Today I randomly opened The Last Drive to page 259 and, with eyes closed, pointed to the page. My finger fell closest to the word “everyone.” This is our prompt today.
The neat part of having a coffee robot is the availability of that soothing syrup, available night or day, 24/7. Having to wait for an extended brewing process for more than one minute might mean the difference between calmed neurons or a catastrophic brain bleed. The first sip stops the auto production line cacaphony of the caffeine addition screaming for relief. The second sip brings the dreaded doorbell Westminster chime and Cerberus duet, which threatens to break glass or cause eardrums to bleed. Two fresh Benny bones are tossed into the soundproof room, followed by the door slam, bringing golden silence to the room.
A check of the security monitor shows Smoky the Bear standing on the porch. He has an envelope and, of course, a clipboard. Rather than argue about leaving the delivery with a sign, the security shutdown process begins.
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 SEAL team needs to be called off, and a call to the leader makes that possible. The MH-60 Jayhawk Helicopter hovering over the house is diverted. A call to the tow truck driver stops the deployment of an M1A1 Abrams Tank. The control panel simplifies the security system’s shutdown process. The boiling oil vats are put on standby, the turret mortars disengaged, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gatling guns on safety, the moat net dropped, the alligators fed, and the IEDs and shoulder-held rockets put away. The Proton torpedoes switched off. The gamma ray beams covered. The high-powered maser guns switched to standby, and the nanorobots were chained in the basement. The Klingons are called back, and the Targ is caged. Robbie’s Bot is sent to the basement. The Tasmanian Devil is directed to the food in his cage, and the door drops. The electronic jammer is kept active, given a situation with a robot not too long ago. The locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.
The bear hands me the envelope and the clipboard. After signing and returning it, it’s obvious the bear is looking for a tip. “If what you have done yesterday still looks big to you, you haven’t done much today.” Mikhail Gorbachev said that, and that’s my tip as I slam the door.
The message in the envelope is from Linda Hill. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “neat.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!
Today I randomly opened The Last Drive to page 225. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word closest to my finger is “privacy.” That is our prompt today.
A simple Saturday would include a calm cup of coffee, peace, and quiet. Of course, around here, the coffee is available, but peace and quiet? A touch of the two-coffee button sets in motion a chain of events destined to see me admitted to a special care facility or an order for a tun of wine. The coffee smells like redemption to a caffeine-starved brain. The first sip stops the nails-on-the-chalkboard low-caffeine warning alarm. The second sip is accompanied by the Westminster chime of the doorbell, joined by the baying of my own hounds of Baskerville – Twiggy and Tempeste. Their sound is like ten ton of tin falling from a church rafter just before the benediction. A quick toss of two new identical tan colored squeaky toys into the soundproof room, and the door slam brings back the Songs of Silence.
A check of the security monitor shows me an image of a person dressed in a Bugs Bunny suit. Since my curiosity is raised, with a sigh, the security shutdown process begins.
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 SEAL team needs to be called off, and a call to the leader makes that possible. The MH-60 Jayhawk Helicopter hovering over the house is diverted. A call to the tow truck driver stops the deployment of an M1A1 Abrams Tank. The control panel simplifies the security system’s shutdown process. The boiling oil vats are put on standby, the turret mortars disengaged, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gatling guns on safety, the moat net dropped, the alligators fed, and the IEDs and shoulder-held rockets put away. The Proton torpedoes switched off. The gamma ray beams covered. The high-powered maser guns switched to standby, and the nanorobots were chained in the basement. The Klingons are called back, and the Targ is caged. Robbie’s Bot is sent to the basement. The Tasmanian Devil is directed to the food in his cage, and the door drops. The electronic jammer is kept active, given a situation with a robot not too long ago. The locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.
The guy in the Bugs Bunny suit has a clipboard and a letter, which he passes to me. After signing and passing the clipboard back, the question has to be asked, “What’s with the Bugs Bunny outfit?” He explains that he took his uniform to the dry cleaners and picked it up last night. When he went to put it on today, there was an obvious mistake, so he had to wear the Bugs Bunny outfit that the cleaners mistakenly gave him.
“Why not just wear normal clothes?”
“Then I would be out of uniform, which is against company rules.”
“But you look out of uniform right now.”
“No. You see, I have the receipt that clearly says this is my uniform.”
The conversation is going nowhere, and the guy has his Bugs paw outstretched for a tip. Feeling sorry for him, he gets a tenner. Back inside, the letter is a message from Linda Hill that reads:
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “tan/ten/tin/ton/tun.” Use one, use ’em all, use ’em any way you’d like. Bonus points if you manage to get four of them into your post. Have fun!
The coffee machine is the greatest life hack until it isn’t. Some days it functions perfectly, and others you would think it belonged in the junk yard. Today is one of the former. Dual streams of soothing syrup fill the cup without a hitch. The first sip quiets the caffeine-deprived nerve endings in the brain. The second sip is greeted by the Westminster and Hounds of Baskerville cacophony that threatens to blow out all the windows.
A toss of two bones into the soundproof room, followed by the slamming of the door, brings a kind of hush all over the world. A glance at the security monitor confirms the presence of a mule on the porch. After give-and-take with Francis the talking Mule, it is clear the security system needs to be shut down, and the door opened.
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 SEAL team needs to be called off, and a call to the leader makes that possible. The MH-60 Jayhawk Helicopter hovering over the house is diverted. A call to the tow truck driver stops the deployment of an M1A1 Abrams Tank. The control panel simplifies the security system’s shutdown process. The boiling oil vats are put on standby, the turret mortars disengaged, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gatling guns on safety, the moat net dropped, the alligators fed, and the IEDs and shoulder-held rockets put away. The Proton torpedoes switched off. The gamma ray beams covered. The high-powered maser guns switched to standby, and the nanorobots were chained in the basement. The Klingons are called back, and the Targ is caged. Robbie’s Bot is sent to the basement. The Tasmanian Devil is directed to the food in his cage, and the door drops. The electronic jammer is kept active, given a situation with a robot not too long ago. The locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.
The Mule has an envelope in its mouth, which it drops on the porch. Picking it up there is the obvious sign of an expected tip. The Mule raises a hoof in anticipation of a payoff. The last thing needed is two rear leg horseshoe dents in the front door, so a ten-spot is slipped into the outstretched hoof. An ear-splitting Hee Haw lets me know the Mule is happy. Once inside, the envelope contains a message from Linda Hill. It reads
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “life hack.” Use it however you’d like. Enjoy!
To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link:
Today I randomly opened Detour on the Eternal Road to page 199. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word closest to my finger is “system.” That is our prompt today.
“I’m telling you the system won’t allow it.”
“The system? What are you talking about?”
“The way things are organized. How the world is set up.”
“Oh, come on. There really isn’t a system.”
“To do what you want, there definitely is a system, and it won’t allow it.”
“Well, how about I just go ahead and ask for forgiveness later?”
“That’s up to you, but I can predict the outcome.”
“I don’t know how you became an expert all of a sudden.”
“Look, I’m older than you and have been around.”
“Have you ever tried doing what I’m thinking of doing?”
“No, of course not.”
“Okay then, just let me go.”
“Very well. It’s your funeral.”
“Now you have me wondering.”
“I’m glad, since I would hate to see you crash into the valley.”
“It does look pretty far down.”
“Changing your mind?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Let me help. Never in the history of our breed has anyone been able to fly.”
“But I read that book.”
“Dumbo the flying elephant?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Fiction. Made up by some lunatic. Trust me, you can’t fly.”
“All right, I believe you.”
“Let’s go get some nice warm peanuts. You’ll feel better later.”
Leaving a bookmark last week on the subject of an AI assistant was a good idea. It seems the Coffee machine has hired an AI assistant, and that assistant is asking me for the password to the touchscreen. Doing the research paid off, and the message delivered to the machine was, “My AI assistant will beat the crap out of you if you don’t give me access right now.” Like magic, the touchscreen appeared, and the order for two coffees was placed. As always, the first sip brought an end to the Anvil Chorus playing in my head. The second was spoiled with the Westminster chime of the doorbell, accompanied by the crystal-cracking cacophony (Ooo, nice alliteration) of Tempeste and Twiggy. Two new toys were tossed into the soundproof room, and the slamming of the door brought back peace.
A glance at the monitor showed me that Chewbacca was waiting to deliver an envelope. There is no hesitation to shut down the security system.]
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 SEAL team needs to be called off, and a call to the leader makes that possible. The MH-60 Jayhawk Helicopter hovering over the house is diverted. A call to the tow truck driver stops the deployment of an M1A1 Abrams Tank. The control panel simplifies the security system’s shutdown process. The boiling oil vats are put on standby, the turret mortars disengaged, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gatling guns on safety, the moat net dropped, the alligators fed, and the IEDs and shoulder-held rockets put away. The Proton torpedoes switched off. The gamma ray beams covered. The high-powered maser guns switched to standby, and the nanorobots were chained in the basement. The Klingons are called back, and the Targ is caged. Robbie’s Bot is sent to the basement. The Tasmanian Devil is directed to the food in his cage, and the door drops. The electronic jammer is kept active, given a situation with a robot not too long ago. The locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.
Chewbacca hands me an envelope and a clipboard. Once signed, the clipboard goes back to an open palm. Not wanting to lose the house, a ten-spot is quickly produced, which is acknowledged by an ear-splitting roar of appreciation and the feeling that Chewbacca needs to see a Periodontist. Back in the house, the envelope is opened, and the message from Lind Hill reads;
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “bookmark.” Use as a noun, use it as a verb, use it way you’d like. Have fun!
“What caused you to bookmark the AI assistant in the first place?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I have been dealing with ChatGPT for quite a while and thought it would be nice to have an assistant take care of some of the routine tasks without prompts.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like organizing e-mails into Important, Not important but should be read, and junk.”
“Doesn’t Gmail do that already?”
“Sort of, but not very well. I thought it would be good for a program that could learn the subtle differences by reading the mail and then making a decision.”
“Okay. Way above my capacity.”
“I think the use of an assistant could be limitless.’
“Name another use.”
“Could edit manuscripts.”
“You have an editor.”
“True, but the cost puts the break-even mark out of reach.”
“Can we talk about something important to me?”
“Voo Doo Rangers?”
“Now that’s important.”
“Uber?”
“Right over there.”
Image from Tom Okragly
“My goodness. A 1957 Oldsmobile Super 88 hardtop station wagon.”
“We will be styling.”
“And the catch?”
“No catch. Just a favor to the owner.”
“Okay, let’s have it.”
“We can’t go more than 5 miles an hour.”
“What? Why’s that?”
“The owner doesn’t want the paint chipped by a stone.”
“That’s going to take three hours to get there.”
“Think of living life full measure.”
“Don’t bring a Twilight Zone episode into this. We will be bored out of our minds.”
Today I opened Eternal Road – The final stop to page 205. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word closest to my finger is “quality.” No, that isn’t dirt on my finger. It’s a bruise from heaven knows where or how.
The coffee machine touchscreen is in the hide mode. One touch of the two coffee selection brings it to life. The aroma of freshly ground beans fills the air, and the soothing syrup slowly fills the cup. The low caffeine warning horn in my head goes silent with the first sip. The second sip brings another annoying sound of the front doorbell. While the Westminster chimes threaten to cause a brain bleed, Tiggy and Tempeste join in trying to bark the intruder to St. Louis. A toss of treats into the soundproof room and a slam of the door ends the torture not a moment too soon.
A glance at the monitor reveals a fluffy bunny holding an Easter basket containing an envelope and a clipboard. By now used to the highway robbery that goes on with deliveries, no conversation is necessary. The security shutdown process is begun.
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 SEAL team needs to be called off, and a call to the leader makes that possible. The MH-60 Jayhawk Helicopter hovering over the house is diverted. A call to the tow truck driver stops the deployment of an M1A1 Abrams Tank. The control panel simplifies the security system’s shutdown process. The boiling oil vats are put on standby, the turret mortars disengaged, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gatling guns on safety, the moat net dropped, the alligators fed, and the IEDs and shoulder-held rockets put away. The Proton torpedoes switched off. The gamma ray beams covered. The high-powered maser guns switched to standby, and the nanorobots were chained in the basement. The Klingons are called back, and the Targ is caged. Robbie’s Bot is sent to the basement. The Tasmanian Devil is directed to the food in his cage, and the door drops. The electronic jammer is kept active, given a situation with a robot not too long ago. The locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.
The bunny hands me the envelope and the clipboard. After the signature and handing it back, the bunny’s paw signals the expectation of a tip. Obliging, the following words of advice are given. “Do not hide eggs where they can’t be found.” Stepping back through the door and giving it a good slam, my attention turns to the envelope.
Inside is a message from Linda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “hide.” Use it anyway you’d like. Enjoy!
Today I randomly opened Circumstances of Childhood to page 127. I closed my eyes and pointed to the page. My finger is closest to the word “urgent.” That is our prompt today.
