Brad Delays the Inevitable

Chanting filled the chamber.  Candle light flickered against wet stone walls.  Cultists joined hands around an alter, their red robes and cowls hiding themselves even from one another.  The stars had aligned, the ritual had to happen this very evening.

“Hala ho e traci doa. Diu dia dui ta,” the cult’s leader called out.  Other members replied in unison according to their training.  All members, that is, except Brad.

“Achoo!” Brad sneezed.  “Sorry, sorry gang. Can we run it again.

“Halo ho e traci doa. Diu -” the leader called out once more.

“Achoo!” Brad interrupted loudly. “A thousand apologies, siblings of the darkness.  There must be something in this cellar.”

“It’s our temple, Brad.” Charlene corrected.

“Achoo!” Brad sneezed once more. “Good golly.”

“Brad, buddy, big guy,” the leader said from the center of the group, “why don’t you take a minute go pop a Clariton or a Benydryl, one of us can drive you home if you opt for that one, we take care of each other here, but you go take care of yourself and we’ll just come back here and try to raise this world eater when you’re ready, okay?”

“Good idea, Marcus.  You know, this has actually been happening since I left the office this afternoon.  I’ll be back in a minute.” Brad left the altar room and ran upstairs.

 

 

Thanks for reading!

Common Conversations with My Toddler

Me: Hey, buddy, let’s play with Legos!

Toddler: Okay. I will make a sword.

Me: Well, let’s aim for something less violent, okay? How about we make a farm?

Toddler: Yeah. With a sword.

Me: No swords. Farm house. Or a castle?

Toddler: Yeah! Castle

Me: I am regretting this already. What sort of castle should we build?

Toddler: One with swords.

Me: Sigh.

Toddler: Okay?

Me: One sword. Let’s play.

How Was Your Weekend, Friend?

The scariest phrase Billy “Ranch” Trujillo had ever heard was uttered by a five year old.  The child sat on a plastic swing and moved back and forth, ever so slowly.  The playground was covered with sand and wood chips and a perpetual feeling of “this could be better.”  Billy’s son was the only other child present and to his knowledge, Billy was the only adult presence.

“How was your weekend, Friend?” the child asked.  A phrase beyond the little human’s years spoken in a tone that would have been quite overused had The Addams Family been a modern CW teen drama and not a delightfully campy 60s comedy.

The child held an unblinking gaze on Billy awaiting a response. Continue reading

Eddie is On to Bigger and Better Things

“Jeepers, Eddie, what are you doing?” Graham asked, running to catch up with his peculiarly fast friend Ed.

“I’m on to a new chapter, Graham. Exciting times ahead. This story is just getting started,” Graham Eddie.  His pace seemed to pick up and he incorporated a click-of-the-heels skip in his stride.

“You’re speaking in nothing but empty terms.  Like Vague-booking in real life, man.” Graham pointed out the generalities of Eddie’s statement.

“Nah, man, just living my best life right now,” Eddie countered.

“Why in the world does your best life involve a gas can, one of those long lighters and a stack of dirty rags?” Graham said, stopping both of them in their tracks.

“I told you. I’m on to a new chapter.  My old office building is on the other side of that river.  I have to burn the bridge,” Eddie explained.

“That’s…that’s…you don’t have to be so literal about it,” Graham said, confused.

“It’s much more fun to be literal with this phrase,” Eddie went to work.

People on the Highway

I had an early morning today and once again got to join the pre-6am driver club.  Membership benefits suck.  I do get to see the absolute weirdest stuff though.  Not exactly deep sea off the Australian coast weird, but weird none the less.

Today’s tale: Broccoli

A Dodge sedan of some sort is moving rather quickly down the highway behind me.  I’m going 63, following a work truck with a bed full of orange buckets and dirty shovels.  I’d pass him, but I’m on my way to work and “terrible car crash on way to work” is not what I want any of the police reports with my name on them to read.  Though I’d prefer to not appear on police reports entirely.  That’s all beside the point.  The truck ahead of me is not my concern at this particular hour as the Dodge is racing up behind us.

The Dodge, gray-ish and dented from a mix of hail and bad decisions, is piloted by one Jared Wilkerson.  Jared is on his way to work too, but gives his epitaph less thought than I give my own.  For the reals, “Died as he lived. Rushing to do stuff that made no difference anyway” will not be on my tiny gold plated urn which will rest on the grand room’s fireplace mantle in my youngest son’s mansion when he’s in his 50s.

Jared is rocking a local radio station that gives frequent updates on marijuana prices and the DJs are “so glad Linkin Park sounds like Hybrid Theory again.” It is a poor choice in radio stations, but Jared displays his poor choices well enough.  A neck tattoo of a hotdog in a bun eating a sweating chihuahua is not wise.  It did lead his grandmother to learn Photoshop though. So there’s that.

Jared has been making poor decisions since infancy.  His parents wanted to expose him to a wide variety of foods and that included broccoli.  As a toddler he would ‘sneak’ broccoli to the family dog instead of eating it himself.  This would result in the dog passing violent gas at night.  The dog preferred to sleep in Jared’s room.  Jared was 23 before he figured out the connection.

As quickly as the Dodge arrived it left.  The work truck and I caught but a fleeting glimpse of something truly unique in the world and I’m totally okay with not seeing it again.  Jared will arrive at work 15 minutes early thanks to his speediness, but isn’t allowed to clock-in until 5 minutes before the start of his shift.  Poor decisions.

 

Thanks for reading.

Band, Genre, Playlist and All We Need to Know

Here now, little known bands, the genre they call home, the Spotify playlist they are featured most heavily on, and a little background on the playlist creator.

Band: Clickbait Worm
Genre: EDM,
Featured in Playlist: The Sponge Cake Disaster
Playlist made by: Becca Hillman of Rochester after a terrible baking incident.

Band:Orange is the New Kid on the Block
Genre: Boy Band Covers
Featured in Playlist: I’M ON A BOAT
Playlist made by: Mark Rodriguez, a nostalgia junkie convinced he’s the only one that remembers most of his references.

Band:Turtle Dove Bar
Genre: Rock-Rap,
Featured on Playlist: Hits from My Childhood
Playlist made by: Ben Davenport, a 35 year old male ashamed of his past.

Band: Jose All Day
Genre: Garage Funk,
Featured on Playlist:Dave Matthews Band Revival
Playlist made by: Jeremy Woolworth of Topeka, but not the obvious one.  Jeremy built this play during a bar crawl and has no idea where this particular entry came from.

Band: Ice^3 Tres
Genre: Gypsy Punk
Featured on playlist:  Three Times the GoGoGo!
Playlist made by: Jody “Krang” Popovich.  Tennis player. Fan of sets.

Band: Loud! Loud! Loud!
Genre: Stadium Rock
Featured on playlist: Underwater Basket Weaving Ball
Playlist made by: A workout mix built by Todd Trodo. Love Cross Fit. Hates leg day.

Band: Lava My Life
Genre: Melodic Post Hard Core inspired by romance novels featuring Fabio on the cover.
Featured on playlist: Takes These Broken Swings and Earn Some Pie
Playlist made by: Orin Waysmith.  Puts ketchup on his macaroni and cheese.

Maurice’s Speech

“Oh, this is not going well,” Maurice mumbled.  His big speech on corporate synergy and streamlined manufacturing practices was bombing.  Bombing efficiently, but bombing nonetheless.

“Furthermore,” he said into the microphone, trying to regain his footing in a very literal sense.  He was leaning against the lectern and nearly fell.  “My research is showing a 10% improvement in production quality.”

He paused, realizing the room was full of at least 1000 men and women ‘business serious’ dress.   He gulped and continued.

“A 10% improvement in production quality thanks to this one simple trick!!”

Finally, after 15 minutes of failure, he click-baited the audience’s interest.