An Experiment

“Command, this is Station. Command do you copy?”

The big day had finally arrived.  The orbiting space station was coming into position and the experiment could commence.

“Station, this is Command.  We read you. Experiment can commence in,” Command began a countdown.

“We would like to take a moment to reflect on what is about to happen.  This is citizen driven science at its finest.  To the fourth graders of Mr. Golding’s class, thank you..” The shuttle pilot said to the world below.

“One.” The countdown ended.

“The shiny 2010 penny has left the station. Look out below, Houston!” Station warned.


From the Archives: Readying for Dinner

The weekend away continues.  I hope all you wonderful readers are having a good time this fine Saturday.  Having written this ahead of time, I hope I’m having a fine Saturday too.  This is a really weird note to my future self.  Future self! Don’t lick that frog.  It is a trap.  It is always a trap.

Here’s one from a year ago! A year.  Time is cruel.

Readying for Dinner

“Good evening.  In less than an hour, we’ll have dinner with our extended family. Extended family, that phrase has a new meaning tonight,” their father said.

“Oh, dad, please no,” the children pleaded.

“We will sit down for a dinner of spaghetti and sauce and our petty differences will divide us.  But know that we will sit down quietly throughout the night!  We will eat without a fight!  We’re going to eat and run!  Tonight, we celebrate Grandma’s birthday!”

“Do you have to do an Independence Day speech for every gathering?” The children asked.

“You know it! Let’s get going!”

Logan’s Eye for Detail

“Cannonball!” the diver shouted, running straight for the pool.

Time slowed for by-stander, Logan Hollaway.  He watched the runner’s every step, seeing skin and muscle roll and ripple up and down like waves against rock.  Logan had an eye for detail and absolutely hated it.  There are lots of gross details to observe.  Like the spit flopping out of the runner’s mouth with each subsequent ‘b’ sound; that was pretty gross.

Logan did notice one detail that the runner seemed unaware of.  Logan stood up and placed himself between the runner and the pool.

“Pool’s empty, ” Logan informed the runner.

A Warning Ignored

“There’s something terrifying down in that canyon. My last venture resulted in the loss of three explorers.  A creature, born of fire and greed, based on how quickly it moved and devoured all it touched, lurks.  Waits. Watches.  I saw Predator and thought it was a comedy.  No longer shall I laugh, for I have seen the devil and it comes for more.  Do not travel into the mouth of the beast.  You will not return!”

“That is one talkative donkey, Janet,” the tourist said.

“He’s always been quite social.  You ready for your adventure?!” Janet readied the next tour.


The Loan

“I am sorry, Mr. Evilbeard, Bank of Slow Island will not be able to approve your loan,” the banker informed Francis.

“Oh, come on!” Francis exploded.  His fists slammed against the giant desk between he and the banker.  “Country Bank, First Place Bank, Loan-Star Bank; no one has the courage to finance this! Be bold, Hank!”

“It’s just not practical,” The banker explained.

“Do you know what a think tank of evil scientists and engineers could accomplish? Untold innovations await mad science.”

“‘Evil think tank’ is where the pitch goes awry. It’s a PR nightmare.”

“Blast you, Hank!” Francis left.

Dreams of Trampolines

“Hey, neighbor! Cool new trampoline, huh? Kids are going to love that,” Gary said in the first interaction he had with his neighbor, hopefully named Paul because that’s the name Gary had set to his neighbor’s face and was way too late to change that now, in what must have been five months.

“Hey, Gary,” Paul replied, “this is for me.”  Gary noticed Paul’s glazed over eyes looking in the direction of the newly assembled trampoline.  “I plan on jumping to the moon. Getting far, far away from here.”

“Things, uh…things okay at work, Paul?” Gary asked.

“Not so much.”



Thanks for reading!
More humor in the of books, mugs and bad art just a click away. I appreciate the support.


“Who wants a turkey sandwich!” Dad shouted with enthusiasm, trying to make lunch an ‘event’ this time around.

“I do!” the children shouted back excitedly.

“Who wants mayo? Pickles? Lettuce? Mustard? Tomato?” Dad fired off options in rapid order.

“All of it! Yeah! Woohoo!” the oldest child screamed, cheering. The youngest echoed his brother’s call.

“You guys got it,” Dad said assembling the sandwiches.  “And they’re ready!” Dad put plates before the kids and lunch was on.

“Dad, I don’t want this,” the oldest said, looking over the plate.  The youngest followed.

“You’re both difficult, you know that?” Dad said.