A nice sit on the back porch and a concert by the cardinal intent to broadcast his availability is interrupted by a tone on my phone. (I didn’t mean that rhyme.) A quick look on the screen shows a large box on the porch. Thank heavens it didn’t fall into the backyard, is my thought while going through the unlock process.

A gate of steel rolled back, four bolts unlocked, two crossbars lifted, and the front door is thrown open. A mental note is made to replace all this stuff with a security sensor. There is nothing on the box to indicate the contents or sender, but the assumption is it’s from Linda Hill. A walk around the box reveals nothing.

All of a sudden (Love that), a whirring noise accompanies the slow rise of the top of the box. The decision was made to step back just as the top fell to the driveway. Inside the box, a strange green color glows as a hand clutching some kind of gun rises from within.

Soon a green helmated character in a green skirt follows the hand. “Where’s the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom,” says the character. The realization comes to me that this is Marvin the Martain in person. I immediately apologize for the lack of a kaboom, and Marvin hands me an envelope. (Of course)

Marvin continues to rise and disappears in a large fluffy cloud. I open the envelope to find a message. Here is what it says, Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “make a note.” Do with it what you will. Have fun!

If you would like to have fun, visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2022/07/08/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-9-2022/

Make a note by John W. Howell © 2022

“I don’t even remember Marvin the Martain.”

“I made a note to look up the Warner Brother’s characters and was surprised that he’s been around since 1948.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What is the fascination with these characters anyway?”

“No real explanation other than I always liked them and find them fun.”

“So they become part of your intro.”

“Exactly.”

“And you aren’t nuts.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m going to make a note.”

“About what?”

“To ask for an appearance by Foghorn Leghorn.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“That is so easy to arrange.”

“I would love that.”

“Consider it done.”

“Calls for a Voo Doo Ranger.”

“Or two. I’m buying.”

“Even better. I’ll do Über.”

“Done.”

Ah yes, Saturday morning. Birds are chirping, and there is a right feeling about the world. It is a little too warm, but the sky is bright blue without a trace of a cloud, marring the sense of serenity. The mood machine is ready to dispense the calming fluid, and it looks like a relaxing day ahead.

The sound of a  far away and tight whistle coming from what seems to be the stratosphere reaches my ears. The tone is getting louder and more distinct. Moving to the patio allows me to witness a shadow growing from the size of a sugar cube. The whistle gets louder and the shadow bigger. The brain finally puts it all together. It appears that another delivery from the sky is about to impact the backyard turf.

Making a move under the porch cover happens with an almost simultaneous explosion of dirt, turf, and pieces of wood. Thank heavens the coffee was covered with my hand before the sunami of debris. Once settled, a cautious walk to the crater is rewarded with the sight of an animal in a skydiving outfit that looks precisely like Daffy Duck. “Suffering succotash. They should have told me to let go of the box.”

“Are you hurt?” is my reply. Daffy leads me to believe he is not hurt but a little disappointed in the instructions given by the ACME air freight company. He also gestures to the mess in the hole and shakes his head. “I’m afraid your product is a total loss,” he says.

Peering over the edge, it is hard to make out the nature of the product, so there is no alternative but to ask, “What’s the product?”

“Produce,” comes the reply. “Cumquats specifically.”

Not having ordered the cumquats, there follows a series of questions regarding where they were from and if the address is correct on the delivery. By this time, Daffy is near the end of his patience. He hands me an envelope and asks if the name on the front is mine. Confirming it is causes him to jump out of the hole. He raises his hand, grabs a bar suspended by a rope from a helicopter, and is plucked away.

Thoughts about who will pay to have the yard fixed run through my mind as I open the envelope. Sure enough, the sender is Linda Hill, and here is what the message says.

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “product/produce.” Use one, use them both, use them any way you’d like. Bonus points if you use both. Have fun!

If you want fun, visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here’s the link.

https://lindaghill.com/2022/06/24/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-25-2022/

Product/Produce by John W. Howell © 2022

“Another character.”

“Yup.”

“Who is going to fix the yard.”

“That is a product of my imagination. There was no delivery.”

“No, produce?”

“Nope.”

“Why do you put us through this then.”

“Gotta introduce the prompt.”

“But you could just say what it is.”

“There’s no fun in that.”

“I’m not sure falling boxes are fun either.”

“To each his own. Maybe I could have a falling beer keg.”

“Now that is worth doing. Dangerous, though.”

“The weight you mean?”

“No, getting the beer too agitated.”

“Good point.”

“Speaking of?”

“Your turn to buy.”

“Easy peasy. I’ll produce my card and charge the product.”

“Let’s leave it alone now.”

“You driving?”

“Yup.”

“Let’s call Über. I think this may be a long barley pop session.”

Staring at the cup as the machine finishes its work, the residual effects of my second Covid booster have me fixated on the beauty of the dark frothy liquid. For two days, my body has been in a state that could best be described as hungover. Recalling the days when copious amounts of gin were consumed with an equal quantity of abandon and mirth. The next day was payback for all that fun. It has been years now, but today I feel the effects mirrored by that libertine care abandonment of years ago.

The cup is ready, and it appears that life will continue a sip later. But unfortunately, my phone has sent an alert of a front door visitor. A deep sigh indicates that this might not be the time to entertain whoever may be there. Deciding to ignore the Ring camera and try sipping coffee from a reclining position on the couch, I move the magazine in my way. The cover picture would rattle me on a normal day. Today the sight of a piazza in a cast iron pan is almost enough to inspire a call to 9-1-1.

Forgoing the couch, I go through the process of opening the front door. Chains undid, Locks unlocked, steel bars rolled aside, explosive device unarmed, the door is swung open. I tawt I taw a puddyy tat,” was the first thing to come out of Tweety Bird’s beak. y shock at seeing her was only exceeded by the fact she was ten feet tall. You been hanging around that Alice person?” was my question.

Tweety just smiled and handed me an envelope, turned, and was down the driveway. Pity, the cat, was my thought as I opened the envelope. Inside was a message from Linda Hill. Here’s what it said.

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “a picture from wherever.” When you sit down to write your post, find a picture, whether in a magazine, newspaper, or even product packaging. Write whatever thought or emotion the picture provokes. Enjoy!

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

https://lindaghill.com/2022/06/10/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-11-2022/

A Picture from Wherever by John W. Howell © 2022.

“Feeling rough, huh?”

“Yeah,  a little. better than yesterday.”

“The booster did that?”

“Yeah.  t was the same last time too.”

“So what was with the magazine?”

“The pizza you mean.”

“Okay, the pizza.”

“Can’t explain it.   shot of a pizza in a pan, and I about lost it.”

“You should have gone right to the door.”

“And what come face to face with a ten-foot Tweety earlier?”

“I see your point. hose characters can be a pain for sure.”

“I just can’t figure out why they come around me.”

“Maybe they think you’re a character.”

I suppose that’s it.”

“Well, at least Resa McConaghy thinks it’s a good thing.”

“You saw her post?”

“I sure did. t was terrific so let’s go celebrate.”

“No pizza, right?”

“Just hops and barley.”

“Music to my tastebuds.”

”

Out of coffee beans was the message on the machine. Time to switch from Columbian to French Roast. Filling the reservoir brought a tweak of excitement in anticipation of a new dark roast flavor. Sure enough, when the process is activated, the machine seems to be in a similar frame of mind. No hesitation, and within seconds, the 10 ounces of life-saving Elixer was delivered into the cup.

With a shaking hand, the cup reaches the mouth for the first sip of the unique blend. Slowly the brain picks up the cues of deep taste, aroma, and mind-altering chemical rush. Yes, indeed, this is heaven on Earth.

Sitting with the coffee and laptop and just starting to go through the day’s mail, there was a crash sound that seems like what a falling bus would sound like if it landed in the backyard. Why that sound is familiar is a piece of irony and a story for another time.

Getting up from my comfort and hazarding a look into the backyard, there was no surprise in seeing a big yellow iron bus buried up to the hubcaps in the turf. A sigh escaped my lips since it appears that an investigation would be necessary. “First finish the coffee” was an order from the brain department. A second or two after returning to my seat, the doorbell rings.

What the hell good is it to put a sign on the doorbell not to ring it when every Tom, Dick, and Harry ignores the sign? Theseare the thoughts as I pull Twiggy and Lucy from the ceiling. The front door requires a disarming procedure which takes a few minutes. The door finally gives way, and a stranger asks. “Have you seen a bus anywhere around here?”

“Elmer Fudd?” The question shoots out of my mouth before the brain can catch it. The answer is a surprise. The character declines to admit he is Elmer Fudd but hands me an envelope and tips his hunting hat. “That Waskely Wabbit took my bus, and if you see it or him, tell him he is on the menu for tonight.”

Rather than get involved, I thanked Elmer for the envelope and slowly shut the door. The bus will have to wait while the envelope receives full attention. No surprise, it is from Linda Hill with a message inside. The message reads. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “iron(y).” Use “iron,” use “irony,” or use both. Use them any way you’d like. Bonus points if you use both. Have fun!

If you would like to have fun, just go to Linda’s blog and read how. Here is the link.

https://lindaghill.com/2022/06/03/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-4-2022/

Iron(y) by John W. Howell © 2022

“So you burned up all our time with that silly story.”

“Had to be told.”

“Iron bus in the backyard.”

“Funny visual, wouldn’t you say.”

“Good thing there is no fact-checker on this blog.”

“It’s fiction, remember.”

“Yeah, but a falling bus.”

“The irony here is how do you get a bus out of your backyard?”

“Let’s not even go there. so the prompt is iron?”

“Iron and irony. Got em both. Bonus cha-ching.”

“Which reminds me.”

“Of what.”

“Iron City beer. Ever hear of it?”

“Of course. The producer is from Pittsburgh.”

“Think we can get some?”

“The pub master can certainly tell us.”

“The irony is we need someone to tell us if the beer is available.”

“Rather than what?”

“Sitting drinking it.”

“Good point. Let’s go.”