If Only Pictures Could Talk



“Guys, it was inhuman. He was the biggest, most hideous dog I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not often scared. I’ve been known to run in front of giant eighteen-wheelers on Friday the Thirteenth, have already used up seven of my nine lives, and tussled a few times with old lady Gruber’s nasty little Schnauzer, Peanut. Heck, I once clung desperately to the back-end of the broom of a wart-encrusted, cackling witch at ten thousand feet! This was much worse. When he slowly came towards me, he opened his massive jaws to reveal long, razor-sharp canines. I know, I ingested a little too much catnip last night, but I swear; I saw fluffy, Mrs. McDougal’s cat, who disappeared last week, wedged up in the roof of his mouth. As he came at me, he reached his paws towards me, and he looked just like this – except a whole lot scarier.”


“Patrick, why didn’t you call me? I sat by the phone for days waiting to hear from you. As I boarded up windows, and locked my mom in a closet after she bit me, I listened for a comforting ring, and the sound of your voice. They both, never happened. I’m going to get that romantic meal you promised me, one way or the other.”

“What the heck! Is that you Sarah? What happened to you? Wow, you look great. Did you do something with your hair? I can’t believe you’re still wearing the blouse I got you for Christmas. How sweet. Hey, wait a minute. How come you’re covered in blood, have cold lifeless eyes, there’s drool dripping from your mouth, and you look like you could decimate an entire Chinese buffet? You’re either a zombie, or you’ve been hanging out with my ex mother-in-law again. I was wondering why you were dragging your left foot behind you and carrying that coil of steaming intestines. You never mentioned anything on your Match.com profile about being one of the walking dead, with an insatiable need to consume the flesh of the living. Okay, if you insist; I’ll buy you that meal, but there won’t be any brains on the menu.”


“Okay, let’s see if I can think clearly and figure this out. I vaguely remember my wife pouring me eight or nine shots of Jack Daniels, and then handing me three or four beers. She then had me sign something. I’m not too sure, and things were kind of blurry, but it may have been that million dollar life insurance policy she took out on me. She then convinced me to take a romantic, late night stroll at least fifty miles out into the desert. I’m not positive, but I think she had me bring a shovel, supposedly to dig for earthworms for a fishing trip she wanted to surprise me with. After the car stopped, everything gets a little fuzzy. All I know is that it must still be night, because I can’t see anything. I also have a terrible headache, and my mouth feels like it’s full of dirt. Wait a minute! It’s all coming back to me. Is that voices I hear? I only have three things to say. Hey guys, I’m over here, thank God she didn’t bury me too deep, and does this mean I don’t have to pay alimony?”


Dear, Agatha

“While reviewing your E-Harmony profile, I was intrigued by the fact that we seem to have so much in common. Like you, I also love children, but not so much in casseroles. It’s almost uncanny that we share interests in magic and the occult, believe that what’s inside is more important than a person’s physical appearance, love black cats, enjoy late-night flights of fancy under a full moon, Goth clothing, celebrating Halloween, the classic look of gingerbread houses, and scaring the living daylights out of salesmen who show up unannounced at our front door. Though, I’ve never drug anyone to hell, I once told my ex-wife to go there. I especially love your obvious sense of humor. Could you please send me a picture of yourself without the mask? Maybe we can meet, and get to know each other better.”


“Wow, this is one heck of a big food truck. Hey, Garcon; could I have a menu please. I just came out of hibernation, and I’m famished. Be sure not to give me the vegan special. The last time I had any vegetables, was the time that Eskimo had some broccoli stuck in his teeth. Hmmmm……. interesting selection today. Let’s see what we have here. I had three or four servings of Chinese for lunch, and my stomach’s already grumbling. I always seem to be hungry again, an hour later. A little German cuisine tonight sounds pretty good. Hey you, way in the back. Yeah, you with the silly looking lederhosen, the suspenders, the green alpine hat, and the name-tag that says Hans. Could you come just a little closer, please? Don’t be afraid. I’ll even let you pet me. No, don’t put the Gulden’s spicy mustard down. Bring it with you.”

18 Replies to “If Only Pictures Could Talk”

    1. Thanks again Robbie. I was thinking of making this a weekly feature. I’m very busy now, and the pictures with a story is a little easier to write. Thanks again, and have a great Easter.


  1. So very, very funny, Patrick, and a unique idea to write sketches to match a collection of weird photographs. My favorites were the cat because of this line: “I saw fluffy, Mrs. McDougal’s cat, who disappeared last week, wedged up in the roof of his mouth,” and Agatha because of this line, “Like you, I also love children, but not so much in casseroles.”


  2. Great anecdotes here Patrick, and lots of laughs. For some peculiar reason I really loved the one where the missus buries you out in the desert, my imagination got a gut-wrenching belly laugh out seeing your mouth stuffed full of dirt.


    1. Mmmmmmmmm………..Phew…. Sorry about that. I seem to have a little dirt in my mouth. I worked all weekend, and just got back to replying to visitors. I’m glad you got a laugh. The post was one of my more twisted ones. I was thinking of making talking pictures a weekly event. Thanks for the visit.


    1. Thanks. Glad you liked it. I loved writing the post so much, I may have a weekly feature of talking pictures. Sorry for the late reply. I worked all weekend, and have finally gotten a little time at my computer.

      Liked by 1 person

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