The distance to the coffee machine feels like a climb of Mount Everest. The low caffeine warning klaxons in my brain, accompanied by a flashing red sign that screams, “Warning, Will Robinson.” The machine finally gives up the coffee, and the first sip turns off all the warnings. As we know, the second sip will start a whole new problem with Westminster Chimes and the Hounds of Baskerville. The decision is made to put off the second sip in favor of watching the security monitor for an intruder. After a few minutes, it seems safe to take the second sip. The cacaphony of chimes and barking hits immediately. A big bone thrown into the soundproof room and a slam of the door put an end to the high-pitched, eardrum-destroying  St Louis barking.

A look at the monitor shows the idiot who pushed the doorbell. It is the robot from Lost in Space. There is no question that the door needs to be opened. With a sigh and a chug of the rest of my coffee, the 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 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 locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.

“Attention, John Howell, there is an envelope here for you. Please sign where indicated.” The robot hands me a clipboard and an envelope. After signing and passing the board back, the robot says, “Thank you, John Howell. An appropriate tip for the service is five dollars.” “I have no cash,” is my response. “VENMO or PayPal are accepted, and I just read your account from your phone. Thank you for the tip.” With that, the robot turns and makes its way to the street. The door is shut, and the system is rearmed.  Inside the envelope is a message from Linda Hill, which reads:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “distance.” 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/2026/03/06/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-march-7-2026/

Distance by John W. Howell

“That robot certainly had the answer to your cash tip avoidance posture.”

“I was too close and should have kept my distance.”

“Huh?”

If I were further away it couldn’t have read my phone.”

“You sure about that?”

“No, but sounds good.”

“Is that five bucks going to break you?”

“No, but it is the principle. That robot had a job to do. Besides, what is it going to do with money?”

“Buy some three-in-one oil?”

“Very funny. Maybe I’ll ask Linda to send the prompt by FedEx next time.”

“I’m sure the pups will enjoy that.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to keep shelling out money to these delivery services.’

“Speaking of shelling out money, I save a bundle on Uber. It’s over there.”

 

“Okay, I can see a problem already.”

“What’s that?”

“We have to fight a fire on the way.”

“No, that would be ridiculous.”

“What then,”

“Nothing. They will take us right to the pub.”

“There has to be a catch.”

“Well, if there is an alarm, they will have to leave quickly, and so we will have to be ready to go at any moment.”

“Or we could call another Uber.”

“Brilliant. This is why you are running this blog.”

“OMG let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

A smooth Cappuccino is on the brain today. A light touch of the menu screen starts the delivery process. Milk, coffee, and then foam create the elixir that will quell the low caffeine warning buzzer in my head. One sip begins recovery. The second sip ushers in the jarring sound of the Westminster chimes, proving once again that no one can read the “Do not ring the doorbell” sign. A knuckle bone tossed into the soundproof room and a slam of the door ensure that Tempeste and Twiggy will not bark me to St. Louis.

With peace restored, the monitor shows a large sheepdog that looks like Sam and a Wolf that looks like Ralph. Skipping the usual dialogue about leaving whatever the dog is delivering, 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 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 locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.

The sheepdog has an envelope and a clipboard, which he hands to the wolf, looking like Ralph. Ralph hands both to me and points to the place to sign. After signing and handing the clipboard back, the sheepdog grabs me and turns me upside down. Several coins and a few bills drop to the porch. The wolf picks up a couple, and Sam says, “We know how you are and thank you for your generous gift.” Placed upright, my next move is to pick up the remaining money and head indoors quickly.

The envelope is from Linda Hill. Inside is a message which reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “smooth.” 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/2026/02/27/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-feb-28-2026/

Smooth by John W. Howell, © 2026

“I guess word got around on your tipping habits.”

“The method of forcing a tip wasn’t very smooth.”

“On the contrary. I thought it was perfect.”

“You have a warped sense of perfection.”

“Well, I’m sure they knew you were going to give them a platatude  rather than hard cash.”

“Seems to me my tips are worth more than cash.”

“I wouldn’t take a poll on that if I were you.”

“Okay, let’s get on with the important stuff. Did you get an Uber?”

“Right over there.”

“Okay, so give me the bad news on the stops we have to make.”

“We only have to make one.”

“One? Hard to believe.”

“But there is a catch.”

“There is always a catch.”

“Yeah, we have to attend a funeral.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Can’t we just drop the flowers and be on our way?”

“No, the funeral home’s flower car broke down, so we have to transport the flowers from the church to the cemetery. ”

“Which means we have to be there for the service.”

“Yup. You have a black suit?”

“I’m not changing.”

“Fine. I’m sure the family will find those fuchsia colored shorts very comforting.”

“Sheesch. I’ll go change.”

“Lose the Go Steelers t-shirt too.”

Staggering to the machine with the hope of relief that a hot cup of aromatic, steaming elixir will bring to quell the flashing neon sign behind my eyes that says in bright red, “Low Caffeine warning.” Red is also the color of Valentine’s Day, and that wish of love is certainly part of this post as soon as the coffee is ready.

Finally, the cup is filled, and the first sip begins the process of serenity. An interruption occurs in the form of the Westminster chime cacophony courtesy of some dope not reading the “Do Not Ring The Bell” sign. A couple of heart-shaped treats thrown into the soundproof room preserves the integrity of the windows and crystal, which would otherwise be in jeopardy from the bark to St Louis response of Igor’s Hounds. Slamming the door brings peace back to the valley.

A check of the monitor reveals a baby in diapers carrying an envelope and a bow. It must be Cupid or a very deranged delivery person.  No need to go through the discussion about leaving the envelope, since the pattern is clear. With a sigh, the security shut-down process began.

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 locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.

The first thing Cupid does is hand me the envelope and a clipboard, which is signed and returned. The second thing he does is shoot me with an arrow to the heart. Love blooms on the porch. Cupid got a ten-dollar tip (clever boy). Inside the envelope is a note from Linda Hill. It reads: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “love.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun, and happy Valentine’s Day!

To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link: https://lindaghill.com/2026/02/13/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-feb-14-2026/

Love by John W. Howell © 2026

“Cupid, huh?”

“Yes, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Thank you, but please get that goofy look off your face.”

“I think it is the arrow.”

“Whatever it is, take it somewhere else.”

“A little afraid of brotherly love, I see.”

“It’s not the brotherly kind I’m worried about.”

“Oh, stop. I’m just filled with the day is all.”

“You should avoid those cupid myths.”

“He looked real.”

“Yeah. Like I look real.”

“Let’s not go there.”

“You’re right. You know what my love is right now?”

“Let me guess. VooDoo Ranger and the pub.”

“Bingo.”

“Uber?’

“Over there.”

“Wow. A 1967 Pontiac GTO. Love that.”

“Yes, and since it is Valentine’s Day, we get to go directly to the pub.”

“Love that color.”

“There’s that goofy look again.”

“Let’s just go.”

 

 

 

 

The machine delivers a nerve-saving cup of steaming elixir. The first sip signals the low caffeine warning horn inside my head that a new chapter of addiction satisfaction has begun. The second sip is accompanied by the ever-present Westminster chimes of the front doorbell, indicating another idiot ignoring the “do not ring the doorbell” sign that covers the doorbell.

The barking of Twiggy and Tempeste threatens to crack windows and plaster, so a bone is tossed into the soundproof room, and when the two hounds of Baskerville go inside, the door is slammed. The silence almost caused the eardrums to implode. A check of the security monitor predictably shows the image of someone who looks like Daffy Duck. The usual conversation takes place about a signature for an. envelope, so, 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 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 locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.

The duck points to a line on the clipboard for my signature. After signing, he gives me an envelope. Before his little web food gives the classic tip gesture, he gets the tip of the day. “Remember the Chinese proverb: ‘Be not afraid of growing slowly; be afraid only of standing still.'” Before the duck can react, the front door is locked and the security system reactivated.

The envelope is from Linda Hill. Inside is a message. It says, Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “chapter.” 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/2026/02/06/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-feb-7-2026/

Chapter by John W. Howell © 2026

“So, what’s the next chapter?”

“Next chapter of what?”

“Of our blogging lives.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You’ve been running this coffee bit for a while now.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Readers get tired.”

“Yes, they do, but each time we test the viability of this segment, it still has interest.”

“Gotta wonder why.”

“I think it is comfortable and usually has a smile or two connected with it.”

“Not to mention my contribution of the Uber.”

“Yes, a significant contribution.”

“How about that one over there?”

“Now we’re talking. That sedan is riding in style.”

“One thing, though.”

“Figures.”

“We have to go with the driver to a Bonny and Clyde biographic shoot.”

“Sounds like fun. Let’s go.”

“It should be, till the bullets fly.”

“You serious?”

“Naw, just playing with you.”

“Okay then. Let’s go.”

 

 

The coffee machine sits in silence, waiting for orders. As a hapless slave to a caffeine addiction, there is no way to tolerate a malfunction. Yet the message on the touch pad screen says, “Message 666 see owners manual.” Flipping through the pages, message 666 finally pops up before my caffeine-starved, red-rimmed eyes. “Take Another Look,” was all it said. Looking back at the touchpad screen, the message reads “Got Cha,” and then the menu appears. Shaking my head, the two coffee selections are made, and my patience is rewarded with an eight-ounce mug of brain-saving elixir.

One sip, and the Westminster chimes and Igor’s hounds all begin a cacophony that threatens the eardrums. A quick toss of doggie treats for each and the slamming of the door to the soundproof room brings silence to the Earth. A glance at the security monitor shows Frosty the Snowman on the porch. Of course, the attempt is made to have the delivery left, but as usual, a signature is needed. With a sigh, the security shut-down 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. 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 locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.

Frosty points to the clipboard where to sign. After he hands me an envelope and holds out a mitten hand in the classic tip gesture,  the tip of the day is delivered. “Better go and play before you melt away.” Stepping back through the front door, I give it a mighty slam. The envelope is from Linda Hill, and the message inside reads: Your prompt for #JusJoJan the 24th and Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “take another look.” 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/2026/01/23/the-friday-reminder-for-socs-jusjojan-2026-daily-prompt-for-jan-24th/

Take Another Look by John W. Howell © 2026

“What was Frosty the snowman doing in Texas?”

“Taking advantage of the below-freezing temperatures today, tomorrow, and Monday.”

“Wow. That’s not right. You Southerners aren’t built for that kind of weather.”

“No kidding. We wear knitted caps and gloves when it hits 50 degrees (10 C).”

“A bunch of weenies if you ask me.”

“You are the first to squeal when it hits 100 (37.7 C) in the summer.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Not Texans.”

“Whatever. We need to get to the pub, and the Uber is over there.”

“Wait a minute. We can’t go in that.”

“Why?”

“It only seats two, and it’s freezing out here.”

“Take another look. There is a backseat.”

“Who’s going to squeeze in there?”

“I will. There is one errand we have to make, though.”

“Uh huh. I thought so.”

“It’s an easy one.”

“What is it?”

“We need to drop off some moonshine on the way.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“No, this is a real-life Smoky and the Bandit.”

“Can I say no?”

“And miss a VooDoo Ranger?”

“My better judgment says, ‘Pass.” I’ll meet you at the pub.

“Okay, then I’ll stay with you. Let’s call another Uber.”

“Good thinking.”