Random Story – Missed photo

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Back in February, something got into our coop and killed all of our chickens.  After some repairs, we got a bunch of new chicks.  About a month ago, I was putting them in for the night when one of the little roosters stopped at the door, and crowed.  Well, he tried to crow.  It was more like a cough. 

After laughing for a bit, I thought it would have been great if I had recorded it.  Of course, I’m one of those weird people who can put their phone down for hours.  At the time, my phone was back in the house because, why would I need it if I’m just going out for five minutes to put the chickens in?  While thinking on this, I remembered a story of a photo I was about ten seconds too late to capture.

I forget exactly when this happened, but it was like fifteen years ago.  At the time, in addition to chickens we also had some ducks.  We also had a dog, and one of their toys was a mostly deflated innertube.  We’d throw it, and he’d bite it and give it a good shake. 

So I was in my room – maybe working on a story, I don’t remember – and I looked out the window to our backyard.  In the middle of the yard was the innertube, and walking right towards it was one of the ducks.  I expected the duck to go around it, but instead it kept marching straight.  I was further surprised when it stopped for a few seconds inside the innertube.  I scrambled to grab the digital camera I had back then, but before I could turn it on, the duck scrambled out of the innertube and continued on their way. 

That’s the story of how I missed taking a photo of a duck, sitting in an innertube, in the middle of a yard.  If I had managed to get a photo of it, I’m sure I would have posted it with a thought bubble of the duck going, “Something isn’t right.”

Random Story – Bottle cap battles

This is just an odd little story from my life.

When I was in high school in the early 90’s, the bus would pick up one group of kids that lived in town and take them home, and then come back and pick up us kids who lived out in the boonies.  And given that our bus driver was old and drove very slowly, it was usually half and hour or more after school ended that we finally got on the bus to go home.  So we had time to kill.  Sometimes, I’d hang out in the computer room for another ten minutes or so until the teacher finally kicked me out, or I’d take the time to clean my locker, or whatever.  Sometimes, some friends and I would walk a couple blocks into town to buy candy or cards and then get back for the bus.  But most afternoons we just stood around and goofed off. 

One way we goofed off began by accident.  I think what happened is one of us had a bottle of pop (I’m from that part of the country) and dropped the lid.  Someone else “pretended” to stomp on it, for some reason, but they just missed and they caught the edge of the bottle cap with the edge of their shoe.  The result was the cap went flying five or so feet.  Which we found pretty funny, so we started doing it on purpose.  You put the cap open side up, and just put the edge of your shoe on it, and then do a quick press down.  Sometimes, the cap would just fly up and hit our nuts, but usually it would fly off across the hallway.  So we started having bottle cap battles trying to hit each other.  If they connected, it was just a little thump.  At worst, if they hit your arm, you might have a bit of a red mark for five minutes. 

After a dozen or so flights, the caps would start to deform, meaning they didn’t fly as far or as well.  So we would save caps from the week or dig in the trash for some to have one big battle with five or six caps whizzing around.  We did this, off and on for a couple of years.

It was probably a decade ago, I remembered this, so I got a cap to relive my youth.  But I don’t know if they’re using softer material in caps, or shoes, or what, because I could only get a cap to fly a foot or two.  Either that or there’s some basic step I’ve forgotten.

Short story – “The Unerring Word”

“The Unerring Word”

“Ria, how’s eternity treating you?”

“Hey Oaoex.  Same old, same old.  I managed to appear in a vision to a human last week, but then he was put in a mental institution.”

“That sucks.”

“I know.  I mean, what’s the point of being a god if you can’t get people to believe in you.  Anyway, what are you up to?  Appear in any visions?”

“No.  I’m trying a different approach.”

“Really?  What?”

“I started a blog.”

“A what?”

“It’s a way for humans to read my message as I intend, without anyone botching the translation.”

“Hey, what’s done is done.  Let it go.”

“A pox upon middle men.”

***

Image from Pixabay.

Random Story – We no longer know each other

This is just an odd little story from my life.

When I was in college back in the mid to late 90’s, I had a summer job for a natural gas company.  There were six or so of us college kids who mowed yards, painted water tanks, and did other odds and ends.  One of these fellow Summerhelp was this woman who did not get along with me.  Mainly because I was always picking on her, because it was fun. 

Looking back older, wiser, and less of an asshole, I would say that my picking on her wasn’t bullying.  It was more along the lines of an older brother being annoying.  As an example, one of the few things I remember is at one point she needed some minor surgery and one of the things she was worried about was paying for it.  So I, standing six or so feet from her, took out my pocket knife and – not using it in a threatening manner – said I would do it much cheaper.  I don’t remember her exact response, but it was probably something akin to rolling her eyes.

Anyway, this Summerhelp program was only open to kids in college, and I think we were both graduating so it was our final summer there.  And her last day was a week or so before my last day.  For some time I wondered what I should do as a “going away” present, and I finally decided to go up to her just before she left and say, “In ten years, we’ll be glad we no longer know each other.” I thought I was pretty smart for thinking up such a perfect way to sum our relationship up.

For a week or so, I patiently bided my time.  And then her last day came.  And I waited, and I think I went to do something and figured to tell her when I came back, but when I came back I learned that she left an hour early. 

Over the twenty-plus years since, I’ll randomly remember this and feel slightly disappointed I didn’t get to say my brilliant line.  But I also wonder, if I had gotten to say it, would I eventually forget about it?  After ten years or so, would I have forgotten all about her and do I still remember her just because she, accidentally, out tricked me? 

I know people who know people who could look her up.  But what would be the point?  It’s almost certainly a safe bet that she doesn’t remember me.  Twenty some years later, I still have the occasional regret about her, and she’s oblivious to ever knowing me.

An Emergency Time Travel Kit

 

Whenever I read a book or watch a movie or show set in some historical period – the US Civil War, the Crusades, Ancient Rome, whatever – I often wonder how I would react if a time portal opened up before me and I ended up in that time. (Hey, I’m sure your random thoughts make sense.) As I think through options on ways to keep from being killed when stumbling into, say, a Viking village, I figure it would be good to have a kit with a few modern items to help me survive. So here’s a few ideas for anyone who wants to put together an emergency time travel kit. A downside would be having to carry this kit with you all the time since you never know when a random time portal will open up.

1. A first aid kit. Just in general having aspirin and anti-diarrhea medicine would make spending time in the past more livable. Included in this would naturally be any medicine you’re taking, as well as other odd items like toilet paper and condoms.

2. A pistol. If the time portal drops you off in a time before gun powder, being able to make a loud noise – not to mention kill people at a distance – will probably get you labeled as a wizard. While it may not be ethical to allow this deception to continue, it may keep you alive. Of course, if movies have taught us anything, there will probably be a bad guy who will try to take your “power” so that they can rule. A way around that would be to have a smart gun. These are guns that can only be fired by a person who wears a special watch, has a chip implanted in their hand, or who has the right fingerprints. Such guns are not common, or are still being developed, but would be perfect for the accidental time traveler.

3. Some gifts and other trinkets. Depending on how far back you go, the people you run into – if you run into people – will probably be led by some form of chief. It may be useful to have some trinkets to show your good will. For example, a folding knife with a six-inch blade or longer. The folding ability may intrigue them, and the quality of the blade will probably be better than anything they have. Something else that may interest them is a bottle of vodka. If nothing else, it can be a disinfectant part of your first aid kit. Other simple trinkets that may amaze the people of the time could be things like a mirror, or a slinky.

4. A phone or tablet. Most things today have a built-in camera, which would be amazing even up to a few decades ago. There could be other useful features, but one issue is that there would be no access to the internet. So everything would have to be stored on the device itself. Maybe some music videos (Van Halen, perhaps?) to further amaze the people. One thing to keep in mind as you select your music are the lyrics. A large chunk of today’s music would probably be considered scandalous a century ago. Not to mention what phrases you might introduce into the language if you went back to when your language was first evolving. 

5. A recharger. Your electronic gadget – and possibly your smart gun – is good only as long as it has power. So having a way to recharge it with solar cells or a hand crank – preferably both – would be necessary.

So there are a few ideas for your emergency time travel kit. One note on this, I am a male, so in general I’m probably “safe” traveling through time. Women, I’m sure, would have a much harder time of it, but I think in general such a kit would still work for them. Maybe. If not, let me know what items would improve it.

***

Image from Pixabay.

Random Story – The 100-year tweet

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Over ten years ago, back when Twitter was a thing and relevant, I found a service that let you schedule your tweets.  There was a calendar, and you just picked the date you wanted for your tweet, and then you set the time and everything.  To post something in the next month, you had to click on the “Next Month” button. 

One night, I guess I was feeling a little silly, so I clicked the “Next Month” button twelve times, and scheduled a tweet to post in one year.  I forget what exactly I said, but it was something like, “I scheduled this tweet a year ago.  Do you guys have flying cars yet?” Over the next year, I patiently waited for it to be posted.  And I think someone did make a sarcastic reply about flying cars, so this one-year tweet served its purpose.

But a day or so after scheduling the one-year tweet, I was wondering if I should do a five-year, or maybe even a ten-year tweet.  Then I figured, why not go all in.  I don’t know how long it took me, but I clicked the “Next Month” button 1,200 times so I could schedule a tweet in … June 2112, or whatever.  I forget what I wrote, but I think it was something like, “I scheduled this tweet 100 years ago.  Is Twitter still a thing?  Is the internet still a thing?”

Unfortunately, my 100-year tweet will never be posted.  Mainly because I think it was about six months after my one-year tweet posted the service went belly up.  I don’t know if there is some digital archive that holds all the tweets they never got to post or if all that was just deleted. 

I’ve sat here for about five minutes trying to think of some thought-provoking thing to say about the impermanence of … well, everything.  But I got nothing.

An Elon Musk Joke

About a week ago, I came up with a little joke about Elon Musk.  To tell the joke, I’d need to slightly photoshop four images.  The problem, while I could easily find two of the images, I had a hard time finding appropriate ones for the other two.  I guess I don’t know how to search for anything now.  Years ago, I’d do an image search for fire and get a bunch of images of flames.  Now I search for fire, and I get images of … glasses of water.  Anyway, after spending twenty or so minutes not getting anywhere in my image searches, I thought the images could just be cartoons.  But my cartooning skills are way worse than my poor photoshopping skills.  So I could write this joke, but I couldn’t illustrate it.  Which brings us to this blog.  I will lay out the joke, and if anyone has the modicum of skill needed to illustrate it, go for it.

This joke has four panels, and is called, “What I imagine it is like working at Tesla.” The first panel show Elon on some stage saying, “And … ah … in six months, we’ll have … ah … flying cars.” The first version of the second panel had some frantic engineer screaming, “Will you shut the fuck up!” but I think a funnier version has a group of Tesla engineers in a conference room all with their heads in their hands and someone saying, “Will someone please take the microphone from him.” The third panel says “Ten years later” and shows a smoking, car-sized crater in the desert.  The fourth panel shows a deranged Elon saying, “Gimme $60 billion for my genius!”

Short story – “How Did They Get Our Number?”

“How Did They Get Our Number?”

“There he is.”

Mario waved to his three friends sitting at an outside table of the Brew Haus.  “Hey guys.  Sorry I’m late, I had a hell of a time finding a parking spot.”

Jason replied, “Sure, sure.  We were talking about the big tackle last night.  What did you think?”

“Oh, it was a thing of beauty.”

Greg shook his head.  “You’re just happy that it wasn’t-”

A piercing tone filled the air, causing everyone to clap their hands over their ears, although that didn’t seem to help.

After a few seconds it stopped.  Then what sounded like a computerized woman’s voice began speaking.  “Greetings sentient beings of Planet 23411341234.978.  I am,” what followed sounded like a slowed down version of a cat in a blender.  The voice then continued, “I am broadcasting this message to the minds of all sentients on the planet.  I represent this sector of the galaxy in the Galactic Congress.  We have just become aware of your existence and welcome you to the community of planets.  I’m sure you have many questions, and as your representative, I will work to answer them and help you in any way I can.  We will be in touch with further information.”

For several seconds there was only silence.  Mario looked at his friends.  “Did you all-”

Before he could finish, there was another piercing tone.  Then a different computerized female voice said, “Greetings sentient beings of Planet 23411341234.978.  I am,” this time the following sound was an ear-splitting screech.  The voice went on with, “I am running to replace [cat in blender sound] as your representative.  [Cat in blender sound] has repeatedly failed this sector of the galaxy by advocating war with the Andromeda Galaxy and fighting against the rights of,” then came what sounded like a drawn-out fart.  “The election,” the voice continued, “is only 8.7 of your years away, but I hope I can count on your support.  I will be sending you additional information shortly.”

“This has to be some kind of joke,” Jason said.

“But who would-” Mario began, but he was cut off by another piercing tone.

A computerized male voice began, “Greetings sentient beings of Planet 23411341234.978.  I am ….”

***

I first wrote this story back in the spring of 2012.  Back in those days, a never-ending stream of political ads seemed like one of the worst things politics could do to us.  Oh, for a simpler age.

He is a real cat

I live on the small farm I grew up on, and for the majority of the last forty-some years, we’ve had barn cats.  Basically, we feed them, but we hope they supplement their cat food with mice.  Well, our last cat had died and we’d gone without a barn cat for a year or so, when one night two or three years ago our dog was barking up a tree.  With my flashlight I saw a strange cat up the tree.  I took our dog in and told my dad there was a cat around.  Over the next few weeks we saw it a couple more times, so we started leaving food out for it.  And over a couple of months, it got used to us enough that we could pet it.  My dad managed to pick it up and see it was a boy cat, so my mom gave him the name Tommy.

We don’t know where he came from.  It’s possible someone didn’t want to him anymore so they dumped out in the country, it’s hard to say.  He is friendly, and will rub up against our legs, or our dog, but other times he’ll be real skittish. 

At first, we fed him in the barn, but we eventually moved to feeding him in one of our sheds.  It’s closer to the house and easier to get to in bad weather, not to mention far less drafty than our old barn.  He has some boxes and old pillows to sleep.  We also keep some chicken feed in the shed, and we hoped he’d keep mice out of it, but it turns out he isn’t much of a mouser.

Anyway, around last summer he started disappearing for a day or two.  I figured he was just trying to find a girlfriend.  These disappearances happened maybe once a month or so, and usually only a day or two.  Back around the beginning of December, he was away for three or four days.  I was starting to get a bit worried, when one night I went to get some chicken feed and he was back, but with a bit of a limp.  So I gave him extra food, and hoped he’d stay where it was dry and warm and heal up, especially since we were supposed to get a storm that night.  But the next morning he was gone. 

Some two weeks later, without seeing him at all, I feared the worse.  Well, I think it might have been December 31st, I went to feed our chickens.  But we were very low on chicken feed, and I figured I could stretch it out a couple days with this quarter of a bag of cat food we had no use for.  I got a full scoop of the cat food and went out.  The chickens all gathered around me, so I sprinkled a bit out, then went to throw some potato skins into our compost pile.  When I came back a minute later to put the rest of the cat food in for the chickens, there was Tommy walking across our driveway, without any limp.  I called him and he came running, and I put the food in for him.  As he ate, I told him he must be a real cat: he found out I was giving away his food so he came back.

Later, I found out that my dad had seen him a couple of times in those two weeks.  We don’t know if someone else was feeding him, because he seems a bit fatter, but for some reason he must prefer staying on our farm.

A black and white cat sleeping on a sunny day in the fall.

Random Story – Three quick stories

These are just three, odd little stories from my life.

Serial Killer

Years ago, I showed up to the apartment of the woman I was dating at the time, and she told me that she had been watching some daytime talk show and the topic was something like, “Ten signs your child may grow up to be a serial killer.” She said I had nine of the signs.  I almost asked, “What am I missing?” but I knew better. 

Honestly, this shouldn’t be taken seriously.  First off, I’m a white male, so that’s probably two signs right there.  Not to mention she was the type that once she thought something, just about no amount of evidence would convince her otherwise.  I’m sure if I had asked her what signs I had, probably five or six of them wouldn’t be true or would be taken waaaay out of proportion.

Would you lie to me? 

In my senior year of high school, we got class rings.  (I don’t know if schools still do that or not.  At the time they seemed important, but mine is probably in a box in the attic.  If I had to guess, I’d say the last time I saw it was probably twenty-some years ago when I came across it cleaning.)  Anyway, this one friend of mine would take his ring off in study hall and leave it on his desk.  When he wasn’t looking, another friend would grab it and start passing it around.  I sat at the end of the row, and I usually ended up with it.  This happened day, after day, after day.  One day, our friend snagged the ring and started passing it around, but I DID NOT END UP WITH IT.  But this guy told the teacher that I had his ring.  So she asked, “Steve, do you have Guy’s ring?” I honestly replied, “No.” She then asked, “Would you lie to me?” After a second or so, I honestly answered, “Yeah.” One of our friends – who I think did have the ring – almost fell on the floor laughing.  The teacher wasn’t sure what to say to that. 

Killing time

Over twelve years ago, I worked in a lab for a company that made industrial lubricants.  Sometimes, I’d run tests that took twenty or so minutes to set up, and then they’d run for an hour and there wasn’t anything I could do while they ran.  So I ended up with a lot of free time.  One of the things I’d do to kill time, was go to the store room to “get supplies.”

In the store room there were a bunch of plastic binding strips that had been used on the packaging just laying around.  Out of boredom, I started weaving these into the holes on the metal shelves.  

As you can see, I still have pictures of these.  I did this over several months, and as far as I know nobody ever mentioned it.  I wonder if they’re still there.

Short story – “Puppy Wuppy”

“Puppy Wuppy”

Jason ran into the kitchen and shouted, “This is it Sharon!  I’ve finally done it.”

Without looking up from her phone, Sharon asked, “What is it this time?”

“It’s a Human/Canine Translator.  Now dog owners will be able to have conversations with their dog.  We’ll make millions!”

Six months later

Sharon looked across the kitchen table at Jason and stated, “I want a divorce.”

Jason mumbled something in reply, barely lifting his head off the stack of legal documents. 

“‘We’ll make millions,’ you said,” she mocked.  “‘Every dog owner will want to have a conversation with their dog,’ you said.  ‘This is too big of a thing, if I took the time to do a full scale test one of the big tech companies would come in and steal my idea,’ you said.  Well maybe you should have let them steal the stupid idea.  Or better yet have done the full scale testing and discovered that half the dogs in America think their owners are idiots because they already talk to them like little babies.”

Her voice had steadily rose during her speech, but she paused for a moment to take a deep breath.  “You’re brilliant,” she said.  “You were able to imagine and then build a translator for people and dogs.  Yet you never took the time to think through how things work in the real world.  Yes, some dog owners bought the device to talk to their dog.  But then there were the paparazzi who bought them to get dirt on celebrities from their dogs.  Then police bought them because you don’t need a search warrant to talk to a dog about anything weird going on in a house.  And don’t get me started on the bestiality freaks.  And with countless people incensed at perceived invasions of privacy, the lawyers came out of the woodwork and they all figured out new and inventive ways to sue you.”

Sharon reached across the table and took Jason’s hand.  He didn’t lift his head.  “For eight years,” she said, “I’ve put up with your crazy schemes and inventions.  It took one of them to work for me to realize, I’ve had enough.”

***

I posted this years ago on a now defunct site.  I came across it while cleaning some folders and thought it needed to see the light of day again.  The idea came one time when I was trying to calm our old dog and wondered what he would have said if he could talk.  I realized how quickly any “puppy wuppy” stuff would become annoying.

Random Story – The teacher flipped us off

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Back in seventh or eighth grade, one day in – maybe history class – we had a substitute teacher.  To a seventh grader, she looked to be ninety, and she had a bit of a temper.  Older siblings had passed down the cruel nickname of Porkchop for her.  (I honestly can’t remember what her name was.)

Anyway, she’s teaching and she says something along the lines of there are five points to remember.  She raised her left hand with all her fingers held out.  With her right forefinger, she touched her pinky then folded it down while saying, “The first thing ….” We sat there and took notes.  For the second thing, she touched her ring finger and folded it, and we sat there taking notes.  But when it came time for the third thing, she touched her thumb.

So there she was, sitting in front of the class with her left hand held up with her fore and middle fingers up talking on about whatever.  And us students were all glancing at one another wondering which finger would she put down next.  And when she finally got the fourth thing, she touched her forefinger.

Now she’s in front of the class with her bony middle finger up to all of us, and we’re sitting there not believing it’s happening and trying not to laugh because we’d probably get sent to the office if we did.  And when the class ended like ten minutes later, we all rushed out and were laughing in the hall saying, “I can’t believe Porkchop flipped us off.”

At the time, I – and probably all of us – just figured she was old and didn’t know what she was doing.  But as an adult who knows some teachers, she probably just wanted to flip all of us asshole kids off.

Short story – “You Can Do Better”

“You Can Do Better”

Heading back to her desk with a cup of tea, Carol stopped at Mike’s cubicle.  “What’s new?” she asked.

Mike typed for a few more seconds then saved his work.  Spinning his chair around to face her he replied, “Not much.  But as I drove in this morning I had an idea for a new holiday.”

Carol blew on her tea.  “Oh, for what?”

“Well, you know how annoying the lovey-dovey crap gets in the week before Valentine’s Day?”

“Annoying?”

“Well, maybe not for happy couples like you and Dave, but for most people the days leading up to Valentine’s Day are almost sickening.  So I was thinking of making a day for the opposite.  I figured February 21st could be, I don’t know, ‘You can do better’ Day.  Basically, after weeks of the lovey-dovey crap, there should be at least one week of commercials for divorce lawyers and stores could put out their ‘I no longer love you’ cards.”

Carol smiled.  “Are we a tad bitter about being single on Valentine’s Day?”

Mike shrugged.  “Hey, if all you happy couples can rub your joy in the faces of everyone else, why can’t we rub our misery back?”

***

Even when I was in a relationship I didn’t care for all the lovey-dovey crap around Valentine’s Day.  And I can’t be the only one who’d get a chuckle out of a “You can do better” Day. 

I first wrote this years ago on a now defunct website.  I came across it during some cleaning, and figured I should repost it.

Random Story – The power of a raised eyebrow

This is just an odd little story from my life.

I called this “The power of a raised eyebrow,” because I figured “That time I made a woman laugh hysterically for five minutes just by raising an eyebrow,” was a bit too long.

Back when I was in college, I was in a small club.  One time, we needed to make some money for some project, so we were going to have a bake sale.  A couple of our members had an apartment off campus, so a bunch of us showed up there one afternoon to bake four or five batches of cupcakes.  At one point during the evening, everyone else was in the living room looking at … something, and one woman and I were left in the kitchen.  I can’t remember what I was doing, but she was mixing up some batter by hand.  She did some furious mixing, and then stopped and panted a bit.  I gave her a confused look, and she replied, “You try beating something for five minutes.” That’s when I raised an eyebrow, and she laughed hysterically for five minutes, leaving the rest of the group wondering what we were doing.

Random Story – Make them work for it

This is just an odd little story from my life.

With Christmas coming, I figured I’d let you know some wrapping tricks, in case you’re so inclined.

In my family, usually at Thanksgiving we’ll pick names for Christmas.  Sometimes there are shenanigans so that Person X will pick Person Y’s name so they can do some devious wrapping.  I usually just do devious wrapping on whoever I get.

A couple years ago, I picked one of my nephews.  I thought for a bit, and came up with an idea.  When we got together for Christmas, he got a wrapped box.  He took the wrapping off to find the box duct taped shut.  He dug through that, to find another duct taped box inside.  He dug through that, to find a third duct taped box.  Inside that, he found a clump of duct tape wrapping something the size of a gift card.  He got all that duct tape off to find a piece of cardboard, about the size of a gift card.  This confused him.  So that was when I walked over and handed him the gift card out of my pocket and said something like, “I guess I forgot to put it in.” I know my brother, his dad, got a good laugh out of it.

A related scheme, I think a few years earlier I got my other brother and I wrapped three or four boxes.  But I did put his gift card in it, I just tucked it under some crumpled newspaper in the outermost box.  So he dug through two duct taped boxes to find … nothing.  I then had to show him the gift card in the outermost box.  He got a chuckle out of it. 

Short story – “Tricked”

“Tricked”

When her doorbell rang, Mable shuffled towards the door.  She opened it to see a young man dressed as a pirate, and a kid dressed in a full-body Minion outfit from those movies her grandkids loved so much.  The Minion held out a pumpkin bucket and in a soft, muffled voice said, “Trick or treat.”

“Aren’t you adorable,” Mable said with a smile.  “And what’s your name?”

The Minion pulled the bucket back a bit, but didn’t answer.

The pirate patted him on the head and said, “Billy.  He’s just a little shy.”

“I have a grandson that’s the same way.” Mable chuckled as she dropped a handful of mini candy bars into the bucket.

“What do you say?” the pirate asked.

“Thank you,” came the soft, muffled voice.

“You’re very welcomed, Billy,” Mable said.

The pirate smiled and told Mable, “Have a Happy Halloween.”

#

Out on the sidewalk, in his regular voice Bill said, “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Tom, the pirate, replied, “Hey, we split the candy and I’ll buy you a beer later.”

“This is so humiliating.”

Tom smacked his shoulder.  “You brought a smile to an old lady’s face.  Because of that will they kick you out of the Little People Society?” After a moment, Tom gave an evil grin.  “I know they have short fuses, but come on.”

Bill stopped and looked up at Tom for a moment.  Lifting the bucket he stated, “For every short joke you tell tonight, I’m taking a piece of your candy.”

Tom nodded.  “I guess that’s a small price to pay.”

“That’s two,” Bill told him.

Putting his arm around Bill, Tom said, “Well then, we’re going to have to hit a lot of houses for me to get any candy tonight.”

They walked to the next house with Bill muttering words children shouldn’t use.  

***

This story was written in 2015 on a site that I no longer post to.  I recently remembered it, and I decided to revise and repost it.  I don’t really remember the origin of this story, which is probably for the best.

Random Story – Stupid smoke detector

This is just an odd little story from my life.

My first apartment was in this old house that had been split up into six or seven apartments.  My door was on the second floor, but it opened to a set of stairs that went up to the third floor which was all mine.  A few months after I moved in, I got a crappy midnight-to-eight job at a convenience store.  I’m a bit of a night owl, so the hours didn’t really bother me.  Except during the summer.  I didn’t have air conditioning and, since I sleep best when it’s dark, I had thick curtains over my windows so I couldn’t get a breeze and my bedroom became a little oven.  Also, it seemed there were times when I would just be about to fall asleep and some neighbor would decide to mow their yard. 

Anyway, one day I’m about to fall asleep when I hear a faint chirp.  This repeats a few times, and then I realize it’s a low battery alarm on a smoke detector.  I got up and check my smoke detector, but it was fine.  I figured it was a downstair neighbor’s, who probably wouldn’t be home from work for three or four hours.  So I went back to bed, but this chirp was just loud enough to be heard, which means I’d be drifting off to sleep and then every twenty seconds or whatever I’d be jerked back awake wondering, “What was that?”

I eventually managed to sleep, and when I woke up I didn’t hear it anymore.  I went to work, and the next day I was going to bed when I heard it start chirping again.  So I was rather pissed wondering why this neighbor hadn’t replaced the battery.  I went down to the second floor and listened outside doors trying to figure out who it was, so I knew who to leave a note for.  But I couldn’t hear it.  I was a bit confused, but when I went to go back up to my apartment, I heard it again: coming from my apartment.  For the fourth or so time, I checked my smoke detector, but it was fine.  I then went to each room and listened, and I eventually found the source.

As I said, this was an old house that had rather high ceilings.  Well, whenever they updated the heating system, they had run the ducts just under the old ceiling and hung a drop ceiling to cover it all up.  What they also covered up was an old smoke detector just outside my bedroom door.  It had been there for, who knows how many years, until the battery finally died and ruined two days of sleep for me.

Random Story – Disposing of a couch

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Many years ago, to save money a couple friends and I got an apartment together.  I think the one guy’s sister had a couch she was getting rid of and gave it to us.  It was starting to break down, but it still worked as a couch.  A couple years later, we all went our own way, and nobody else wanted the couch so I ended up with it.  I moved it to my new apartment, and over the years it broke down even more.

Some years later, when I moved out, I needed to get rid of the couch.  But how?  The complex where I lived had eight or nine apartment buildings, and between all of them were four or five fenced off areas with a dumpster and recycling bins.  There were signs around the fence about how you weren’t allowed to dump things like TVs or couches.  So I stopped in at the office and asked how to get rid of a couch, and they said I’d have to call the garbage company and make arraignments.  And there was a fee, like $30 or something. 

As I walked back to my apartment, I wondered if I would need to take an afternoon off work because they would be there “Between 1:00 and 5:00.” I also wondered if they would take it out of my apartment or if I would have to get it to the dumpster.  And if I got it to the dumpster, how would they know it was mine?  Despite the signs, over the years I had seen a few mattresses and such set near the dumpster.  These usually stayed there for a few weeks, probably until the complex ponied up the $30 to get rid of them.

After some thought, I decided to do something else.  I took the cushions off and put them in a garbage bag.  With my pocket knife, I then cut off all the padding from the back and arms, and filled a couple more garbage bags.  I was then left with a wooden frame with some metal brackets and springs, probably a third of them broken.  For the next day or so, I’d watched TV and when a commercial came on I’d take a screwdriver and work on taking all the metal pieces off. 

I had a little saw, which was really for small craft projects, like cutting quarter inch balsa wood, not the inch thick whatever wood this couch was made out of.  But for the next week or so, whenever a commercial would come on I’d start sawing.  And it probably took me a couple commercial breaks to make a complete cut.  I think there was also one board that had a crack most of the way through it, so I just smacked it with a hammer a few times to finish the break.

It took me a week or so to disassemble my couch into seven or eight garbage bags, which I took out to the dumpster over the next month.  But I got rid of my couch and saved $30.  And years later, I got a blog post out of it.

Random Story – Three quick stories.

These are just odd little stories from my life.

When I got my learner’s permit thirty years ago, there was a deal where if you drove for so many hours with an instructor from school, your parents would get a discount on their insurance.  I don’t know what setup they have nowadays.  Anyway, one day while I was driving with the instructor, I was going down this road with houses on one side and woods on the other.  I saw a cat jump out of the weeds right in front of me and before I could do anything, I heard a thump.  I think the instructor was making notes on a clipboard and didn’t say anything, so I kept going.

One time in college, I was walking somewhere with a girl.  I can’t remember if it was getting dark and I was just walking her back to her dorm from some event, or what.  But she talked for a while, and then said, “Tell me about yourself.” I thought for a moment, then replied, “I was born.” She laughed, but when I didn’t elaborate she started talking about something else.

This other time in college, I got a box of donut holes and a 1L Coke from the convenience store a few blocks from campus.  I can’t remember if my friends and I were playing poker, or watching movies, or what.  But I ate the entire box and drank the entire liter, and it made me feel queasy.  Just to be sure, a week or so later I repeated the experiment, and got the same results. 

Random Story – Trying to explode my VCR

This is just an odd little story from my life.

Twenty-fiveish years ago, one of my guilty pleasures was reading the Weekly World News.  I didn’t believe any of the stories, and just laughed at the idea that there were people out there that probably did believe all that shit.  But I felt safe knowing those people would only be on the fringe of society and they’d never … I don’t know … be elected to Congress. 

Anyway, sometime in 1998 or 1999, there was an article about Y2K.  Now the normal fear was that going from 19-- years to 20-- years would cause computers to crash.  But this article claimed that things would be far worse and that any electronic device would explode at midnight. 

I don’t know if shortly before or after I read this article we had a power outage and I had to reset the time on my VCR.  So I performed an experiment.  I set the time on my VCR to 11:59 PM on December 31, 1999.  I then backed away and waited.  A minute later the display switched over to 12:00.  There was no smoke, or buzzing, or anything.  And when I checked the date, it was January 1, 2000.  I guess I had a “modern” VCR that replaced the explosive parts with the memory to have a four digit date. 

I was only slightly bummed.