Monday’s Bumper Sticker
Crushing It
The Fitbit buzzed. “Time to move!”
Well, he had to feed the cats anyway as they were delivering their most intimidating laser stares. He walked into the other room, opened a cat, spooned the food in, and set the bowls down.
The Fitbit buzzed. “Crushed it!”
“Crushed it. I sure did.” The man was being sarcastic. He’d used thirty seconds and what, twenty movements?
“I don’t think so,” one cat said with a glance up.
“No.” The second sniffed with disdain. “You didn’t ‘crush’ it.”
“Right,” said the third. “We could have fed ourselves, if we had thumbs.”
Nodding, the cats resumed eating. Muttering at them, the man returned to us chair.
Talk about crushing it; someone had, and it wasn’t him.
Somewhere in the Future
Somewhere in the future
I sit and read
various books written by me
I lounge on beaches
soak in the sun
drink wine and read
till night’s begun
I visit friends and families
hug them all hello
ask them how their day went
tell them how it goes
I visit restaurants and shop in stores
I run around the great outdoors
and if I want, I have a sit
whenever I want, until I quit
those days are possible
I know they’re coming
somewhere in the future
Proof
There’s always a floof
looking for proof
that you really love ’em.
That you’ll give ’em food
no matter your mood
Or what you’re doin’.
A lot can be said
for sleeping with ’em in bed
at the end of a long day (or even a short one).
And they’re always presenting proof
that these loving floofs
are needed as much as they’re wanted.
Just A Cat
He’s laying at my feet,
soft, black, and sweet.
Some scoff, he’s just a cat.
He looks at me and purrs,
and I stroke his velvet fur
as some sniff, “Isn’t he a little fat?”
But I don’t care and I don’t shift,
not even for an itch,
because I like it, where he’s at.
Even if he is, as they all say.
really,
just a cat.
A Meeting of the Time Travelers’ Political Party
Sometime in the future.
“We’re still awaiting results. The past is changing, but the results are still coming in.”
“More importantly, we still exist.”
Murmurs of agreement went around the gathering; the general consensus before they’d begun this endeavor was the greatest proof that they’d succeeded in the past was that the party didn’t exist in the present.
A west coast reps was the Planning Committee Chair. Calling for order, she continued with her report. “We unleashed COVID-19 at the end of 2019. Sadly, but as predicted, this had the desired impact. Travel was reduced, leading to less armed conflicts as division between neo-fascists and the rest grew. Many refused to wear masks, as predicted.” She gave a nod toward another rep, who briefly beamed in acknowledgement. “The economy suffered as the working poor had their incomes cut by substantial amounts, leading to dissatisfaction that guaranteed Trump would lose the 2020 election. A vaccine was found, with limited impact, also as predicted. Likewise, Trump’s administration failed to plan ahead, as predicted.”
Rep. Bacon, Chair of Predictions, said, “They’re egregiously predictable, which makes for the situation of that time even more unfathomable. They’d consistently demonstrated no concern for human life or welfare, eschewing all principles in favor of increasing personal wealth among the wealthiest. It doesn’t make sense. It — “
“It is human nature,” said the Human Nature Chair. “Let’s not have another polemic.”
“Also predictable,” another rep called to a brief burst of chuckling.
The Planning Committee Chair resumed. “COVID-19 variants have been introduced as we speak. Given the failures to wear masks, plan for proper vaccination in advance, resistance to and distrust of vaccinations, and rallies and protests on behalf of the defeated president, a surge in cases and deaths will be seen in 2021.”
“But will that be enough?” another rep asked.
All eyes turned toward the Chair of Predictions. He pursed his lips. “We don’t know. It remains to be seen.” He put a hand up. “That’s not meant as a joke. If it doesn’t have the desired impact, well…we do have greater variants lined up.”
Thoughtful silence reigned for several seconds. “Is the asteroid still in play?” a rep asked.
The Chair of Predictions nodded. “Yes, but we’re holding onto it as our trump card.” He grimaced. “No joke intended, again.”
“So it won’t be deployed until…?”
“That’s right,” the Chair of Predictions said. “Twenty twenty-four.” He bleakly smiled. “If needed.”
SAFday
I decided that I needed a holiday.
My wife agreed. “It would be great if you went on a holiday and went away.” Falling silent, her expression gained a dreamy aspect. I waited for her to say more, then left to have some coffee. By that, I mean, I went into the kitchen. I rarely go to other coffee shops these days, unfortunately. Our kitchen coffee shop has been out of pastries for a while. Not even crumbs are in there. I looked.
I was serious about needing a holiday, but not about going away. I’ve been intermittently thinking about this holiday since December 22. Back then was the shortest day of the year in these parts. The sunset was like 4:39 PM. It hadn’t been much of a sun, not making a great effort to light the day or warm us. I guess it was put off by the rain and fog. I know that I was.
I enjoy sunshine. I’m a person that’s happy sitting in sunshine, so long as it’s not too hot, I have something to drink and a book (or laptop, I guess), and a little shade (and sunscreen) to protect me from the sun. I’m not a freak. To that end (that is, celebrating sunshine, not being a freak), I thought, I’m going to celebrate when the sun finally sets after 5 PM.
I’ve been diligently tracking the information. Every morning, I rise and say, “Alexa, what time is sunset?” And she answers, explaining information about Sunset, Florida, causing me to yell, “Stop, Alexa! No! Bad Alexa! Bad. No treats for you!” Then she starts whining, and I relent, giving her a treat, because I’m not really a mean person. Although I do wonder why I bother; she never eats the treats. The treats sit there until one of the cats notices it.
Today’s sunset is 16:59 (if you can believe Alexa — she does work for Amazon, and they have this issue with deliveries coming when promised…so, you know…). That means tomorrow’s sunset will be after 5 PM.
Oh, my excitement! There will be a sliver of light (weather permitting) after five PM. How will I celebrate the moment? (Well, probably not with pastries.) More importantly, what shall I call this day? I shall, after a moment of thought, call it SAFday: Sunset After Five day.
Yeah, it’s weak. But it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?
(I wonder how long it would take Amazon to delivery a pastry?)
Michael Seidel, writer 