If you’re a regular reader of Nonahood News and, in particular, the best part – my insanely humorous column – then, I bet you’ve been wondering how I come up with such ingenious topics month in and month out. I mean, we live in Florida, right? When am I going to run out of material? I’m beginning to suspect never. 

When I think I’m scraping the bottom of the swamp bucket of funny things to write about, I’ll hear on the local news that three tutu-clad men were eaten by a boa constrictor. Bystanders say it looked as if the men were attempting to hypnotize the snake with their hips. Sure, sometimes my mind will be a little blank, and I’ll begin to wonder if I can deliver yet another spectacularly scrumptious 500 words or so of sheer wit a la Mark Twain, but then, I’ll remember just how sandy it is everywhere, how sweaty I am all the time, and how nature is constantly trying to claw Florida back from us humans.

So there’s humor here; I just have to find it. For example, this month, I began thinking about writing on roadkill, a subject that humorists rarely cover because, well, how do you make flattening Alvin and the Chipmunks funny? I decided to forgo trying after I found myself wondering if taxi drivers ever take up taxidermy as a hobby. Or if taxidermists can’t resist making puns when they ride in taxis. How would you like to be driving a taxi to hear a snickering voice from the back, “Have you heard how the government is taxing airlines whose planes taxi for longer than five minutes and how taxi drivers are losing revenue to taxidermists who are being mistaken for taxi drivers? Apparently, taxidermists have been painting their cars yellow in an attempt to lure canaries under their tires. It’s very taxing. Hee-hee.” 

“Get out of my car. Right now. That was terrible. Absolutely the worst. You can walk home.”

Right now, you may be thinking I’m just writing a train of thought, plopping down the first words that pop into my head. How dare you! I carefully researched this article and painstakingly sculpted every precious syllable … which reminds me of the painful time I found a dead owl lying on the side of the road. Crazy, right?! I have pictures to prove it.

Since owls are wise, he had probably been gliding peacefully while plumbing the depths of the deep mysteries of life. I can see his electric mind humming with questions, like why coughing up mice balls is so alluring, when – wham! I bet the semi-truck didn’t even pause. 

I had a bird-car encounter last week while entering a park. Suddenly, my car was surrounded by a flock of gracefully gliding pigeons. I didn’t even know pigeons flocked or could be graceful. Yet for a brief moment, the pigeons accepted me and my 2010 Toyota Sienna as one of their own. And I knew what it felt like to soar with other fowl. I was one with winged creatures of glory! But then, they disappeared. I looked in the rearview, and they were slamming their beaks into the parking lot. I’d probably driven over a piece of toast. 

I’ve had the morbid thought that, with all the wild variety of two-dimensional animals we see on our roads, someday we’ll firmly locate the ever-elusive black panther … which makes me wonder how many Floridian children grow up to be keen biologists, having seen more from their booster seats than most National Geographic photographers see in a lifetime. 

Now, some of you may be thinking: gross. And you’d be right. I’d never stoop so low as to write about roadkill. That’s awful. We should begin riding bikes and give the animals a break. 

Have you ever ridden a bike in Florida?! Your wheels create a vacuum that turns all sidewalk life into death. I’m pretty sure that worms, ants, centipedes, palmetto bugs, lizards, snakes, and squirrels frighten their offspring with tales of the human-powered wheels of death. Not to mention how many gnats, mosquitoes, dragonflies, and small bats are swallowed by cyclists each year.

Hey, look at that, I’ve managed to reach over 500 words. And I didn’t even sweat. Okay, I sweated a ton, my fingers slipping all over my keyboard. But that’s our life. Oh, and word to the owls among us, look both ways.