Waiting for the coffee machine to finish its ridiculously pompous and overly complicated process brought to mind the safe and the Yosemite Sam look alike. Looking out the back windows confirmed that the safe was still there. Such a condition brought a sense of unwanted satisfaction that, at least it, was not all a fantasy.

The almost soundless chime of the machine let me know it was time to provide direction on my preference. I could have a latte, cappuccino, cafe au lait, or coffee. Since there are rules in many parts of the world on having a cappuccino in the morning, I selected the two-cup serving of Samatra Dark Roast. Sputters and spurts followed by an aromatic stream of the stuff that’s going to save my life. A finish with a creamy head, and it is ready to drink.

Two sips in, and predictably my phone signals the arrival of someone on the front porch. My new signage that says GO AWAY doesn’t appear to have registered on the latest interloper. A click of the speaker switch allows the question. “Who goes there?” (one of my fantasy phrases that lie in waiting for the perfect opportunity)

“The POA.”

Not an expected answer. My sigh and response begged for a minute to go through the unlocking process. The visitor also sighs but agrees. The process is more complex this week with the addition of a heat-seeking anti-tank rocket system. The iron gate is opened, bar raised, concertina wire pulled back, claymore mines deactivated, auto boiling oil system cut off, machine guns paused, anti-tank system on standby, Trebuchet disengaged, door bolts thrown, and locks undone. The front door opens, and before me stands the guy that looks like Yosemite Sam.

“Your daggone POA woke me up this morning in my home demanding to know when the safe was going to be moved.”

“What did you tell them?”

“To mind their dadgum business. A man’s home is his castle. So I ran him off with an invitation to dance to the tune of my 45s.”

Now there are real problems to consider. Not only is there a non-compliant housing unit half buried in the backyard but an insane resident who makes people dance with his pistols. Sam hands me an envelope and, like last week, disappears around the corner of the house. I open the envelope to find a warning by the POA to get rid of the safe or face a fine. Attached to the back of the envelope is another message from Linda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “home.” Use it as a noun, a verb, an adjective, or an adverb. Enjoy!

If you want to “enjoy,” visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here is the link.

https://lindaghill.com/2022/09/23/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-24-2022/

Home by John W. Howell © 2022

“Sam is still there?”

“Well, someone who looks like Sam.”

“Why don’t you tell him to go home.”

“He thinks the safe is his home.”

“Get rid of his home then.”

“Easier said than done. No one wants to move a safe. Home or not.”

“Did you try a home mover?”

“Now, that idea just struck home with me.”

“That’s a clumsy sentence.”

“All’s fair in love and prompts. I’m going to call one.”

“Home mover?”

“Yup.”

“Since when do you listen to me?”

“When you serve up ideas that hit home runs.”

“Speaking of ‘serve.'”

“I know my turn to buy. Call Uber.”

“On speed dial.”

Waking up on a Saturday carries with it the promise of a visit from one of my favorite cartoon characters. Since that has been the scene for a while, it is almost expected each week. Since it is expected and the front door’s unlocking carries immense protocol and effort, I decided to invest in a new security system.

The installer left yesterday and while my magic brew is under construction, reading the operator’s manual is in order. At the top of the page are the words “Good. Feel Good.” Thinking that the security company has a heart, I couldn’t help but feel comfortable. The brew cycle is finished, and the instructions for the system are entirely consumed while drinking the elixir.

My ring doorbell lets me know there is someone out on the porch. Checking my phone, I could see what appears to be the Tasmanian Devil standing with an envelope in his hand. I can see him gesturing to open the door. Checking my instructions on the door opening procedure, I notice on the control panel the “Time Lock” feature has a blinking red light. The manual says that means it is engaged. The small print also says there is no override and that the door will open at the time indicated on the panel. Checking the board shows the time to open is 9:00 AM.

Since it is 7:00, I use the outside speaker to communicate that the door will open in two hours. The eyebrows of the Tasmanian Devil heads north as he starts to spin. Before long, he has eaten the front door and all the living room furniture. With a loud burp, he drops the envelope and spins back out the hole where the former front door used to be.

Sorry for getting rid of the iron bars, concertina wire, and other barriers; I open the envelope. Sure enough, it is from Linda Hill. The message says, Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “the first 2-5 words at the top of the closest printed matter.” Open (if necessary) the closest printed matter to you. Use the first 2-5 words at the top of the page any way you’d like in your post. Have fun!

If you would like to have, fun, visit Linda and read how easy it is. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2022/07/22/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-23-2022/

Good. Feel Good. By John W. Howell © 2022

“What kind of prompt is Good. Feel Good?”

“I followed the instructions and opened some printed matter, which was the second through fifth words at the top.”

“Couldn’t you make up something else?”

“Against the rules.”

“You a Boy Scout?’

“Just want to play by the rules, is all.”

“So you get bonus points?”

“Sometimes.”

“Which you think you can turn in for a Bentley Turbo Convertable?”

“A dream is all.”

“All this seems foolish.”

“To you maybe. There are tons of folks who do these prompts.”

“Doesn’t make it less nuts.”

“Well, we all enjoy it.”

“I guess that is all that counts.”

“You a believer now.”

“No, I just want to move on.”

“To the next subject.”

“No to the pub.”

“You buying?”

“My turn.”

Uber?”

“Just ordered it.”

“Hey, a Bentley Turbo Uber.”

“In your dreams.”

“Exactly.”

“I hope there are peanuts on the bar.”

“In your dreams.”

“Touché”

Waiting as usual for the meister of brew to cough up my hot, steaming, frothy cup of joe, a glance toward the newspaper captures a disturbing headline. Customers who have bagged their own groceries are seen as a minimum wage worker threat. Needing more information after the cup is delivered, I grab the paper and head for the back porch.

The story details that the habit some shoppers have of bagging their own groceries is viewed by store bagging employees as threatening their way of life. “Minimum wage phobic,” was how one worker put it. The worker went on to say that a law ought to be passed, making those who have bagged their own groceries guilty of a hate crime.

Sipping my brew and thinking deeply about the issue causes me to miss the first blaring second of the klaxon horn we call a doorbell. Twiggy and Lucy have already gone airborne, so it’s best to see who is there. Then, casting about some turkey treats to turn the dog’s attention to something other than the door, I do the ritual and finally open it.

“I say, boy. This here. I say this here is delivery.” The line came out of Foghorn Leghorn with the velocity to raise my thinning hair. “I say, boy. Don’t. I say, don’t just stand there. I say take this envelope.” It is strange to have someone blowing hot air that has the scent of corn. I take the envelope, and Foghorn Leghorn wishes me a good day and struts off down the street.

Knowing it was from Linda Hill, in no hurry, I watch as the giant chicken disappears around the corner. Turning to the envelope, a quick opening reveals this message. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “bagged.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy! If you want to enjoy, visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here’s the link. https://lindaghill.com/2022/07/15/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-16-2022/

Bagged by John W. Howell © 2022

“No one is going to believe this, you know.”

“It’s fiction. They don’t have to believe it.”

“But you are spreading falsehoods.”

“Happy falsehoods.”

“Huh.”

“Readers like to hear about happy, no-brainer stuff.”

“You certainly have the no-brainer covered.”

“What’s wrong with a little fantasy fun?”

“Well, for one, this is a serious world full of serious problems that should be taken seriously.”

“All the more reason to have a diversion from all that seriousness.”

“This is getting tense. I’m all for getting this discussion bagged and heading for the pub.”

“What about all those serious subjects?”

“You have your fantasy way of coping. I have my barley pop method.”

“It’s good you are buying.”

“Yes, with that in mind, let’s walk.”

“You going to be overserved?”

“Let’s just say it might be a possibility.”

“Walking is good.”

A nice sit on the back porch and a concert by the cardinal intent to broadcast his availability is interrupted by a tone on my phone. (I didn’t mean that rhyme.) A quick look on the screen shows a large box on the porch. Thank heavens it didn’t fall into the backyard, is my thought while going through the unlock process.

A gate of steel rolled back, four bolts unlocked, two crossbars lifted, and the front door is thrown open. A mental note is made to replace all this stuff with a security sensor. There is nothing on the box to indicate the contents or sender, but the assumption is it’s from Linda Hill. A walk around the box reveals nothing.

All of a sudden (Love that), a whirring noise accompanies the slow rise of the top of the box. The decision was made to step back just as the top fell to the driveway. Inside the box, a strange green color glows as a hand clutching some kind of gun rises from within.

Soon a green helmated character in a green skirt follows the hand. “Where’s the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom,” says the character. The realization comes to me that this is Marvin the Martain in person. I immediately apologize for the lack of a kaboom, and Marvin hands me an envelope. (Of course)

Marvin continues to rise and disappears in a large fluffy cloud. I open the envelope to find a message. Here is what it says, Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “make a note.” Do with it what you will. Have fun!

If you would like to have fun, visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2022/07/08/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-9-2022/

Make a note by John W. Howell © 2022

“I don’t even remember Marvin the Martain.”

“I made a note to look up the Warner Brother’s characters and was surprised that he’s been around since 1948.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What is the fascination with these characters anyway?”

“No real explanation other than I always liked them and find them fun.”

“So they become part of your intro.”

“Exactly.”

“And you aren’t nuts.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m going to make a note.”

“About what?”

“To ask for an appearance by Foghorn Leghorn.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“That is so easy to arrange.”

“I would love that.”

“Consider it done.”

“Calls for a Voo Doo Ranger.”

“Or two. I’m buying.”

“Even better. I’ll do Über.”

“Done.”

Ah yes, Saturday morning. Birds are chirping, and there is a right feeling about the world. It is a little too warm, but the sky is bright blue without a trace of a cloud, marring the sense of serenity. The mood machine is ready to dispense the calming fluid, and it looks like a relaxing day ahead.

The sound of a  far away and tight whistle coming from what seems to be the stratosphere reaches my ears. The tone is getting louder and more distinct. Moving to the patio allows me to witness a shadow growing from the size of a sugar cube. The whistle gets louder and the shadow bigger. The brain finally puts it all together. It appears that another delivery from the sky is about to impact the backyard turf.

Making a move under the porch cover happens with an almost simultaneous explosion of dirt, turf, and pieces of wood. Thank heavens the coffee was covered with my hand before the sunami of debris. Once settled, a cautious walk to the crater is rewarded with the sight of an animal in a skydiving outfit that looks precisely like Daffy Duck. “Suffering succotash. They should have told me to let go of the box.”

“Are you hurt?” is my reply. Daffy leads me to believe he is not hurt but a little disappointed in the instructions given by the ACME air freight company. He also gestures to the mess in the hole and shakes his head. “I’m afraid your product is a total loss,” he says.

Peering over the edge, it is hard to make out the nature of the product, so there is no alternative but to ask, “What’s the product?”

“Produce,” comes the reply. “Cumquats specifically.”

Not having ordered the cumquats, there follows a series of questions regarding where they were from and if the address is correct on the delivery. By this time, Daffy is near the end of his patience. He hands me an envelope and asks if the name on the front is mine. Confirming it is causes him to jump out of the hole. He raises his hand, grabs a bar suspended by a rope from a helicopter, and is plucked away.

Thoughts about who will pay to have the yard fixed run through my mind as I open the envelope. Sure enough, the sender is Linda Hill, and here is what the message says.

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “product/produce.” Use one, use them both, use them any way you’d like. Bonus points if you use both. Have fun!

If you want fun, visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here’s the link.

https://lindaghill.com/2022/06/24/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-25-2022/

Product/Produce by John W. Howell © 2022

“Another character.”

“Yup.”

“Who is going to fix the yard.”

“That is a product of my imagination. There was no delivery.”

“No, produce?”

“Nope.”

“Why do you put us through this then.”

“Gotta introduce the prompt.”

“But you could just say what it is.”

“There’s no fun in that.”

“I’m not sure falling boxes are fun either.”

“To each his own. Maybe I could have a falling beer keg.”

“Now that is worth doing. Dangerous, though.”

“The weight you mean?”

“No, getting the beer too agitated.”

“Good point.”

“Speaking of?”

“Your turn to buy.”

“Easy peasy. I’ll produce my card and charge the product.”

“Let’s leave it alone now.”

“You driving?”

“Yup.”

“Let’s call Über. I think this may be a long barley pop session.”