A slight pop sound while getting out of bed is a reminder of the aging process. Who knows where that sound comes from, but it showed up one day, and it has become part of the morning routine. “COFFEE,” screams the brain, and the rush is on to supply the caffeine to put out the blinking red warning light and the Klaxon horn. Finally, the first sip provides a covenant with the screaming senses, and the warnings cease.

The new sound is the Westminster chimes of the doorbell. Another idiot who cannot read. A quick toss of two squeak toys and a slam of the door on the soundproof room put an end to the eardrum-bleeding cacophony of two dogs sounding like Igor’s baying hounds. Next, a check of the security monitor shows the images of what looks like Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog. The usual conversation about a delivery and signature is needed, so with a sigh, the security shutdown process is begun.

The SWAT team needs to be put on standby. A quick text to the leader confirms that status. Also, the flight of A-10 Warthogs must be diverted. Another call to the commander puts that worry to rest. The SEAL team needs to be called off, and a call to the leader makes that possible. A call to the tow truck driver stops the deployment of an M1A1 Abrams Tank. The control panel simplifies the shutdown process of the security system. The boiling oil vats are put on standby, the turret mortars disengaged, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gatling guns on safety, the moat net dropped, the alligators fed, and the IEDs and shoulder-held rockets put away.  The Proton torpedoes switched off. The gamma ray beams covered. The high-powered maser guns switched to standby, and the nanorobots were chained in the basement. The Klingons are called back, and the Targ is caged. Robbie’s Bot is sent to the basement.  The locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.

Ralph hands me a clipboard and an envelope. I sign where indicated and return the clipboard. Sam steps between me and Ralph with his paw out in the universal way of asking for a tip. Thinking of what Serena Williams once said, “You have to believe in yourself when no one else does,” is my tip as I slam the door.

The envelope contains a message from Linda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “pop.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2025/11/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-15-2025/

Pop by John W. Howell © 2025

“Well, that was a treat.”

“What?”

“Ralph and Sam.”

“I always thought they were pretty funny.”

“Totally dedicated to their job from 9:00 to 5:00.”

“I always like the time clock scene when they wished each other a good evening.”

“I wonder if they ever had a beer together.”

“Pop the top and enjoy a cool one while discussing the work day would be good. I don’t know either.”

“Then there is you and me.”

“Yup. Uber?”

“Over there.”

“Wow. A 1953 DeSoto Powermaster.”

“Yeah, you don’t see many of those around.”

“So what’s the catch?”

“What do you mean by ‘catch ‘?”

“Can we just get in and go to the pub?”

“Oh, I see. Well, there is one stop.”

“Uh huh. Where?”

“A Stop at Willoughby. Where a man can live life at full measure.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Well, yes. It is the 22nd episode of the Twilight Zone, and I threw it in for Dan.”

“Can others see it?”

“Sure, here’s the link.”

https://www.facebook.com/100067494914562/videos/a-stop-at-willoughby/602715635095453/

“Great. Let’s go.”

When does a coffee machine become more than just a machine? This question enters my mind while approaching the one that sits in my house. The reason for the question is that late last night, there was some faint mumbling coming from the place where the purveyor of the delicious elixir often referred to as soothing syrup rests. Notice that the word “machine” did not leave my lips. Upon investigation, a loud shushing sound was followed by a noticeable flickering of a light. There were no further sounds or light, so other than implanting in my brain the possibility that this item may be alive, the issue was tabled until today.

Moving toward selecting the two coffee buttons, which is something I enjoy, gave me a start. Before my finger could engage the button, the machine began brewing the two-cup serving. The thought occurred that maybe there was a heat sensitivity, but then last night’s experience led me to believe this thing is alive.

The first sip brought the bells of Westminster crashing down around me. The two bark machines joined the cacophony until a knuckle bone tossed into the soundproof room and the door slam brought back peace. Checking the security monitor verified the presence of a character that looked very much like Sylvester J. Pussycat Sr. “What do you want?” was the challenge. “Suffern’ succotash. A delivery,” the reply. Trying the “just leave it” ploy was answered with the usual, “need signature.”  With a sigh, the security shut-down process began.

The SWAT team needs to be put on standby. A quick text to the leader confirms that status. Also, the flight of A-10 Warthogs must be diverted. Another call to the commander puts that worry to rest. The SEAL team needs to be called off, and a call to the leader makes that possible. A call to the tow truck driver stops the deployment of an M1A1 Abrams Tank. The control panel simplifies the shutdown process of the security system. The boiling oil vats are put on standby, the turret mortars disengaged, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gatling guns on safety, the moat net dropped, the alligators fed, and the IEDs and shoulder-held rockets put away.  The Proton torpedoes switched off. The gamma ray beams covered. The high-powered maser guns switched to standby, and the nanorobots were chained in the basement. The Klingons are called back, and the Targ is caged.  The locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.

Sylvester hands me an envelope and a clipboard. I sign by the X. He, of course, has his paw out looking for a tip. My gift, “As Albert Schweitzer said. There are two means of refuge from the misery of life  – music and cats.”  Sylvester is stunned as I slam the door. I open the envelope, and it is a message from (who else) Linda Hill. It reads:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “something you enjoyed.” Write about something you thoroughly enjoyed. Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

If you want to see what others have done with the prompt, Visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2025/11/07/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-8-2025/

Something You Enjoyed by John W. Howell. © 2025

“So the coffee is something you enjoy, or is it pushing buttons?”

“Yeah, it’s the coffee. That sentence was a bit clumsy.”

“Just a bit. What is with that machine, anyway?”

“I wish I knew. After it is finished brewing, I turn it off.”

“So what is the problem?”

“It comes back on again.”

“By itself?”

“Yes. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“Odd? I think it is possessed.”

“Well, let’s not go that far.”

“Okay, I don’t have to live with it.”

“Like other problems in life, I’m going to let this one ride.”

“Speaking of ride, the Uber’s over there.”

“Okay then. Looks like it will get us there.”

“I think so too. One problem, though.”

“Of course there is. What’s the problem?”

“Something the driver enjoyed was drag racing.”

“Yeah, so?”

“He lost his license, so we have to drive.”

“That defeats the whole purpose of having a driver.”

“Well, I’ll be the designated driver.”

“Voodoo Rangers are something you enjoyed. Tell you what. We will take the bus.”

“Bus?”

“Yeah. Right over there.”

“Cowabunga. Let’s go.”