Robert Benchley Award Entry

In a desperate bid to put SOMETHING up here to keep people amused, I hereby present my entry in the Robert Benchley Humor Award contest thing.

All the entries are in and we are all waiting for the short list to be announced so I don't know how I am doing, but I like my chances.

Anyway, this entry is a much pared down version of an earlier column I wrote about sneezing, which had a few Benchley'esque turns of phrase I thought, so I figured I'd polish it up and send it in.  Enjoy.

“The Contemporary Sneeze”

Sneezing is the most expressive of the body’s involuntary functions.  Make sure yours are extra special.

Upon realizing that sternutation is imminent, today’s fashionable sneezer will pause in conversation and raise their eyebrows.  This serves as a warning to bartenders and other nobility that a Great Event is about to unfold, and observers should vacate the immediate blast area. 

During the pre-sneeze period, as your inhalation progresses, dramatically over-express yourself, like an opera singer.  Be expansive in your chest.  Wave your arms about and draw attention to your twitching features.  Yell or scream, again like an opera singer.  If the sneeze (or opera) is not immediately forthcoming, take something slender such as a chopstick or Calista Flockhart and thrust it repeatedly up your nostril.

At the height of your inhalation, squint your eyes and cease all motion. This is The Pause before the Great Storm.  It is the final notice that something wondrous is about to be born, or that you are choking on an oyster.  Be absolutely still, nose elevated slightly, arms aflutter, teary eyes about to close in the final moments before the triumphant finale.

The sound of a sneeze is important.  Most amateur sneezers still use the outdated Cleveland Technique of letting fly with a constrained “Ssshhhhew!” sound.  This method has grown passé, although it is still popular with denture wearers and most cake decorators. 

Attempting to suppress all sound by holding the nose and forcing the blast up into the cranium can pose a danger to the sneezer and those around them – particularly in theaters.  Earwax bullets shot into patrons on either side of the participant have caused needless injury, and were the impetus for the Stockholm Sneezing Protocols of 1929.  These protocols now eliminate the need to wear combat helmets at most recitals.

As with other seizures, for a high score, one must enunciate using proper verbiage.  Asian-sounding surnames are prized, with the Japanese “HyyyASHi!” being most common in tournaments.

Of Middle Eastern origin is the popular and sophisticated “HaaBLAHHaaa!” phrase.  For truly memorable scores, try adding a slight upward intonation at the conclusion, as though asking the romantic question, “HaaBLAHHaaa?”

In conclusion, let me offer a cautionary note about arm movements.  Because one hand will be occupied with a handkerchief, martini, or 5/8ths wrench, the other fist will involuntarily thrust upward from the waist in a motion so rapid it may injure passersby.  Swift uppercuts administered by sneezing enthusiasts have rendered more than a few bystanders unconscious so do be careful, or sneeze only while boxing.

America can hold its head high when it comes to sneezing.  Whether amateur or professional, the people of the United States once again lead the world. 

Bless you!

Myth Kids

Authors Note: I don't know why, but after this piece won the Humor and Life, In Particular writing contest, I never put it back on the blog - that I can find anyway. So, in recognition of the fact it is now part of a newly published anthology of short humor titled Laugh Your Shorts Off - here it is again!

I was walking down Orchard Street the other day, thinking about all the myths my mother told me as a kid, when I met a young man named Newton, who had apple trees growing out of his head.

To describe him is a bit of a challenge. He was tall and slender, clean shaven, and his fruit was neat and recently sprayed. I couldn’t tell his age, but based on his bark lesions I’d guess early twenties.

He said he had swallowed apple seeds as a kid, and these nicely-pruned, fruit-laden trees were the result.

So it WAS true I thought! You shouldn’t swallow the seeds after all. Huh.

He told me he had cherry trees growing out of his ears at one point, and like most rebellious teens he had let his branches grow long and, well, got into some trouble, hanging around places he shouldn’t have been. Power lines mainly.

Before I could get around to asking him the obvious pruning and fertilizing questions that sprang to mind, I realized that he was a Myth Kid!!

Myth Kids are extremely rare – so rare, in fact, that they themselves are considered mythical. They are people who got warned by their mothers of all sorts of terrible things that could happen to them, and then the terrible things actually happened!

He was living proof!

As we strolled in his shade, I asked about his crossed eyes.

“Froze that way – just like Mom said they would,” he explained. “I used to sit really close to the TV all the time and I used to practice going cross-eyed in school. I’ve only got myself to blame really.”

I asked about his scars, assuming they were old hockey injuries perhaps.

“This one here is from when I was running around the house with sharp scissors. And this little one here is from not holding onto my Popsicle stick” he said.

A chill crept up my spine. I thought these were just old wives tales – nothing more.

I worried about my own kids. Had I threatened them enough with implausible accidental injury?

For that matter, had I washed behind my ears that morning, or would potatoes start growing back there? I couldn’t remember, so I feigned scratching my head as I gently probed for sprouts.

As we walked I suggested to him that someone should write about his tragic life. He was about to answer when he yelled “Watch out!” but it was too late. I had stepped on a spider.

A sudden rainstorm began, the spider having been a Daddy Long Legs. The rain sounded nice dripping through his leaves. Another myth confirmed.

I remembered some other admonitions Mom used to say.

“Ever step on a crack in the sidewalk?” I asked.

“Mom will be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Broken back. My fault.” His remorse was obvious.

“That’s terrible!” I said. “Weren’t medical staff able to do anything?”

“I had eaten an apple that day, which kept the Doctor away. I’ve never forgiven myself.”

“Ever swim right after a meal?”

“I almost drown from cramps every time. Now I don’t even shower for at least 30 minutes after each meal. Terrifying.” he said.

“What do you do for fun?”

“Not a lot. Mom says it’s all fun until someone puts an eye out. That happened to my cousin Twiggy, so I have to be careful.”

I noticed his disfigured hands and asked “Arthritis?”

“Knuckle cracking” he said.

By this time it was dark out so I said I had best be going. It had been an interesting conversation.

As we walked towards the corner he stumbled into a lamp post.

“Are you OK?” I asked, peering into the gloom.

“I guess. My night vision is no good. I didn’t eat carrots as a kid. And could you stop picking my apples please? It tickles.”

This is Mything Children Awareness Month. When a Myth Kid scratches at your door, please give generously.

Second Place Press Release!

Kelowna Columnist Almost Wins Humour Writing Contest -

Vote Rigging Suspected

21 October 2009

David Crawford, the Kelowna-based humourist who writes the popular column “Something Like That” for the Kelowna Daily Courier and Castanet.net, has won second place in the most recent HumorPress.com writing contest.

“I’m fairly certain someone cheated” said the Almost Winner of the contest. “Some of those ballot boxes looked a little shifty.”

As First Runner Up, David would assume the crown of winner, should Mr. Joel Schwartzberg of New Jersey be unable to complete his reign, perhaps because of embarrassing photographs being circulated on the internet from his recent ‘business trip.’

“Callous Remarks,” the warm and witty second place finisher, though strong enough to win mind you, tells the heart-warming story of how David struggled to overcome the hideous, disfiguring callouses on his heels, which were tearing his socks and causing his feet to stick to the carpet. “It’s a madcap romp through the sandpaper drawer!” say critics of the extremely humourous but not quite winning column.

Earlier this year, David won the “Humor and Life, In Particular” contest, also in the U.S. That contest’s judges called David one of the funniest writers in Canada, which made him blush, though he was secretly pleased.

In addition to writing hilarious columns, David regularly donates his kidneys to charity.