The coffee machine touchscreen is balled up with different languages. Given the two-year-old beating on pots and pans feeling in my head, it took great restraint to not give in to the bald disappointment of caffeine denial. The machine bawled for someone to help. Pulling the plug and reinserting it turned everything back to normal. The two coffee icon was touched, and the heavenly elixir poured forth.

The first sip sent the kid to the backyard. The second (You know what’s coming) was accompanied by the dual torture of the Westminster Chimes of the doorbell and the glass-cracking din of the hounds of Baskerville trying to bark the intruder to St. Louis. A toss of a wagyu porterhouse steak into the soundproof room, followed by the slamming of the door, reunited the environment to the sound of silence.

A glance at the security monitor showed that the idiot on the porch who can’t read the “Do not ring the doorbell” sign was Br’er Rabbit. With a sigh, the security shutdown process is begun.

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 are 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 is closed. The water cannons are set to safety. Bear traps are set to off. Peregrine Falcons perched on the roof above the front door fed. The vat of boiling oil set to warm. The front door is opened.

The rabbit has a clipboard and a letter. He passes them to me, and after signing, it is returned with a fiver, and the advice to watch out for tar babies.

Inside the house, the envelope reveals a message from Dan Antion filling in for Linda Hill, it reads:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “Bald, Balled, Bawled” Use one. Use two or use them all any way you’d like. If you manage to use all three, I’ll slide you some bonus points. Enjoy!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link.

https://lindaghill.com/2026/08/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-august-15-2026/

Bald, Balled, Bawled by John W. Howell © 2026

“Looks like you  got some bonus points.”

“Yeah, I had to work hard for them.”

“It didn’t seem too hard.”

“You weren’t writing the post.’

“A little on edge today, are we?”

“No, but making these prompts work is a little difficult sometimes.”

“Okay, I get that. ”

“Did you also get an Uber?”

“Sure did. It’s right over there.”

“How are we supposed to ride in that?”

“What do you mean? There’s room.”

“I don’t mean room. I’m talking about wind, rain, and bugs.”

“Oh, no problem. Here is an all-weather duster and goggles.”

“Okay, now about the catch.”

“One drag race is all.”

“What?”

“We have to swing by the raceway on the way to the pub.”

“How do you know it’s one race?”

“The driver says he doesn’t expect to win, given that he has older technology.”

“What if he does win?”

“Oh. Then it will be hours.”

“Swell.”

“I’ve packed a cooler with VooDoo Rangers just in case.”

“Now you’re talking. Let’s go to the races.”

The coffee machine is ready for me. A finger on the touchscreen is enough to draw a steaming 8-oz cup of soothin’ syrup. The first sip served to quell the shipyard riveting hammer noise in my head from the lack of caffeine. The second (as we know) is accompanied by the cacaphony of Twiggy and Tempest and their St. Louis-bound barking volume and the Westminster chime of the doorbell.

A sweet treat tossed into the soundproof room, and the slamming of the door brings the peace train back into the station. A look at the security monitor identifies the idiot who can’t read. It is none other than the wolf from the story of ” The Little Red Riding Hood. He is holding a clipboard, an envelope, and a handwritten sign. The sign reads “Open the door, or I’ll huff, and I’ll puff and blow your house down. ” My thought is fat chance, but with a sign, the security shutdown process is begun.

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. The front door is opened.

The wolf looks pleased and hands over the clipboard and envelope. The board is returned with a signature and a fiver clipped to the top. The wolf curls his lip, so a good word has to be shared before slamming the door. The words given to the wolf were by Victor Hugo: “Even the darkest night will end, and the sun will rise.”

The envelope is from Linda Hill with a message inside. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “draw.” 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’s post. Here is the link https://lindaghill.com/2026/07/31/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-august-1-2026/

Draw by John W. Howell © 2026

“Did you do the prompt?”

“Of course. It’s in the second  line above.”

“That is very obscure.”

“Well, that is half the fun.”

“For you maybe.”

“I suppose you are right. What kind of Uber do we have today?”

“Today is a lucky draw. Look over there.”

“What is that?”

“Tom says a 1910 Otto Speedster.”

“I see it has plenty of room for us.”

“All we need are goggles and a duster. Here’s yours.”

“Why do I need goggles and a duster?”

“You are sitting in the back.”

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause I have to navigate from the front.”

“Navigate? It’s not that hard to find the pub.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. We have to compete in the classic Grand Prix at the Austin Circuit of the Americas racecourse.”

“How long will that take?”

“We do just one lab. No more than three hours.”

“Three hours for one lap?”

“We are only doing 30 miles an hour.”

“I give up. Let’s go.”

“It will be fun.”

“They said.”