Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Dr. Floof & the Medicine Show (floofinition) – American floof rock (flock) band. Formed in the late 1960s, the band achieved considerable commercial success in the early to mid 1970s.
In use: “A 1972 single recorded and released by Dr. Floof & the Medicine Show, “Sylvia’s Mother”, was written by Shel Flooferstein and autobiographical.”
It began with my obituary.
Everyone googles themselves, right? Filling the gap between what you should be doing and thinking about what to have for dinner. Games have been played, work postponed, and the news is another blunt instrument on your head. So, idly, you type in your name.
My name, Michael Seidel, is bitterly common, bitterly because that makes it forgetful, except for the weather guy, what’s his name (see what I did there?). Google returned pages of Michael Seidel in their vaunted search results. Most were dead, except for real estate agents.
“Get more granular, dummy.” I played with search parameters. City, state, birthday.
Obit, obit, obit.
“Fuck.” What did the net know about me? My lust had to be sated. All that turned up, though, were obituaries. With some vinegar, I clicked on one to address the question, who is this imposter?
There was my photo and details.
I’d died the day before.
Car accident.
“Malware.” Had to be. Some new variation on ransom ware, doxxing, or cat fishing.
Loud rapping on the front door burst my concentration and triggered a sphincter clench. I hadn’t heard a car, I wasn’t expecting a package or a person, and visitors were as rare as snow in summer in this age of COVID-19.
Screw it; I wasn’t answering the door.
Then I was standing in the office door, looking in at me, me all the way from the disheveled, thinning, graying, fleeing fucking hair, navy shirt, beige shorts and clothes that I now wore.
Sweat ran down his flushed face and neck. He was panting. “Come on, let’s go.”
The natural retorts skittered through my head without reaching my lips because ‘I’ dashed across the room and peered out the window. “The shadows are coming.”
Such a strange, long dream.
At one point, I let a little pet mouse out of the bathroom into the rain. Yellow walls and a naked yellow light, decrepit age, and a sloping dirt floor defined the bathroom. I didn’t want to let the little mouse out. I knew it was storming and night, unsafe conditions, to me. I didn’t know what the mouse knew. Letting him out with regret, I vowed to check on him.
Then, dreamshift, I was at work, a new job with a familiar feel. A new boss arrived. Others were at work at clusters of desks. I was shown a desk that was to be mine but decided to find and reclaim my previous place, which I then did. I cleaned it, finding old stuff of mine. Sorting it, I decided what to keep and toss. Then, speaking with a female co-worker, I re-oriented my desk to watch the front door. I told her that I wanted to see what was going on. She agreed that was the best way to face.
My mail was delivered. It was a lot but not as much as I expected. Off I went to find the rest. As I began, the office administrator arrived with a large bundle of mail for me.
Now, dreamshift again, I was leaving with my wife to return to our hotel. First, I went back to the yellow bathroom and pulled open the door. The little mouse hurried in from the rain with a grateful look my way.
My wife and I were walking through a large market on the way back to the hotel. Then she said, “I want to get something.” I asked her what. She replied but I couldn’t hear her. She went off, leaving me to mill around.
Friends in the military came by, heading to the marshalling area to deploy. I was happy to see them. Walking with them, I told them about changes in the area because they weren’t aware. Breaking off as they arrived at their destination, I joined up with my wife. She was still shopping. Like before, I asked her what she was after. She replied but I couldn’t hear her. She went off, leaving me with a commiserating shop owner. I decided to continue to the hotel instead of waiting.
Dream end.
The Velvet Underfloof (floofinition) – Floof punk (flounk) band formed in New York City, UFA, active from 1964 to 1973.
In use: “The Velvet Underfloof’s album, The Velvet Underfloof & Floofco, has become acknowledged as a critically significant flounk album.”
Simple Floofs (floofinition) – Floof rock (flock) band from Scotland, formed in Glasgow in 1977.
In use: “Released in 1985, “Alive and Nipping” became a popular offering from Simple Floofs.”
Floofregard (floofinition) – An animal behavior act of treating someone or something as unworthy of regard or notice.
In use: “Pouring enthusiasm into his tone, he said, “Who’s hungry?” The cat responded with killing floofregard that culminated with a yawn before she commenced some idle grooming.”
Skyfloof (floofinition) – Floofnadian Vancouver-based floof rock (flock) band originally active from 1971 to 1973.
In use: A song from Skyfloof’s debut album, “Floofflower”, provided the group with its most notable success.”
Floofenant (floofinition) – A usually formal and binding agreement among housepets.
In use: “Floofenants are typically negotiated between pets regarding sleeping and eating arrangements, but cats, being natural floofnarchists, often violate the floofenants, stirring consternation in the other pets.”
Plooze (floofinition) – To play while lightly dozing or napping.
In use: “Young animals will often spend hours ploozing as they eat, grow, and master their bodies, antic that humans often deem cute, especially among kittens, puppies, and baby goats.”
Michael Seidel, writer 