“You know, you say, ‘fine’, but what I think you really mean is, ‘a spire of volcanic rock just spewed out of the ocean and cooled before our eyes and I have my doubts the boat can turn fast enough.’  Is that what you mean by, ‘we’re fine?'” Allan asked.

The captain, beard waving in the ocean breeze, body moving up and down with the roll of the waves, narrowed his eyes and raised his looking glass, brushing aside Allan’s concerns.

“I’ve seen much worse,” the captain assured the young man.

“When?” Allan protested.

“We’re probably fine,” The captain corrected.


old-trumpet-1411142_640 Dust and rust fell from the trumpet like snow.

“It’s a beauty,” said Grandpa Frank.  “Go ahead and play it, Erik.”

Erik had no intention of following the request.  “Wow, no, I couldn’t play your old horn. I’m no good,” Erik tried to deflect.  He was terrified of what tetanus in the mouth would look like.

Grandpa urged again, egging on the grandson to give the horn a chance.  Erik reluctantly drew the horn upward.

Grandpa Frank slapped his head.  “You do everything people tell you? Don’t be silly. This thing needs to be melted down.”

Erik couldn’t agree more.

Just Pictures


via Pixabay

“Pictures.  They’re just pictures.  You know what people can do with Photoshop these days? Come on. No one will believe they’re real.”

“Reality is constructed, built upon that which people see.  If it can be seen, it can be believed.  Right now, even the possibility that something can be seen builds reality for some.”

“Dave, come on, man. Look, look, I’ll delete the files.”

“You know what people can do with cloud storage these days?”

“Nah, no, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“You saw too much, Marcus.”


“I am sorry for this. You were a good photographer.”

Pender Bear



“What did you do?” Jonah screamed as multiple blood vessels became very visible on his forehead.

“We call it a Pender Bear.  It’s a spider-penguin-grizzly combo.  Things last night got off. the. chain. Amazing.” Wanda informed the lab’s chief scientist.

“You two were meant to be creating a diet supplement pill.  How did this thing happen?” Jonah asked.  His tone was quieter, but the blood pressure still a problem.

Francis chimed in to help his lab partner, “well, it was a really late night in the lab.  I remember saying, ‘hold my drink’ and 10 hours later this guy was with us'”

Jonah contemplated the creature before him.  “Find a way for it to be related to dieting and you can keep it.”

“Not a problem, boss.  This thing…this thing encourages running,” Francis said.  He and Wanda glanced to the floor.

“It glows in the dark, some how.  Pender Bear is terrifying,” Wanda explained.

Jonah nodded his head, “innovative.  Good work.”


Job Recommendations

“Job recommendations? Don’t mind if I do, Online Job Board,” Rob said, clicking a blue link.

His job search had thus far been a painfully slow crawl.  The resume upload, the resume review, the resume revamp, the resume re-review, the resume re-revamp; each step taking longer than expected, longer than hoped.  He had gone in and out of a number of jobs over his life in the workforce. Nothing had kept him interested.   Guidance of any sort was quite welcome.

“Alrighty, let’s see what we have here.” His eyes darted around the list of near by jobs that matched his resume.

“Accountant. Nope.  Data Analyst? Never again.  Technical writer brings about seasonal affected disorder in the heart of Spring.  What the heck is that?” Rob moved a little closer to the screen, unsure if his eyes were telling him the truth.

“Dog sitter? The resume either has a typo or I am starting to doubt the algorithm.”


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Getting Ready

“Clothes, shoes, coats, bags. Let’s get going, gang!” Tyson Smith had said this sentence time and time again.  “You have five minutes.”

Two children, too young to really understand what ‘time management’ meant, ran about the house doing anything other than listen to their father.  Tyson was unsure if the children were purposely ignoring him, or rather so entrenched in their current game they were incapable of hearing him.

“Four minutes,” Tyson said. His voice growing louder, more impatient.

“Dad, I need help finding my bag,” the oldest child asked.

“Okay. Where was it last?” Tyson asked.

A seven minute story followed. They were no closer to finding the bag.

“Dad, need help with my bag,” said the youngest.

Four minutes passed before Tyson realized the young one, still new to the language, was trying to mimic the older sibling.

“Dad! I can’t get my shoe on,” the oldest shouted.

Tyson had been through this before as well.  It was never easier.

“Okay, everyone in the car!” Tyson ordered.  Loud, curt, tired; half an hour had passed since the five minute warning.  Control was a feeling he no longer understood.

Ten minutes later, the car seats were buckled and Tyson readied to back the car out of the garage.

“Where are we going, dad?” the oldest asked.

Tyson huffed, rested his forehead on the steering wheel and muttered, “I don’t even remember.”



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Deck and Amy and the Visit



“Kitchen looks great. Thanks,” said an appreciative Deck as he entered the room.  “Wait. Why is the kitchen so clean?” His appreciation gave way to fear.  He knew what this level of clean  meant.

Amy, from the other side of the kitchen, turned to stare with wide, anxious at her husband, her yellow rubber gloved hands wrapped around a mop, and said words she that caused dread on the brightest of days, “my parents are coming.” Continue reading