The Saturday choice of coffee is extensive. In order not to be too spoiled, the special coffee is reserved for the weekend. Usually, a cappuccino is the choice, but today, something else is on the mind. Let’s see. The options include flat white, latte, latte macchiato, espresso, double espresso, or plain coffee. Well, plain coffee is out since that is a week thing. Short of taking a straw vote, the Latte macchiato it is.

The button is punched, and the machine fires back a question. “Are you sure?” Hitting the confirm button puts a stop to all the foolishness. My tall latte macchiato had a layer of hot milk, a layer of espresso, and a finish with a layer of milk foam. A long sip of the delightful brew sends the mind to thinking of the clock.

It is set for May 17th, 1925. The duration is an hour, and the destination is New York City. The plunger is pulled, and we find ourselves outside the Garrick Theater on Broadway. We can see by the marquee that tonight is the opening of the Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart revue The Garrick Gaieties. This is the first show written by this team. We know, of course, that it won’t be the last.

Reading the information on the billboard, the show is directed by Philip Loeb with musical staging by Herbert Fields, the cast includes Romney Brent, June Cochrane, Sterling Holloway (Later the voice of Winnie the Pooh Libby Holman, Philip Loeb, Edith Meiser, Sanford Meisner, Betty Starbuck, and Lee Strasberg. (Director of the  Actor’s Studio and the father of the Method acting system.) The most famous song to come out of the show is Manhattan.

Just when the doors open, the alarm goes off, and back to the couch we go. There is a text from Linda Hill. I reads:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “straw.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda Hill’s post. Here is the link: https://lindaghill.com/2025/05/16/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-17-2025/

Straw by John W. Howell © 2025

“Why didn’t we stay for the show?”

“I messed up on the time. We got there too early.”

“I’ll bet it was fun.”

“It was only scheduled for two performances, but then got extended and did 211.”

“So it was a hit.”

“Yes, and after six years of starvation, Rogers and Hart created many more.”

” Love stories like that.”

“I do too.”

“Next time, could we have a little more time?”

“Tell you what. I’ll let you pick a straw, and if you get a short one, you get to set the clock.”

“That would be great. You’re not kidding, right?”

“I had to find a way to work stray into the conversation, so, yes, I am kidding.”

“Figures. You can make it up to me.”

“Order the Uber.”

“He’s over there.”

“It looks beat up but serviceable.”

“And the ride is free.”

“Okay, what’s the catch?”

“We have to stop at the collision shop for an estimate.”

“That’s not too bad. Okay, let’s go.”

“One more thing.”

“Oh-oh.”

“We have to leave the doors if the estimate is good.”

“Okay, that can work. It’s only two doors.”

“Um, you haven’t seen the other side.”

“All the doors?”

“My, you catch on quick. Let’s go.”

My favorite place is the kitchen. I do a lot of work there, and it is the home of my beloved coffee machine. It sits in its mysterious blackness on its haunches, just waiting for the order to strike. One touch of the power button is like waking up a sleeping dragon. The stretches, groans, and low growl let you know that the next move must be slow and easy. A move to the two-coffee button is scrutinized and anticipated. She knows me too well. The button is touched, and the resulting eruption of activity could startle the unaware. The frothy cup is complete within seconds, and the machine shares my sigh.

One sip of the delightful brew and the quiet air is ravaged by the Westminster chimes of the doorbell, followed by the eardrum challenge of the baying hounds. A quick toss of a line caught tuna packet into the nuclear-proof room with a door slam allows the brain to stop screaming for quiet. Just who would ring that bell when the sign says “Death to those who ring this bell” is anyone’s guess. Looking at the security screen, all that is visible are the ears of some kind of creature. With a sigh, the security system shutdown began.

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 control panel makes the shutdown of the security system process simpler. The boiling oil vats are put on standby, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gattling guns disengaged, the moat net dropped, the alligators fed, the IEDs and shoulder-held rockets put away. The locks on the door are thrown.

What stands before me looks very much like the Tasmanian Devil. He makes some noises that are not understandable and throws an envelope my way. He starts to whirl and disappears across the lawn and through the neighbor’s boxwoods. The envelope is from Linda Hill. The message inside reads:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “favorite place.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda Hill’s post. Here is the link; https://lindaghill.com/2025/05/09/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-10-2025/

Favorite Place by John W. Howell. © 2025

“I can tell you my favorite place.”

“So can everyone else who reads this stuff on Saturday.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Like a sheet of Saran Wrap.”

“So yours is the kitchen.”

“Yup. I love to cook, and as I said, my coffee machine is there.”

“Where do you keep the Voo Doo Rangers?”

“In the fridge.”

“In the kitchen, right?”

“Right.”

“Then that’s my favorite place too.”

“But we are not going there.”

“Aw, how come?”

“‘Cause we do the pub on Saturdays.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve even ordered an Uber. He’s over there.”

“Okay, how did you know about the kitchen?”

“It was a coincidence.”

“Gibbs rule number thirty-nine.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s no such thing as a coincidence.”

“Okay, I confess. You spend a lot of time in the kitchen, so when it came to ordering an Uber, I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“Well, it is. I like the idea of heading for the pub in a kitchen.”

“And when we get there, maybe they’ll let us sit in the kitchen.”

“Too far.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“That’s my line.”

The coffee machine sends me a good morning message on the touch pad. “Good Morning, Boss. There will be a slight delay with your morning cup today. It seems that someone forgot to fill the bean reservoir. Through Bluetooth, we contacted the freezer to have a fresh supply delivered. Unfortunately, frozen beans do not work well with our grinder friends, so there was little choice but to wait until the beans thaw. All this occurred two hours ago while you were still comfy in bed. It shouldn’t be too long of a wait since our sensors feel the beans are almost ready. In addition, we checked 1925 for today, and the news is very sparse.  A reminder might be to have the bean reservoir filled after you finish the coffee in the morning. Oh, hold on. We have been informed that the beans are ready, so your cup will be delivered now.”

The familiar sound of the grinder sing causes my mouth to water and the pounding in my head to get softer. The cup is delivered, and after the first sip, it looks like my corpus will survive. The second sip brings the Westminster chime of the doorbell. Twiggy and Tempeste throw themselves against the door, and there is the sound of breaking glass in the kitchen. The resounding barks have indeed reduced the glassware to dust. A handful of treats tossed through the soundproof portal and a slam of the six-inch soundproof door cut the mayhem like a knife. My ears pound in the silence, but I must make the security system safe.

The security system must be deactivated before opening the front door and addressing the visitor. Before that, though, 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 control panel makes the shutdown of the security system process simpler. The boiling oil vats are put on standby, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gattling guns disengaged, the moat net dropped, the alligators fed, the IUDs and shoulder-held rockets put away. The locks on the door are thrown.

Standing there is a pig dressed like a farmer holding a huge sunflower. He is also holding an envelope. “Y-you J-John H-Howell?” I give the pig a nod. “I-I have a m-message f-for y-you f-from L-Linda H-Hill.” “Great. Let me have it.” The sunflower showers me with water, and I can see the pig trying to stifle a laugh. Wiping my face. While holding out my hand.  The pig gives me the envelope, turns, and runs down the drive. Opening the envelope, one can see that it is a message from Linda Hill. It reads” Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is ‘sing.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

Visit Linda’s site to see what others have done with the prompt. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2025/05/02/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-3-2025/

Sing by John W Howell © 2025

“I’m surprised the AI in that machine didn’t sing the message.”

“I think that would have added insult to injury.”

“I suppose so, too. By the way, how does a freezer get the beans over to the coffee machine?”

“I have no idea and really don’t want to know. Those guys make me nervous.”

“You know what’s good for nerves.”

“Call Uber.”

“I did. He’s over there.”

“Well…finally something we can be comfortable in.”

“Yeah, and we only have to make one stop.”

“One stop?”

“Yes. The driver says we have to drop the godfather off at the club.”

“The godfather? You kidding?”

“Never kid about the godfather.”

This morning is cappuccino morning. The machine receives its command, and the grinding, whirring sounds bring joy to the heart. There it is—a beautiful 8 oz cup of frothy goodness. One sip and a wipe of the foam mustache prepare one for the clock. The clock is set for April 11, 1925. The location is Moscow, and the duration is half a day. A pull of the plunger has us standing watching two ceremonies.

The Metropolitan (Bishop) Peter of Krutitsy (Pyotr Fyodorovich Polyansky) was installed as the new Patriarch of Moscow and leader of the Russian Orthodox Church, on the same day as the funeral for his predecessor, Patriarch Tikhon of Moscow. Tikhon’s funeral in Moscow was the last major public Russian Orthodox Church event and the last major religious event in the Soviet Union for over 60 years. Peter, identified in Tikhon’s will as one of three potential successors, was selected by the council of 59 bishops because “the first two were already in prison.” Peter himself was confined to prison in December 1925  by the Bolsheviks and eventually executed on October 10th, 1937.

Our stay in Moscow is beginning to draw some attention, and the alarm saves us from getting into a jam with the NKVD secret police. We are back on the couch with a text message from Linda Hill. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “jam.’” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2025/04/11/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-april-12-2025/

Jam by John W. Howell © 2025

“Wow, you got out of there at the right time.”

“I should say. In the Bolshevik era, being different wasn’t very good.”

“Well, at least you didn’t get into a jam. What would happen if you were arrested while you ate on a time jaunt/”

“When the alarm goes off, I would disappear.”

“What if they took the clock from you?”

“It would be hard for them to turn off the alarm so it would still go off, and I would still disappear.”

“You make this stuff up as you go along?”

“Yeah, of course. I write fiction, remember.”

“I keep forgetting.”

“Maybe a Voo Doo Ranger will help you remember.”

“Now, there is a down-to-earth suggestion.”

“Give Uber a call.”

“Already did. He’s over there.”

“Hey, wait a minute. That’s a meat wagon.”

“Oh, come on. We three will fit in the front.”

“But why a meat truck?”

“He’s making a delivery right by the pub and not charging much.”

“What’s the catch?”

“We have to help with the side of beef at the grocery.”

“How much of a side of beef?”

“Only 250 pounds.”

“Only?”

“Divide that by three, and it’s not so much. Here, put on this white coat and hair net.”

“Gloves?”

“Oh, yeah, they are in the truck.”

“How do I get myself into these messes.”

“You’re a fiction writer, remember. Let’s go.”