Yarran, Wizard.

Yarran thought being a powerful wizard living in the heart of the big city would be a lot more amusing than the reality of the situation.  His days revolved around subway rides, finding the nearest outlet to plug his phone charger into and finding at least one restaurant line that did not have a hundred people queued up to order.  There was no pointy hat, cloak wearing battle against the sinister forces of evil that plagued his town.

None of the fun stuff the movies had promised.

There was one big perk that ensured his life was slightly better than that of an average mortal.  With a wave of his wand he could control and direct any number of pigeons.  His visits to parks were wildly amusing.

Deck and Amy and the Block Party

“What the heck is a block party?” Deck asked.

“It’s a gathering of neighbors.  Food is shared, drinks and spilled.  It’s a good way to meet those around us.  It’s an incredible uncomfortable and forced way to meet the people around us, but it is a way,” Amy replied.

“So if we meet these people that live around us are they less likely to call city code enforcement about the dead tree in our front yard?” Deck asked.

“Probably not, but they’ll at least be able to say the dead tree is at Deck’s house.  We have to go for a little while.  I do have a plan to get in and out. And it plays on the theme.  The 1990s.” Amy said.  A devilish grin crept over her face and the two began to discuss their plan.

The day of the block party arrived and the couple prepared for their five minute appearance.

At the end of the block smoke rose from a collection of Weber grills.  The scent of ketchup and dill pickle relish rode the breeze.  Deck and Amy were both mildly annoyed by the pop music coming from someone’s small blue tooth speaker, but they let it slide.  They were more annoyed by their own outfits. Continue reading

People on the Highway

I’m trying out a new path home from work.  As a semi-professional liar storyteller person, the new route is amazing.  It is peak Colorado front range.  I see cattle pastures, oil derricks, corn fields, industrial concrete recycling, small town schools, manufacturing plants that smell funny (likely because they are next to giant giant mounds of fresh fertilizer, but that is beside the point).  I see a new story setting every five minutes.  I am very much enjoying the new path.  Another thing it has going for it; very few other people on the road.

Consisting mostly of side roads, I don’t have to deal with too many Honda sedans with a texting driver at the wheel.  The standard situation for Honda sedans in Colorado at least.

Today, I had company on the commute and this is her story.

Today’s tale: Sunny

Continue reading

Jenkins Fixes Computers

“Jenkins!” Mr. Sanders shouted from behind his closed office door.

Jenkins, sitting just outside in a cubicle meant for no human to sit in, interpreted the shout to mean, “kid, get in here.”  Jenkins obliged.

“What’s up, Mr. Sanders?” Jenkins asked, peering into the office.

“Fix this.” Sanders pointed at his computer screen.  Jenkins moved to view the screen and sighed.  The problem was instantly identified and easy to fix, and something they had gone over before.

“It happened again, huh?” Jenkins asked.

“No idea how this time,” Sanders explained himself.  Jenkins knew how it happened.  The problem was fixed with a few taps on the keyboard.

“Good work.  Now set a calendar reminder for me to remember to sit down with you to learn how to do these things on my own.” Sanders demanded.

Jenkins shook his head and accepted his role as the office computer fixer, all the while mildly resenting his years of research into workforce retention dynamics and the accompanying $40,000 MBA.

The Lunch Bag Note

“Ah, did you get a note from your mom?” Eriq asked.

Tyson was caught off guard.  He and Eriq had been eating lunch together for years, but this was apparently the first time the customary lunch had been noticed.

“Yeah, my mom has been leaving me notes in my lunch box since kindergarten,” Tyson explained.

“That’s actually pretty cute,” Eriq admitted.

“It used to be.  The notes were once ‘I love you! Have a great day!’ kinda stuff.” Tyson said, beginning to read over today’s note.

“What are they now?”

“Well, at some point she started posting them to Insta and her followers started sharing the…the ones that are really, really weird for the most part,” Tyson said.

“Your mom’s Insta famous?” Eriq was confounded.

“In a way.  Here’s today’s note; ‘the arachnid king of Neptune only eats the weak.’ Followed by a picture of a spider wearing a crown eating a butterfly.”

“That’s gibberish.”

“It has 6,000 likes.” Tyson said through a sigh.

Rico and the Long Awaited Exciting Afternoon

Chores. Rico hated chores.  Errand running, groceries, laundry; the routine tasks that form the very foundation of the society he so enjoyed otherwise.  He hated them.  Every outing for electrical tape, every time he cleaned out the cat’s litter box, he wished for something exciting to happen.  Anything to make the time move a little faster.

Returning from a particularly bland run to the barber, he found himself standing at the entry way of his apartment complex checking every pocket on his person for keys.

“Drat,” Rico muttered as he patted down his pants and jacket.

“Rico!” Called the familiar voice of his neighbor, Jon.  “Rico, wait up.”

The relief Rico felt in having something out of the ordinary happen, finally, was delightful.  He ran a hand through his freshly cut hair and forgot for just a moment about his key problem.

“Jon! How are things, man?” Rico asked.  He extended a hand in anticipation of a high five.

Jon followed form, extending his hand as well, but Rico noticed something odd.

“What’s that in your ha-” Rico said.

His words were cut short by a blast of purple spray paint from Jon’s previously unknown object.  Three more sprays followed.

“Jon! What the heck, man?” Rico was furious.

“This Facebook post told me to tag my friends!” Jon said.

“Aw. Jon, you consider us friends? That’s awesome, buddy. Thanks.” Rico was oddly touched, if looking like a tropical fish.

“Well, Facebook friends anyway,” Jon clarified.

Trust Fall

“Jenkins!” Mr. Hopper shouted.

With a single word, Jenkins knew the command.  He stepped away from his coworkers and stepped to within arms’ reach of their increasingly grumpy boss.

“For this team building exercise, which I remind you is mandated by corporate and will only take a full six hours of productivity away from our team, you will trust me to catch you as you fall to the earth,” Mr. Hopper told Jenkins and the crowd.

Jenkins did not trust Mr. Hopper.  Mostly due to the mischievous smirk that crawled over Hopper’s face when he said, “as you fall to the earth.”

“Sir, does this have to happen right here? Can we move even ten feet that way?” Jenkins requested, pointing away from the pit immediately behind his boss.

“This is why they call it a trust fall, Jenkins.  Trust me, my leadership, and you have nothing to fear,” Hopper held his arms out to signal the fall would happen. Now.

Jenkins winced and readied to fall dozens of feet into a former quarry now over run, at the bottom at least, by grasses and plague carrying mice.

He was not disappointed.

In the distance he could hear Hopper describing the next team building activity.

“Crew, our goal is to work together to get that accountant free.  Who’s with me?”