The coffee machine flashes a sign on the touch pad. “Clean me or go to a hotel for coffee.” Punching the “clean” button was the better alternative. Yes, the wait was 20 minutes, but it was well worth it. Holding a fresh hot cup of coffee with its curative vapors was my reward. A careful hoist of the cup and one sip plugged the hole that metaphorically appeared in my skull. No sooner done than someone brought home the stupidity of a doorbell. The Westminster chimes triggered the protective instincts of Twiggy and Tempeste. Their defense systems engaged at full volume and pitch, which potentially could make ears bleed.
A toss of a handful of kibble into the soundproof room, followed by the slamming of the door, brought a sweet peace from the hounds back to the valley. Checking the security monitor for the infidel stupid enough to ignore the “Do not ring the doorbell” sign, a horrific sight met my eyes. It was none other than the Tasmanian Devil holding a letter and drooling on my front porch. No need to go through the hoops of asking him to drop it there, since from experience, Tasmanian Devils are short on conversation.
With a sigh, I begin the security shutdown process. 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 locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.
The devil begins to spin, and my weak “Howdy” goes unanswered. The letter flies from his hand and falls to my feet. From inside the tornado comes a spinning paw. No doubt an attempt to hound me for a tip. Scooping up the letter, I shout: “A soft answer turns away wrath…mine is No!” and slam the front door. It is a good thing the door is made of steel, since it sounds like the Devil hopes to tear it down.
The letter contains a message from Linda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “starts with ‘ho.’” Find a word that begins with the letters “ho” and 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/2025/09/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-6-2025/
Ho by John W. Howell © 2025
“You got a lot of ho words in there.”
“Thanks.”
“You missed one.”
“Don’t go there.”
“Where?”
“You know where.”
“Ah, homie, you know me too well.”
“Since the intro took way too many words, let’s cut to the chase.”
“Uber is over there.”
“Wow. A 1955 Chevy Bel Aire Coupe. What a honey.”
“Yeah, that is the real deal. Looks like someone hoarded that puppy.”
“There has to be a catch.”
“Not that I know about.”
“Okay then. Let’s go.”
“There is one thing.”
“You said no catch.”
“It’s not a catch exactly.”
“Tell me.”
“We have to wax it first.”
“Sounds like a catch to me.”
“No, here’s the wax. It says just apply and wipe off.”
“Do you know how many hours that will take?”
“With two of us? On my honor, no more than twenty minutes.”
“Okay then. Twenty minutes, tops.”
“Trust me.”
“That concerns me.”
Y
