Today I randomly opened Detour on the Eternal Road to page 265. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word closest to my finger is “conference.” This is the prompt today.
Before we begin our silliness today, I want to remind us of all those who stormed the beaches of Normandy, France, on June 6, 1944. For some, it was their last day, and we owe them a great deal for their sacrifice. There are very few alive now who participated in that D-Day exercise for liberty, but most lived full lives that their comrades would not enjoy.
Almost by coincidence, the coffee machine did not immediately spring to life but seemed to be contemplating that fateful day. Finally, as with most solemn occasions, the moment of contemplation ended, and the brain-healing elixir began to flow into my mug.
The first sip calmed the painful feeling of caffeine withdrawal and the meltdown warning of the klazon horn in my head. The second sip brought the familiar but still annoying joining of the Westminster doorbell chime with the St. Louis-bound barking of Twiggy and Tempeste, often referred to as the Hounds of Baskerville. The two dogs chased a bone into the soundproof room, and a door slam brought the grateful feeling that silence is golden.
A look at the security system monitor shows Winnie-the-Pooh with an envelope on the porch. No need to even discuss leaving it. With a sigh, 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 returned to their charging station. The laser-guided machine guns on the roof are set to caution. The nest filled with rattlesnakes was 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 the front door are fed. The vat of boiling oil set to warm. The front door is opened.
Stepping onto the porch, Winnie hands me the envelope and a clipboard. I keep the envelope and hand back the signed clipboard. Winnie has his paw out, making the classic tip sign. “As Vince Lombardi once said, It’s not whether you get knocked down, it’s whether you get up, was my tip for Winnie.
Back in the house, the message in the envelope is from Linda Hill. It reads:
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “coincidence.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
The anniversary of D-Day, coinciding with today, is a coincidence.”
“Well, if you call every seven years a coincidence, yes.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. Saturday here is usually a day filled with ridiculous satire, and for it to be a solemn anniversary does sound like a coincidence.”
“Maybe we should have skipped our pub trip.”
“I think if you could ask those who gave their lives, they would want us to live normally, which would, in a small way, make their sacrifice worthwhile.”
“I can see that.”
“So where is the Uber?”
“Right over there.”
Photo by Dan Antion
“Oh, this is great.”
“What do you mean?”
“A van filled with poison and maybe live bees.”
“Don’t be silly. The guy rides around in that van all day, and he is fine.”
What’s the catch?”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“We have to help the guy tent a house for termites.”
“Tent a house?”
“Yeah, he twisted his ankle and can’t get on the roof.”
“So we have to go up on a roof?”
“Just to put the tent in place.”
“How big is this house?”
“Three stories.”
“Can we pass?”
“I already told him we would do it.”
“Of course you did.”
“Here is your breathing device, hazmat suit, and gloves.”
“Why do we need all this stuff?”
“Oh, I forgot to mention. We have to go inside to make sure there are no leaks after the gas has begun.”
“I’m a hard, no.”
“I thought so. Okay, I’ll call for a regular Uber.”
Today, I opened Eternal Road – The final stop to page 267 and with eyes closed pointed. My finger fell closest to the word “tampered.” This is our prompt today
Saturday is always a good day. It seems the coffee machine goes out of its way to impress the end user. Just this morning it said good morning without being prompted. It then produced this fine mug of coffee Just in time for the first sip to quell the percussion part of the Anvil Chorus playing in my head. The second sip brings the familiar steel stamping plant cacophony of the combination of the doorbell Westminster chime and the warnings from the watchdogs from hell as they attempt to bark the intruder to St. Louis. A toss of a delicious marrow bone into the soundproof room followed by the slamming of the door brings back peace in the valley.
A check of the monitor confirms a visitor looking very much like Henry the chicken with an envelope. Since there is a signature needed, with a sigh the security shutdown begins.
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 returned to their charging station. The laser-guided machine guns on the roof are set to caution. The nest filled with rattlesnakes 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 opened.
An envelope and clipboard are passed to me by Henry. “Where’s Foghorn Leghorn?” is a question met with a puzzled look. maybe it’s the wrong Henry. Passing the signed clip board back, Henry has his wing extended in the classic signal for a tip. “Never do anything you wouldn’t want to explain to the paramedics,” is my tip to Henry just before closing the front door.
The envelope is form Linda Hill and the message inside reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “impress” Use it as a verb, use it as a noun, use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!
“You are not out to impress deliver people are you?”
“It’s not that.”
“What is it?”
“Our society is becoming tip crazy is all.”
“What do you mean.”
“There are tip requests everywhere. The last time I took an flight I bought a water at a self service kiosk. On the screen there was a place for a tip.”
“Might be a way to help offset low pay for the workers.”
“Then the workers ought to speak up. I’ll bet none of it gets to the workers.”
“Hard to know.”
“Restaurants are now adding 20% service charges to the bill and get this. They say it is not a tip for service. The tip is supposed to be added on.”
“Ive never seen that, but sound pretty strange. What’s it for”
“That’s what I thought. I don’t know. Maybe for someone to carry your order out to the table 99% spit free.”
“Yuk. You leave a tip?”
“What do you think?”
“Scrooge.”
“I did see a tip line on my carry out pizza order receipt. I thought they were kidding.”
“I’ll bet it wasn’t spit free then.”
“Don’t remind me. I can quarantine our Uber ride is tip free.”
“Why’s that? Do we have to carry the car?”
“No look over there.”
Photo by Tom Okragly
“Wow, a 1937 Cadillac. I’ll bet the catch is big.”
“Not at all.”
“Okay what is it.”
“On the way to the pub we have hold up signs.”
“What kind of signs?”
“Advertising signs.”
“What kind of advertising signs.”
“The grand opening kind of advertising.”
“Grand opening of what?”
“A supermarket.”
“That sounds okay.”
“One more thing.”
“Uh oh. Here it comes.”
“Not a big deal. We have to hand out zuccini.”
“Zuccini?”
“Yeah its a promotion. The store’s name is on the zuccini. Once the zuccini is gone we can head for the pub.”
Today, I readomly opened Detour on the Eternal Road to page 147. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word nearest to my finger is “complicated.” This is our prompt today.
“ May your day be wonderful” is the message on the touchscreen of the coffee machine. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why the machine has started to provide motivational messages. The last software download must have led to the idea that we humans can change our emotional state at will. Oh well, it is a nice sentiment, and a touch of the two coffee buttons is a more practical way to alter a mood. The aroma of the magic elixer provides a hopeful sign that the day may, in fact, be wonderful. The first sip quells the 50-story fall climax of the grand piano feeling in my head, brought on by the lack of caffeine.
The second sip, as we have grown accustomed to hearing, is coupled with the cacophony of the Westminster chimes of the doorbell and the instantaneous iPhone unhealthy noise warning sound of Twiggy and Tempeste, believing with all their heart they are doing a good deed in causing eardrum-bleeding mayhem. A quick toss of a handful of kibble into the soundproof room and a slam of the door restores a kind of hush all over the world.
A look at the security monitor confirms the cause of the ruckus. Heckle and Jeckle, the yellow-billed magpies, fill the screen. Knowing that any discussion with these two will be fruitless, the security shutdown process has begun.
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 returned to their charging station. The laser-guided machine guns on the roof are set to caution. The nest filled with rattlesnakes was 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 the front door were fed. The vat of boiling oil set to warm. The front door is opened.
It’s hard to tell who’s who, but one magpie had the envelope, and the other had the clipboard. Each gave me their item, and the clipboard was returned with a signature where indicated. Both held out wings in an obvious hint for a tip. “You don’t need to wait for permission to succeed, ” was my tip for the day. Stepping back through the front entrance and closing the door, the envelope from Linda Hill is opened. Here is the message:
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “may your…” Use the phrase “may your” in your post. Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
Today, I randomly opened The Eternal Road – The last stop to page 253. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word nearest my finger is “content.” That is our prompt.
The coffee machine sits quietly waiting for its first command of the day. A touch of the two coffee images on the touchscreen brings the sweet sound of beans grinding. In 14 seconds, the magic elixir that quells the evil caffeine withdrawal pain pours into the cup. The first sip quiets the sound of a falling Mosler safe crashing into a five-story greenhouse that is in my head. The second sip is accompanied by the predictable cacophony of the Westminster chimes, the doorbell, and the baying of the hounds of Baskerville, portrayed by Twiggy and Tempeste. A quick toss of a new bone into the soundproof room, followed by a door slam, brings the peace train back home.
A glance at the monitor shows that Clarabelle the Clown is on the front porch. Knowing it is silly to ask it to leave the envelope, the security shutdown process is begun with a sigh.
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 returned to their charging station. The laser-guided machine guns on the roof are set to caution. The nest filled with rattlesnakes was 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 go off. The Peregrine Falcons perched on the roof above the front door fed. The front door is open.
Clarabelle gives me a honk and passes the envelope and clipboard. After the signature, we trade the envelope for the clipboard. Clarabelloe has a hand out in the classic request for a tip. “A positive mind is stronger than a negative thought.” Is the tip left with Clarabelle as the front door closes. The envelope is from Linda Hill. Inside is a message. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “sweet.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!
Today I randomly opened Detour on the Eternal Road to page 151. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page, and the word closest to my finger was “first.” That is our prompt today.
To contrast a standard coffee maker to this one is like comparing a steam locomotive to a bullet train. The locomotive gets the job done over time, but the bullet train delivers results immediately. So with that praise of the coffee machine, the two-button press delivers a double coffee in seconds. The first sip stops the air-hammer-on-concrete sound of caffeine withdrawal in my brain. The second brings the predictable crescendo of a load of cymbals hitting the ground after being shoved off a cliff sound of the Westminster Chime of the doorbell, coupled with the baying of Igor’s hounds. A quick toss of two Benny Bones and a slam of the door to the soundproof room traps Tempeste and Twiggy and produces the silence is golden moment prior to the incursion.
A check of the monitor shows the image of someone who looks like Porkey Pig with a clipboard and an envelope. A quick check verifies the need for a signature so with a sign the security system shout down process is begun.
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 returned to their charging station. The laser-guided machine guns on the roof are set to caution. The nest filled with rattlesnakes 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. The front door is open.
The pig hands me the clipboard and envelope. The clipboard is returned after signature. The pig has a cloven hoof extended in the classic ‘tip request’ pose. I gave him an excellent tip. “A good plan executed now is better than a perfect plan next week.” Not waiting for his reply, the front door now separates us.
I open the envelope and see a message from Linda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “contrast.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
