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.
The song Portrait of My Love plays over and over in my mind. It was the last song on my playlist last night and now haunts me today. A fresh, hot, aromatic cup of joe will chase it away. With hope, the two coffee selection is made on the machine touchscreen. The first sip moved the song to the background. The second brings up “I Like It Like That” by the Dave Clark Five. Feeling doomed, the hope is that the third will bring peace. No such luck as the Westminster chimes of the doorbell join the cacophony of Twiggy and Tempeste doing their best Hounds of Baskerville imitation. Two toys tossed into the soundproof room, and a slam of the door restores peace and harmony.
The monitor shows what appears to be Wile E. Coyote standing on the porch, holding an envelope and a large box marked ACME Vacuum Company. The conversation that ensued forced me(of course) to start the security shutdown process.
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.
Wile hands me the envelope and clipboard, which I sign where indicated, and return the board. It is then that the unboxed vacuum is turned on, and my pockets are emptied. Lucky for me, all there is in them is a couple of dollars and some lint. Stepping back and slamming the front door ends the cleanout. These guys are like restaurants that add a 20% sevice charge to the bill without asking. Tipping must be mandatory these days.
Inside the envelope is a message from Linda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “portrait.” Use it anyway you’d like. Have fun!
Today I opened The Last Drive randomly to page 207. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word “yelling” was closest to my finger. That is our prompt today.
Today I randomly opened Eternal Road – The final stop to page 165. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word closest to my finger is “passenger.” That is our prompt today.
“Here we are, YouTubers. This is the freight train switching yard in Peoria, Illinois, and boy, is it cold. Look, there’s someone who looks like they just got off one of the boxcars.”
“Sir, do you mind talking with me for a minute about your experience?”
“What are you recording?”
“I have a YouTube channel and am interviewing working folks around the country.”
“Okay, that sounds pretty harmless.”
“So where are you headed?”
“Trying to get to Florida.”
“You been hopping freights? Are you a hobo?”
“I prefer to call it a privileged passenger.”
“But you’ve been hopping freights.”
“Well, yes. I can’t afford the coach fare of a passenger train, and as you can see, the way I look would cause people concern.”
“Isn’t it dangerous hopping freight cars?”
“Not if you know what you are doing. For me, it’s pretty easy.”
“So why Florida?”
“Well, I have to eat, and opportunities up North get scarce when it gets cold.”
“So, you do outside work?”
“Yup. One hundred percent of the jobs I find are outdoors.”
“I can see why it would be better in Florida. You mentioned it was easy to hop freight trains. Mind sharing your secret?”
“I just hover over one of the cars and then slowly ease down for a perfect landing.”
“I’m surprised you can hang on.”
“See these talons. They grip anything. Plus, when I hunker down, I’m pretty much impervious to the wind.”
“It has been a pleasure talking to you. Mr. Ah.”
“My friends call me Victor.”
“It was great talking to you, Victor.”
“Likewise.”
“So there you have it. A discussion with Victor the Vulture. If you enjoyed the discussion, hit “like” below and we’ll see you next time.
A review of the menu on the coffee machine does nothing to change my mind. It’s going to be a double coffee in a 10 0z mug. That would be 8oz of the stuff that stops the low-caffeine alarm horn, and about 2oz of half-and-half. The button is pushed, and the aroma fills the air. The cup is ready, and the first sip puts out the fire of addiction. The second sip raises the Westminster chimes and is accompanied by the ear-bleeding warnings blasted out by the hounds of Baskerville, known as Twiggy and Tempeste. A quick toss of a bacon-flavored Bene bone for each into the soundproof room, followed by a door slam, brings peace back to the valley.
A quick check of the monitor shows a character who looks very much like Elmer Fudd standing on the porch, holding a letter. After a back-and-forth conversation about leaving the letter, it is clear that the door has to be opened. With a sigh, the 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 shutdown process of the security system. 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 Elmer Fudd-looking guy hands me the envelope and the clipboard. When signed, I keep the letter and return the clipboard. The Elmer Fudd-looking guy has a shotgun and is casually pointing it at me. Reaching into my pocket and pulling out a five-dollar bill produces a smile on Fudd-like’s face. Rolling it up and stuffing it into one barrel of the shotgun causes Fudd-like to turn and walk away.
The envelope is from Linda Hill. There is a message inside which reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “review.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
Today, I randomly opened Detour on the Eternal Road to page 141. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word closest to my finger was “document.” This is our prompt.
“They won’t let me stay there until I get a complete bill of health.”
“You look healthy.”
“I know. The parents are pretty upset.”
“About what?”
“Well, they wanted me to go to camp, as you know.”
“You still can after the doctor’s visit.”
“That’s just it. The doctor can’t see me until next week.”
“So?”
“The camp starts this week.”
“Still, you can go to the next session.”
“That’s true, but the parents had planned to go on a trip while I was away.”
“Can’t they postpone a week?”
“I heard them say something about no refunds on the tickets.”
“Yeah, that does hit hard. You wanna come stay at my house?”
“You’d better ask your parents before the offer.”
“Nah. Here’s how we play it. We’ll go to my house, and I’ll look all excited to have you there.”
“What does that do?”
“My parents will feel sorry for you and let you stay until they can contact your parents. Once they do, hopefully, your parents will let mine know the fix they are in. My parents will offer to keep you. Problem solved.”
“Sounds great. Just one hitch.”
“What’s that?”
“How will they be able to contact my parents?”
“Your collar.”
“Huh?”
“Your phone number is on your collar. Now, let’s go.”
