A Three-star general phones you after mis-dialing and blurts out, "The President's plane is missing!" A lady from Beaverton named Elvira is interviewed by an alien named Zarkon 77. Lisa and Kent, hosts of a show called "Good Morning Northwest" comment on a "doozy of an asteroid" that slammed into Earth, with all the vacuity of a game show or the home-shopping network.

Jeffrey Shaffer takes the reader on a wacky ride through the carnival sections of his imagination in this, his second book of humorous shorts, complete with barkers and cotton candy for the brain.

Although the book is categorized as "humor for adults," it has a schoolboy charm. The complete unpredictability of where any single idea in any given story is going to go reminds you of "Stymie," the Little Rascals character who would stop, blink his eyes incredulously, and stare with open mouth and arms. No matter whether Shaffer's prose comes off as surprising, funny, or sad, it definitely puts the stymie on your brain now and again.

In "Basic Instinct," for example, our narrator happens on a cigarette-smoking dog that gives him investment advice. "If manure were music," the dog quipped, "Dean Witter would be a brass band. But don't quote me on that."

He caught my eye with "Rejuvenation," a spoof on healers, when he puts the narrator into an Orgone Box, a device invented by Wilhelm Reich. I've never read a contemporary piece that discussed Orgone energy, let alone made jokes about it. Reich died in prison in 1956 after the government attempted to destroy all records of his research and healing. Shaffer resurrects his memory with childlike innocence, wanting the narrator (and us, the readers) to accept anything that has not been conclusively proven to be wrong or untrue.

Shaffer counts on our suspension of disbelief, and if we're willing to supply it, he comes through with laughs in the most surpri! sing places. The book's title comes from the first essay, "Night Caller." The narrator explains to his caller that he intends to retreat to his fallout shelter, which came with the house. "Look Mister," the general taunts. "I got news for you. That little crash pad in your basement is a joke. It'd be like living in a septic tank." The narrator taunts the general by telling him the conversation is being taped. "Damn! I bet you're lying," he says.

At the end, the general offers to send a lieutenant over to detail the narrator's car. The next morning our narrator wakes to see his neighbor standing next to a gleaming Land Cruiser. "An Army lieutenant showed up and detailed my car for free!" he exclaimed. "Who says the government never does anything right?"

Many of his essays defy description. Like his first title, I'm Right Here, Fish-Cake, also published by Catbird, this collection of funny shorts presents the oddest assortment of characters in the most imaginative array of situations conceivable. His approach is light hearted, but the tension he adds by placing his characters in serious situations holds your interest and inspires you to move quickly from one short to the next. Publisher's Weekly has called him "a satirist from the old school, an ardent fan of James Thurber, a humorist-without-portfolio..."

It's no coincidence that you can hear echoes of a Garrison Keillor voice in these tales - Shaffer has written for the PBS radio show Prairie Home Companion, in addition to numerous writing projects for Oregon Public Radio and Television. It Came With The House was a runner-up for Best Humor Book at the 1998 Small Press Book Awards, held in Chicago on May 29, 1998.

I read "It Came With The House" and immediately rushed to get "I'm Right Here, Fish-Cake." I haven't read such delicious nonsense in much too long. Shaffer takes fresh look at something that you see every day, and slides it sideways into total silliness. It's done with effortless sleight of hand, one little step at a time.

I haven't read such delicious nonsense in much too long. Shaffer takes fresh look at something that you see every day, and slides it sideways into total silliness. It's done with effortless sleight of hand, one little step at a time.