Saturday’s Theme Music

Sitting in the chasm between writing projects, dealing with submissions, hunting for acceptance, stamping on depression, and resisting regression. I walk along on slippery wet leaves, gold and red, fallen from trees, I hunt the moment and a song, something to sing to take me along.

I depend on music like I depend on coffee, computers, and the net, soft addictions to deal with what’s left, and what I hope to do and be, striving to leave a little self to the world’s history.

Into the mind stream jumps the Kinks, squeezing alongside Tom Petty, Bob Dylan, and snippets of other song links, taking me back to decades gone, sometimes to people and selves where I felt like I more belonged. I offer you a fantasy, a song to help you escape, “A Rock and Roll Fantasy” from nineteen seventy-eight, a time when we had more hope and direction, and people weren’t warning us about civil war, strife, and sedition.

More coffee, stat.


Floofmore (floofinition) – A forgotten muse, referred to as the tenth muse in ancient writings, associated with literature, poetry, dance, and music inspired or about animals. Floofmore was often later reduced to Floof, from which the modern popular term for animals is derived.

In use: “Scrolls associated with Virgil were uncovered. Some say that the scrolls were part of Book Three of the Aenid. In the scrolls, Floofmore’s influence on the wandering Aeneas was described, as was the jealousy by other muses caused by the rising admiration of animals, and the subsequent sacrifice Floofmore made to keep animals wild and free.”


Pawtillism (floofinition) – Animal artwork in which small dots or strokes of paws, feet, beaks, noses, ears, and other body parts are blended together to create a scene. The movement was originally done only by paws, with other body parts being incorporated later.

In use: “The first dog to use pawtillism is lost to history, but when art historians investigated the cave, they could do nothing but marvel. Preliminary testing revealed the paints was over eleven hundred years old. Then they realized that the powerful, primitive scene, of people by a fire, also had strokes that could only have been done by a bird’s beak, fueling their amazement to greater heights.”


Omnifloofium-gatherum (floofinition) – A gathering or collective of housepets. On small scales, they are generally organized around pools of sunlight or food being distributed. Organized omnifloofium-gatherums are established for more serious matters regarding quantum energy, shape-shifting, and time-shifting.

In use: “Each year, unbeknownst to humans, an omnifloofium-gatherum was established in which five representatives were sent to another dimension on a fact-finding adventure. Though it was an honor to be selected, the housepets felt bad for their humans, because they never knew what had happened to them.

“Then, along came a boy and a girl who changed everything.”


Catansy (catfinition) – a cat’s faculty or activity of imagining things, especially things that are impossible or improbable.

In use: “Michael used to think that Papi avoided the door mats because of his eyesight. Then he began suspecting that the cat had a catansy that the doormats were lava pits or some other threat that must be circumvented. Lately, though, Papi’s behavior changed Michael’s thinking, and he started wondering if Papi avoided the mats because they were quantum traps.”

The Bathroom Incident

A bathroom at last. Now he knew how his father felt, and his uncle, having to take a piss, asking with a fast, low voice almost everywhere they went, as soon as they arrived, “Excuse me, where’s the bathroom? Is it near? I need to go, like now.”

And now it was him, just like them. Had to be genetics. More than pissing, though, he had to do a dump. Sitting on the commode, he sighed relief as his body did its thing, and mourned what he was seeing of his future.

He’d forgotten his phone. “Fuck?” For real? Where the fuck? What the fuck? Where? When? Shaking his head, he farted and grunted and stared at the floor in concentration.

The floor…was kind of cool, like those photos NASA or someone put of nebulae on it. His uncle was always pointing things out to him about space, using an app on his phone to show him constellations and nebulae from the bubble telescope. “That’s the crab nebula. See how it looks like a crab?”

No, Dylan never saw how it looked like a crab, but the floor looked like it had nebulae. His uncle would love this fucking floor. One possible nebula looked like a friggin’ crow outlined with stars, and another —

Reaching for the T.P., he stared, eyes growing wider. That fucking thing looked like a dragon nebula, like a dragon flying through space, like a profile of a friggin’ giant dragon flyin’ through space on ginormous friggin’ wings.

Holy shit, the dragon nebula changed.

The dragon nebula was facing him.

The dragon nebula…was growing larger. He could see its wings flapping. In seconds, Dylan made out its heads, its teeth, its eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Dylan scrambled to wipe his ass, pull up his underwear and pants — and flush — all at the same time so that he could leave, leave, leave, because that friggin’ giant dragon nebula —

“Is here,” he said in a whimper, pants still down.

The dragon’s head burst up out of the floor. Falling back, Dylan said, “Fuck,” not noticing that his hand went into the toilet as he fell backward. The head was soon huge, breaking the walls out. A long fucking neck followed. As it rose, breaking through the roof, he heard people screaming. Then he was looking at the beast’s pale, scaly chest. He wanted to scream but he had no air in him. All he could do was gawp, except the smell was such a stench, like the bear’s slobber on his backpack once when the bear stole it when he was camping out. He wanted to puke but he didn’t want to move. He couldn’t move.

“Hey,” he heard.

The dragon was speaking to him.

“Hey,” he heard again. “Up here.”

Dylan looked further up. No, the dragon was looking down at him, but above the dragon’s head was a girl’s head, or maybe it was a dragon’s head, maybe the dragon had a second, human head, or some strange shit. Whatever the fuck?

The girl was smiling at him.

“Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

“Where’d you come from?” Dylan said.

“There.” She pointed at the floor. “Want to ride a dragon?”

Calmness washed through Dylan. “Sure,” he said. “Fuckin’ right.” He was going to ride a dragon. Fuckin’ right.

But first, he was going to wash his hand.


Last Seen

Deadly cold sucked the heat from my bones’ marrow as I surveyed my surroundings.

“Here,” she said.

Here? Here was a sloping field of snow glistening like icing in moonlight. Here was a field edged by elderly pines draped in snow. Here was a starry black night and the pond of a moon staring down on us. Here was a wind slicing through my gloves, shearing off my ears, and paring down my cheeks.

“Here?” I said.

I looked at the traveler. Smiling like she knew Mona Lisa’s secret, she pointed past me into the sky. As she did but before I turned, I caught sleigh bells’ tinny ringing.

Distracted by the famous sound, I turned so quickly, I slipped on the snowy field and would have fallen, had the traveler not caught my arm and kept me upright. After thanking her, I gazed through my breath toward the sound and spotted the immortal silhouette of reindeer pulling a sled commanded by a pudgy elf.

I gasped. “Santa.”

“Yes,” the traveler said.

“He was real.”

“Of course. It was on this day that he was last seen, long before his existence trickled into your dimension’s awareness.”

I nodded. Then this was was where my story begins. “I shall find him,” I whispered into the silent night as the sleigh bells faded and the wind nuzzled me. “I shall find him and bring him back.”


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