonk about anything these days. The flonks I have for myself and my family are ghostly habits, and I really really hope spring arrives before those fade away as well.

When spring gets here, I shall sit in the sun and plan the future of my flonks. It’s good to give a flonk, and really uncomfortable when you have none to offer.

Whatcha think?

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Published inEveryday LifeHumorJust for meUncategorized

4 Comments

  1. Denise Denise

    🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
    Fabulous!

  2. […] with some friends. My hair…I thought I’d just let it go and embrace my inner DON’T GIVE A FLONK with a wise old crone mop, and instead it just looks like crap. I finally cracked and made an […]

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© Laughing at Chaos 2019 I would be most unhappy if anyone reproduced any of it in any form for any reason without my written permission.
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