The Humor and Life, in Particular Web site
author:  Margie Culbertson

August/September 2005 Humor Writing Contest winner
Best Short Humor!

Klepter's Backyard Imbroglio


Mark Scheel

"Tell me a story, Uncle John," beseeched little Mary Ann, plopping herself down on the hassock beside Uncle John's recliner. "Alright, Sweet Pea. What would you like to hear?" Uncle John replied, putting aside the newspaper. "Well...something about dogs, I think. With funny words, like Jabberwocky." "That shouldn't be too hard," Uncle John laughed. "I bet I know what will make a good one." And he began.

Klepter was a greylic Coton de Tulear with a rapful bark and a wiggering tail. He'd been elected the governor of the Piffledale backyard by all the flurfles and fleavers many moons ago and had served magninfully in that capacity ever since. As he'd prancify up and down the picket fence with his combed fur coat glenteening brightly, he seemed the very picture of bofond governoresqueship. And all the flurfles and fleavers could rest content that all was well in flurdom.

One particularly dry and derained summer, however, a new family moved in next door to the Piffledales with a little white poodle named Distractique. Right away she began to flauntify her pink ribbons and white curls along that same picket fence where Klepter would often prancify. And sad to say, it wasn't long before she had vigerated Klepter completely in her thrall. So decombommeled did he become that he failed to adiffully patrol the birdbath and the foreign bluegins splashed away what little water there was. Then the nastiful raggitts sneaked in the back mesh and helped themselves to the lettuce. The last straw came when the neighboring querpills began stealing nuts from the flurdom store.
All the flurfles and fleavers assembled themselves and called for a confabtation. The wise old owl who lived in the oople shed declared that:  "It is written in the forest tutionistal that those who 'elect' may also 'delect.'" "Let's delect!" shouted the assemblanance. "But we must also relect," clarifacted the owl, "and who will be a candidate?"

"I will," stipified the toontate. "No raggitts or querpills will get past me!"

"I will," steerified the blungoot. "I'll go over and bring our nuts back!"

"I will," edeified the gongoster. "I can do a rain dance!"

And before you could whinkle an eyelash, over a hundred candidates had covoteered!

Now it wasn't long before news of the confabtation harkenated Klepter's ear. And he sought out a confictition of events from the wise old owl. When he'd been apprised of the details of the transmantation, Klepter clarnicated:  "Now listen, one and all. I never vigerated with that poodle. That Miss Distractique." But it was to no avail as the flurfles and fleavers vorsanked to eminue the delect.

And so for the remainder of the summer the backyard was subjected to the most quantifferal of political campaigns. Gongosters dancing. Blungoots nutting. What an effenteral sight!

Then, on the eve of the delect and relect, two conjugatal events engineered by Klepter would alter the course of everything. First, under cover of darkness, Klepter slipped between two loose pickets into the yard next door and, with the conivifying of a beagle in the next block who owed him a favor, chewed up everything in sight—the garden hose, the rake handle, even the lonkendrecker, everything—leaving behind one pink ribbon. The next day the insoucific Distractique was promptly shipped off to obedience school and became a matter passtaine. And second, bribing a cousin of the wise old owl with doggie burgers, Klepter arranged for him to whifflewing in bearing news of a legal technicality in the tutionistal that forbade delections during a drought! And, as a great dane once quoped to a bob–tailed cocker, that was the end of that.

Well, to say the least, Klepter felt himself to be "a pup saved by the swingindill." And then, to top things off, a hard rain fell that night, which seemed to, as it were, wash away all the flurfles" and fleavers" hybendations. And all was peace once more in flurdom.

Prancifying the next morning along the picket fence, Klepter couldn't help pontifying to himself:  "I hope they've learned their lesson. Politics is a thing best left to the dogs." And so it is.

©Mark Scheel

Mark Scheel was born and raised on a farmin rural, east–central Kansas. After graduating fromthe University of Kansas in 1967, and spending a period"on the road," he served overseas with the AmericanNational Red Cross in Vietnam, Thailand, Germany andEngland. He later took graduate studies and taught atEmporia State University. More recently he was aninformation specialist with the Johnson County Library inShawnee Mission, Kansas, and a member of the board ofdirectors of Potpourri Publications Company.

He nowwrites full time and volunteers on the editorial staff of KansasCity Voices magazine. His stories, articles and poems haveappeared in numerous magazines, and he is coauthor ofthe book OF YOUTH AND THE RIVER:  THE MISSISSIPPIADVENTURE OF RAYMOND KURTZ, SR. His mostrecent book, A BACKWARD VIEW:  STORIES ANDPOEMS, won the J. Donald Coffin Memorial Book Awardfrom the Kansas Authors Club. Other selections from hiswriting can be found on and http: // Additional biographical information is available in WHO"S WHO IN AMERICA.

You can read more of Mark's writing at his website:  Click HERE.

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©Margie Culbertson

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