Archive for the ‘Articles’ Category

Just another Waffle Iron Day

Saturday, March 5th, 2011

Caleb and his wife Calin argued constantly and sometimes their fights became violent. Add a waffle iron to the mix and you’re just asking for trouble. Ask the couple’s California Health Insurance agent.

Caleifornia health waffleWaffle Iron Day, celebrated on the 13th of March, held special significance for Caleb, 42, if not also for his wife Calin, 39.  It was on that national holiday when the Merced couple decided to “really do up breakfast” as Caleb put it. The original menu that morning was deceptively simple.  “Let’s just have bacon, eggs and whole wheat toast,” Calin suggested.

Unfortunately, Caleb wasn’t satisfied. He wanted waffles. “Today is Waffle Iron Day.” Caleb said, beginning to whine, “Did you know that National Waffle Iron Day has been a tradition in my family for more than a century?”

“I doubt it,” replied Calin, who was always willing to speak or even shout her mind, “It hasn’t been a holiday that long.”

“It has too,” Caleb shrieked, and he was close to tears, “My grandfather told us the whole story about how it came to be a national holiday on March 13th.” 

“Whatever,” Calin said, already disgusted.

Caleb removed the waffle iron from the convenient cabinet where it’d been stored, and put it within Calin’s easy reach.   

“I want strawberries and blueberries and yams in my waffles,” Caleb said in a certifiably annoying tone.

“You want yams?” Calin screamed, “I’m allergic to yams! You knew that, too!”

Their argument escalated enough so that what happened next was predictable. Calin picked up the waffle iron, and conked her husband right on the noggin, knocking him cold.

She picked up the phone and called their California Health Insurance agent, who was also the tempestuous couple’s friend.  “Caleb’s out cold this time,” Calin cried, “I hit him with a waffle iron.”

“Oh that’s right, today’s National Waffle Iron Day again, isn’t it?” the agent asked. “Don’t worry, you’re covered. But better call an ambulance.”

Calin did just that, and a few minutes later, all the neighbors heard the siren. Caleb was still unconscious when he was carried into the ambulance.

“She really must have conked him good,” remarked Mrs. Kravitz, a nosy neighbor.

“What do you expect?” said Mr. Kravitz, “Some people can’t be trusted with a waffle iron.”

Unemployed Crocodile Hunter gets hurt on sidewalk

Thursday, October 14th, 2010

Thank goodness Byron “Crocodile Doomedee” had been prudent enough to pay an office call to his favorite California Health Insurance agent before the accident occurred.

California_Health_Insurance_falling_manWho would have thunk it? Byron Doomedee had been trained since the age of six as a croc hunter. Coming to America from his native Brisbane, he’d been hoping to get in the movies like other croc-hunting Aussies, but it never happened. In fact, Byron’s last real job — raking elephant dung at a small New Jersey zoo, had ended nearly a year ago. The elephant in question, a large African bull, had unfortunately developed constipation. Byron had moved on to Hollywood, briefly finding temp work at a traveling circus in Beverly Hills, wrestling alligators on Tuesdays. When the circus inevitably left town, Byron was bereft once again.  This meant pounding the pavement an awful lot. In August he’d paid an office call to a California Health Insurance agent, and after buying a policy there, an act which seemed at the time as aimless as being unemployed, he kept pounding the city’s sidewalks looking for a real job – hopefully something that didn’t involve a rake. One crisp autumn day, he learned from his entertainment agent that a television audition was in the works, and became so excited that he tripped on a crack that appeared in his mind’s eye like a crocodile’s jaws – and so fell and broke his tailbone in two places.

When Byron called his California Health Insurance agent for advice while lying flat on his back in terrible pain, his agent recommended that he hail a cab to the hospital if he could still hop, telling him to scream for a street side stretcher if not.  It turned out Byron was rescued by a rickshaw in the vicinity, one being towed by a marginally employed bull elephant that somehow looked familiar. Sitting atop the elephant, Byron nearly felt exhilarated again, almost as if he was back in New Jersey and gainfully employed. He was quite cushioned too, which lessened the pain in his twice-fractured tailbone. Dismounting at the nearest hospital proved to be a definite ordeal, but once there he was welcomed heartily. One of the doctors had a crocodile for him to see and knew by heart most of the movies he’d never been in.

Columbus Day Weekend Mayhem

Saturday, October 2nd, 2010

The first weekend of October led to a fest of sorts involving finger foods for Alvin Andante. When one of those snacks turned out to contain a real finger, it seemed more like Halloween. Suddenly Alvin’s California Health Insurance agent was sounding like a genius. 

On Saturday, October 2nd Alvin Andante took his teenage daughter Amy to a festival for Goths not far from her high school campus in Oxnard. A relevant flyer had touted the event as a “creepy day of fun that even Poe’s immortal raven would have loved” and stated, ominously as it turned out, that “anyone less than 18 would have to be accompanied by a parent or guardian.” This combination of wording should have given Alvin pause. In fact, just a few weeks prior, he’d been buying a new family policy at the office of Jim, Alvin’s friendly yet savvy California Health Insurance agent, and Jim had warned Alvin that fourteen-year-old Amy was “a rather impulsive teenager” and as a parent of three boys, three girls, and numerous pets, he should know. Amy just looked at her Dad and this man who sold health insurance and laughed her famous wicked laugh. But that was weeks ago.

“Please Daddy Waddy,” she had pleaded that morning. With her blonde hair dyed an inky black and a  macabre piercing protruding from her lower lip that made her Daddy wince just to think about, how could he refuse?

At the booth where they sold finger foods, Alvin bought a breaded concoction which looked tasty.  When he bit down on something crunchy that snapped and cracked between his teeth, and almost immediately heard his daughter scream, followed by her famous wicked laugh, as she held up her bloody hand with what appeared to be a broken finger …

Was that terror he saw in his daughter’s peculiar eyes? Why was she laughing if he’d just broken her finger? Within minutes, her entire hand began to swell, and one of his questions got neatly answered – even if the jagged bone fragment spelled ‘mayhem’ with a lowercase M.

“We’re going to Urgent Care little girl,” he yelled above the din in his paternal mind. He also told Amy to stop that idiotic laughter as it was confusing him. Father and daughter took off toward their Lexus just as something avian and hideous, was that a raven?—swooped down from a Gothic sky.