Tag: just goofing around

Weed Man

They encountered each other every day, and every day, the ginger-bearded young man said, “Hey, man, do you have any weed?”

Every day, Mitchell said, “No, sorry.”

After the first three days of this, Mitchell wondered, why is this man asking him for weed? Mitchell wondered, does he look like a man who might have weed? What makes a person look like he might have weed? He had his own conceptions of this. To his mind, he didn’t look like one who might be carrying weed.

The other thought Mitchell had was, perhaps the man greeted everyone like this. Mitchell laughed at the idea of this man saying to everyone met in town, “Hey, man, do you have any weed?”

After five days of this, Mitchell encountered the man while crossing the street, and said, by way of greeting, “Sorry, I don’t have any weed.”

The weed man looked at him like he was crazy.

Which made Mitchell laugh.

2

Forgotten

Watching the mothers watching their children playing, he said, “I often forget that adults learn to be parents as they go, and that every child, every day with a child, is another test.

“Some parents never learn how to do it.”

0

Mindless

Seven in the morning. It’d had already slid into another shitty day when Don’s mind shrilly and loudly said, “I can’t take this fucking shit.”

That tone cut Don’s ear drums. As Don winced and clapped his hands over his ears, his mind stomped through his brain. “I’m fuckin’ outta here.”

Looking up, Don said, “No, wait,” beginning to stand as all this happened. His mind wrenched his brain’s door open.

Used to being closed, the door shrieked, “Hey, what the fuck? I was sleepin’, man.”

Stepping out, his mind slammed the door shut behind him, rattling Don’s empty head. The door said, “That’s fuckin’ better. Now keep it down. I need some zzzs.”

Just like that, Don’s mind was gone again.

Sitting, Don sighed. Sipping his soda, he picked up his phone with his little hands and opened Twitter. It was gonna be another mindless fucking day for him.

2

The Comma

“I have to eat, Tucker,” he said as he hurried into the house and past the cat. “I’m ravenous.”

Whiskers drooping, Tucker grew still. His eyes widened. He lowered his tail.

The man glanced at his cat. “No, I didn’t say, “I have to eat Tucker.” Well, that’s what I said, but there was a comma in there. I was saying, “I have to eat, comma, Tucker.” There was a comma in there.”

He went to his cat and scratched the feline’s head. “You know about commas, right? Yes, you do. Good kitty.”

Tucker closed his eyes, reassured that he wasn’t going to be eaten. It was just an unheard comma.

9

Late

Don’t you hate it when you say that you’re going to do something at nine thirty and discover it’s already nine thirty-two? Almost as bad as picking up your coffee cup and finding it empty.

Yeah.

5

Imagination

“I always worry about you injuring yourself with that tool that you say that we don’t have, the chain saw,” she said.

“The one you never see me using?” he asked.

She nodded. “That’s the one.”

1

Eavesdropping

Have you ever been eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation and want to join in? Are you a joiner? Do you insert yourself in their private conversation?

For me, it depends on the subject and the people’s emotional state. Their drunkenness and my drunkenness can contribute.

I probably join in others’ conversations about twenty-five percent of the time.

Today, although the others’ subject matter and comments fascinated me, I restrained myself.

I just posted about it.

9

Wishes

He stepped aside to let a woman pushing a shopping cart go by. A young girl in the cart’s child seat said, “Mom, while I ever be big enough that I don’t have to ride in the cart.”

Mom replied, “Yes, you’ll be big enough sooner than you think.”

The man said, “I wish I could get in a cart and ride around.”

The woman laughed. “Yes, I would love to be in a cart and have someone push me around.”

As the adults laughed, the child stared at them. Then the man rounded the corner. Encountering a woman in a wheelchair, he began re-thinking his wish.

6

The Other Shoe

I’ve been suspicious lately. It’s just the things that’ve been happening. I feel like I’m being set up.

  1. I have a weekly beer get-together with some friends. I wasn’t planning to go and passed that word along. Then, I changed my mind at the last minute and sent out an email telling the gang that I’d be there after all. Three others showed up who’d originally said they weren’t coming, telling me that they had come because I said I was coming. Well, thank you.
  2. My wife’s friend told her that she had a wonderful time talking with me at a party. She said that I was charming.  I almost spit out my wine when I heard that. My wife said that she noted to her friend, “Well, he was well-lubricated that night.”
  3. The baristas keep serving me free coffee. I’m suspicious. What do they want? Are they giving everyone free coffee? Are they giving anyone else free coffee? What’s their motive?
  4. Our Friendsgiving host gave me a huge hug and a grin when I arrived, and told me, “I’m so happy to see you. I’m so glad you came.” I figured that he must’ve been high.
  5. An actor showed up at Friendsgiving, causing a stir. People later looked him up on IMDB and were all abuzz at his credits. I didn’t know the guy and barely said ten words to him (it was a big crowd in a small place) but when he left, he sought me out and gave me his card, telling me, “I’m trying to write fiction, and several people told me that I need to talk with you. Please give me a call when you have a chance.” “Okay, I will,” I said, eyeing him, taking his card, and wondering, what are you up to? He looked harmless, but he is an actor.
  6. Got fan email telling me how much they loved one of my novels, how well written and smooth it was. I thought, what kind of con are you trying to pull? I wondered if they had the right author.

All this in less than two weeks. It’s more than I can take. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, if you know what I mean.

7

Getting Weird

Rounding the corner, pushing himself to walk hard and fast, he almost ran into another person. The other guy seemed to be doing the same thing as him. As both jerked back in reaction, they looked at one another in the face.

Blue eyes rested a in tanned and lean, craggy face under short, sandy-blonde hair.

He almost gasped aloud. He almost said, “Steve McQueen.”

Quickly, the other man turned and strode away. As he gaped at the man’s receding back, he thought, that can’t be Steve McQueen. Steve McQueen died a long time ago, like decades ago, or something, from a heart attack. He remembered it because McQueen and his father had been born in the same age. McQueen’s death, when he was just fifty, scared his father.

He wished he could call his father and talk about it, but his father had died the year before. As he mused on that, wondering if it was McQueen’s doppelganger or maybe a son, he almost ran into another man.

“Excuse me,” the other man said with a smile.

He jerked back in shock. “Johnny Carson?”

The man put a finger to his lips with a furtive grin. “Shh. Mum’s the word.” Then he turned and hurried away into the brightening day.

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