I clean up
like I’m going somewhere
and dress up
like I’m going somewhere
and then sit down
like I’m going somewhere
and surf the net
like I’m going somewhere
Looking Out
Looking out the window
at the cars parked like graves
wondering who else is looking out
unseen behind distant glass
as we all look out for one another
looking out for the virus
looking out for a change.
Six Days of Fun
We finished puzzle number seven today. It was definitely my favorite. Vivid colors and well-shaped interlocking pieces (and none missing) made it challenging but fun and satisfying.
We’ll probably take two days off (that’s our norm so far) before beginning another.
Victory Is Coming
The birds were plentiful and noisy. Several noticed, “Hey, where are the humans?”
It seemed true, the birds agreed. They didn’t see as many humans as usual. Odd, up here in the northern latitudes, where winter was rolling over into spring. That’s when the humans usually became more active.
Word went from bird to bird, flock to flock, pecking for confirmation: were less humans out? Fewer cars, trucks, and motorcycles? Were all noticing this or was it a local anomaly?
“Yes.” Verification flew through the flocks. Except for a few pockets, less humans were present outdoors. The birds were winning the war.
Orders were issued. “Increase your efforts. Be vigilant. Keep shitting on them, shit on every human you see. Our strategy s working. Victory is coming.”
So It Begins…Puzzle #7
This one looks colorful, challenging, and fun! Hope there aren’t any missing pieces. We buy used puzzles, so it’s a risk. One available for sale at the Goodwill the other day had a note attached, “Missing a piece.” Noble of your to note that problem, but no thanks. That’d be the piece that finally drives me completely insane.
Patient 46
He cited Elon Musk. “Elon Musk thinks the threat from the coronavirus is overblown. He’s a smart guy, and I agree with him.” Nodding, his friends came in closer to hear him. “Musk said that you’re more likely to be killed in a car accident going home from work than from the corollavirus.”
He purposefully misspoke, mocking the term, making his friends snort and scoff. “Just like President Trump said, this is a hoax. Yeah, sure, there’s a disease out there, but it’s not that big a deal. It’s not even as bad as the swine flu. We survived it, and we’ll survive this, too.”
“Fuckin’ a,” “Damn straight,” and “Preach it brother,” friends replied as others nodded agreement and encouragement.
Patient 46 continued, “The media is exploiting the news and the gullible sheeple because they don’t like Trump. They want this virus to succeed. They want people to die. It’s just like Trish Regan said, it’s an impeachment scam. They couldn’t legally impeach Trump, so now they’re trying to do this. You know she was right, because they shut her up straightaway, took her right off the air. Why else would they do that, if she wasn’t right?”
The rest agreed. A newcomer arrived. Greetings were bellowed.
Patient 46 turned away. It felt hot as hell in the bar. Sweat peppered his forehead. He took another long swallow of cold Bud to drown his fever. Nausea swarmed him. He mopped his face with a sleeve and then wiped his palm across his face. “Damn, it’s hot in this place,” he said loudly, but the televisions and jukebox drowned his words.
A grinning friend leaned in close. “Hey, man, don’t you know that you’re not supposed to be touching your face?”
The two laughed and slapped their palms together in a high-five salute. Each then made a show of touching their faces. Then, shrieking with greater laughter, his friend said, “No one said that I can’t touch your face.”
“Right on, scratch my nose for me,” Patient 46 said. His friend obliged as the two snorted and giggled.
It was the last thing that Patient 46 remembered before he awoke alone in the hospital. Lit machines were beeping, sighing, and humming. Tubes snaked to and from his body.
Such bullshit, he thought, such bullshit, what an over-reaction. Closing his eyes, he fought to breathe. Someone poisoned him, he thought. Trying to shut him up and make an example out of him. Probably the CIA or FBI. They were arms of the shadow government that Obama and Killary were running. Everyone knew it.
He’d show them. He would survive this fucking assassination attempt, and then share his story as a precautionary tale about the measures the libtards would take to shut people like him up.
Patient 46 died a few days later. His story remained untold. His services were sparsely attended.
Everyone was too sick to attend, but all agreed, it was a damn shame that such a smart guy, a real man like him, should die in a hospital bed like that.
Yes, a damn shame.
Puzzle #6 Finished!
We finished puzzle number 6 about twenty-four hours after we began it…almost.
Six pieces are missing.
Six!
It’s an outrage, I tell youse, an outrage.
My wife suggested that we need to pace ourselves. We only have two jigsaw puzzles left.
Puzzle #6 Is Begun
“This will be an easy one,” my wife assures me. On our personal JS (Jigsaw Scale), she thought that “Casablanca” (our last puzzle) was a nine on the JS. (I thought it was a seven, as I’ve seen puzzles with thousands and thousands of pieces, but never mind.) She believes “Cats in the Bag” is a four. We’ll see.
“Cats in the Bag” was loaned to us by a friend. The pieces are large, and have quirky shapes. There aren’t many small pieces. Progress has been swift, so far. Our local cats are showing less interest in this puzzle. Each visited it, but have not stayed.
I think they believe the puzzle is floofcist, continuing a stereotype that cats like bags. Their opinion would hold more water if they weren’t so interested in the bag that the puzzle was in.
Michael Seidel, writer 