The old man was painting bricks an orange and purple color, when Mrs. Callahan came along.
"I was just trying to be friendly. Maybe I should have said Green Onions to you, Mr. Grouch."
It was growing late and the trees cast a shadow like they were writing in the sky. Wild winds were starting to form white caps on the water fountain in the apartment complex center area.
"Nightingstorm? " Asked Mrs. Callahan. "Don't you mean a night time storm?"
"Nope. Its a nightingstorm. Lookie over there at Josh and Vera's window. Vera is parading around in her skimpy nightgown in front of the big window with shades up. When Josh comes home and sees what she's a doing, it will be a nightingstorm for sure."
"Guess you be right," agreed Mrs. Callahan as she went on her way.
"Tsk tsk. That old geezer is getting nuttier and nuttier. Orange and purple bricks, Nightingstorm. Guess old age finally caught up with him." she spoke out loud, drawing a few stares from passer-byes.
"That old woman is getting nuttier and nuttier," the old man commented. "Strolling down the sidewalk in nothing more than her slip.
Apple-pan howdy from a dowsy
who used to be a doozy,
was once a Sunday School Teacher,
who always wanted to be a floozy.
Alas and alack she did convert,
after experiencing a humdinger of
and she was not warm.
Her walkway was lined with orange and purple bricks,
for she loved purple violets and Syracuse Orangemen.
Warmth she spread, even sometimes rowdy,
but prim within on a wild whimsical toddy.
Green onions in the pasture, milk tastes awful,
could not churn, onion butter.
Bourbon and scotch she mixed in the cream
some strawberries and fed the Reverend a flambeau!
Wind in the water fountain, got her face wet,
makeup running like a California hillside.
Rev saw her undies, got all flustered,
then he made a big pass,
she stuck his head in the windy water fountain.
They walked out back to look at the moon,
the Rev hoping to do some spooning.
Her trees that wrote in the sky,
told him a gory story.
When the Rev got home, he smelled bodacious,
was a mumbling about trees that wrote in the sky,
Mrs. Rev not to be ignored,
busted his head with the rolling pin.
Now Aunt Tilly lives on the hill,
and yes she does have a still.
Sells her favors and a pint of moonshine,
then she preaches about rotten peaches.
By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)
Green Onions” was a mighty old dray,
He’ll still pull your wagon for a bucket of hay,
He clogged along like a tender old man,
His tail chasing flies like a Japanese fan.
“Apple-pan howdy” called old Dan Tucker,
Trying to be cute - he’s the milk man trucker.
He teases “Green Onions” trying to get a rise,
“Green Onions” just lets him get his highs.
Dan Tucker was known to imbibe a little,
And see things that might not be there like brittle
Orange and purple bricks on the Court House stairs,
And he wobbles and sways about any old wheres.
Today he looked up, read some words up above,
“Dan your old wife has fallen in love,”
Dan was totally mystified,
Standing in trees that write in the sky.
From that day ‘til this if anyone will hear him,
He’ll tell you how the nightingstorm sang from the rim,
Of the downtown City pool of lilies,
And insist to you he’s not being silly.
Old “Green Onions” just moseys in her hay,
Let old Dan Tucker have his own way,
Wish that nightingstorm Dan thought he heard
Would make wind in the water fountain like a real live bird.
“Green Onions” gets thirsty when he eats that hay,
His big red tongue needs wetting today,
That water fountain blowin’ his thirst would quench.
He’d have some peace, with old Dan out on a bench.
By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)
It was the year of sixty-nine, and Autumn was upon us.
Sis and I went down town to look for Winter boots by way of the city bus.
We stopped in front of the "Green Onions" restaurant about noon.
Sis and I were hungry and decided it wasn't a minute too soon.
They were serving Apple Pan Dowdy, and Sis the one who always likes a joke, walked in with a "Apple Pan Howdy".
Old Mr. Perkins who owned the restaurant laughed and asked if she wanted some Apply Pan Dowdy.
We sat at the lunch counter looking at the orange and purple bricks on the wall behind the counter along with the big plate glass mirror that reflected the people sitting at the tables, not wanting to sit on the stools.
Sis was making faces in the mirror making us look like fools.
After a burger, fries, Coke and Apple Pan Dowdy, we strolled down the street looking in the store windows, especially at the shoes and boots.
All of a sudden Sis yelled her back was getting wet, and I realized it was the wind in the water fountain in the middle of the town square behind us making her hair damp right down to its black roots.
Further down the street Sis wanted to go into her favorite book store intrigued by a book in the window with the title "Nightingstorm" which she was curious as to its contents.
I told her it was probably about some crazy turn of events.
Nevertheless, we went in the store, without any boots or shoes I might add.
Sis saw another title "Trees That Write In The Sky", another book that probably was just a fad written by someone's dear old Dad.
By Amy (Fabulousfilly@aol.com)
one day my uncle jimmy who was an artist at brick laying
began a project with purlple and orange bricks.
it was getting late in the apple pan howdy kind of day
and the nightingstorm was a coming round the bend with the wind blowing green oinions in the fountain.
and behold the trees that write in the sky were leaning low to the ground.
the message they sent to my uncle jimmy saved his life.
he saw the writing in the sky and just dived into the wind in the fountain,
along with all the green onions.
the storm blew over and he came up for air, just in time to see a rainbow.