A look out the back windows confirms the Mosler safe is still half buried in the backyard. For those of you in the dark, last week, a safe came out of the sky. Inside was someone who looked like Yosemite Sam in his underwear. Good, now we are all caught up. (Please don’t try to understand what a safe is doing falling from the sky. Just go with it.)

A hardy thump on the espresso machine brings it to life and produces a ten-ounce mug of soothing syrup before my hearing goes out. Before approaching the safe again, several long sips of the coffee takes priority over anything to follow.

Communing with my thoughts is suddenly disturbed by the shrill sound of the klaxon warning horn announcing someone at the front door. Having successfully gotten Lucy and Twiggy to stop throwing themselves at the door, my attention turns to the security control panel. I disengage the iron gate, concertina wire, bouncing betty land mines, stinger rocket launchers, tower machine guns, automatic boiling oil dispenser, and all double locks and bolts.

It is time to open the door. As it swings inside, the sight of an odd device is visible sitting on the drive. Looking right and left and deploying the heat-sensitive scanner, it appears no one is on the porch. Approaching the contraption brings into focus a label attached to one leg. The label reads Trebuchet -Acme Amalgamated Industries. Distributed by Daniel Conti Enterprises, Granger, Indiana.

Scratching my head, trying to figure out what the heck this thing is, my central nervous system takes a jolt from a piercing voice from the unexpected. “Dad gum it. What’s the matter, boy? Never seen a Trebuchet before?”

Aghast and Jumping almost out of my skin, I realize on the way down that the Yosemite Sam-looking character has snuck up behind me. “I didn’t see you on the scanner.” This was the best that could be said through my constricted throat. “You varment. I’m wagering that there machine doesn’t pick up figments of your imagination.”

Sam was right. It only picks up heat from living organisms, not some ghost from my imagination. Sam motions me to come closer and hands me an envelope. Before the question, “How long are you going to be here?” is asked, he disappears. Now the only things left are a safe in the back yead, this Trebuchet, and an envelope that must be from Linda Hill. Sure enough, when opened, the message reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “a word that contains a silent letter.” Choose a word that contains a silent letter and use it in your post, or write about words with silent letters in general. Enjoy!

If you would like to enjoy visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2022/09/09/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-10-2022/

Silent H by John W. Howell © 2022

“I don’t see where you used the prompt.”

“Aghast and ghost? You missed those?”

“Okay. Pretty subtle, though.”

“Clever.”

“What?”

“Throwing in, though.”

“Wasn’t on purpose. What the heck is a Trebuchet?”

“It is a rock-slinging thing much like a catapult.”

“Why didn’t you just say catapult?”

“A friend of mine suggested a Trebuchet would be a nice addition to my security system. so I thought I would honor the suggestion.”

“Two more silent Hs. Thought and honor.”

“We are done with the prompt.”

“What was Sam wearing. Last week he was in his underwear.”

“Oh yeah. He had on long johns with a bum flap.”

“That sounds ghastly.”

“Let’s go get some beer before we lose any more readers than we already have.”

“You buying?”

“VooDooRanger. You bet.”

“Call Uber then. I’ve worked up a big ole thirst.”

“Done.”

In Keith’s words. “Using this photo ( Below) as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put your offering (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithchanning@gmail.com before Sunday evening UK time. If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next time.”

The Photo.

Decisions by John W. Howell © 2022

“We have to stop doing this.”

“What? Walking the dogs?”

“No, I’m talking about our life.”

“What’s wrong with our life?”

“Maybe a bad choice of words. Not life per see, just how we live it sometimes.”

“I sense you are going to get into something deep.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a deep discussion.”

“Before coffee is hazardous. Is this about us?”

“No, not directly.”

“Okay, go ahead. I’m prepared for the worst.”

“Before we met, I had dreamed of a big house and lots of land.”

“I have heard this before. Now you have to make do.”

“Not make do. That sounds like dissatisfaction. Let’s say adjust my dreams.”

“Doesn’t sound good to me.”

“Let me try a different way.”

“I used to think I would be at a certain level of comfort by now.”

“Okay, that sounds pretty neutral. Go ahead.”

“And here we are.”

“Where are we besides the Rue Cassis?”

“I thought I would have something other than a Cushman to ride.”

“That scooter has been very good to us.”

“Two people, two dogs?”

“We manage.”

“And when there is every hill?”

“Okay, what are you trying to say?”

“We need a more family-type vehicle.”

“Oh, I see. Maybe a minivan?”

“Those things that look like a loaf of bread? No, thank you.”

“SUV?”

“Nope.”

“What then?”

“A nice Harley soft tail.”

“Whew. I thought you had lost it. Let’s get some coffee. What color?”

“Black and chrome.”

“Think of the clothes.”

 

 

 

A leisurely wait for the magic restorative brew to be finished causes the mind to wander. A quick thought on the subject of redecorating raised by The Producer reminds me to pay attention to the task at hand. The very idea of hanging wallpaper turns the spine into an ice-filled waterfall.

The coffee is ready, and just as a sip is completed, my phone alerts me to another interloper out front. Since it is Saturday, the only assumption that may be valid is a prompt delivery from Linda Hill. Checking the phone does not confirm my hypothesis but gives a glimpse of a large envelope lying on the porch.

A deep sigh reflects the annoyance of entering the security protocol required to venture out the front door. An idea passes that maybe some kind of mail chute would prevent all this falderal.  The idea is forgotten while opening the iron gate, lifting the steel bar, rolling back the concertina wire, disengaging the tear gas system, and unlocking three bolts plus two locks. The front door is thrown open.

Standing looking like they had been hit by a stun-gun was Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog. “What do you guys want?” was the peevish question leaving my lips without an escort. “Morning Ralph.” Morning Sam.”

Okay so after a few moments of confusion the pair reached down and picked up the envelope. They smiled and handed it to me. They then punched the timeclock (Where that came from is anybodys guess) and picked uptheir lunch pails and walked down the drive.

Opening the evvelope was a surprise since there was a message written in sharpie on a piece of wallpaper. It read Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “wallpaper.” Use it however you’d like. Have fun!

To have fun go to Linda Hill’s blog and read how easy it is to join it. Here is the link.

https://lindaghill.com/2022/08/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-aug-6-2022/

Wallpaper by John W. Howell © 2022

“Ralph and Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“Where did you come up with those two?”

“I always liked them. They made their bebut when I was twelve years old and I thought they were hysterical.”

“But no one else knows them.”

“Maybe you don’t but plenty will.”

“What’s with the blatent and gratudious use of the prompt?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just threw in the word wallpaper like it was an after thought.”

“I just didn’t want to go down a wallpaper route. There are threats enough about redecorating without courting disaster. I hate wallpaper.”

“Tell us how you really feel. I think I’ve been to a group session of wallpaper survivors. By the way you don’t happen to have a photo of Ralph and Sam do you?”

“How’s this?”

“Oh I remember them.”

“Of course you do. Now that your memory has been jogged do you know who’s buying.”

“Sadly I do.”

“Let’s go. There is a Voodoo Ranger calling my name.”

“Do you have a picture of that too.”

“I keep it in my wallet. Here you go.”

“Okay then. Let’s go.”