Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Cookfloof (floofinition) 1. Animal who believes it must supervise every aspect of meal and snack preparation, often with hopes of benefitting from droped food.
In use: “Being a cookfloof, as soon as she got up, the lab raised his head to watch. As she went to the kitchen, she said, “Time to make dinner,” which he already knew, so he followed.
2. Another term for kitchenfloof.
In use: “As the kitchen was warmest, the kittens established themselves as kitchenfloofs, waylaying toes and feet which came their way, eventually becoming cookfloofs, jumping up onto the counter to inspect meal ingredients and climbing into the refrigerator.”
Marcy’s Playfloof (floofinition) – Named after a Minnefloofilis school, Marcy’s Playfloof is an American alternative floof ock (flock) band formed in 1994.
In use: Marcy’s Playfloof is best known for “Treats and Scratches”, a 1997 song which scored as a hit in multiple countries.”
Editing Note: I thought that I did Marcy’s Playfloof before, but I couldn’t find it. Maybe I wrote and posted it in my head or some alternative reality. If it was posted in this reality before, apologies for the dupe. Carry on. And wear your damn mask.
I’m a terrible fortune teller. See too many possibilities. They’re all happening, none of it is happening, and all the varieties between them are happening. Such is life when the film between realities tear and shrink.
Well, that’s how it feels, sometimes.
Here in the U.S., we’re approaching an election. “It’s yuuuge,” some might claim. The possibilities, fears, and anxieties proliferating cause rolling responses: “Oh. my,” “Oh. no,” “What the fuck,” and “Here we go.”
Third Eye Blind presented us with the perfect song for now. They did it back in 1997. “How’s It Going to Be” has a softly tinged nostalgia, illuminating the questions we all experience. “How’s It Going to Be after x,” becomes an urgent plea before falling to soft, wondering surrender.
Perfect for this special year of pandemic, climate change, shifting alliances, and elections we have numbered, 2020.
Found myself wealthy with dreams last night. This was my favorite.
I’d left the military and I’d change clothes, twice. We were in a busy olace, an amalgam of city, countryside, stores, restaurants, and airport. It changed with where I ooked. That seemed right.
Now I was running late. Friends (K and W) and wife (B) accompanied me, and waited. I told them, “I need to take care of some of my change. There’s so much, I want to deal with some now.”
They mildly complained but I laughed them off and went to my car. Hard-edged and shiny, it was bright lime green wedge, exotic, expensive, and new. Yet my things were in it.
Young, energized, feeling liberated, I opened a panel up, revealing a long, light gray tray. Normally hidden from view, it went half the car’s length. Phones, electronic gear, clothing, paper money, and silver coins were in this tray. I couldn’t reach them because it’d all slid to the back, facts pointed out (with a laugh) by K, W, and B.
I replied, “Watch.” Jiggling the car caused the stuff to shift forward, letting me grab it. “There’s so much change,” I said, laughing. The others asked me what was funny but I didn’t explain. I put handfuls of change in my pocket to use, and then took some clothes to put on, and took a blender and a phone and put them into other parts of the car.
Traffic was heavy. We needed to go. After putting sunglasses on, we took off. The trip was short and fast. I swear that lime green car was flying.
After parking it and exiting, a dream about shopping began
Michael Seidel, writer 