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Category Archives: humor

A Letter to Myself or Reincarnation is da bomb.

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 Dear Me,

Having recently crossed over and upon my arrival at the depot heading to…wait, I can’t tell you where you will end up, but that is not the purpose of this letter anyway, so let me regroup.

Dear You (and me, that makes it us, right, I’m so confused?)

I have just discovered that we get a second chance to do it right. Well that is not actually true. It seems as if we get pretty close to infinity to improve ourselves, so I just wanted to take the time to say, “don’t give up and hang in there”.

While sitting in the debriefing room, waiting on the speaker/curator to come in, we (you and me) were watching a slide show of where we had been, what we had done, what we had accomplished and I discovered that we have been around a very long time.

Our first forage into our life looked daunting from this side, lots of dinosaurs, who seemed to be always hungry. The clothing was minimal and the cave was a tad cold and drafty, but food was plentiful and other than the fact that fire had not been discovered, I got used to raw meat pretty quickly. Guess that was the beginning of our affinity for oysters on the half shell and steak tartare.

Our lives then started flashing before me pretty quickly as somebody hit the accelerator button on the projector so the next millennium or so flashed before my eyes in a muddle, so can’t really give you much insight till about, I reckon the 1800s. We were somewhere in the West and there were buffalo everywhere. I mean one really had to watch where one was walking. Patties all over the place if you get my drift…and the smell…gosh… I think that was what put us into searching for an alternative food source and could be the reason for the raw vegetable and fruit diet that we went on thru in the 60’s. but I digress, ( or progress, kinda hard to tell direction from where are at the moment.)

The projector pretty much slowed down permanently then and brought me up to date to where I (we) am today, which is well, not really sure exactly, but I do hear music and the temperature is comfortable (not too hot if you get my drift). This leads me to believe that what I ( we ) think to be MAJOR blunders in our lifetimes, aren’t going to totally damn us on down the line ( no matter WHAT the nuns say). Well, there are some BIG TICKET items, murder etc, but we never went down those roads anyway, so nothing to fear.

Anyway, You (us) are just starting out and you have a pretty long ride ahead of you. So I just have a few pointers for you.

1. Dress in layers, one never knows where one will end up. ( Exmple, the ICE AGE was the pits as was the life in swamp near the tar pits.) Who knows if the global warming thing is really for real, so be prepared, just in cast.

2. Blood is thicker than water. While your siblings may pick on you when you are young, birth order does get reversed from lifetime to lifetime, so revenge can be yours. Just remember, it works both ways, and what goes round can come round and bite you in the butt.

3. Try some of those “other roads”. You will know the ones I mean when you get to them. They will be the ones that you anguish about, “should I , shouldn’t I”. In all your lifetimes you have never been a wuss, so don’t let us don’t let us down now. Take the chances, go for the golden rings, follow your heart and allow your soul to soar. If you take a wrong step, remember, second chances do happen.

4. Most important keep your humor about you. Lives are tough, lots of roller-coaster moments and the only thing that will help you keep your sanity will be the ability to laugh in the face of things when they go wrong. (I would tell you to laugh in the face of death, but it seems we did that several times already to some pretty rough conclusions, so just bear that in mind)

 

Well the speaker has arrived and is handing out assignments shortly. Hope you get this letter before you are too far into your “way of living you lifetime”. Have fun and we will see us soon enough I’m sure.

Regards,

Me ( You)

 

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A History of Whoppers

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The rumor had  spread like fine sweet chocolate on her Mamma’s  two layer cake.  It was so smoothly done that sprinkles of truth could be imagined as decorations specifically made to enhance the story.  When something seems so scrumptious, everyone wants to indulge and share and there in lay the problem.  How was she ever going to retract the damage of her delicious sounding rumor?  She hadn’t meant for it to go as far as it did.  Really, she had not.  Unfortunately, as all rumors normally do, this one was developing a life of it’s own; and as lies also tend to do, things were rapidly coming back around and  preparing to bite her in the ass.

She had been raised a good southern girl, fearful of God and her Pappy.  There were few rules in her house other than the ten big ‘uns , which were hard enough for her to handle. Number nine especially tended to be a problem for her, since she was not too good at being able to distinguish between what was bearing false witness and what she considered painting a story which would make her popular.

Her Mamma had always told her, if you tell the truth you don’t have to remember anything.  Unfortunately she didn’t listen to her Mamma and when what had started as just a little  embellishment of a tale regarding Bubba and her sister, Olive Sue and what was supposedly seen by her of them down by Millers Pond; well it  had just developed into one walloping train wreck of a situation.

It seemed very unfortuitous to her that her Pappy had gotten wind of the tale that she, in her own mind, had so innocently  concocted and from what she could somewhat piece together, from her sister, Olive Sue, between the tears and hiccups, Pappy was headed over to Bubba’s house with the shotgun that normally hung over the fireplace (when it wasn’t being used to hunt squirrels).

Things needless to say, weren’t boding too well for Bubba, as her Pappy was a dead-aimin’ son-of-a-gun with that old shotgun and in his mind because of her so called “Saga at Millers’ Pond” was under the impression that there needed to be a wedding held..and soon… Real Soon and Pappy wasn’t one to take no for an answer neither.

Mamma was gonna have a fit when she found out what was going on and because of  somewhat, as Mamma called it, “a history of whoppers that seem to spew from someone in this family who happens to be ten years old”, she knew that the bell was tolling somewhere and it was getting louder and louder ringing out her name.

Reluctantly she took her sister by the hand and  drug her off the porch to head on over to where hopefully there would be only a Mexican standoff occurring and not blood being spilled.  Bubba was known for his running skills but buckshot was always faster.  Maybe Mamma would have gotten wind too of the ill in the wind that was a blowing and would be able to head Pappy off before any harm could be done.  Maybe the gun would jam, maybe Bubba would have the good sense to hide, maybe, maybe,maybe.  Too many maybes.

Anyway she cut it, she had started this mess and in the end would have to fess up.  It wern’t gonna be pretty.

Thinking Ten – Thursday-Spreading the Rumor.

 
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Posted by on August 2, 2012 in Flash Fiction, humor

 

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A Little Christmas Eve Tale.

Timothy was what you could call a Free-Range mouse, since he was originally a pet for Michael, who as a typical ten-year old  boy with the attention span of a gnat,  had forgotten to latch his cage.  Traps were not allowed in the house since that breakout and even Micheal’s  mom now only rarely jumped when he skittered across den floor looking for dropped treats: a crumb for some, constituted a meal for one very small rodent with a darling black nose and grey fur as soft as, well a mouse.

Living quite comfortably in the wall behind the sofa, Timothy was always on the alert having noted that football Sundays were especially bountiful as they usually provided  him with a kernel of popcorn or a salted Planters peanut, which he would politely remove from under the coffee table, and place in his larder, for those days when Mom in a frenzy would actually run the  vacuum thus removing any potential meals within  a 12 by 12 radius of his cubby  hole.

On this evening however things were beginning to look up for the little mouse.  There was definitely something going on in the sphere which constituted his world: a tree with colorful lights now stood in the corner of the den, stockings hung over the mantle, like laundry after a Monday morning wash and a plate of cookies and a glass of milk had actually been left out on the coffee table, giving him the distinct impression  that after that man in red finished his delivery, had a polite taste of a cookie and finally vacated the premises via the chimney, there would be sufficient sugar crumbs to make his Christmas dinner a fine one.  What more could a mouse wish for on this Hallowed  Eve.

 

The 6S Social Network

What can YOU say in six sentences?

 
 

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A Time of Many Firsts.

There seemed to be a lot of “firsts” going on.  Mom was busy in the kitchen, which was extremely rare any time of year, but proving there is always “hope”.  His two legged siblings were behaving, quite out of character yet sorta neat, for a change (no tail pulling?), and his Dad had actually brought a Tree..Inside..A Real Live Tree..Inside..I mean how exciting was that!  Not withstanding that he had been yelled at when attempting to inaugurate it, ya can’t blame a fella for trying to be helpful can ya? Yep, there was something very fishy going on and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

It was somewhat disconcerting, in a wait for the other shoe to drop sorta way, how everyone was being so very nice to one another too.  No yelling (well except for that whole “don’t lift your leg” thing).  That they all were talking with “inside voices” took some getting use to as well, when that was not the norm in the household. Usually  home was full of slams and bams, hoops and hollers, and general chaos seemed to be all his family knew and faithfully practiced.  But recently, that had changed..Very confusing to a guy not quite a year old. (six and a half in dog years)

He was really getting a work out at his job too.  For some reason, those monster-men in their short pants and large brown trucks kept coming up His driveway, making quite a racket too… opening that large door on the back and hauling package after package to His door. The nerve of them, ringing His doorbell, day after day.  Leaving boxes of who knows what on His front porch. Where was Homeland Security when you needed um? Try as he might to alert the family of these dastardly deeds being transgressed on His property, their response was to momentarily  break out of their “inside voices” yelling at him to “shut the hell up”.  My god, he was just trying to protect them…geez…

Then there was the whole “DROP THE BALL” thing too.  I mean hadn’t they spent countless hours teaching him to run and fetch?  Yet, when he attempted to grab one of the many colored orbs they had hung on the “INSIDE TREE” they all went into hyper-drive grabbing them out of his mouth before he ever had a chance to give one a good chomp… very contradictory, if he said so himself.

The final icing on the cake came when just this very morning he started to go outside.   Dad had come down first, as usual, made coffee and started cooking some bacon (that’s why he loved Dad the best).  After some quick one-on-one commune time highlighted with some back scratches, Dad had opened the back door and a blast of freezing air practically blew his ears off.  Then on top of that, not only had someone forgot to keep the heat on outside,..well,  someone had put white stuff all over HIS YARD!   ” OH MY GOD”  he thought to himself, “How could I not have heard this happening in the night?  He rushed out to quickly assess the situation and immediately sank into four feet of the coldest,  fluffiest stuff he had ever encountered. Talk about “firsts”!   His feet were cold, the fluff was in his eyes and sniffing as hard as he could, he could not discern an odor to it.  It was the damnedest thing he had ever seen…and yet… boy was it cool.  I mean way cool.  With leaps and bounds he sprung up and about, all over the yard, not caring if he got blamed for not catching whoever did this but putting on a pretty good show of an investigation, as his Dad stood in the doorway emitting between laughs, calls of ” you get um boy”.

When the cold finally got the best of him and Dad convinced him to come back inside to warmth and a slice of bacon, neither being a hard sell, he settled down on his blanket to ponder the changes in his world.  Who knew what would happen next?  He had heard talk of someone expected to break into the house, via the chimney and something about reindeer flying and landing on rooftops?  It was all just a little much for him to fathom and with the logic that only a dog possesses, he decided he had best take a nap to prepare for more firsts that were possibly just around the tree.

First Time, Friday

Write about the first time…..

 
 

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The Final Battle

She reigned supreme from her position  in the main room.   Wrapped tightly in a blanket of power, surrounded by  potions and balms, some crafted by her own hand, others brought in from the outside to aid in the battle in which she was the general. She had worked thru the dark hours and planned her strategy to  continue leading the charge in the defeat of the enemy

Nights had come and gone, sounds of what seemed  like death rattles plagued the kingdom. Those unnerving sounds of the war waxed and waned, making her loyal subjects concerned if or when it would finally come to an end.   Cold winds alternating with hot, had kept her mind in a state of confusion and having to continue fighting thru what were her mandatory duties seemed to make every bone in her body cry out, ” No more, no more”.  She had a strong constitution however and even while she could feel the enemies gathering for their final rally,  she knew in her heart that she would get them all thru this and she and she alone would bring relief and comfort to her subjects.

As the early morning sun began to peak thru her window, a ray of light danced across her face as if to say, today is the day, the tide will turn and things will begin to look up for all of her subjects.  She threw off the blanket in which she had been wrapped and as a surge of energy coursed thru her veins she new that she no longer needed the warmth of that cocoon.

Gathering up her potions and balms , she made her way down the drafty hallway, knocking on doors, calling out to her subjects for the final rally  Head held high, she was ready to continue  to  lead and fight for the rest of them.  She had regained her  strength and finally she had the knowledge and the right combination of potions. She would guide them all out of  what must surely seem to be the lowest depths of hell.  Summer colds were just a bitch.

Plot Thickens, Thursday

Wrapped in a blanket

 
 

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Rebuilding

Harry, my muse, was in pout mode.  I could tell by the mumbling coming from the other room and by the artwork he had been painting on my walls throughout  the house.  Big eyed children lost in tears, old dogs laying in pain and once lovely towns destroyed by whatever came to his mind, fire, flood or just tornado.    Harry had stopped speaking to me when just last week I had sat before my computer screen and ignored all the suggestions that he was whispering in my ear.  “Don’t want to write about that…Un-uh, that either…nope, not that subject”… and round and round we went.  Things were either too depressing or too off the wall or just, well they just didn’t feel right.

Harry, God love him, with his gnat patience (zip, nadda, big O) could only take so much, and with the lack of prompts out there to spark my imagination, he rapidly moved from  anger at my lack of cooperation to being frustrated and depressed about my lack of motivation.  Thus he went into his pout mode which consisted of creatively making me feel worse than I already did by painting murals  and taking up all the white space he could find, to include  a really funky bombed out house on the refrigerator door, which I had to  try and ignore every time I got a glass of iced tea.  Harry when depressed, like to bring everyone down with him.

His art reflected his soul  so deeply that each and every room I entered was a stark reminder that he was out there waiting for an apology.  Giant groveling  would be necessary to get him to come around ( we had been down this path before) and since washing the walls was starting to grow tiresome I figured it was probably time to get him off my back.

Now since groveling was not a specialty of mine, I knew that I would have to put on my “woe” face and act the part of a frustrated writer desperate for help to get back on track (all true) .   Fresh from the shower in my jeans and t-shirt,  I made a  pot of coffee ( Harry loved the smell ), poured a giant cup and headed to the computer.   The screen lit up casting shadows down the hallway, which I knew would attract Harry’s attention.  He was such a sucker for the written word plus he loved computers, the fact that those that wrote with them never had to pull feathers to make new quill pens nor refill empty ink pots, before getting down to business, he thought was way great.  (Yes, Harry had been around  A..Long..Time..)

I sat staring at the screen and I could sense him come up behind me and feel the light breath on the back of my neck as he just waited.   “You know it’s been a really tough couple of weeks.  I appreciate you hanging in there while I sorted thru some stuff”, I whispered and counted the beats of my heart waiting for some response.   “I could feel your sadness in your murals..especially the house in ruins on the fridge…it felt tired and worn but with its powerful essence still lingering.  I knew it could be woven into a tale worthwhile………..Help me…please?”

I felt the tear land on my shoulder and knew I was forgiven when suddenly on the screen, before my eyes stood the house so lovingly painted on my fridge, it’s image a sure reminder that from out of the ashes there are always possibilities.

Weekend Canvas:  Thinking Ten

 
 

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Media meets his Match ( Chapter 4)

Gerald decided he needed a drink.  The interview he had finally accomplished with Max had not been productive.  Try as he might to garner in facts or insight about the virus or as to what was really going on at Labs of the World;  Max, it’s President and face to the public and an expert at the vague,  danced and sallied around and basically lied thru his teeth leaving Gerald with a whole lot of nothing.  Gerald knew there was a story there and knew that Max knew he knew.   Conundrums all around, it was just not going to be his day.

He stood on the pavement trying to figure out where to quench his thirst and spotted the bar with the bulbs flashing out at him in the night. ..INKS it said, with the d and the r dark against the white building.  “Well, I am a journalist and penmanship is my forte so this must be the place I am destined to go”, he thought as he wandered across the street.   Gerald always looked for signs, for signs from the unknown were out there to guide you, if you paid attention and let what was destined to be, happen.

Easing open the heavy door, he was met with a rush of cold, smokey air and an odor of flash fried peanuts.  “Couldn’t be all bad”, he decided and he made his way to the bar.   He sat on a raggedy-ass stool and ordered his usual, a Kryptonite, double if you please.  Downing the first one with a flourish, he raised his finger at the bartender for another.  As the rum flooded into his system he felt the hairs on his head, under the foil beret, start to stand at attention and that feeling of being stared at creeped over him.  Casually he removed his beret and let it fall to the floor so that he could be unobtrusive in his attempt to see who the hell was behind him.    Bending over he was surprised to see two rather odd small feet in sandals (9 toes on each and webbed?) attached to an equally oddly proportioned body ( is THAT a third boob?),  attached to the head of the women who had been peaking at him off and on over at the lab.  He had tried to ignore her when she would come over and gaze at him thru the less than fully functioning one way window, she, never realizing that he could see her there, if in a somewhat muddled and fuzzy image.  As he raised up to meet her eyeball to eyeball, so to speak, she spoke the words that melted his heart immediately…” I like your beret”.

Gerald was dumbstruck.  Nobody had ever said that.  He was no fool, odd but not foolish, and had figured out pretty early in life that most folks thought his ideas about aliens and such, were something that he would grow out of.  He had not. As life in general for most of the world’s population had gotten more bizarre, Gerald just knew in his mind that there was something, someone….out there after them.  He felt protected in his aluminum hats and ignored the snide comments and cutting looks everyone, save this women, normally gave him.

“Er, uh, would you… I mean thank you… I mean would you like to have a stool, er seat,..ah drink, um, fried peanut?  Gerald was not the most suave fellow in the world either.  “Well, just a little one maybe, something lite”, said the once murky image now coming fully into full-blown female-ish context.  She ordered a “Sex on the Beach”, not because she had ever seen a beach nor had  sex, but they were Potent as Pluto and with her Alien nature, they were just what the Doctor would stipulate.  ( She hadn’t quit gotten those sayings down pat yet).

Gerald took another slug of his Kryptonite…”You’re not from around here are ya”?  Not the most original question in the world and he had no idea how spot on and understated it really was.  “You work in the lab across the street, I saw you today.”  He watched as her eyes got large as she realized he had seen her many attempts of incognito-ism.  “Yes, I mean no, I mean, yes I work at the lab and no I’m not really from around here locally I mean,..  this Universe of course, but no not local…..” and she not being used to personal tete a tetes especially with someone who was making the antennae under her left arm start to shimmy( and she Knew what that meant) didn’t know quite where to go after that.

Gerald smiled at her.  He too was starting to feel the vibes and it wasn’t the Kryptonite either, there was something going here and his journalistic antenna ( quite different from hers of course) was telling him, this was where the story was.  No wonder Max was vague and persnickety with his answers today, he really was clueless about the whole situation.  If he was as dense about his employees no wonder he knew nothing about the virus.

“You know I work for the Sunshine News, could I just ask you a few questions?”, Gerald said going full into what he thought was his Bob Woodward persona mode.  Taken aback at his forthright question, Aggie drained the rest of her drink and waving at the bartender in her Betty Davis voice murmured.  “Bring us both another, it’s gonna be a bumpy take off.”

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Words Inc., Wednesday:

(1) another, (2) cold, (3) night, (4) let, (5) it, (6) happen

 
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Posted by on April 21, 2011 in Flash Fiction, humor, Science Fiction

 

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