Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floof Fog (floofinition) – Human mental condition when worries or activities involving an animal prevents them from thinking of, doing, or recalling other matters.
In use: “She had a list of things to do but succumbed to floof fog when she sat down to read a book and the cat jumped up and joined her. Floof fog set in and the two were soon snuggling and asleep.”
Flooftalk (floofinition) – 1. Speaking done by animals.
In use: “The dog, cat, and birds engaged in flooftalk — the fish may have been saying something, too, for they were avidly eyeing the scene from inside their aquarium — but Brenda had no idea of the topic, looking for intruders and seeing nothing, even as she asked the animals, “What is it? What are you guys talking about?” Like most flooftalk which she overheard, she never learned what was being discussed.”
2. Imperfect or altered manner of speech people use in addressing animals.
In use: ‘Her dog greeted her with a polite bark and heavy tail wagging. “Did you miss me, boy?” Jill replied in flooftalk, bending to pet the pug. “Who’s a good dog? Who’s a pretty dog?”‘
3. Conversations about animal health and behavior, or about observations regarding animals.
In use: “A flooftalk broke out every evening as Mitchell shared with Kevin the latest humorist episode of their foster cats.”
He always bought her earrings when he traveled. He thought she would like some dangling seaglass ones with a smalls silver hoop. Arriving home, he carefully added it to the collection. Someday he’d meet her, and he’d watch her eyes when he gave her the earrings.
He was certain she’d have beautiful eyes.
The phone rang. It was about a pie.
Not just any pie. Apparently Costco offered a pie which weighed almost five pounds. What? Peanut butter and chocolate, it sold out fast.
Friends had gone to an early doctor’s appointment. After that, they made it to Costco at its opening time. One rushed back to the pies. Only four of these remained.
They called his wife. Tell Mikey — their pet name for him — to come over and get a piece of pie. He needs to try it. He’d not heard of it but his wife convinced him to go. They cut him a large piece because the thought he had a big appetite. He ate part of the piece after dinner.
Yes, chocolate. A mousse, it seemed like. But also peanut butter. Both flavors were distinct. Good crust, too, but man was that bugger sweet.
As sweet was that his friends thought of him and wanted him to have a piece.
Very, very sweet.
Several friends, Bob and Ellis, were in the coffee shop, sitting at a table a few feet away. Both are regulars. Bob comes in and does the Times crossword puzzle every day.
He shouted to Ellis, “I can’t get this clue. Can you help? It says, James Coburn film, In Like. I don’t know what it is. Do you know?”
“What is it?” Ellis shouted back.
Bob shouted his request again.
Sitting nearby, Michael shouted, “In Like Flint, Bob.”
Ellis said, “Let me think.”
Michael shouted, “In Like Flint.”
Bob and Ellis looked at Michael. “What’s that?” Bob asked.
“In Like Flint.”
“Flynn fits.” Bob looked at Ellis. “You ever hear of that?”
“It seems familiar,” Ellis replied.
Bob beamed at Michael. “It fits. Thanks, Michael.”
“You’re welcome,” Michael answered. “Sometimes it takes a community.”
After realizing Paul Simon only gave five ways to leave your lover in his song, “Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover”, he felt obliged to find five more.
Just jump on your bike, Mike.
Follow your itch, Mitch.
Get a new job, Bob.
Buy an online tic, Rick.
And drive away, Ray.
His work was done.
I was at some wildly busy location, flitting between meeting people, attending parties, eating foods — especially desserts — and working on some new business.
I’d arrived there via a large, black and shiny car provided by my father. The car was luxurious, expensive, and impressive. After hunting for a parking space, I double-parked on the street because I was late. Promising myself to come back soon to move the car because I might be blocking another in, I rushed into the complex. Piles of food were on tables, and I was urged to eat. I did eat some finger food, and a small bit of dessert, just to be nice, I told them, all of us laughing. The food was fantastic, so I had a little more and then went on to meet with others.
I encountered Dad. He was involved in some new business venture. To support his business plan, he’d developed a table of projected aggregate growth and had me look it over. I did, then went to meet with his potential backers.
The backers’ side, people who were going to fund Dad’s business, included my mentor. The mentor — never actually seen in the dream but heard from via others — had worked up numbers for Dad’s new business, too. The numbers between the two camps were grossly different. The two sides used me as an intermediary to bridge the differences. I mostly dealt with Dad, telling him again and again that my mentor thought Dad’s numbers were overly optimistic. We argued the venture’s fine points. I wanted to see his business plan but piqued, he refused to show me. He wouldn’t even tell me what the business was about, annoying me.
I went back to the mentor and spoke to an assistant, explaining Dad’s logic, defending it, really, and then asked to see their plans and projections. They wouldn’t let me have them and sent me back to Dad.
I returned to my car to move it, but there still wasn’t anywhere else to put it. I needed to leave it there, which worried me, but another person, a stranger to me, assured me it was fine and not to worry about it. I put the car out of mind.
I went back to Dad. He and my mentor were going to meet later. Dad told me to check into my room, clean up and rest so that I could join them later.
I went outside to a huge round bricked plaza. Great crowds of people prowled and socialized there because some convention was going on. Finding the front desk, I was given my room key. It was round, with concentric wheels of numbers on it. Each wheel of numbers told me where I was to go to find my room, starting with the outer wheel. The numbers were all in gold but used different fonts. As I looked at the wheel, a smiling man sitting in a chair, holding a drink, legs crossed, told me that the outer wheel’s numbers referred to the stairs to use. He then explained in an aside to a woman sitting beside him that the keys often confused newcomers.
But I knew how to use the key and told him. The outer gold letters were 4-2. I went off and found the stairs labeled 4-2. Before I went up to my room, though, Dad came and gave me his business plan to look over. Sitting down, I discovered that he’d hugely scaled it down from what he’d told me. It seemed like a completely different idea from what he’d explained, too. This had to do with some kind of ice cream confectionary shop that served other food with the ice cream. They were going to start with twenty shops in seven locations.
The changes dismayed me. I warned him that competition already existed doing what he proposed, and that his plan wasn’t as unique or revolutionary as he seemed to think. He was unfazed because the mentor had told him it was a good idea, and they were going to proceed. I was summoned to go eat, so I left it at that and went to find my table.
Dream end.
It’s very odd. The coffee shop has two restrooms. Each has a button-cypher lock. The code for each is the same. It’s written on the menu board in the coffee shop and it’s on labels on both doors. It never changes, but inevitably, people go up to the counter and ask for the restroom combination each day.
Everyone was worried about putting their trash cans out by the curb the night before pickup because of bears.
But most people’s trash cans are stored by the side of their house. Some are behind wooden fences, no doubt a robust protection against a bear (yeah, that’s snark). A bear can get these cans just as easily there as on the street, waiting for the trash collector. If they’re really concerned about bears getting into trash cans, they need to do a lot more than delay putting them out until the morning.
Michael Seidel, writer 