Saturday is always a good day. It seems the coffee machine goes out of its way to impress the end user. Just this morning it said good morning without being prompted. It then produced this fine mug of coffee Just in time  for the first sip to quell the percussion part of the Anvil Chorus playing in my head.  The second sip brings the familiar  steel stamping plant cacophony of the combination of the doorbell Westminster chime and the warnings from the watchdogs from hell as they attempt to bark the intruder to St. Louis. A toss of a delicious marrow bone into the soundproof room followed by the slamming of the door brings back peace in the valley.

A check of the monitor confirms a visitor looking very much like Henry the chicken with an envelope. Since there is a signature needed, with a sigh the security shutdown begins.

The B-2 bomber squadron and the F-35 escort must be called off. One call does it. The tank corps and gunboats are told to stand by. The Apache helicopters are rerouted. The electric shock fence is turned off. The drawbridge over the quicksand is lowered. The robot attack dogs returned to their charging station. The laser-guided machine guns on the roof are set to caution. The nest filled with rattlesnakes put away. The bucket filled with 1000 marbles is locked down. The tear gas canisters shut off. The electrified welcome mat set to off. The fall-away sidewalk into the pit filled with spikes is locked. The hornet’s nest closed. The water cannons are set to safety. Bear traps are set to off. Peregrine Falcons perched on the roof above front door fed. The vat of boiling oil set to warm. The front door is opened.

An envelope and clipboard are passed to me by Henry. “Where’s Foghorn Leghorn?” is a question met with a puzzled look. maybe it’s the wrong Henry. Passing the signed clip board back, Henry has his wing extended in the classic signal for a tip. “Never do anything you wouldn’t want to explain to the paramedics,” is my tip to Henry just before closing the front door.

The envelope is form Linda Hill and the message inside reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “impress” Use it as a verb, use it as a noun, use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!

To see how others responded to the prompt visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2026/05/29/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-30-2026/

Impress by John W. Howell © 2026

“You are not out to impress deliver people are you?”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it?”

“Our society is becoming tip crazy is all.”

“What do you mean.”

“There are tip requests everywhere. The last time I took an flight I bought a water at a self service kiosk. On the screen there was a place for a tip.”

“Might be a way to help offset low pay for the workers.”

“Then the workers ought to speak up. I’ll bet none of it gets to the workers.”

“Hard to know.”

“Restaurants are now adding 20% service charges to the bill and get this. They say it is not a tip for service. The tip is supposed to be added on.”

“Ive never seen that, but sound pretty strange. What’s it for”

“That’s what I thought. I don’t know. Maybe for someone to carry your order out to the table 99% spit free.”

“Yuk. You leave a tip?”

“What do you think?”

“Scrooge.”

“I did see a tip line on my carry out pizza order receipt. I thought they were kidding.”

“I’ll bet it wasn’t spit free then.”

“Don’t remind me. I can quarantine our Uber ride is tip free.”

“Why’s that? Do we have to carry the car?”

“No look over there.”

Photo by Tom Okragly

“Wow, a 1937 Cadillac. I’ll bet the catch is big.”

“Not at all.”

“Okay what is it.”

“On the way to the pub we have hold up signs.”

“What kind of signs?”

“Advertising signs.”

“What kind of advertising signs.”

“The grand opening kind of advertising.”

“Grand opening of what?”

“A supermarket.”

“That sounds okay.”

“One more thing.”

“Uh oh. Here it comes.”

“Not a big deal. We have to hand out zuccini.”

“Zuccini?”

“Yeah its a promotion. The store’s name is on the zuccini. Once the zuccini is gone we can head for the pub.”

“Wait. How much zuccini is there?”

“A few bushels.”

“Why don’t we just get a regular Uber.”

“What kind of story would that make.”

“Good point. Okay let’s go.”