Flash Fiction #172

Guano

PHOTO PROMPT © Jilly Funell

BIRD BRAIN

Pouter Pigeon

I think that my pouter pigeon would make a great presidential candidate.  He couldn’t be worse than the one we have now.

He could be the bird brain who struts around on his tiny hands feet, with his chest puffed out, thinking that he was God’s gift to all females.  He would be the unending source of incomprehensible tweets.

He’d constantly have Washington, and the world, all aflutter, and produce lots of unintelligible noise and great streams of bullshit guano.  Dab a little cheese sauce on his head, and the average American MAGA voter would elect him in a second.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a Prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Friday Fictioneers

 

Five Long Years

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That’s what Colin James says my blog has been.

FIVE LONG YEARS
(click above, to hear him say so)

Five years ago, to the day, on November 21, 2011, I first dived into the blog-pool. I had no idea what I was going to say, or how often I would say it.  I finally calmed down enough to casually mention when I reached post number 600.  This one is number 687, reaching toward number 700.  I’ve accumulated 878 followers, (Now I’ve got 879.  Do I hear 880?)(Okay!  I’ve got 880!  Anybody want to go for 900?)  and had 9400 visits, for 32,000 views.

For me, everything is still the same, and yet, everything is different. Society is different.  Politics is different.  The Internet is different.  My writing and posting are different.  Some of that is good.  Some of that, at best, is questionable.

While some of my favored blog-sites from five years ago have shut down, or atrophied, many newer ones continue to entertain, amuse and educate me. I continue to do my best to do the same in return.

The traditional gift for a five-year anniversary is wood. I already have a solid block-head, and I possess several wooden nickels, and even a wooden quarter, so I guess all that’s left for you lovely readers to do, is to commend me for not dying, and not shutting up.  Many thanx to all who visit, like and comment.   😀

Champions Award

No good deed ever goes unpunished.

Oops, I did it again. I opened my mouth, and somebody stuffed an award in it.  (And I said, ‘No, no!  I’m unworthy.’)

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So, there I was, blithely cruisin’ WordPress Boulevard – a little, ‘Hi, welcome to the Blogosphere.’ here – an occasional, ‘Nicely written.’ there. The next thing I knew, It’s Good To Be Crazy Sometimes had laid an award egg in this Cuckoo’s nest.  I’m gonna have to do some research.  With a blog-name like that, we may well be related.  Thanx, IGTBCS!

The Champions Award is a way of saying thank you to those readers and writers who go the extra mile in support of others. I know with this award we needn’t say anything special.

All my readers are Champions.

Rules: If you choose to accept this CHAMPIONS AWARDS, it’s simple. Post this Award Sticker on your blog. Use the hashtag #CHAMPIONSAWARDS, if, unlike me, you actually know how.

Acknowledge the sponsor of your Award. Choose at least five of your own nominees and advise them accordingly.(As usual – ain’t gonna happen – aren’t you lucky?)

Keep it simple… no need for explanations for the Awards… we know how great these folks are.

Payback’s a bitch. When I first started out blogging, there were about a half a dozen nice folks who went out of their way to help me shine up my self-esteem.  They all seem to be in protective custody now, or under Professional Care.  You guys know who you are.  It’s up to me alone to Deepthroat the story of the radiation leak at Three Miles Of Awards Island.

The pleasure I get from receiving this award, is that it shows that I’m far from the only one getting it. While there are some assholes and trolls, out and about, the Interwebz is basically full of nice folks.

If you’d like a copy of the shiny, gorgeous award above, they are available in the gift shop for 25 cents apiece, or 3/dollar.
(All applicable taxes, shipping and handling extra.  No deposit, no return.  Payment accepted in prepaid iTunes cards only. Return any defective merchandise directly to manufacturer.  All payments to be made to Billy Goat Gruff.)   😆

 

What I Got For Christmas

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I know it’s a bit(?) late, but I wanted to give credit where credit is firmly due.  I took the photos for this post, and thought I’d composed it.  Since I apparently didn’t, there was nothing to remind me, until I started checking photos for a different post.

As my ‘We’re Not Quite Hoarders’ and ‘Autumn Housecleaning’ posts have shown, I/we have been slowly getting rid of no-longer-needed, accumulated stuff.  I am not the most difficult old codger to buy presents for, but, barring a big lottery win by someone who wants to present me with a new house, a new car, and a new motorcycle, I have pretty much everything I need, including a fantastic family.

Almost two years ago, my ingenious grandson, flush with paychecks from his welding apprentice work placement, presented me for my birthday with the ‘En Garde Coupon’ shown above, good for $500 toward any knife I’d like to purchase.

Highly grateful, but ever the pragmatist, I didn’t feel I wanted to bring more stuff into the house at this point in my life.  I can look at beautiful knives, and even handle them, but I had a thought about using a trip through Pennsylvania, Ohio and Michigan to attend a knife show, and meet a couple of fellow-bloggers.  He generously agreed to co-sponsor the trip.

For any who haven’t read them, the antics and adventures of that trip are available in The Fellowship Of The Blog series, beginning with the Prologue.

The trip occurred in October, 2014, but Government bureaucracy stupidity delayed the grant check for his college tuition and texts, forcing him to raid his savings account until it finally arrived.  By Christmas, he still hadn’t said or done anything about the promised amount.  I knew of his problems, didn’t mind about it, and had almost forgotten.

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Then came Christmas!  When it came time to distribute presents, he handed me the above box.  It wasn’t very heavy.  Perhaps it was another of the always-handy, and much-appreciated, Chapters Bookstore gift cards.

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When I opened the box and looked inside, I realized how ingenious and devious he was.  Aided and abetted by his devious and ingenious mother (Can I take any credit for this??), they had carefully rolled up and inserted two new $50 bills, and twenty new $20 bills – the full $500, as promised.

20 Dollars    50 Dollars

 

 

The new Canadian polymer plastic bills do not take kindly to being rolled up – or anything else – quickly flattening back out.  The daughter got out her bag of clip-type clothespins.  They would roll up a bill, clip it to hold it, and insert it in the box.  Clip, insert, clip, insert, until all 22 bills were in, and the box was full(?).  Then they carefully removed the clips.  To a guy whose idea of presentation was to leave some suckers in the paper bag I got them in from an old Mennonite, this just awed me!  (And I’m odd enough.)

Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a round of applause and appreciation for ‘Thorn’ Smith!  I already profusely thanked him at Christmas, but feel he deserves a digital acknowledgement and congratulation also.  ‘As the twig is bent, so grows the tree’, and this tree is growing strong and true.

He is a kind and thoughtful young man, who treats his Poppa (and everyone else) well.

Thanx again, Kid!  Feel free to show this off on your smart phone till the battery dies.   😀

Old Stuff I Own

BrainRants has recently published a couple of posts about strange old stuff he owns, with the accent on strange. The first was about a truly bizarre little plastic/rubber Gollywog, whose childhood acquisition and continuing possession may help explain his current mental state.

I don’t own any strange things, although with me, that’s hard to prove. I do still have chunks of glacier in my freezer, from the last ice age, so I thought I might write about a couple of long-owned/old items that the Historical Museum hasn’t got their hands on yet.

SDC10528No surprise, I’m starting with a knife. This was the second knife I ever bought, just before I turned 16, late in the summer of 1960. I had possessed several knives before this one, but they had been gifts or found items. The first knife I bought was exactly the same size and shape as this one, except that it had rough faux-bone handles.

While the “hold” was better, I preferred the sleek white faux-seashell look of this one, and lost/sold/broke the first one. Back then folding pocket knives didn’t lock in the open position, and care had to be taken when using them, lest they close on an unwary finger.

I carried this one till well after I got married. We moved into a geared-to-income housing compound. Built by the lowest bidder, there was a round electrical box on the ceiling of the basement laundry area, but no light fixture. I didn’t want to wait for an overburdened maintenance dept. and, being a Handy-Dandy DIY guy, (Yuk, Yuk) I decided to install one myself.

Since there was no light to turn on and off, I traced the electrical cable back to the breaker box, and then the black power line down to its breaker, which I turned off, for safety. I climbed back up on a wooden chair, and pulled down the power line to cut the insulation off, so that I could connect the fixture.

Suddenly, there was a ZAP, and a photo flash went off right beside my eyes. When I could see again, I looked at the wire and my knife. There are two power lines inside each cable. I had turned off the power to the black one – and cut into the still-live red one.

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The more sharp-eyed among you may already have noticed what this close-up shows. I had bridged from the live wire to the edge of the box, and burned a notch right out of the center of the blade. I wasn’t shocked, except by the damage to my pretty little knife, which has gone into semi-retirement in the utility room, cutting off shrink-wrap and into cardboard food boxes.

 

Soon after, in the fall of 1970, I found this replacement knife at K-Mart, that defender of the American Way. Manufactured when Pakistan thought that it could produce steel, and I only cared about a pointy tip and a beveled edge, I bought this little Sabre knife, making it about as old as Rants.SDC10529

With wooden scales and a thicker body, this one is a bit easier to hold and use. It also has a back-lock at the rear of the handle, making it a bit safer to use. It has outlasted 6 or 7 belt pouches, going into retirement in an indestructible nylon sheath which only needed its Velcro closer replaced.

This was largely a “work” knife, cutting strapping, plastic and vinyl sheet and cardboard cartons. It has cut at least two co-workers out of shoes whose laces just would just not untie. It has quartered and cored countless apples and pears, and started tough banana peels. It has opened several cans of pop (soda) whose tabs broke off. It has also acted as a can opener to several tins of beans, soup and pasta, for friends who mistakenly thought the lunch room had a working can opener.

I’m a lot more careful about the tips and edges of my carry knife these days. After almost 45 years of tough usage, this little $5.99 “piece of crap” doesn’t owe me a thing. More old stuff, including jokes, later.