Sometimes the coffee machinel ikes to prolong the wrecker ball hitting a metal building sound in my brain due to caffeine withdrawal. My guess is that it is jealous of not being able to walk around. When this happens, a subtle reminder of who is the boss gets things back on track. This morning, a message appeared on the touchscreen.
An immediate thump on the top resolved the problem, and two streams of life-restoring elixir began to flow. The first sip quelled the noise in my head. The second (As seems to be the custom now) is accompanied by the cacaphony of Westminster chimes, Tempest, and Twiggy throwing up their warning barrage. A quick toss of a Wagyu steak into the soundproof room and a door slam brought a kind of hush all over the world. A glance at the security monitor revealed the idiot pushing the doorbell. It was none other than Tiny, the WWF champion, with an envelope and a clipboard. Mrs. Howell didn’t raise a fool, so the security shut-down process began.
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 are returned to their charging station. The laser-guided machine guns on the roof are set to caution. The nest filled with rattlesnakes is 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 open.
No time is wasted in signing the clipboard and passing it back with a $20 attached. A smile curled on Tiny’s lip, and it was hard to tell if he was pleased or simply passing gas. Not waiting to find out, the front door quickly came between Tiny and me. The envelope contains a message from Linda Hill. It reads:
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “sometimes.” Start your post with the word “sometimes.” Have fun!
To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link: https://lindaghill.com/2026/07/17/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-18-2026/
“Sometimes you amaze me with all that preamble before you, and I get to talk.”
“How so?”
“Well, it would be easy just to try and do the prompt and then come down here and lead the discussion up to a VooDoo ranger,”
“You mean without the character and security system shut down?”
“Yes, and throw out the bit with the coffee maker too.”
“That leaves a discussion between us.”
“Exactly. That’s all we need.”
“What about the readers?”
“What about them?”
“Oh, I get it. You think our discussion is the highlight of the post.”
“Call me naive.”
“Let’s just get on to the pub. Uber?”
“Over there.”
“Wow, a 1935 851 Supercharged Auburn Boattail”
“Yup, and three of us will fit.”
“Pretty cramped.”
“That’s okay.”
“So what’s the catch?”
“None.”
“None?”
“Well.”
“I knew it. Tell me.”
“The starter is on the fritz.”
“What does that mean?”
“We have to push it to get it started.”
“Figures. In this heat, too.”
“Here are some cotton gloves.”
“What are they for?”
“So you don’t get body oil and sweat on the paint.”
“I guess it will be worth it.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m getting in the car.”
“You aren’t going to help push.”
“There is only one set of gloves.”
“So why aren’t you doing it?”
“Bad back.”
“Of course.”
