Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Watching a television show, I saw that they got ready for work and school, came into the kitchen, got something to eat and drink, and then, after a few bites and gulps, realized they’re late, and ran out the door.
I thought, they didn’t brush their teeth. Then I realized, they must have brushed their teeth before coming into the kitchen.
I always ate breakfast first, and then brushed my teeth and got ready for work or school and left. I guess I’ve been doing it backwards all these years.
Today can’t decide if it’s spring or winter in southern Oregon. The sun is exhibiting spring friendliness but that wind has a winter bark and nip. The rest of the area seems reluctant to take sides. We humans stay cautiously busy, waiting for the day to make up its mind.
He always thought his wife and best friend had something going on but he never found evidence. It was just the way they were together. When they died twenty-four hours apart in separate accidents, it seemed like confirmation to him.
They’d had something going on in the astral level. He’d never believe otherwise.
“They wanted to go to the movies,” she said, “but I told them you said, “I want to see that movie, too.””
Her impression of him sounded like Disney’s Goofy talking. “That’s not how I said it,” he said.
“It was in the way I told it,” she said.
He knew she was right. The story-teller always sets the tone.
Cats know the snow, and these four aren’t impressed.
Quinn mews at the open door, “I don’t like the snow, please don’t make me go.”
Boo comments from the bed, “I don’t know if it’s snow, but that white stuff really blows.”
Tucker goes, “I know that’s snow, and it’s too cold for my toes.”
While Papi puts his tail down and says, “Snow and I don’t go.”
Have you ever been sitting in your seat on an aircraft and drop something on the floor between your seat and the one in front of you? Man, the moves to pick it up would try a contortionist’s skills. If they ever tell me that we’re going down and I’d better bend over and kiss my ass good-bye, I’d need to decline. No way that I can bend over and kiss my ass in one of their seats. Nope, not going to happen. Somebody else will need to kiss it good-bye.
Ever catch yourself ranting and raving at others for their behavior, like their driving or the speed of their walk, as though they have full and absolute control over themselves, and realize that your ranting and raving is a demonstration of the small measure of control over yourself?
No? Is it just me, then?
Damn.
Ever have one of those people in your life that must tell something about themselves to top whatever is going on? Someone is sick and hospitalized, and they’re sicker, and should be in the hospital. Misfortune falls on another? That’s nothing, you should hear how bad they suffered. It gets to the point that you don’t know what to believe of them. Then, when something bad happens, you feel bad because you didn’t believe them.
It reminds me of that old comedy routine.
“You had a house? We lived in a box on the street.”
“I wish we had a box. We lived in a pile of old newspapers.”
“Newspapers? You were lucky. We held paper towels up around us and pretended they were a house.”
“Pretended? You were lucky. We were only eating once a week. We didn’t have enough energy to pretend anything.”
“You ate once a week? You were lucky. I don’t know what I would have done, eating that many times in a month.”
“Those were the days.”
“Yeah, they sure were.”
Know what I mean?
When you’re vacuuming, you ever notice there’s always one piece, usually lint, but typically a clump of cat fur in our house, that has supernatural powers to resist the vacuum? You run the sweeper over it repeatedly, but it defiantly stays on the floor, sometimes moving around and pretending that it’s been sucked up, only to re-appear a few moments later. Then you’re forced to other courses of action to get it up, even stooping to pick it up and feed it to the vacuum, just to prove who has the power.
Yeah, that’s so annoying.
Michael Seidel, writer 