Imagine my pique when I approach the coffee machine and see these words on the touchscreen. Of course, the action taken was as any red-blooded person would take. The touchscreen was cleared, and the two coffee buttons engaged. The coffee machine growled to life and delivered the elixir that would put to rest the hammer-meets-anvil sound in my head, indicating a dangerously low level of caffeine. The first sip does just that. The second, as we have come to expect, is accompanied by what sounds like the crashing crescendo of a Yamaha grand piano hitting the Grand Canyon floor. It is the Westminster chime of the doorbell and the baying of Igor’s hounds by Twiggy and Tempeste at the peak of their Barking Back to St Louis duet.

The toss of a bone into the soundproof room and a slam of the door brought Oh Happy Day back to life. A peek at the security monitor confirms that someone on the porch is none other than Pepé Le Pew. Hoping to be able to talk him out of a personal interaction, for obvious reasons, I ask if the envelope he is holding can be left. He assures me that a signature is needed. With a sigh, the security shut down is begun.

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 the front door were fed. The vat of boiling oil set to warm. The front door is opened.

With a clothespin on my nose, the clipboard is signed and returned. A ten-dollar bill is clipped to the board, and the life tip is passed to Pepé. “Don’t play rugby in a cowfield.” The door is shut, and the envelope is opened. Inside is a note from Lnda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “peak/peek/pique.” Use one, use all three (for bonus points), use them any way you’d like. Enjoy!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here’s the link: https://lindaghill.com/2026/06/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-27-2026/

Peak/Peek/Pique by John W. Howell © 2026

“Well, nailed the bonus points.”

“Yup. Seemed to work well.”

“What about that coffee machine.”

“I’m the boss.”

“Okay but don’t you need coffee.”

“I do and I’m sure the machine knows that.”

“So shouldn’t you give it some time off?”

“Are you kidding me? It makes three cups of coffee a week. plus some speciality coffees on the weakend.”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“Oh please? It’s not like it is a Starbucks or something. The thing sleeps all day and night and only works five minutes a day.”

“Okay, okay. Didn’t mean to hit the pigue button.”

“Also it is not even near it’s peak capacity. A couple of old folks having coffee is nothing.”

“Okay, I get it. Let’s take a peek at the Uber car over there.”

Photo by Dan Antion

“I give up. Whar the heck is that?’

“Look like a half finished Ford Bronco.”

“With a milk carton for a seat.”

“Yeah about that.”

“What?’

“The guy borrowed the carton so we have to use our own lawn chairs.”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on a cold VooDoo Ranger. Maybe things will get better.”

“I’ll go get the lwan chairs and the goggles.”

“Goggles?”

“There is a lot of dust and stuff in that Bronco. I’m sure it is going to blow around once we hit the highway.”

“So wearing winter white might be a mistake.”

“I hear Dalmation print is in.”

“Go get the chairs.”