Imagine my pique when I approach the coffee machine and see these words on the touchscreen. Of course, the action taken was as any red-blooded person would take. The touchscreen was cleared, and the two coffee buttons engaged. The coffee machine growled to life and delivered the elixir that would put to rest the hammer-meets-anvil sound in my head, indicating a dangerously low level of caffeine. The first sip does just that. The second, as we have come to expect, is accompanied by what sounds like the crashing crescendo of a Yamaha grand piano hitting the Grand Canyon floor. It is the Westminster chime of the doorbell and the baying of Igor’s hounds by Twiggy and Tempeste at the peak of their Barking Back to St Louis duet.

The toss of a bone into the soundproof room and a slam of the door brought Oh Happy Day back to life. A peek at the security monitor confirms that someone on the porch is none other than Pepé Le Pew. Hoping to be able to talk him out of a personal interaction, for obvious reasons, I ask if the envelope he is holding can be left. He assures me that a signature is needed. With a sigh, the security shut down 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. 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.

With a clothespin on my nose, the clipboard is signed and returned. A ten-dollar bill is clipped to the board, and the life tip is passed to Pepé. “Don’t play rugby in a cowfield.” The door is shut, and the envelope is opened. Inside is a note from Lnda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “peak/peek/pique.” Use one, use all three (for bonus points), use them any way you’d like. Enjoy!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here’s the link: https://lindaghill.com/2026/06/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-27-2026/

Peak/Peek/Pique by John W. Howell © 2026

“Well, nailed the bonus points.”

“Yup. Seemed to work well.”

“What about that coffee machine.”

“I’m the boss.”

“Okay but don’t you need coffee.”

“I do and I’m sure the machine knows that.”

“So shouldn’t you give it some time off?”

“Are you kidding me? It makes three cups of coffee a week. plus some speciality coffees on the weakend.”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“Oh please? It’s not like it is a Starbucks or something. The thing sleeps all day and night and only works five minutes a day.”

“Okay, okay. Didn’t mean to hit the pigue button.”

“Also it is not even near it’s peak capacity. A couple of old folks having coffee is nothing.”

“Okay, I get it. Let’s take a peek at the Uber car over there.”

“I give up. Whar the heck is that?’

“Look like a half finished Ford Bronco.”

“With a milk carton for a seat.”

“Yeah about that.”

“What?’

“The guy borrowed the carton so we have to use our own lawn chairs.”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on a cold VooDoo Ranger. Maybe things will get better.”

“I’ll go get the lwan chairs and the goggles.”

“Goggles?”

“There is a lot of dust and stuff in that Bronco. I’m sure it is going to blow around once we hit the highway.”

“So wearing winter white might be a mistake.”

“I hear Dalmation print is in.”

“Go get the chairs.”

 

 

 

The coffee machine has a strange message on the touchscreen this morning. It reads: Do not miss the latte macchiato. Since part of me is at least one cat life, the cappuccino macchiato button is touched on the screen. Then nothing happens, but a sign pops up that reads 14 seconds of milk. It is followed by total silence. Then a burst of steam and foam begins. Another moment of silence, then, strong espresso flows into the foam. The first sip brings a rush of flavor and the quiet that comes when the machine shop sound of a low-caffeine warning finally stops.

The second sip (okay, say it with me) brings the cacaphony of the Westminster chimes of the doorbell and the eardrum rupture octaves of Twiggy and Tempeste trying their best to bark the visitor to St. Louis. A new bacon-flavored pair of nylon bones tossed into the soundproof room, followed by a door slam, sends the hounds of Baskerville into a cone of silence.

Checking the monitor, it appears that Deputy Dog is on the porch with a clipboard and an envelope. Knowing that conversation is useless, the security shutdown process 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 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 front door fed. The vat of boiling oil set to warm. The front door is opened.

The envelope and clipboard are passed to me. After signing, the clipboard is returned with a five-dollar bill under the clip. “Sir, there is no need to tip,” says Deputy Dog. Silently giving a small curse to those who suggested a tip, a word of advice is cast to the dog. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

Stepping back into the house, the envelope is opened, and inside is a message from Linda Hill. It reads “Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “miss.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!”

If you would like to see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2026/06/19/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-20-2026/

Miss by John W. Howell © 2026

“Well, you missed the opportunity to save a tip.”

“Let’s not even talk about it.”

“I like that you did give him some words to live by.”

“I’m sure The Pilgrim liked that as well.”

“You sound ready for a visit to the pub.”

“More than ready. You order an Uber?”

“Right over there.”

“Oh, just perfect. A GTO under construction.”

“All that’s missing is the front bumper and headlights.”

“So riddle me this, Robin. How are we going to get home after dark?”

“That brings up the one stop we have to make before we hit the pub.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s a body shop. That will take hours.”

“No, nothing that complex. We need to stop at Walmart.”

“Walmart? What for?”

“Some duct tape and two flashlights.”

“Please tell me you are kidding.”

“Come on. It’s not a long trip home. A couple of flashlights will be plenty of light.”

“Who pays the ticket when we get pulled over?”

“Hmm. Hadn’t thought of that. Okay, I have a backup. Over there.”

“You are riding on the roof.”

“There is room for three, and it has headlights.”

“Okay, but I call for the seat up front.”

“You got it.”

 

 

The coffee machine has a “welcome guest” message scrolling on the touch screen. With a low-caffeine warning klaxon horn blaring in my head, it is difficult to understand the meaning. Lucky for me, a touch of the two-coffee button starts the flow of the antidote, which could be a fatal deprivation situation. We all know what happens on the first sip and predictably the iron hammer beating on the inside of my skull feeling began to diminish. As usual, the second sip is accompanied by the Westminster chime and Igor’s baying hound cacophony that follows the idiotic ringing of the doorbell. A knuckle bone is thrown into the soundproof room, followed by a door slam. The silence speaks.

A glance at the security monitor shows someone in a Donald Duck costume holding an envelope and a clipboard.  “Just leave it,” was said through the electronics. “Need signature,” came back in a duck’s voice. 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 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.

The clipboard and envelope are passed to me, and then the clipboard is returned with a signature. The person holds out a gloved hand in a classic tip request posture. Feeling sorry for the guy who has to wear a duck costume, I tip him a fiver. He smiles and leaves. The envelope contains a message from Linda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “guest.” 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/2026/06/12/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-13-2026/

Guest by John W. Howell © 2025

“You tipped him.”

“Yeah. I’ve been getting blowback when I don’t. Like Winnie the Poo last week.”

“That was pretty cruel.”

“Oh come on. He’s a fictional character.”

“Who has a big heart and nice enough to guest on your blog.”

“Okay, okay. But what about the real people who like the verbal tips.”

“Give both.”

“Whoa. Now that’s a solution. You hear that Pilgrim? Okay done.”

“Speaking of tips.”

“Yes.”

“The Uber is over there.”

“Oh my.”

“Before you say anything hear me out.”

“Okay.”

“This bus is a classic and we get it at a good rate.”

“What’s the catch?”

“A small one.”

“Which is?”

“The First Church of What’s Happening Now choir will be riding with us.”

“Sounds harmless.”

“They’ll be rehearsing for their service.”

“Still sounds okay.”

“Their first song is titled, “Put Down That Booze You Devil, You.”

“Uh huh. I suppose that is not all.”

“They have a few more.”

“I think I can take it.”

“Good cause the price is right.”

“I’ll bet the ride home will be entertaining.”

“You mean with VooDoo Ranger on our breath?”

“And me with one for the road.”

“Humm. I can see it now.”

 

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!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2026/06/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-6-2026/

Coincidence by John W. Howell © 2026

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.”

“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.”

“Thanks.”

 

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!

To see how others responded to the prompt visit Linda’s post. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2026/05/29/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-30-2026/

Impress by John W. Howell © 2026

“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.”

“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.”

“Wait. How much zuccini is there?”

“A few bushels.”

“Why don’t we just get a regular Uber.”

“What kind of story would that make.”

“Good point. Okay let’s go.”