Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Confloofsion (floofinition) – Intimate information or insights people share with their pets.
In use: “Living in the small travel trailer with a long-haired black cat named Bob, he shared confloofsions about his drug-use and mental health during the cold and snowy Minnesota days. Speaking them aloud helped him understand who he was and what he faced. The cat never did anything more than nestle against him and purr.”
Don’t you love it when you’re outside with a hat on, and a large spider starts running around on your hat brim’s underside, and then he drops down on a thread and swings onto your sunglasses like Tarzan, and then races onto your cheek and makes a dash over your mustache for your nostril?
Yes, yes, I really love it.
Really.
Ah, nature.
Flooflanthropist (floofinition) – 1. An animal who protects and promotes the welfare of other animals. 2. A person who seeks to promote animal welfare, especially by generous donations.
In Use: “Parallel to the worldwide web’s rise has been a growth of flooflanthropists who reach out to rescue animals and find them homes, especially in the wake of disasters.”
Floofmart (floofinition) – A large chain of stores devoted to pet care where the shoppers are generally housepets. Humans are permitted in as necessary to do business, by invitation only.
In use: “Her big pittie, Herc, kept urging her on, pulling on her leash and looking back as if to say, “Can’t you follow a lead?” She didn’t know what corner she’d turned but suddenly looked up and saw a glowing red sign, Floofmart. Herc rushed ahead to the glass doors. They slid open for him. She had no choice but to follow.”
Hold breath. Release.
Order, calm.
Relax. It’s okay.
Sure. Yes. It’ll be okay.
So it went on Monday. My wife and I left on a car-cation. Just a road trip to Yachats. I wanted to write, of course, but I knew she was jealous of that. She wanted to break out of our regular structure of existence, hence the trip to the coast.
So, with reluctance, I agreed without speaking to her unspoken concern. It’s the kind of thing that works after being married through a few ice ages.
I worried, though, oh, I worried that I’d forgotten what I’d written, where I was in the ms., and what I was about to write or change. It helped that I was on draft number seven of April Showers 1921. It’s probably ninety percent written, with changes being made to sculpt the story, structure the plot, polish the prose, and exercise the pace. Still, I worried that the muses might decide to teach me a lesson because I’d ignored them for four days.
A more rational aspect of me reassured me that all would be well. That piece of me proved correct. I sat down with my computer and cuppa coffee today, opened the doc, and said, “Oh, that’s right. This part is wordy and awkward and needs some lovin’.”
Then I was off. Good day of writing — and editing — like crazy. Good to be back. Time to go on to other things.
Butt’s asleep, ya’ know? Yeah, writer’s butt; it’s the worse. They never warned you about writer’s butt when you told them you wanted to be a writer, did they?
Floofnami (floofintion) – A great wave of activity by housepets.
In use: “A floofnami swept the house as the mini-cat, Logan, still learning the ropes, found the catnip and went nuts, terrorizing the birds, alarming the other cats, and provoking the dogs into unbridled barking.”
Flooftel (floofinition) – A hotel or motel that allows pets to stay or caters to pets. ‘Flooftel’ is often misused for ‘flooftella‘, but other than sharing the same roots, the two words are not related.
In use: “Although a luxury hotel, the Overleaf is also a flooftel, allowing pets to stay with their owners.”
Oh, I remember the first time. Dad had taken us children out. It was just the four of us. Mom was working. When we reached home, we discovered that Dad didn’t have the key, and the door was locked. This was pre-cell phone days, back when phones were big, clumsy things a headset as large as a small child’s head, and a rotary dial.
Dad reconnoitered to find a way in and then started talking about going to one of the neighbors’ houses to call Mom. We hadn’t lived there long, and didn’t know the neighbors.
I had a more pressing issue; I had to pee. Dad pointed to a bush and said, “Just go behind a bush.”
I was shocked. Pee outside? What are we animals. But when a boy hasta go, a boy hasta go.
Yep, I remember the first time.
“There’s a Dairy Queen. Want to go there for dessert?”
“Okay.” She sounded pleased.
He’d been joking but he made the right turn, found parking, and they went inside. It’d been a long time since they’d been in a DQ, and the menu was different from those days, requiring a study of offering, ingredients, and calories. Finally choices were made. “Do most people take a long time like I did?” he asked the young cashier.
She smiled. “Yes, most do.”
His wife said, “We used to go to the Dairy Queen when we were dating. Not this one, but I mean, another Dairy Queen. It was the only place around.”
“That was literally almost fifty years ago,” he said. He and his wife laughed.
The cashier smiled. “Your orders will be up in a moment.”
Michael Seidel, writer 