Thursday, October 31, 2013

A vision in a dream

Paul rolled his eyes, "Okay, let's say I accept the premise, how would it even work?"

Geoff gave an exasperated sigh," Okay, take this though and shoot him if he moves."

As the gun was pointed at Paul, the request seemed unrealistic, but Paul agreed and took the gun resting the end of the barrel on his chest, though he made sure to flip the safety on.  As this counted as movement, Paul pulled the trigger, though with the safety engaged nothing happened.  Well, at least he had tried. 

Geoff took no notice as he had been busy outlining the plan on the Etch A Sketch.  "Look, here are the stairs going up, and here is what it would look like if there was a squiggly line like a river or a mountain descending from the apex of the stairs."

It was hard to argue with anything Geoff had said, that is what it would look like in the situation he described. "Okay" Paul agreed, "go get started and I'll watch the door". 

Geoff ran out of the room and a few moments later the werewolf broke in the door and leapt into the room.  Paul immediately went back in time to a friendly judge who provided him with a restraining order against the werewolf, "Thanks Ally" said Paul bashfully. Judge Ally just shot him a shy smile and disappeared as Paul came back to the present.  He showed the restraining order to the werewolf who accepted it reluctantly and with head bowed he moped out of the house and paced out 100 yards, he slumped against a fallen tree next to Paul's ex-girlfriend and an IRS agent.

That would hold them for now.  Just then Geoff came back into the room wearing a suit of armor except for his hands which he had put into wooden Dutch shoes.  He ran around on all fours making a  loud clopping sound, for some time.

By now the fire that had begun in the barn had reached the main house and flames and smoke were fast filling the room.  They ran up the stairs and at the top they got in the kayak and started down the steep river, practically a waterfall. 

Rocks began exploding around them. "I knew the French couldn't be trusted!" Geoff yelled.  Paul pulled a baguette from his quiver and began the incantation to dispel the exploding French rocks.  The moon frowned a them and yelled "J'accuse!" before exploding itself.  The werewolves reverted to their human state and began to rebuild the lemonade stands.  Paul's ex-girlfriends also reverted back to their previous states and became his concurrent girlfriends.  Paul ran to them.

Geoff lay alone in the slowly sinking kayak, his blood adding a pinkish hue to the glacial water.  Cold and alone, just like the gypsy woman had said. 

Monday, February 20, 2012

On a Positive Note

The sun could not wait. It could not wait for the earth to spin a little bit farther on its axis so it could peek through his window and say hello. The sun was so excited. And there it was. "Peek-A-Boo!"

The sun peeked through his window and the warm rays alight upon his face woke him immediately. "Good morning, sun!" he beamed, "Good morning, day! How exciting and delightful to be alive." He bounded out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. "Good morning, teeth!" he grinned and his teeth grinned back at him. He gave them a thorough brushing and flossing, and let them swim in some mouth wash.

He glided into the shower and sang while the shower kept rhythm. He gave his towel a warm embrace and it snuggled deep into him. This was the towel's favorite part of the day. His clothes waited for him patiently but quivered with excitement to see the day's selection.

Dressed and clean he sped to the front door grabbing a banana and granola bar on his way out. His car beeped happily and unlocked for him and sped him off to another fun-filled day at work or school or play or wherever it is the cheerful people go.

Conventional Warfare

My Dearest Love,

I know not whether my last missive was able to break free from this dark hole and find its way to the device in your soft hands. We have been without service and though we can all see the name of a WiFi connection its password is withheld from us. I am starting to see the lights in the eyes of brave men and women go out as they see their phone's batteries die away, so I am writing this last message and then will turn off my phone so that perchance even if I do not survive this ordeal perhaps this last message will be brought to you with my remains. I know you will remember my password, your middle name with second letter capitalized and the digits 80, which would be a funny smiley face with one eye if you had held the shift key. I recall your laugh when I showed it you.

Though our captors brook no direct physical torment, their presentations and talks and PowerPoints go on and on and on without end. The chairs are not soft and seem to all be fixed at unnatural angles so as to destroy the posture of even the most conscientious. It becomes agony for the young and strong, and I can only imagine how the older members of this audience are feeling.

Bathroom breaks are permitted at irregular intervals but they are impossibly short and the facilities are too scarce for all to use in the time allotted.

We were kept awake most all of last night while they plied us with alcohol and surrounded us with strobing lights and pounding music. They called it a party and said we should be networking, but you could not see an other's face or hear their voice which may well have been their plan for all we would have done was create a network to enable escape.

Then this morning we were hauled back, unrested, many still poisoned from the prior evenings imbibery and too confused and weak to break for freedom. A heavy plastic placard hangs around our necks to identify us to any local resident should be ever break away and they would surely see that we were returned to this sorry group.

It is worse for the women whose shoes have fiendish spikes on their heels but are pressured to move with the same agility and alacrity as the sensibly shod. For many of them their time of rest was also diminished as their daily preparations were also more labor intensive.

Our focus and attention seems to be all that they crave, and soon they will have it all out of us. Once it is gone and they have no more use for us I do not know what they will do.

If they free us I will strive to come back to you, though they have spoken so much of eye contact that I fear they will take mine out before they release me. I pray that though I return blind our love will survive and you will find some place in your heart and your life for the wretch I will be.

To thee I commit these words and my eternal love,

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Cold and Alone and Autobiographical

He had expected the fall. Not before he began to surmount the glacier certainly, but a few minutes before it. Before he began he knew it was a possibility, but he put its probability in the low single digits. You could hardly call that expecting something. No, he had expected it when the winds had burst on him from out of nowhere like hell had turned on a blow dryer special made to freeze it over. He began to see sheets of ice falling from off the mountain and finally saw the ice where his own supports had been placed break away and he with them.

It was only seconds between when the wind started and when he fell, and it was in those seconds that he expected the fall.

He had not expected to survive it.

Somehow he had landed veritically, but he was buried in the snow, he could only move his arms, but he was in too deep and too weak to pull himself out. And he was freezing. He looked up at the sky that had been so welcoming earlier that day, and had like a dangerous lover recovered its kindly and smiling face now after it had wrecked its violence.

He thought of yelling, of screaming, of shrieking for help, but what good would it do? What good other than to be an embarassment when he finally gave up his own ghost and made the final ascent to join the frozen explorers who had proceeded him. Surely Mallory and Sandy would be waiting for him to join them in their endless treks through eternity.

Then he saw the golden head of his mother coming towards him. But this would be impossible, she was far away at home. And yet now he could see her coming closer and now he can feel her hands so much stronger than his under his arms as she pulls him out of the snow bank.

Damn these deep Provo gutters and damn the men who dug them so deep. He would have said, but would not have the prose to utter that curse for years to come.

Monday, February 13, 2012

The Rage of Enlightenment

The signals seemed to indicate a lack of interest in her part, but this was neither the time nor the place for snap judgments on my part. The signals needed to be taken to a lab where professionals could analyze them and tell me how she really felt. SO throughout the evening and over the next few days I collected the signals and placed them in individual bags making sure to place a label on the bag with the collection time, place, and any other pertinent details.

When I felt that I had enough, I loaded them up into my car and drove down to the lab. I was not at all nervous, either she loved me or she loved me not. The boys at the lab would pull the petals off give, me the results, and then (whatever the outcome) at least I would have a clear direction to take.

But as I sat in the lab's waiting room the minutes seemed to become interminable (or is it interminuteable?). When the lab doors swung open I jumped to my feet and I would have noticed that my heartbeat had quickened except that I was too preoccupied by the slumped shoulders and looks of discouragement on the faces of the scientists.

"We have some bad news."

"That's okay, if she's not interested she's not interested. I've lived with it before and I'll be okay. I'm just glad I know now so I don't make her feel uncomfortable and set myself up for further disappointment in the future"

"No, that's not it all. We would love to be able to tell you she's not interested, we would love to be able to tell you anything conclusively. Unfortunately, the tests were inconclusive. We thought we really had this process down, but we can't tell you anything for sure. The signals... are MIXED"

"Well, I'm not paying for this, I brought you everything you should need"

"Well, you are paying for it actually, because it wasn't our fault, you screwed it up when you collected the data. All of this stuff is covered with your own emotions. There wasn't one data point here that hadn't been contaminated with you affected affects."

"Hey, I'll handle the wordplay, you were just supposed to tell me whether she liked me or not"

"Well, maybe the data is inconclusive because she hasn't made any conclusions yet."

"So, what should I do?"

"What have you done in the past, in these situations"

"I've always found some way to screw it up. Usually I make the situation so uncomfortable we don't talk for a few years"

"Well, we have complete confidence that you will be able to do so again. Pay your bill on your way out and the cashier will validate your parking. If you don't pay your bill your parking doesn't get validated, the parking fees are higher than our bills."

Saturday, February 11, 2012

There Comes a Time. Where? THERE!

There comes a time in the life of a certain kind of man when he realizes that he will never see his dreams come true. They had seemed like such realistic dreams: To watch more episodes of The Office. To learn how to pronounce 'Zooey Deschanel'. To own more than 10 pairs of matching socks. To read a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Though now that he listed them in his mind, he wondered if he never pursued them because they were such mind-numbingly boring goals. Why would you ever take a few minutes out of your life to accomplish them? Especially if afterwards all you would have left is a sheet with lines and checks next to them and some pretty mundane achievements. Like that 3 months he spent visiting every country in Europe, or that novel he wrote, self-published, and then got a huge check for the movie rights, or his lovely wife, 3 beautiful children, and 6 terrific grandkids.

Maybe he should have tried something else in life. But it was too late now he thought just before his car finally landed in the ravine and the subsequent explosion burned him beyond all recognition.

Epilogue (pronounced A-pillow-gew)

His lovely wife wiped tears from her eyes as she went through his sock drawer, why had that man never had any matching socks? Every month she would buy him a pack of socks and somehow within days there would be no match.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

A Hero is Finnish /A Hero's Finish/ A Hero's Danish

There are wrong decisions. Decisons that are wrong. The wrong decision right now is to go to my closest Safeway and go to the bread aisle and surreptiousously and repititously walk up and down it until it is empty pretending like I am looking for some bread, and then grab the box of chocolate Entenmann donuts that I know are at the end of that aisle and buy them before anyone can see me and look down their nose at the chubby kid buying nothing but donuts.

There are right decisions. Decisions that are right. They include calling up acquantances and setting up some time to watch a movie or hang out, then going to the gym and spending some time on the treadmill. These are healthy options. But they would not taste delicious and they do not hold the same kind of thrall over me as the idea of having 12 dozen chocolate donuts all to myself and slowly devouring them as I let tv show episodes on netflix turn my mind into mush.
There are worse decisions, but they aren't very likely. There are even better decisions but those aren't very likely either. Right now there is a 70% chance I will get the donuts and a 25% chance that I will go do the gym. There is a 4% chance I will just stay here and read and go to bed. Because I feel like going out, but I also feel like being alone. I feel doing something, but I don't think I have any clean gym socks. And I have about 1/8 of a gallon of milk left in the fridge. It's almost like the stars are aligning themselves so as to make an arrow pointing at the end of the bread aisle at safeway. Almost as if the 10 pounds I have put on in the last 12 months and the other 10 pounds in the 12 before that are calling out for company.

The dying gallon of milk in the fridge is asking to have a hero's finish. To go down like it started, with a delicious chocolate donut.