Doin' The Mess Around

Discussion in 'Blogs' started by jjl, Aug 6, 2016.

  1. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
    I slam on the brake to avoid hitting a second cyclist.
    Holy shit, I wonder. How many times have I crossed a border, carrying someone else's gear or gifts to avoid taxes, relieve weight or luggage restrictions?
    Funny. My companions stopped asking me to lug their excess when the airport security started asking that question:
    Did someone other than yourself pack this luggage for you?



    What might I have smuggled, crossing the border as a kid?
     
    Last edited: Oct 16, 2016
  2. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
    The Toyota seemed to steer itself into the parking lot of a local ice cream bar.

    [​IMG]
    I was going to need some Hot Fudge and whipped cream to help me digest some of these distasteful truths.
    The coffee was bitter here, but I ordered one anyway. I needed all the awake it could provide me after the ordeal I had just endured.
    I should have said fuck you from the start.
    It wasn't until the third hour, that I began to recognize that perhaps some of my notions WEREN'T a fantasy I had secretly spun in my head to make myself feel important.
    I realized I might actually be in a little danger.

    Up until today, I had always managed somehow, to instinctively slide away from harm.

    Maybe I still can, I thought optimistically. I always have before.
    Well...mostly.
     
    Last edited: Oct 16, 2016
  3. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
    I pull the maraschino cherry off of the confection and chastise myself for not directing the waiter to leave that red toxin off of my treat.
    I spoon the Vanilla Icecream, banana, hot fudge and whipped cream in balanced and specific portions.
    I am almost savant when it comes to arranging my food.

    As I work my second spoonful, the sound of helicopters drown out all conversation in the busy restaurant.
    I bend my head over my dish and pretend not to notice. These fucking machines seem to be wherever I go.
    The noise is both bothersome and deafening.
    I continue to eat. They will run out of fuel or interest after about five minutes I have discovered.
    I see or hear them pretty regularly.

    I know that if I want to, I can get them to suspend the noise for a few days.
    The first time I complained about them to an online conspiracy forum, some disbeliever challenged me to photograph them.
    I kept my phone nearby, to snap a pic of them the next time they flew over but the noise ceased for almost two weeks.
    Discredited, I resigned from the group.

    Still, it came in handy for my cousin's outdoor wedding.
    The week before I was to attend, I joined a UFO forum and started bragging loudly about all the interest the military was taking in me.
    Almost instantly, someone again challenged me to provide pictures and the noise quieted down again.
    But I don't give a shit anymore.
    How am I supposed to know who the bad guys even are?
     
    Last edited: Oct 16, 2016
  4. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
    she wandered the streets, searching for her dignity
     
    Last edited: Oct 16, 2016
  5. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
    [​IMG]
    ultra sensitive
     
  6. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
    I paid the check and wound my way home on the backroads. Plenty of foliage cover.
    People wonder why I drive such an old car.

    Again I wonder to myself: How long has this been going on?
     
  7. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
    She stood barefoot on the faded linoleum and peered out the kitchen window. The factory across the street still lit against the brightening sky.
    The four-year-old knew that her parents would sleep a little longer before her father would come in, to brew the morning coffee.
     
    Last edited: Dec 8, 2016
  8. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
    [​IMG]

    Michael's uncle had done a trick at her party the night before. He placed an aggie marble in the center of his hand and held it out for her family to see.
    He blew on it a few times, closed his fingers over the marble, then opened his hand, only to reveal the tiny sphere again.
    Uncle Ray looked annoyed and tried blowing again, closing and opening his hand with the same results.
    Uncle blew harder the third time and shook his fist this way and that, then unwound his fingers it to reveal an empty palm.
    Bored, Michael's older brother asked, "Can I have my Aggie back now please?"
    Uncle Ray swatted at something in the air and dropped the marble onto Joey's empty dessert plate.
    "May I be excused ?" was Joey's response to this miracle.

    All night long, Michael lay awake, waiting for dawn.
    She was sure that she had enough magic inside of her, to make a marble disappear from her closed fist.
     
    Last edited: Dec 8, 2016
  9. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
  10. jjl

    jjl nitrogen scrubber,

    Joined:
    Jan 4, 2015
    Messages:
    1,712
    Likes Received:
    370
    Trophy Points:
    81
    I saw the flashing lights before my car reached the crest of my hill. An ambulance drove by slowly, rotating the red lights silently.
    Silent and slow means the patient inside is on the way to a morgue.
    I took the next right, heading to a library two towns over. I realize I still have my elderly friend's library card and books to return. I can use the computer there to send an encrypted email.

    I leave the books in the car and inside the main lobby, I slide my friend's card over to the bored assistant.
    Her eyes keep drifting back to a text on her cell phone. She nods at the computer sign in sheet and doesn't even glance at the card before handing it back.
    On the sign in sheet, I write: Mary Lincoln