
My need for a direct infusion of caffeine was met with a cold, dark touchscreen on the coffee machine. Puzzled, the haze-filled investigation began. Hitting reset-no help. Checking the line trip – no help. Calling the electric company – no help. Sitting on hold at the manufacturer – no help. Finally, speaking with a customer service representative who asked the definitive question, “Did you check the plug?” The plug? Does this person think they are talking to a moron? The plug? How flipping insulting can one get? Reminds me of talking to a WordPress Happiness Engineer. The plug? For crying out loud, of course I checked . . .the . . .plug. “Thank you for your help, customer Service person. I’ve got it from here.”
WHO UNPLUGGED THE COFFEE MACHINE? was the question heard round the block. Of course, there was no answer. Once plugged in, my 8-oz crema-topped brew was available for the inhaling. The first sip was also accompanied by the reverberations of the Westminster chime from the front doorbell. These were instantly joined by the baying of Egor’s hounds, also known as Twiggy and Tempeste. The toss of a knuckle bone into the soundproof room and a door slam brought the sound of silence to this tortured space. Looking at the front door camera, I see something that looks like an Empire Stormtrooper. “State your business,” was the order through the intercom. “Package for Howell,” came the reply. “Just drop it there.” “Sorry, sir, but it needs a signature.”
With a sigh, the security system shutdown process has 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. The control panel makes the shutdown of the security system process simpler. 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, the IEDs and shoulder-held rockets put away. The Proton torpedoes switched off. The locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.
“What is a Stormtrooper doing delivering packages?”
“A side hustle. Sign here.”
With formalities finished, the stormtrooper jumps on what looks like a motorcycle with no wheels and is gone. The package has a note from Linda Hill and a package of Sweetarts. The note reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “plug.” Use it as a noun, use it as a verb, use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda Hill’s post. Here’s the link. https://lindaghill.com/2025/06/27/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-28-2025/
Plug by John W. Howell © 2025
“A stormtrooper?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. People like cartoon characters.”
“Well, there wasn’t one there. Your plug for the readers is admirable.”
“I suppose it is funny in a way.”
“Can you imagine seeing one on your porch?”
“Didn’t stay long.”
“You know how those delivery people are. No time for social interaction.”
“I would tell Linda Hill to stop requesting a signature.”
“Maybe some day.”
“We going to the pub?”
“Duh. What do we do every Saturday? Uber?”
“Right over there.”

“Hey, now we are talking.”
“We can put the top down, but there is just one thing.”
“As usual. What is it?”
“We have to go along on a cross-country road race.”
“Road race to where?”
“Not far.”
“How far?”
“Connecticut.”
“We need a different car.”
“Oh, come on. How many road races have you been on?”
“None.”
“Well, it’s time to plug into the sport. Here’s your helmet. Let’s go.”
“It’ll take us a week.”
“Yup, that’s why I have this cooler of VooDoo Rangers. About a week’s supply, I figure.”
“Unless I decide to drink enough to end my misery.”
“I don’t think there are enough VooDoo Rangerson the planet to do that.”
“Alright, I’m in.”


































