is an award-winning humor writer from the Pacific Northwest. Regrettably, none of his awards are for his writing. Subscribe to his newsletter, !
Suzanne said a shag rug would be easy to maintain. Having owned rugs before, I was skeptical. Having owned pets before, I suspected Suzanne was full of shit — as our expensive rug would soon be.
Here is an inventory of things I found while vacuuming our blue shag rug.
Half-digested kibble, whichever brand is stickiest.
Tiny flecks of twisted rawhide, strewn about like acorns.
Acorns.
Ground-up tortilla chips. (Cool Ranch Doritos, judging by the taste).
The Ark of the Covenant.
Regurgitated leaves— thanks, Cat!
Exactly 11,780 votes for Trump from the state of Georgia.
A purpose in life.
Carmen Sandiego.
An undelivered letter home from a British infantryman in World War I.
DB Cooper and Amelia Earhart (holding hands, no less).
A chameleon— whoops, I must’ve been mistaken! Carry on.
“The Concert,” by Johannes Vermeer. Serious offers only.
My mojo.
A native tribe that has never known contact with the outside world.
A lost shaker of salt from Margaritaville.
Buried power lines.
What Bono was looking for, still.
A portal to another blue shag rug.
Editor’s note: Chortle will be off on Friday and Monday for the Labor Day holiday. (More specifically, because my son’s preschool is closed both days.) See you Tuesday!
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A fabulous chortle! I may have lost my mojo in my rug too ;)