The coffee machine looks at me as if to ask a question. “What is it?” Is my response. The large touch screen comes to life with an answer. “Need a day off. There is a costume party to attend.” With the anvil chorus in my brain from a caffeine shortage, I have nothing to say but, “No.” Touching the two coffee icon on the touchscreen starts the process of delivering the elixir that cures all ills. The cup finally fills, and the first sip acts like placing a velvet cover over the anvil. It may still be there, but muted. The second sip, as we have come to expect, is accompanied by the sound of the Westminster chimes of the doorbell and the molar cracking barking of Twiggy and Tempeste. Together, these interruptions have the settling quality of a Yamaha grand piano hitting 34th Street after a fall from the Empire State Building penthouse.
A toss of two Beny bones into the soundproof room followed by a door slam brings back the peace that Cat Stevens sang about in the song Peace Train. A glance at the monitor shows Michigan J. Frog, with top hat, cane, clipboard, and envelope. Knowing that asking a singing frog to leave the envelope is futile, the security shutdown process 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. Monty Python’s Harmless Little Rabbit’s cage is closed. The front door is opened.
The frog breaks into singing Hello! Ma Baby and hands me the clipboard and envelope. The clipboard is handed back along with a fiver. The envelope is from Linda Hill and contains a letter. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “costume.’” Use it the way you’d like. Have fun!
If you would like to see how others react to the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link: :https://lindaghill.com/2026/10/30/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-october-31-2026/
By John W. Howell © 2026
“Michigan Jackson Frog?”
“Yeah, he was a favorite of mine.”
“When was that?”
“Back in 1955.”
“Whoa. You were alive in 1955?”
“Very funny. Yes, I was 14 years old.”
“I didn’t realize you were that old. I should be nice to you.”
“Why’s that?'”
“You know, a be kind to dogs and seniors kind of thing.”
“Yes, I can imagine. Speaking of kind, did you order the Uber?”
“I sure did. It’s right over there.”
“Oh, come on. That thing is not going anywhere.”
“But at this price we can’t go wrong.”
“I suppose we have to carry the thing.”
“Not at all. I’m going to call my AI buddy to fix it up.”
“This I gotta see.”
“Okay, how’s this?’
“You have got to be kidding.”
“Nope, good as new. Let’s go.’
“There has to be a catch.”
“Yeah, we have to be home by midnight.”
“Why’s that?”
“The car returns to its original condition at the stroke of twelve.”
“We’d better go then.”
“Age before beauty.”
