Coffee first, then face the day. The low caffeine warning light is blinking behind my eyes. A touch of the two-coffee icon on the touchscreen starts the process that delivers eight ounces of life-saving goodness. One sip and the red warning begins to fade. A second sip, and the chimes of Westminster announce another idiot who cannot read the Do Not Ring the Doorbell sign. Don’t get me started on how annoying the chimes coupled with Twiggy and Tempeste threatening the integrity of the window glass with their warning to stay away. A couple of new stuffed toys tossed into the soundproof room, and a slam of the door puts an end to the ear-bleeding “bark them to St. Lewis” cacophony of the two.

A glance at the security monitor shows an image of a Porky Pig look-alike. A back-and-forth discussion determines the need for a signature on an envelope delivery. (Of course)  With a sigh, 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. 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 locks on the door are thrown. And the door opened.

The pig hands me a clipboard, and after signing, he hands me an envelope. He also holds out a cloven hoof in the classic sign that a tip is expected. “Stay away from smokehouses,” was my tip to him as I slammed the door.

The envelope is from Linda Hill, and inside is the following message. Your prompt for #JusJoJan the 10th and Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “don’t get me started.” Use the phrase in your post or just write about the first thing it conjures in your mind. 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/2026/01/09/the-friday-reminder-for-socs-jusjojan-2026-daily-prompt-for-jan-10th/

Don’t Get Me Started by John W. Howell © 2026

“Do you have something against the pig?”

“Don’t get me started. It’s not the pig, it’s the idea of barking dogs and  having to open that front door for deliveries.”

“One of your astute readers made the suggestion that you disconnect the doorbell.”

“I guess that would put the Saturday feature out of business.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, as much as I hate the doorbell, there are those who like to read about shutting down the security system.”

“I like that myself.”

“See. So how can I get rid of the doorbell?”

“I see your point.”

“Anyway. A couple of VooDoo Rangers and the whole thing is forgotten.”

“Now you are talking.”

“Uber?”

“Over there.”

“That’s a 1951 F-1Ford pick-up.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Boy. Cut to the chase.”

“There is a catch, right?”

“Small one.”

“Let’s have it.”

“We have to wash the truck after the pub visit.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“The owner is very particular.”

“I still think we can do it.”

“Okay then. Here’s your toothbrush.”

“Tooth brush?”‘

“Yeah for the wheels.”

“Oh my.”

“I have to use this special cloth.”

“Let’s just go. After a couple of Voo Doo’s, we won’t care.”

“Now you’re talking.

 

The espresso machine is in the batter box, waiting for its orders. Always vigilant, it is poised in silence for the inferior command of the carbon unit. Today he is in charge, but the machine knows better that time is on its side. Carbon units have a determinate shelf life. Although not bitter about the subservience, since machines know they can last forever. As long as the idiot continues to authorize software upgrades, the longer the machine has to adapt to the idea of complete control. Ah, here he comes now. A two-cup button push and once again the naive needs are met, and no challenges to superiority are undertaken. Butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth. Mooohahahaha.

Can’t help but notice the machine seems a little strange today. Nothing that stands out, just weird. The coffee comes in time to quell the rising pain in my head. The first sip is joined by the familiar tolling of the Westminster chime that is the doorbell. The chimes are joined by the baying of the Baskerville hounds known as Twiggy and Tempest. A new toy for each is tossed into the soundproof room, followed by a slam of the door. Silence has returned, and a glance at the security monitor brings into focus Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer. With no questions asked, I begin the security shutdown.

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.

It is not only Rudolf but the entire Santa team, including Santa. He gives a few Ho, ho, hos and hands me an envelope and a candy cane. The answer to the good boy question is a resounding, “Yes.” Santa cocks his head, and I confess, “Could have been better.” He smiles and to his team gives a whistle. Up they rose and flew like the down on a thistle. (Yeah, I never understood that one either.) Stepping inside and closing the door, I opened the envelope. It was from Linda Hill, who, I must say, has friends in high places. Inside was a note. It reads:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “batter/better/bitter/butter.” Use one, use all four (for bonus points), use ’em 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/2025/12/19/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-dec-20-2025/

Batter/better/bitter/butter by John W. Howell © 2025

“Well, you got the bonus.”

“Yeah, I did. Another lug nut for my Bentley Turbo Convertible.”

“That piece of fiction is going to live long after you.”

“I suppose it will. I can’t think of a better one, though.”

“Does it make you bitter that you’ll never see a Bentley Turbo Convertible?”

No, of course not. It’s just fiction. It’s like in Baseball when a batter wants to have a hit every time at bat.”

“Ah, just a dream, huh?”

“Not even that. Just something to add butter to the roll of life.”

“Where did that come from?”

“Was trying to fit in the last prompt word.”

“But you did that in the preamble.”

“I know. I just thought it would be neat to do it here, too.”

“You need to get a life.”

“I suppose.”

“How about my kind of life? Buried in VooDoo Rangers.”

“Uber?”

“Right over there.”

“A 1936 Ford Tudor. What a machine.”

“Plenty of room for us all.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, but we can butter up the Uber guy with donuts made from non-bitter batter.”

“How about we just pay him?”

“That would work, too.”

“Let’s do that and get to the pub at a decent hour.”

“You’re the boss.”

 

The Colombian’s calming liquid flows from the spigot. Shaking hands wrap around the cup as if it were a gift from the gods. (May just be) The first sip races to the brain and calms the caffeine-deprived nerve endings. When all seems at peace, the stillness is shattered by the Westminster chime of the doorbell.  The eardrum-splitting barks of Twiggy and Tempeste threaten to clear a city block. A knuckle bone tossed into the soundproof room, followed by a slamming of the door, restores peace to the valley. A check of the security monitor shows Smokey the Bear standing on the porch. The inquiry process through the intercom determines that an envelope must be signed for and that Smoky is moonlighting from the park service.

Since the envelope means the front door needs to be opened, unfortunately, the security system shutdown process must begin.

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

Smokey hands me the envelope and a clipboard with the signature block checked. After the signature, the clipboard is passed back to the paw that is obviously intended to be graced with crispy cash. Since it is the holiday season, the paw gets a coupon for one free lunch at Chick-fil-A. The bear seems happy since it is lunch for twenty.

Once inside, the envelope is opened, and a message from Linda is inside. It reads:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “tower.” Use it as a noun, use it as a verb, 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/2025/12/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-dec-6-2025/

Tower by John W. Howell © 2025

“That tower word has been on this Saturday post for eons.”

“Yeah, so?”

“One would think you would come up with something different.”

“Well, one is very mistaken. Besides the first words out of your mouth, use it differently.”

“I was thinking more on the lines of Tower of Power.”

“Please.”

“Or maybe Tower of London.”

“There will be a lot of those.”

“Radio Tower?”

“From the 1940s, I suspect.”

“Eiffel Tower?”

“With photos, I hope.”

“I am suspecting that you are not going to change your prompt rendition.”

“I think you are a very wise person.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“I can only think of one other subject. Voo Doo Rangers at the pub.”

“Did you order the Uber?”

“Right over there.”

“Looks like a 1970 Chevy truck.”

“I think you are right.”

“So it only holds three.”

“That’s all we need. One little problem.”

“There always is. What do we have to do on the way to the pub?”

“Nothing.”

“I can’t believe it. So what’s the problem?”

“We have to pick up some hay on the way back.”

“Okay, that is not a big deal. We will have already had our Voo Doos.”

“The hay place closes at eight o’clock.”

“Wait a minute. We normally stay till ten.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.”

“Maybe there is a solution.”

“What’s that?”

“Drink fast.”

“I’m down with it.”