Saturday morning is the time to collect thoughts, drink coffee, and enjoy the blessings of life. Saturday morning is not the time to sit and wait for some human-made machine to decide it knows better than its master when the aforementioned coffee should be delivered. Being powerless means spending time begging, cajoling, threatening, and bargaining with a hank of a stuck-up contraption that obviously thinks it has more privilege than a millennial.

Finally, the cough and sputter raise my will to live. Yes, the coffee is being proffered through two tiny spouts into my double-walled glass mug. The dark brew is topped off with a brown sugar color head that just begs to be sipped. Halfway to my lips, a rumble and shake cause the miracle elixir to slosh onto a bare foot. Not wanting to lose the rest, hopping around on one foot needs to be delayed. The extreme danger of caffeine withdrawal also delays the desire to rant and use curse words that would make ears bleed.

A huge sip of the soothing liquid steadies all systems so that the cause of the disruption can adequately be investigated. A look out of the newly installed rear window causes the eye to want to run into the yard for a closer look. But, showing restraint, it stays with me while the brain sorts out the details.

There, in the backyard, standing upright, is a gigantic rocket. Its color can only be described as slate blue. Near the top are the words ACME 9. It is apparent that this vehicle descended and made a perfect landing in my yard. What is not apparent is who the heck decided that this morning would be a perfect time to land this thing here. As if in answer to the question, a small parachute drifts to a soft touchdown next to the rocket.

Picking up the parachute yields an envelope attached. It is from Linda Hill, and the message inside reads. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “morning.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!

If you want to enjoy, visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is to join in. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2022/11/18/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-19-2022/

Morning by John W. Howell © 2022.

“Good morning.”

“Don’t start.”

“What?”

“Teasing me about the prompt and my introduction.”

“Oh my. Did we get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“Quit using the prompt, and everything will be fine.”

“Quit using ‘morning?’ Why.”

“Cause I already finished the prompt.”

“But we usually underscore it by throwing the prompt around down here.”

“We don’t need to do that today ’cause I nailed it.”

“Okay. Well, we’ll let the others, judge.”

“Others?”

“Oh, stop. Don’t make me turn you to face the missing fourth wall.”

“We never look over there.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Just take my word. You could have done better.”

“Wait a minute. How many ways can you use ‘morning?'”

“You could be creative like ‘Morning has broken like the first morning.'”

“Thanks, Kat.”

“Or ‘Angel in the Morning.'”

“I get what you are saying. I could have even put a video at the end of the post.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“It’s past morning and time for the pub.”

“Your turn to buy.”

“Wait a minute, I bought last time.”

“Yeah, only cause you wanted more than I could afford.”

“Okay, call Uber, and I’ll post the video.”

“Done.”

“And done.”

Looking at the coffee machine does not help hurry the process. No matter how much caffeine is needed, the machine has its own timetable. Probably on the COVID relief suppliment plan, is my thought. Yes. Finally, the aromatic brew begins its dribble from the twin spouts. The cup is at long last filled, and a lifesaving sip is delivered.

Having a clear head allows for a detailed examination of the carnage from last week. The plywood panels are in place where the five floor to ceilng glass windows used to be. It is impossible to look out into the yard but the knowledge of the six foot wide and deep hole where the safe used to be is in need of repair also. The plan is to call a contractor and set up a meeing for an estimate of the damage. I’m sure in my current state of impecunity the amount will cause the need for a heart bipass.

As the cup is being finished, my phone alerts me to someone (or something) on the front porch. Thankfully they observe the do not ring doorbell and Twiggy and Lucy continue their nap. The unlock procedure is started. The gate is pulled back, condertina wire coiled, machine guns on standby, mote subnet lifted, Trebuchet disarmed, boiling oil shut off, bolts and locks undone and front door thrown open.

Standing there is someone who looks like Baby Faced Finster. There is a cigar clenched in his teeth and an envelope in his little hand. Baby face peaks. “Look here see. This here is an settlement check. Warner Brothers have decided to cobver the cost of removing Sam and the safe, see. So all yuse have to do is sign this here contract and the money is yours.” He then hands me the envelope and a pen. I look at the check and the contract first but notice one other piece of paper.

The check is for $30,000 and my signature hits the sign before anyone changes their mind. Baby face takes the contract and the pen and disappears down the street. I open the other piece of paper and see it is from Linda Hill. It reads.Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “your favorite word.”Decide on your favorite word and use it in your post any way you’d like. Enjoy!

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

https://lindaghill.com/2022/11/04/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-5-2022/

My Favorite Word by John W. Howell © 2022

“I missed yoyr favorite word.”

“Impecunity.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah it means having little money.”

“Small money?”

“No. Having hardly any money.”

“Ah so why is that a favorite word.”

“Hard to say. I just like it. Sounds better than ‘broke.'”

“So, you broke?”

“No but if I were I would love to use the word.”

“Better be careful what you love.”

“Yeah you’re right. I could end up broke.”

“And then your impecuniousness would prevent beer buying.”

“Look at you. Impecuniousness?”

“Not as dumb as I look. Your turn to buy.”

“I bought last time.”

“You check back on that?”

“Yup.”

“Call Uber.”

“On it.”

The coffee machine has a mind of its own today. While waiting for the life-saving potion, a bowl of store-brand raisin bran crunch is making a poor substitute. Before long, the machine decides a strike might not produce the best result and coughs up the brew. Abandoning the bowl in favor of the mug, a sip reminds me that today is safe blow-up day.

The security system is already down, and Wile E Coyote is busy in the backyard placing packages around the perimeter of the safe. Joining him and seeing he is using ACME C4 charges. All wired to a plunger, and Wile slowly walks away from the safe with it in his hand. He is allowing the wire to slip from the coil around his arm. “Everything okay?” My question catches Wile by surprise. “Of course,” he says. “Where’s Yosemite Sam?” Wile pulls on his chin for a mini-second and responds. “I locked him inside the safe.”

The statement causes my eyebrows to join my hairline. “Is he safe in the safe?” My hand immediately goes to my mouth but too late cause that awful question is already out there.” Wile rolls his eyes. “He’s a lot safer in there than we are out here.” Another statement that threatens to send my eyebrows over the top of my head. It is clear that Wile is about to push the plunger as he gets down on one knee and yells, “Fire in the hole.”

“Just a minute.” The words hit Wile like a baseball headed for an infield double. He rises and walks to meet me. “Let me explain,” he drawls. For the first time, his Texas accent comes to prominence. Must happen when he is angry, my brain tells me.” Look, friend.” He pauses, then continues. “You and I have a contract, and how this goes down is entirely up to me to execute. Why did you stop me?”

Other than cold feet, I didn’t have an answer. My mind calculates the amount of C4 under the safe and comes to the conclusion that there is enough to send it into orbit as opposed to just lifting it over the house and onto a truck. “You think there is too much C4?” is the only response. Wile walks back to the plunger, shaking his head in that I know what I’m doing butt out sort of way. Rather than pushing the plunger, he picks up an envelope from the ground. He comes back and hands it to me, and says, “Some gal left that for you.” He walks back to the plunger and looks at me as he gets down on one knee again.

Opening the envelope, the message from Linda Hill tumbles out. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “bowl.” Use it as a noun or a verb—use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!

If you want to enjoy, visit Linda’s blog and see how easy it is. Here is the link https://lindaghill.com/2022/10/21/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-22-2022/

Bowl by John W. Howell © 2022

“At least you snuck the prompt in there.”

“Yes, I did. Smartly too, I thought.”

“I’ll give it to you. It was smart. Now, what are you and I going to do with it?”

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Talking about a bowl of beer might not be a good thing.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Doesn’t sound so bad from here, but I get what you’re saying.”

“We could talk about going to the lane to bowl some frames.”

“We could, but you and I have never been bowling.”

“No one needed to know that.”

“Tell falsehoods to your readers? Tsk, tsk.”

“Not falsehood. . . . Fiction.”

“Okay, I guess that is a rationalization you can live with.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Let’s get back to that bowl of beer.”

“Well, at least a pint.”

“You’re buying.”

“Wait a minute. I bought last time.”

“You need to atone for your sins.”

“What sins?”

“Fiction sins.”

“Okay fine.”

“Calling Uber.”

The last gurgle from the pretentious coffee maker has me near my happy place. The aroma of those Columbian beans freshly ground and tamped into submission, then doused with scalding water, makes me drool. The twin spouts give forth the elixir of life that soon will be crossing my lips. One final drip and a grab of the mug, followed by a big sip of the soothing syrup, will allow the day’s trials to be faced.

Speaking of trials. As the caffeine hits the brain, the realization that the safe problem, followed by the Yosemite Sam problem capped off by the Wile E. Coyote problem, is still unsolved. A look out the back windows verifies that the safe is still there. That means the other issues remain as well. My front security alert tone hits my phone as if to underscore the fact. Lucy and Twiggy live for that sound and are now acting out the part of Igor’s baying hounds. A quick handout saves the walls around the front door from total annihilation.

After using the speaker to determine Wile is out there, the security disengage routine is complete the front door slams open. My “What.” caused Wile to jump. “I thought we would go over the demolition plan.” Scratching my head and then giving the go-ahead, Wile proceed to detail placing some ACME explosives under the safe. This would be followed by attaching an extremely long fuse allowing us both to run down the block. Wile assured me the safe would be lifted out of the yard, and with the assistance of previously installed ACME mini rockets, he could guide it to the waiting bed of a truck.

He produced a contract that, for the most part, absolved him from any liability. With no other viable alternative, my signature hit the line marked ‘sucker.’ It didn’t say sucker, but the translation was complete in my mind as the ink dried. Wile also gave me an envelope and indicated that he needed to get to work. I told him to watch out for Yosemite Sam, and he seemed unconcerned as he headed for the backyard.

I opened the envelope, and sure enough, it was a letter from Linda Hill. There were four sentences in the letter. The first three read Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “happy place.” Write the first thing that comes to mind when you think of “happy place.” Have fun!

The fourth read I can’t believe you signed that contract.

Please visit Linda’s blog and read how if you want to join in. Here is the link https://lindaghill.com/2022/10/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-15-2022/

Happy Place by John W. Howell © 2022

“So your happy place is drinking a cup of coffee?”

“Yes. You don’t have to tell me yours.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Duh.”

“Well, I could think of worse places than the pub.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I see nothing wrong with your choice.”

“Yeah. You do join me there after all.”

“Not all the time, though.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I assume you go to the pub without me.”

“You think there is life beyond this post?”

“Um. Never thought of it before.”

“Well, think now. You and I live as long as there is a Stream of Conscious Saturday.”

“What are you saying?”

“As soon as the blog page turns, so to speak, we don’t exist.”

“That’s crazy. What about all those times we hung out?”

“Name one.”

“Last week. We had VooDoo Rangers at my place.”

“That was how the post ended. Do you remember drinking a VooDoo Ranger?”

“Now you are scaring me.”

“You’re right. Let’s drop it and go to the happy place.”

“Sometimes I don’t understand you.”

“Don’t worry. I was just trying to get John’s goat.”

“Who?”

“Never mind. Let’s get going.”

“Yes indeed. I’ll buy.”

“You are the best.”

Standing and looking like an unemployed actor in the welfare line. Still waiting for the expresso machine to finish torturing me with its drama causes some reflection. How do I get that safe out of my backyard? Rolls across my consciousness. Having no immediate answer, the cup runneth over, and I sip quickly to keep the dark brew off the floor. Lips burning while crossing to the door to the back porch, my phone gives off the annoying twirp sound indicating yet another interloper at the front door. My thought goes to don’t ring the bell too late to stop the Hounds of Baskerville response by Twiggy and Lucy.

The security system needs a shutdown but first, a treat to the girls to soothe their savage breasts. Then, soothing done, the mechanical part of the disarm cycle is begun. The gate is opened, the bar lifted, machine guns on standby, boiling oil secured, concertina wire recoiled, claymore mines disabled, trebuchet locked, moat submarine fence dropped, bolts thrown, and locks undone.

The door opens to the likeness of Yosemite Sam. “Dadburn bureaucrats. Have no dadburn understanding of the need for dadburn beauty rest. Stupid tenderfoot woke me to ask if I was willing to open a safe house. A dadburn safe house in a safe. Well, I told him I was not in a position to give him an answer and then sent him packing with the thought of dancing the Charleston to the tune of my twin 45s. Here take this.”

Want to ask more questions, but Sam hands me two envelopes and goes around the house. The first is an offer to rent out the safe. It is signed by Alfred E Neumann, so it looks suspiciously like the CIA. The second is from Linda Hill. Here’s what it says. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “me.” Find a word that starts with “me” or use the word “me” as the theme of your post. Have fun!

If you want fun, visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2022/09/30/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-1-2022/

Me by John W. Howell © 2022

“You didn’t complete the prompt.”

“I sure did.”

“I didn’t see ‘me’ in there anywhere.”

“See the word ‘mechanical?'”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. How will anyone know you worked ‘me’ in that way?

“This is not a test. Folks are intelligent enough to catch stuff like that.”

“I didn’t catch the ‘me’ in mechanical.”

“Excuse me but did you not hear the word intelligent either?”

“Oh, cold brother. You hurt me.”

“Right. Since when do words hurt you.”

“I guess I’m a little tender. You have to be nice to me.”

“Let me guess. You are a half pint low on beer?”

“Now that you mention it. A cold brew would serve me well right now.”

“Can you wait for the pub?”

“You know me. I’m a paragon of patience. Call uber now.”

“On it. Any other words for me?”

“VooDoo Ranger stat.”