Why does the sun go on shining? Why does the sea rush to shore? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? Cause you don’t love me anymore. Dusty Springfield’s song End of the World goes through my head as the espresso machine orders a descale before dispensing my life-saving fluid. More time and more waiting lead to a friendly smiley face on the control screen, followed by the unmistakable snorts of the brewing process.
Ten ounces of Columbia’s most well-known liquid safely in the mug allows the contemplation of another Saturday. A move to the back porch promises a relaxing interlude with nature. Unfortunately, such a promise is broken by an annoying whistle that continues to increase in volume. It suddenly dawns on my caffeine-starved awareness center that the increasing volume indicates something falling from the sky. The closer, the louder until the pain of the sound is almost unbearable, and tightly closed eyes have the wish that it will cease.
Like a miracle, suddenly, it stops and is followed by what can only be described as an undulation of the earth and a debris downpour. Yes, as you may have surmised, something big has fallen from the sky and into the backyard. The coffee in my mug has been half emptied by the force of the contact and then magically half filled by small pieces of dirt. Since it is no longer serviceable, I set it down and walk cautiously toward the steaming crater in the turf.
Reaching the edge of the hole, the words Mosler Safe are clearly visible on the front of the steel rectangle. There is a combination lock and handle just waiting for closer inspection. Climbing into the crater, I touch the combination dial, which is still warm. I always crack safes by inputting the date of Christmas, so I turn the dial to the right to twelve, then back left past twelve to two, and then to five. There is a loud click, and sure enough, the handle allows me to open the door.
“Dagnabit cose that door. You’ll make me catch my death of cold.” The voice is one I recognize, and of course, it is someone who looks like Yosemite Sam, but for some reason, he is in his underwear. I hope I don’t startle him, so I say quietly, “Can I help you?”
“Help me? You dadburn tenderfoot. I’m here to help you. Here take this letter and shut the dadgum door.” I do as he says and walk back to the porch. I open the envelope, and sure enough, it is from Linda Hill. Before wondering how the heck Yosemite Sam got into a Mosler Safe in his underwear, I tear open the letter. It says Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “start with why.” Begin your post with the word “why.” Have fun!
If you want to have, fun, visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2022/09/02/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-3-2022/
The other considerations of how the safe got airborne and then strategically aimed to land in my yard will be left for another time.
Start with Why by John W. Howell © 2022
“So you leave us up in the air on the why of this adventure?”
“I’m not sure I can answer why.”
“You are the author, for heaven’s sake. You must have an idea.”
‘Well, I just sit and type. I don’t know the motivation for every move.”
“Who’s idea was it to put Yosemite Sam in underwear?”
“His, I think.”
“And why a Mosler Safe?”
“Ever see one of those?”
“Heavy and massive. They weigh two tons. Would make a large hole when hitting the ground.”
“From the air?”
“So, who would toss a two-ton hunk of metal out of an airplane?”
“One of the crew, I suppose.”
“For what reason.”
“To get our attention.”
“Oh. Well, it worked.”
“See, I knew you would come around.”
“I will never understand you, writers.”
“I don’t think you should try. You do understand the call of the sixpack, though.”
“Well, yeah. It’s my second language.”
“Don’t you hear it now?”
“I do. Call Uber, and let’s go.”
“For a couple of beers.”
“Hey, listen. It’s not worth going for just a couple. I’m going for all I want.”
“Calling Uber now.”
“You are the best.”
“I think enabler is more the term.”