Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I am not the one in love
and I’m not the one pursuing a dream
I’m not the one questioning my life
or looking back on choices
I am not the one missing you
wondering where you’ve gone
I am not the one in a bed alone
never falling asleep
I am not the one with too much time
to do too little every day
I tell you,
if you see me, I’m not the one
it’s not me
He ignored the man in the crosswalk, almost hitting the guy, not laughing about it, but feeling smug — hey, what’s the problem? I didn’t hit you, you’re fine, so you had to wait two seconds. Big deal.
Speeding up, he cut across lanes, scaring and angering other drivers, shrugging them off, pulling into the parking lot with a little squeal of tires. A space was there to the left, the car just finishing backing out, so he pulled in, cutting off another who was waiting. “Sorry, you snooze, you lose,” he told the woman giving him the finger, giving her the finger back.
He walked straight across the street, making cars stop — what were they going to do, hit him? As he reached the curb, he heard a ding. It wasn’t his phone, he didn’t know what it was, so he shrugged it off, turning right to go across another street, not looking, expecting the others to stop —
The truck driver couldn’t see him. “The sun flashed in my eyes,” he said. “I didn’t expect anyone to be crossing the road, anyhow, because I had the green light.”
The wayward pedestrian was crushed under a wheel, almost like a fluke accident, he heard the police say as his spirit departed his body. Only then did he realize that the ding had been a warning.
Karma had said, enough.
Today’s song came out of yesterday’s apres writing session. Striding along, thinking about what had been written and what was to be, a conservation was struck up between a character and her aunt. Her aunt told the younger character, “Oh, honey, your mother won’t dance. No anymore.” Which implied to the young one, something had happened to her mother, or her had changed, because of how it was expressed (but the aunt wasn’t saying anything else).
From that, though, came a song from my childhood, Loggins and Messina with “Your Mama Don’t Dance), a lively 1972 song with a throwback sound. Most people probably know it because it’s been around close to fifty years.
Kerfloofle (floofinition) – A minor disturbance among housepets.
In use: “The bird mimicked the sound of a can opening, starting a kerfloofle as the cats and dogs galloped to the kitchen to eat.”
I found myself singing, “Kitty did a bad, bad thing,” to Chris Isaak’s song, “Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing” (1996).
The situation: the neighbor’s cat enjoys our food and company. She’s been our neighbor since we moved into this house in 2006. As the weather has turned and he’s often not home, she’s requested some visiting rights. We accommodate her. Since she’s a sweetheart, we brush her and provide her with cuddles besides feeding her.
But, sweetheart has recently had diarrhea outside out the litter box, on the carpet (twice). No, she didn’t do a bad, bad thing, she clearly had an issue. We notified our neighbor and are restricting her access until her bowel issues clear up.
With that in mind, here is Sunday’s theme music.
It was a long, coherent dream last night, one that seemed like The Great Escape or The Irishman, a movie that went on for several hours.
I’d come into money. From that, I’d bought new property. After leaving it, I went with seven others to wander and explore the area.
We were four couples. One couple was my sister-in-law and her daughter. Another was my sister and her friend. A young couple, man and woman, were the third, and my wife and I were the final couple. I knew the young couple in the dream, but I can’t place them in my life.
We stopped, sitting at a table under some trees. The table became a rendezvous location. While I sat, the others came and went, shopping and visiting with people, etc.
A package wrapped in brown paper was brought to me. I opened it. Inside were watches. Some were gold but several were silver. All were new. Most were jewel encrusted. “Oh, yes, I ordered them,” I told the others, trying watches on. The others were exclaiming over them. I was dismayed. The watches were expensive but gaudier than anything that I would wear.
I began giving them to others. “Here, take a watch. Wear a watch.” I had more watches than I realized and wondered why I’d ordered so many, laughing at myself for that. The young man (of the couple) came up and asked, “May I take a watch?”
“Yes, yes,” I said. “Take a watch, please.”
The dream went on (with the same four couples), but that was the watch part.
He saw a spot of blood on the path. One led to another, and then a series, about every thirty-six inches. They were not dry, but fresh. After following the blood for a few minutes (going north), he concluded the blood path went south, into the park.
After a moment, he followed the blood into the park. His nature didn’t allow any other outcome.
Floofmosphere (floofinition) – The air of interest and attention in a locality dominated by animals, especially housepets.
In use: “When she opened a bag of cookies, the floofmosphere changed dramatically; sleeping cats and dogs opened their eyes, turned their heads, pricked up their ears, and waited.”
Michael Seidel, writer 