Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Freefloofer (floofinition) – Housepet who appears to be a stray because they’re always wandering around as though homeless.
In use: “The friendly little dog was a freefloofer who enjoyed wandering the neighborhood and making new friends. People often thought he was lost, so they took him home, fed him, and doted on him while posting on social media, ‘Lost Dog Found’. Naturally, he wasn’t a lost dog; just a freefloofer.”
America on Coffee posted a piece about Sister Sledge and “We Are Family.” Their post triggered a memory landslide.
The song came out in 1979. The Pittsburgh Pirates adopted it as their theme song. Led by Willie Stargell, they chased down a World Series championship.
Personally, I ended one life chapter and resumed another. I’d left the military to buy a restaurant and attend college in October, 1978. It didn’t work out well, so I headed back to the military. Preparing to leave for my assignment at Randolph-Brooks AFB in Texas, my car, a signal orange Porsche 914, burned up in the driveway. Terrific. I flew out alone to live in the barracks and save some money. My wife would fly out to join me in a few weeks.
I’d arrived at R-B AFB and was in transient quarters when Pittsburgh took on Baltimore in game seven of the World Series. It was a beautiful fall day in Texas. I listened on the room’s AM/FM clock radio as Pittsburgh won the game and the championship. The following Monday, I resumed my military career and kept going until I retired in 1995.
To begin, it’s Thanksgiving. I’ve volunteered to feed the pirates a Thanksgiving meal.
Setting: a modern port city. I don’t know its name. The pirates are not a baseball or football team. They’re not a social organization. They’re pirates on sailing ships.
My offer to feed the pirates pleases them. I set about getting the ingredients. It all comes together. Strangely, though, I’ve put the meal in someplace that turns out to be a toilet, and the meal is gone when I automatically flush.
It’s freak out time. OMG, the food is gone. OMG, why’d I put it in the toilet? Why’d I flush? Well, did the flushing part matter? I mean, once it’s in the toilet….
Panic time. Find replacement food. I scurry about, reaching out and begging for help. Promises are exchanged but time is growing short. Thanksgiving is almost here, it’s almost time for the meal – but there’s also a storm coming.
People are fleeing the storm. The sky is darkening. Storm surge waves are growing larger and more powerful. I’m on a plaza by a hotel, and the waves are half of the hotel’s height.
But strangely, on that plaza, I’m in sunlight. I know the storm is coming. but the waves and wind don’t touch me. I’m less worried about the storm than I worry about feeding the pirates. I know my opportunity is slipping away. People have evacuated. Ships are sailing away. I’m not certain of the pirates’ location now, but I’m certain that I won’t be able to feed them a Thanksgiving meal, and I’m sad.
Michael Seidel, writer 