Before we begin our silliness today, I want to remind us of all those who stormed the beaches of Normandy, France, on June 6, 1944. For some, it was their last day, and we owe them a great deal for their sacrifice. There are very few alive now who participated in that D-Day exercise for liberty, but most lived full lives that their comrades would not enjoy.

Almost by coincidence, the coffee machine did not immediately spring to life but seemed to be contemplating that fateful day. Finally, as with most solemn occasions, the moment of contemplation ended, and the brain-healing elixir began to flow into my mug.

The first sip calmed the painful feeling of caffeine withdrawal and the meltdown warning of the klazon horn in my head. The second sip brought the familiar but still annoying joining of the Westminster doorbell chime with the St. Louis-bound barking of Twiggy and Tempeste, often referred to as the Hounds of Baskerville. The two dogs chased a bone into the soundproof room, and a door slam brought the grateful feeling that silence is golden.

A look at the security system monitor shows Winnie-the-Pooh with an envelope on the porch. No need to even discuss leaving it. With a sigh, the security shut-down process began.

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 was 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 are fed. The vat of boiling oil set to warm. The front door is opened.

Stepping onto the porch, Winnie hands me the envelope and a clipboard. I keep the envelope and hand back the signed clipboard. Winnie has his paw out, making the classic tip sign. “As Vince Lombardi once said, It’s not whether you get knocked down, it’s whether you get up, was my tip for Winnie.

Back in the house, the message in the envelope is from Linda Hill. It reads:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “coincidence.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2026/06/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-6-2026/

Coincidence by John W. Howell © 2026

The anniversary of D-Day, coinciding with today, is a coincidence.”

“Well, if you call every seven years a coincidence, yes.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. Saturday here is usually a day filled with ridiculous satire, and for it to be a solemn anniversary does sound like a coincidence.”

“Maybe we should have skipped our pub trip.”

“I think if you could ask those who gave their lives, they would want us to live normally, which would, in a small way, make their sacrifice worthwhile.”

“I can see that.”

“So where is the Uber?”

“Right over there.”

Photo by Dan Antion

“Oh, this is great.”

“What do you mean?”

“A van filled with poison and maybe live bees.”

“Don’t be silly. The guy rides around in that van all day, and he is fine.”

What’s the catch?”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“We have to help the guy tent a house for termites.”

“Tent a house?”

“Yeah, he twisted his ankle and can’t get on the roof.”

“So we have to go up on a roof?”

“Just to put the tent in place.”

“How big is this house?”

“Three stories.”

“Can we pass?”

“I already told him we would do it.”

“Of course you did.”

“Here is your breathing device, hazmat suit, and gloves.”

“Why do we need all this stuff?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention. We have to go inside to make sure there are no leaks after the gas has begun.”

“I’m a hard, no.”

“I thought so. Okay, I’ll call for a regular Uber.”

“Thanks.”