Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofevision (floofinition) – Television or movies either created to entertain animals, or containing stories in which animals are heavily featured. Origins: United States, Internet, 1998.
In Use: “As Youtube videos became popular, many floofvision offerings featuring birds coming to birdfeeders were made to entertain housefloofs.”
In Use: “Some very successful floofevision offerings include movies or televisions series such as Gentle Ben, Lassie, and My Friend Flicka.”
My friends have bought a new EV. Hyundai IONIC 6. All wheel drive.
The purchase surprised everyone except the husband. He orchestrated the deal. He’d been planning to purchase a Tesla, but…well, was now too dissatisfied with the CEO to buy one of them. Besides, he’d read good things about the South Korean EV and its price was much better than the Tesla rival.
But…there’s been a few problems.
As background, they’re intelligen individuals. Tech savvy. She’s my age, and he’s two years younger. He graduated from MIT and was an early Apple software engineer. She’s a University of Michigan graduate. They met at Apple, where she also worked. Since retiring from their Apple days, he’s continued as a digital entrepreneur, creating apps for Apple products. She wrote a textbook on computer network security and teaches computer forensics at our local college. Both have been involved in genome projects.
But their new car has them challenged. First day, they hopped in for an errand. A chilly morning, they turned up the heat and then…tried to start the car. It wouldn’t. They were forced to leave the vehicle, re-enter, and try again, this time starting the car before turning on the heat.
The next day, she was late for exercise class. She’d started the car, then adjusted the heat. Then, she could not get the car into reverse. She sat in the driver seat, madly googling on her iPhone about how to put her new car into reverse. Not getting any joy, she turned off the car, left it, and got back in.
On hearing these stories, my wife said, “So you’ve had to reboot your car a few times?”
Yes, the techies laughed.
I parked beside a bright blue Jeep Wrangler today. As I closed my door and turned to walk away, I glanced into the car.
There, are their dash were small plastic ducks. I counted twelve, all neatly lined up.
It prompted me to smile as I walked away. I was happy for them. Not many people can be said to have their ducks in a row these days.
You gotta respect it when someone does.
Knock on wood, I am not superstitious. I’ve owned three wonderful black cats in Crystal, Sam, and Boo. Each gave me nothing but purrs and good company.
Of course, I do respect that others are superstitious. That affects things. So, for them, I throw salt over my shoulder when I spill it. With many affected by Friday the 13th, I know that many people are a little more distracted and nervous, so I’m a little more careful and alert.
Sure, I do have my lucky underwear, but that’s not superstition. I’ve observed the cause and effect of having them on. I only wear them when extra luck is needed these days because the elastic waistband is worn out and its cotton material has grown as sheer as a silk negligee. The light blue boxers also have a couple holes torn in them from getting a toe ripping through the material when I was putting them on. My wife wants me to throw them away but come on, that would surely be temping the gods to do that.
I do wear a pen on my shirt, but that’s not superstition. I’m a writer and the pen is a talisman to enhance my creativity and prevent writer’s block. What fiction writer would turn that down?
Also, I don’t walk under ladders just as a matter of safety and common sense. Someone could be doing something up there, drop it, and bonk me on the head.
And that would be bad luck.
Well, I suppose I would compare myself to common, lowly housefloofs. Basically, a floof is an animal, bird, fish, or reptile. A housefloof is then one of those critters living with humans, even if their accomodations aren’t an actual ‘house’.
I say that I’m a housefloof based on my observations of housefloofs residing with me. Those were cats and dogs. My typical housefloofs were creatures of comfort who enjoyed lazing in sunshine, periodically apparently thinking themselves into a doze. This is something which I also do, although I’ll often have a book in my hand and will read myself into a doze. I have seen animals with books, newspapers, and magazines; they enjoy sleeping on them. I’ve yet to witness any housefloof holding a book. I suppose they could be waiting until I’m not around to pick up a book. They do the same with my computer, logging on when I’m not using it, trying to order themselves things from the net. How else can some of the things delivered to our door be explained?
The other thing about housefloofs which I’ve noticed which cements my comparison to one of ’em is their interest in food. They can be sound asleep — or so convincingly pretending to be that I can’t tell they’re awake — when a can, bag, or refrigerator is opened. Then, pop! Their eyes open. They sit up and look up, orienting their senses with precision: “I hear food; there it is.” Some are so adept at this, they react to the sound, leap up, and dash to the food before awakening. I swear, one cat became so good at this whole thing that she picked up our intentions to get something to eat and was there to greet us when we entered the kitchen.
I can honestly say that I’m quite like those housefloofs. I hear the ‘frig open or a bag. Click; hello, what’s that noise? I seek out my other to see, “What are you eating? What do you have?” And like my housefloofs, I’ll sometimes try to surreptitiously seize a share and scurry away.
Sometimes, though, like the housefloofs, I’m disappointed by the result, and sulk away to resume my previous activity.
I read aloud.
“Hello, old man! If you’re reading this letter, then you made it: you’re 100 years old! Congratulations to you.
“Or, congratulations to me, I should say. I set you up for your success, right? Come on, give me credit. I’m the one who signed the contracts, took the money, made the payments.
“Yes, there are some downsides. You should be 100 years old but you’re probably not living on Earth. Part of the agreement, right? I have no idea which planet you ended up settling, either. That’s one reason why you’re getting a preserved paper letter. If you’re reading this, you remember all of this. It’ll be as real to you as it is to me. And you know all the details. Hell, biologically, you’re younger than me now, because they gave you a new body, assuming they lived up to their end of the agreement. You should now be 25 biologically, which, yes, you know. Yes, you’ll be another color; you won’t be white. Small price, right? They weren’t sure whether you would be blue or green. Said both of those were possible with our genes. Wish you could write me back and tell me.
“Hard to write this. I know things but you know them, too. But I write to think, to make sense of it all. I never expected the things to happen which did. The war. Getting frozen. Sent to storage in space, then returned to Earth. I mean, as you know, I know these things, but it’s all abstract to me. Happened to me but I wasn’t conscious of it. Not this version of — well, yeah, you know.”
I stopped reading then. I knew what the letter said. I just wrote it yesterday. Realizations were creeping up. I’m a slow thinker but I usually get there.
So I took in the shimmering individual standing before me. Gorgeous guy. Blue. Azure. Well built. So tall, his thick, glossy black hair brushed the room’s ceiling.
“You’re me,” I said. “But you don’t look anything like me.”
He snorted. “Yes, I know. I’ve seen myself and I see you now, along with the old photos of you. They gave me options to change my appearance and I took them.”
“I see.” I smiled.
“I mean, wouldn’t you?”
“I probably would. Well, I did, because you’re me and…anyway. So, you made it. I made it. We made it.”
“Oh, yes. It’s quite a future, so improved over this. And you wanted to know what color we’d be, so….” He shrugged.
“You came back to show me.”
He grinned. “Bingo. Well, mostly. I also came back to thank you.”
Stepping forward, he offered me his huge hand. “I don’t want to get mushy, but thank you. Thank you for having the fortitude to persevere. Thank you for the decisions you made and supporting the science. Thank you for trusting it.”
Setting the letter I’d written to my hundred-yead-old self onto the desk, I stood and shook his hand. “You’re welcome.”
If a shopping spree is planned, you can leave me out. If that’s an option. I’m only interested in shopping sprees when I go to a book store, although I don’t mind shopping sprees in wine and cheese stores (nudge, nudge, wink, wink).
My wife is the shopper, and I support her shopping sprees. I’m the driver and help carry the booty when we’re perambulating through shopping venues. She’s a meticulous and thoughtful shopper. Not one for quantity, she seeks quality and deals. She can go anywhere, though. Loves to visit Goodwill stores, flea markets, ‘thrift’ stores, and ‘vintage goods’ places, trying to sniff out interesting deals. She’s fond of shoes and doesn’t mind a shoe shopping spree. It just wears me out. Then again, with both of us, a shopping spree is a once in a while thing when the moon is the right color thing, and doesn’t often happen.
When it does, I’m in the driver seat, but she’s the navigator, telling me where to go.
My first name is Michael. My middle name is Wayne.
But that isn’t what was planned.
“Why did you name me Michael Wayne?” I asked Mom. I was looking for a story about why those names were selected, thinking something inspired my name.”
“I didn’t,” Mom said. “Your father did.”
“What?”
“I’d just given birth and I was out of it. He filled out the paperwork and named you. That’s not what I wanted.”
“What did you want?”
“You were supposed to be Dwayne Richard.”
“Dwayne Richard? Why?” And also, “Rick’s name is Richard Dwayne.” That seemed like a weird part of the puzzle. Richard Dwayne is my cousin, born a month before me.
Mom nodded. “I told your Aunt Jean that I wanted to name you Dwayne Richard. She stole it and named her son Richard Dwayne.”
Wild. I later asked Dad, “Why’d you name me Michael Wayne?”
“I didn’t.”
“Mom said you did.”
“I named you what she told me to.”
“That’s not what she said.”
“She probably doesn’t remember. She was pretty out of it. Listen, you know your mother. Do you really think I wouldn’t do exactly what she told me to do?”
I never got any satisfying reason for why my middle or first name was chosen. It’s just is what it is.
Nihfloofism (floofinition) – Viewpoint that existence is senseless and useless without an animal’s companionship. Origins: 1812, Floofman Nihfloofsmus, from the Flooftin.
In Use: “Without recognizing it, nihfloofism creeps into their life as they find a floof friend who becomes their best and most consistent, trusted friend.”
In Use: “Marco soon realized that nihfloofism dominated his mother’s existence, and was slowly overtaking his own life after he rescued a kitten he named Toby.”
Michael Seidel, writer 