I have to say the super dog looks set to catch the corn dog A lot more fun than the Millenium Wheel in London However, my granddaughter looking over my should said It looks like a giant fan. That would keep the room real cool She’s right, but I cannot imagine it in my living room I would love to take a ride on it with my granddaughter That night, as I slept on one of the hottest nights of the year With my microscopic fan, compared to the super dog Wishing so hard that a cool breeze would come and help me sleep If I could dream the breeze that crossed my bed then There would be no need for electric fans Thank God for hotdogs, as we call them The mind is a wonderful thing…
We didn’t want a big tree this Christmas, so when we saw this pretty fibre optic tree in the shop window, we took it home, content with our preparations.
The next time we went to town, we spotted a wonderful tree in a charity shop window. This was a small tree too, although quite different from the one we already had. Old fashioned ribbons and flowers gave it an old-world charm, as if it had come straight from a Dickens novel.
We had to buy it, even though we already had a tree.
It was decided that the Dickens tree would be in pride of place in our decorations, relegating the fibre optic tree to the dining room.
And this, as they say, is when the fun started.
On the first night, the fibre optic tree turned itself off at 10 pm. Puzzled, we checked the instructions, but it wasn’t supposed to do that. It hadn’t overheated either. Before we could turn it on the second day, it turned itself on and then off again at 10pm!
We made sure it was switched off, thinking it just a fluke, although it felt distinctly weird. We are quite used to weird in this house. Remember that red light reflecting on our window, the one we never could find the reason for?
The next night, we switched it on and waited. It felt uneasy, as if someone we couldn’t see was controlling the tree.
It was one of those trees that has the capability of a choice of different light patterns. Twinkling, fading and several other combinations. We only wanted the static light, so we were very glad it didn’t decide to muck about with the sequence too.
Despite the weirdness, we have kept the tree… and it has turned itself on every afternoon, and off in time for bed.
What would you have done in these circumstances, chucked it out or run for the hills?
I would never dream that my lady would abandon me here Her tears hit my handlebars with a pain remembered Where is she? Will anyone come, take me for their own? Would I ever see her again? I watched her walk away as if she has forgotten something Why not take me with her So much faster than two legs We have fresh bread, eggs in the basket It would have been eggs on toast for lunch Oh, how I hope she will be back soon To ride me home…
November 19, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that glorifies a toilet. Capture the marvel and status and love for a contraption we’d rather not mention.
I am old enough to remember sitting on an outdoor toilet, or privy as some people call them.
How dark it was in Winter, with spiders lurking, patiently waiting to drop on your head while you spent a penny.
If you go back far enough in time, hardly anyone had indoor plumbing. The age of an outdoor water pump and a tin bath in front of the fire. Just one bath full of warm water for everyone on the family to use.
I often used to wonder if the last person came out dirtier than when they went in!
Who decided we could eat such a thing? I cannot think of anything worse to put in my mouth Now that is a lie. I could probably write a long list Of things that should never go near anyone’s mouth Avocado, in my mind, must have been planted by aliens As some kind of April Fool’s joke Like lambs to the slaughter, humans went for it Chefs charge a fortune, look at me I have five stars This is what you get, soap on toast A nightmare on a rope My tip, don’t eat the stuff…
It was another Monday morning in front of the computer and I was asking myself the same old question. Why do I bother with any of it? Anything that could possibly go wrong usually does, and it was getting a bit wearing. Then my inner voice decided to join in the conversation.
Everyone feels like this sometimes, you are not unique you know…
Yes, I know we all have days when we think everything conspires against us, and life seems futile. Doesn’t help though.
You sound like a drama queen, one who is prone to over exaggeration…
I don’t think I have imagined the succession of near disasters that have played havoc with my life this year?
Okay, I will admit there have been one or two, but nothing to write home about…
How about my inability to successfully market anything. You have to admit I am hopeless?
Could be you’re just not smart enough, for it’s not exactly rocket science…
I can buy that one, for the results of my efforts speak for themselves.
You seem to be forgetting that you are OLD. That feeling of circling the drain is quite normal at your age you know…
There are days when I would agree, but others when I still feel competent enough for the job in hand.
But which of these days are the real ones, and not the ones that are the result of your own stupidity?
I know I have a few shortcomings, but there are also circumstances that are beyond my control.
Beyond your mental capacity, you mean…
A fine Jiminy Cricket you turned out to be, where is all the optimism, the encouragement?
I can only work with the material I have at my disposal. It’s not my fault if your grey matter isn’t up to scratch…
You know, all of this could be academic if my health gets any worse. I’m sure you have to agree that I am not imagining that?
I know it does all seem very real, but you have beaten the odds before, and will do again, I’m sure…
So, you would conduct my life differently, would you? You are coming across as a smug know-it-all, but you don’t drop any hints any more, do you? Isn’t that supposed to be part of your remit?
After a lifetime of trying my best for you, literally thousands of hints later, I have run out of ideas. Banging my head against a wall is definitely not my scene…
So I am on my own now, you are retiring?
You still have your instincts, even though they malfunction far too often. It has brought you this far, however…
“Some of us get to choose how we live our lives, whether to depend on our conscience, or wing it with instinct.
Heaven knows which is best, and I think it also knows what will happen to us. I could do with a ‘heads up’ round about now…”
September 17, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story of mice. It can feature any variety of the little critters in any situation. Are the the character or the inciting incident? Use any genre, including BOTS (based on a true story).
Milo, a little grey mouse With the heart of a giant He could stare down the largest cat And get away unscathed he would be sent out For the most timid of his clan His days were long and slow He wanted more. Dressed in his best suit Knapsack on his back He was off to the cries of “Don’t go Who will hunt for us, we’ll starve!” “I will teach Jacko before I go I must seek my fortune. If Mickey can make it big In Hollywood, Then so can I I will take Hollywood by storm someday…”
This prompt reminds me of the tall tales I used to tell my children when they were young Like, I never mind the rain, as I don’t get wet, because I can walk between the raindrops. Now I imagine walking under the bridge of water Just as they turned the power off The downpour of downpours Would hit me on the head Like divine retribution For the tall tales I told…