Posted in Prose, Relationships, Stories

Sleeping, and its ails, cures

Sometimes, sleeping
seems the best cure,
for that what ails me,

The bitter breath

of the day past,

the aches and pains of lost

conversations, lovers never having heard

“I Love You”, uttered for the flrst,

-for the last time,

The gentle thoughts

of what sleep might bring, are torn

and ripped from my memory, into

the dreams which have decided if I am to live

-or to die,

To die a thousand deaths, night after night

or, to sleep peacefully, along someone, who dares

to share my fate, together with me


The rest, the anguished thoughts

the lovers scorned, vanish

with the light through the windows,

The angels and devils of sleep, gone away


Until I chance to sleep, again

Posted in Prose, Relationships, Stories

She was a Teaser

A temptress


A woman of my dreams,

in a Nightmarish way,


She teased me,

“Come to me”, she said

then left me guessing, as to

who I was?


She took me

unawares, she did what I only

could fear, and left me

wanting more,


I lusted after her,

she acknowledged,

to a point, then stood there,

laughing at my longing

for her,


I desired her, I shunned

all other thoughts,

All other mention of



She gave me,

what I deserved, what I needed,

by seducing my weaknesses

and my fears,


She was a Teaser….


Posted in Humor, Stories

New Blogging Idea for 2017

I am often bored with blogging. It is no secret and I’ve told my readers from time to time, that I’ll be taking a break for a while.

I think instead of stopping altogether that I should let my alter egos take over for the real me, when I get to the state of boredom.

My better half, might be considered to be my wife, but since she doesn’t have any interest in blogging, it’ll just have to be my better side, which is me, regardless.

Then it might be my first alter ego’s turn. He can write all of those love poems and the like to make women swoon, and want to run away with me to Sweden, or some other foreign place?

The next one would be my “Bad Boy Alter Ego. He would be breaking hearts and throwing caution to the wind, wrecking cars and taking all those chances, that I never would.

One of them can be the foreign me, speaking one or another foreign language (just not French) and wowing readers who want to hear my innermost thoughts, just in Swahili, or another exotic language!

I would be resting on my laurels, watching my other egos take over for me, or perhaps just sub-letting my blog out to them and let them do what they want with it!

One would have to exist in order to answer all of the comments of those daring few, who feel that they should air their opinions on my site, and who want some sort of answer, not necessarily a serious one!

Some might be asking, “How do we know the real you from your alter egos?” Well, that is easy, because they are me, and I am them. I’ve been accused of saying silly things all my life, so I’m sure that the other mes can easily be me, as much as I would have been me in their places! Who is he today? Well, he is the same as yesterday and tomorrow.

When I’ve stopped being bored, then I can pick up where I left off, with most, if not all of you not being able to see any difference in the quality of blogging as with my other alter egos!

Enjoy, or don’t, but that is the same, regardless if it is because of me, or because of me!

Just don’t accuse me of being the others, or them, me, as we are all different in the way we are, aren’t we?

Blogging, or not from Denmark in 2017………….


Posted in Stories, Stories - The Girl Next Door

Cabin Number 13 – Chapter 23 – The Girl Next Door

There we were at the entrance to the lake and cabin area, when my father started to look at the map in order to find our cabin in the myriad of trees.

“Let’s see. Cabin number…..There! There is cabin number 13. At that moment a roll of thunder was heard in the background, then an owl hooted,”Hoo, hoo”. Wow, we’d better get a move on, before that storm catches up to us. My friend looked as if she were lost in thought. She asked my father, “The man at the reception desk. Did he have a pencil-thin mustache? And black greasy hair? My father just looked surprised at her questions. “Yes, yes he did. Have you been here before? Did you see him?”

“No. No I haven’t” my friend replied with a strange look on her face. “It was just a lucky guess, that’s all.”

My father beamed at us. “Yes. We are both lucky today. You with your guess, and me finding us a cabin to, now get ready for this, a cabin at half price! Think of it! Cabin number 13 is our lucky number for this trip!” A sound of thunder echoed at the very moment that my father said “13”. I looked at my friend, but she avoided my glance, and just kicked at the sand on the ground. “Well, let’s drive up and unpack”. My father was unaware of anything wrong, so I decided to go with the flow, until things proved otherwise.

Cabin number 13 was actually a nice-looking cabin, almost new, if you had asked me. We started to unload the car, and as I reached for the doorknob a flash of lightning lit up the front door, making the knob resemble a skull! “Did you see, that….” It was gone again. The others just looked at me, and I said, “It was nothing at all. Just a trick of the light.”

We moved our things into our 3 rooms and suddenly realized how hungry we were. Dad pulled out 3 juicy-looking steaks and began to light the gas grill. “It won’t be long now”, he said as we chopped the vegetables and buttered some bread. When dinner was finished, we all began to eat, as if there were no tomorrow…Now why did I say that? I had a funny feeling about our lodgings, but it might just have been due to my imagination?

When we were finished and started to wash the dishes, my father made a discovery of sorts, “I thought, I had turned off the gas, but listen, It seems like there is some sort of gas leak – sssss. “We’d better shut off the main tank before think about turning in. Just think, we might all died of gas asphyxiation, or worse yet, have been blown to kingdom come!”

How did they die, those poor souls? Some say it was the biggest gas explosion of the last 20 years. You’d think that someone would have made the necessary safety checks and all. Where were the yearly stamps, and certifications? You know, it wasn’t the first time someone had died unexpectedly in that cabin. The other time was not due to an explosion, but that didn’t make it any less suspicious. It was back in the early 60’s when….

The thunder rolled ominously in the background, even more so after my father’s dreary talk about explosions and all. The lightning began to flash as well, with us trying to see how many chimpanzees, or Mississippis there were in between flashes? “One Mississippi, Two Mississippi…Boom! The thunder shook the cabin, drowning out the hooting of the owl in the distance, “Hoo-Hoo-Ho…..”

“It’s a funny thing”, my father started to say. “The man at the Reception Counter hinted about a story that was connected to this cabin, but he said that we should come by some sunny day and hear about it.” “Boom” “Crash”  went the thunder, as if to drown out what my father was talking about. “He just kept saying, Remember, come by in the sunshine. Not at night! What a funny duck, he was!”

I looked over at my friend, but she was concentrating on the lightning show outside of the window. “It’s just like that time in Botswana, when we went over the border to Zimbabwe..” She didn’t seem like she was talking to us, but more like she was in a trance of sorts. “It was a long drive and I kept saying how it would be nice to buy an ice cream, or a jug of cold water, but my father just said, “Those things might as well grow on trees….in your dreams. And laughed at the thought of ice cream trees in the middle of Botswana. I longed to see my mother again, but feared the worse, having to visit her in the hospital in Bulawayo. “Remember, my father kept saying. It’s just a touch of Malaria, nothing to get upset about. I tried to reassure myself that Malaria was a better thing than being bitten by Tsetse flies, but the choices seemed to be between bad or worse.”

I just looked at her, as if she were someone else. I wondered why she never told me these things before, when we were in the comfort of our suburban neighborhood where the most dangerous thing was getting yelled at, for not removing the crabgrass, before company came over for coffee. “Honestly” said my mother, who was quick to tell me, what I had done wrong. “Here we are, just minutes before your Uncle Danny and Aunt Catherine came for their yearly visit, when the yard looks like some sort of Canadian weed flu hit the area. Is it so much to ask of you? Weeding the yard for your mother? I wonder sometimes if you knew the pain and heartache that I’ve suffered at the hands of Crabgrass?!”

I really should have consoled her, but felt that the few times that I’ve tried to get close to her, my intentions have backfired in the most horrible ways. I chose instead to nod in the right places, and tried to understand the pain that she was feeling.

My father had dosed off after telling us about the Reception Clerk, so he didn’t hear any of what my friend had talked about. It was almost as if, she were speaking directly to me, but not to me. The storm seemed to have passed by us, with the thunder sounding farther and farther away. We made small talk about this and that, and decided to hit the sack, being very tired after the day’s events. I woke my father and pointed him in the direction of his room and after hearing a muffled, “Goodnight, Sweet Dreams” I could almost hear him start snoring before his head hit the pillow.

My friend and I checked the gas tank, just to be sure and started to move towards our rooms. “Listen here, Ninny and listen good”. I knew it. It sounded too good to be true. Now I was in for it!

“When I lean up against the wall in my room, it’ll be like lying next to you. All you need to do is to do the same in your room. Then no matter what happens, we’ll be together in spirit, with just one wall between us.”

It was almost like the time, when she told me about her circus dog. It was such a beautiful thing to say, that I couldn’t say anything in return. I just smiled and told her goodnight. She smiled back at me and blew me a kiss before closing and locking her door. I wasn’t certain what to do now? I guess, I should move my bed up to our common wall, and dream sweet dreams about friends, and the like. And their former life in Botswana…

My father was already in the kitchen, frying eggs and bacon, whistling some tune from when he had been younger, his face lighting up when I finally woke up, and dragged myself into the kitchen. “Well, how’d you sleep? I slept like a log. Yes, I did. Just like a log.”

I looked out of the window and noticed how close we were to the lake. “About an hour ago, just when the sun had come up over the horizon, I saw some fishermen out in their boats on that very lake.” I could feel the fishing vibrations shake the house, whenever my father started to get the idea that we were some sort of weathered fishermen, who had not only caught Moby Dick, but had eaten the most of it in one sitting. I wanted to remind him of the fiasco,  the first/last time we went fishing, but I didn’t have the heart to do so. I started to think about my friend instead and wondered when she would be getting up and joining us.

Just then the door opened and in walked my friend, carrying a whole bunch of fish in her hands. “Look here. Dinner for the 3 of us. Freshly caught!”

My father and I just looked at her, as if she had been fishing on the moon or something, but it really didn’t matter how she did that, because the surprise effect was a once in a lifetime moment between us. She laid the fish on the counter and showed us how they were cleaned and ready to fry, as if they had been bought at the local grocery store.

My father just looked at her with great admiration, and said that when we were going to try  our luck at fishing on the lake, we had to have her with us in the boat!

The cabin in the sunlight looked completely different, than when we had arrived the day before. I couldn’t wait to start off our day together, but thought about leaving my bed against the same wall, during the rest of the trip.

You never know what might happen, being all close to someone like that……


Posted in Stories, Stories - The Girl Next Door

Driving to the Lake – Chapter 22 (The Girl Next Door)

I don’t know exactly, but I felt like Ricky and Lucy on the way to California. Fred Mertz had packed their car with things hanging off the sides, the top and everywhere else. He had left a small hole where Ricky could see out of the front windshield, but even I could see, that they would never make it to California like that.

We had a bit more than my father had reckoned with, which meant that if the car was completely packed with all of our things, then we might as well spend the time camping out at home for all the room there wasn’t in both front and back. My father just shook his head and began to sift through the various piles. “If only your mother….” with that thought left unsaid, but could have been one of the following things:

  • had been here. Her intelligent ways would have solved our problems immediately.
  • had seen this mess, she would have yelled at us, until the cows came home
  • had seen that the Girl Next Door was going with us, then heads would fly
  • had experienced a fatal traffic accident, and couldn’t remember who we were…

He didn’t finish that statement, nor did he chose to use any of my suggestions either. We tried to put things into 1. clothing; 2. essentials; 3. games; 4. food.

Essentials for my father were copies of Fly Fishing Digest and Garage Monthly, while I chose a ball, a few books and a baseball bat, without baseball. My friend had any number of unnamed boxes which had to be taken along, or else!

We finally weeded out a few of the larger things, like a footstool, an ironing board and a set of Winter Tires. My mother would have insisted on those things, and would have forced the rest of us to re-examine our essentials, leaving them at home instead. I might have been brave enough to point out that Winter Tires in the middle of Summer might be overkill, but she would just bring up the poor Donner Family in California, and how they only had their Summer Tires to chew on, when they had run out of food on their vacation. Naturally, Winter Tires would be more filling, and would have gotten them to the next filling station, and customary gift shop.

After my father had checked the doors and windows, and especially the lock on the garage door, we set off at last. It really didn’t seem like the time had gotten to be 11am, but then The Ricardos and The Mertzes couldn’t have left New York any earlier, I’m certain of that.

My father yelled, “We’re Off”, like some fellow in a checkered shirt firing his pistol at the start of the race. A voice called out from the crowd. Oh My God, he’s been shot! And everyone’s attention get diverted from the race to the man on the top row. “Stop him. Stop that killer! A dark figure was seen running away from the bleachers, hopping over obstacles, catching himself once or twice from stumbling and falling. Now the race left the confines of the track with everyone and anyone scrambling in the direction of the elusive figure. “Grab onto your varicose veins!” an old Geezer yelled after the crowd exited the area, leaving plenty of hot dogs and Cotton Candy to eat in the wake of the confusion. The man that was shot was heard to utter the following words: “He did it. *cough* cough*” with blood running down the side of his mouth. The one-armed man did it, but it wasn’t him that fired the shot. Everyone present looked from side to side, trying to make heads or tails of these cryptic words. Then suddenly….

“Hey. Poindexter! Isn’t it great that you have the privilege of my company on this trip?” She looked at me with a wink, knowing that I was lost in my thoughts once again. If only I knew what to say to her, then maybe I’d stay in the present?

“It must be years since I’ve been on vacation”, she said, breaking into my thoughts. “The last time was when we went on a lion safari in Botswana. My father bagged a nice one, but the authorities confiscated it ,when they found we were trying to smuggle Coffee out of the Country. My father started to argue with the border authorities, when one of the guards pulled out his pistol. My father grabbed the lion’s head, and hit the road, leaving me with his passport and bottle of whiskey. They searched for weeks, but never found a trace of him. Years later my mother and I got a letter, which had postmarks from no less than 10 African Countries across the backside, with my father’s message to us in an unintelligible code:

Rickets, Rackets who has my Sackets. Peron has one, but he gave it to Samuel. Yours Truly. Truely.

My mother began to cry at the mere mention of Peron, who had been my father’s faithful native water bearer, during his travels along the Chobe River. He was indebted to my father, when a sudden flood occurred during the rainy season in December. He had lost his footing while attempting to fill the water jugs, and plunged into the surging river. He was swept away into Zimbabwe until he came dangerously close to Victoria Falls. My father well-versed in the act of lasso throwing, succeeded in casting his lasso out in the surging waters to Peron, and exhibiting almost super human strength, he was able to drag him ashore, just before he was dashed to his death on the rocks beneath those spectacular falls. Peron swore on a stack of bibles after that incident to serve my father until the day of his death, which was the start of a friendship that only a few in this life will ever experience.”

My mouth was wide open, while she told me that story. I couldn’t find a single word to say, or even attempt to daydream myself to another place, because her story was so gripping that I couldn’t believe my ears.

She just looked at me after telling her story and smiled, as if we were the only 2 people in that car, speeding along toward Lake Winnipuh, towards our honeymoon suite. With this ring I thee…..

“But as I said, my life tends to be a bit complicated”, she said as she looked out of the window once again. “I can’t wait until we get there! Maybe there is a lion head on the wall, which is hiding a secret message from my father?” said, as I almost choked on my Pixie Straw with its bittersweet candy inside.

“Hey kids, look over there. A marauding flock of Wildebeests.” Craning our necks to the left, the only thing visible was a herd of cows, chewing their cud, totally unaware of us. “Just kidding!” I can’t wait until we reach the cabin and our vacation can finally start! Just think of it. A cold drink enjoyed on the veranda, with the sun shining down, on my latest issue of Garage Monthly, waiting to see, who has won the contest this month for “The Most Innovative Garage this side of the Chobe River!”.

Wait a minute. Did he just say Chobe River? Wasn’t that in my friend’s story? I turned towards her to see her reaction, but was greeted by the sight of a lion’s head mounted on the wall of the safari shelter.

“Did you bring your gun with you, Bwana?” A tall, but extremely thin native was standing in front of me, waiting for a reply.

“I didn’t catch your name”, which I hadn’t having just come in the door after being caught in the torrential rains of December.

“Peron is my name. Just Peron!” I saw dim images resembling water jugs stacked in the corner of the shelter, and ragged suitcases belonging to someone long, long ago.

“Do you know of a man who…”.Then I was stymied. I didn’t even know her father’s name, let alone what he looked like.

My friend seemed to be asleep, but awakened when I touched her arm. “Oh, it’s you. I thought it was the doctor telling me that my mother had contracted Malaria after having searched for my father in Zimbabwe, and Botswana. He also touched my arm in the same place. Funny thing isn’t it?” I didn’t want to ruin her memory of that moment, but I had to ask what her father looked like, otherwise I’d never get back to my conversation with Peron and his water jugs.

“He was rather tall, with brown hair and blue eyes. He always joked with my mother telling her, how he’d never fit in with the indigenous population looking like that, but that didn’t keep him out of doing his job in Africa. He loved Diamond Mining and was good at it as well. His workers respected and adored him, which is probably why my mother fell in love with him way back when at that Cotillion held at the embassy in the capital city of Gaberone.”

I excused myself, striding out into the blazing sun of the Botswana Summer. I needed to travel back to that shelter, before my time ran out. Finally, I found the shelter, but the man, Peron was long gone, which I discovered by feeling the temperature of the coals in the fire ring. His water jugs were also gone, which made me want to follow his tracks, along the Chobe River in search of my friend’s father and his faithful companion.

My father let out a “Whoop”, which sounded like a wild Indian on the American Plains, when we reached the entrance to Lake Winnipuh. Boats were seen in the small harbor to the left, while the check-in cabin was visible on the right. My father parked the car on the side of the road and sauntered up to the cabin, pulling out his wallet with the reservation hanging out, threatening to fall.

My friend sighed a sigh, and turned toward me while we waited. “Did you find him in time?”

“Sadly no, but I did speak to Peron, and was certain that I could follow his tracks down the Chobe River.” She took my hand and looked into my eyes. I felt a warm feeling radiating in my limbs, making me want to draw her closer and kiss her. Just when the moment that we both had been waiting for came, my father returned to the car.

“I have it! I have it here”, he said waving a piece of paper and a set of keys. “Now we are ready to rock and roll!” said as if we were about to strip naked down to our waists and set fire to the band!

My friend just looked at me and said, “This will be a vacation, you never will forget. Mark my words….”

Then I knew it! I knew, regardless of me finding Peron, or not, this still was going to be something that I would never forget…..never!

Posted in Life, Relationships, Stories

Mom, Kate is Teasing Me Again

I used to think that Kate was my best friend, but she teases me too much.

I told my mother, I don’t want to play with Kate anymore. Not ever. Not anymore Kate. No way in this world. No one who treats me like Kate does, at all!

I said it, and I mean it, and no one can change how I feel!

Mom just said, “What about inviting her over for milk and chocolate chips cookies?

No way in the world. Nope. I don’t want to call her my friend anymore. No way!

Mom replied, “If you don’t invite her over, you won’t get any cookies!”

I didn’t like it, when Mom was like that. She always knew how to get me mad, and this was no exception.

I went outside and kicked the dirt a bit. Darn Women! First it was Kate teasing me about being her boyfriend and all, then it was Mom, making me pick up my underwear from the floor! Darn Women.

I told Kate, that even though she was special to me, I didn’t think we should be having to hold hands and stuff like that. It was all right climbing over fences and throwing mud at the walls, but I had to draw the line somewhere. She only wanted to do those things with me to get me to admit to being in love and all that stuff, which I’m not.

She tried to snuggle up close and all, right until I could smell the bubble gum on her breath. That made me feel all ooky and everything, and I even considered putting my arm around her. Just then, Mom called out of the window about my favorite TV show being on and if I wanted to invite my little friend in with me?

Little friend! What did Mom take me for, a boy or something? I just kicked the dirt and started to walk away, when Kate yelled after me, “Hey, what about me?”

Sheesh, Women and all that stuff! I might as well just kill some time, climbing on those big rocks near the breakwater, all alone without bubble gum smells and all that icky stuff. Life used to be easier before she done moved in from Canada and all!

“Hey”, she called out again, “What about some of those cookies?”

I guess, that breakwater and the Seagull poop could wait another day, when there were no cookies. Women just don’t understand about that important stuff, like us guys do!

Cookies and girls! It might work, but only as long as I am in control of the situation, and Kate doesn’t think that she is the one who decides and all.

Women, Sheesh!

Posted in Stories, Stories - The Girl Next Door

Packing the Car – Chapter 21 (The Girl Next Door)

I really underestimated my father. How could he have arranged for the Girl Next Door to accompany us on our vacation? Not just a one day vacation, but almost a whole week! I’ve never even seen her mother, let along her father. I tried to ask her once about them, but all she said was, “It’s complicated”. She was rather complicated before I even thought about her parents being even more complicated, which made me think that I should leave well enough alone, not complicating matters any further!

My father said that we’d rent a large cabin with 3 bedrooms, a kitchen and an inside bathroom. I mention the bathroom as sometimes women seem to get all bent out of shape when saying that the bathroom is outdoors, or over in them thar trees!

My mother would be ready with a comment, almost before the last statement was made. “If the Good Lord had meant us to go to the bathroom out in the woods, then he would have equipped us better to deal with that! My word, it’s hard enough visiting the ladies room at the local gas station knowing about the habits of those grease monkeys and their wanton ways of cleaning the restroom for the rest of us. Many is the time, when I’ve needed to give those “mechanics” a piece of my mind, telling them how things should be done! Your father has joked and said that we are the only family who has been banned from using any bathroom on the Interstate within a radius of 100 miles!

I’ve half-expected to see my mother’s face on a wanted poster, warning everyone about the dangers caused by her and her standards for filling station restrooms.

“I’ve seen her”, said a man who just rode into town on his Appaloosa. “She was visiting the ladies room at the first filling station before town! People threw themselves off the stage, fleeing for their lives! “She’s mad, I tell you. Stark raving mad! With her painstakingly clean white gloves, running her right index finger along the top of the towel holder. “Clean! I’ve seen cleaner things in a slop kitchen! Did your mother raise you wrong? Don’t try to deny it, I’m armed you know…..”

It’s just not like when we real guys go into the forest! Every tree is our bathroom, and we know it too! I figured it probably was better to keep those kind of thoughts to myself, knowing how My Friend probably would react, her being a woman and all.

Dad just started throwing things in a pile, no matter whether he expected to take them on our trip, or if it was just because with my mother gone, it seemed like a really reckless thing to do. “Have you checked if we still have any beans in the cupboard?” he called out to me, even though I winced at the thought of eating more beans. “No, sorry, we’ve eaten them all, and the man at the grocery store said that they won’t be getting anymore in stock until next week sometime.” That was a white lie, you know? I really thought that he would get the picture, if I made it as hard as possible to fill the car up with non-existent beans and all. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to eat steaks and fried chicken instead!” sending me a wink, making me jump up at his statement and give him a big hug.

We talked about leaving early the next morning, getting up with the chickens, if we had any that is. My mother always wanted our food to be fresh, but not by having chickens run around the yard, clucking, and digging in her flower beds and all. “But Mom, we can build them a coop with running water and everything. A sort of Chicken Penthouse!” Mom just looked at me as if I had been some wayward Canadian, who fell of the first truck, headed for the promised land. “First it was a ladybug in a jar. Then it was talk of a dog, now you want chickens! I was not born yesterday, you know? I see, what all of this is leading up to! It is some sort of a plot to get chickens for your own pets.”

Fresh eggs, Mom!” That’s what they all say. I won’t have foul fowl ruining my suburban lifestyle.”

Foul Fowl – Ha! Mom made a funny, she would just never know it herself!

I went next door to my friend’s house to make sure that she knew about when we were leaving, so we wouldn’t run into any problems like when we went to the movies. Her house looked just as forlorn as usual, with no sign of life anywhere to be seen. I knocked on her door and waited. I half expected to hear the TV in the background, or the sounds of a dog on the other side of the door, whimpering and barking at the sound of strangers outside. Nothing. Nothing at all.

I was about to go home again, when the door opened a crack. “Oh, it’s you. What is it Poindexter? Have you gotten lost, and couldn’t find your way back home again?” I wish she would be nice and pleasant when I came by. I wish her eyes would light up and look as if she were glad to see me, because it was me. I wish she would tell me that she was the luckiest girl in the world, because someone like me liked someone like her. I wish that….

“Oh. Don’t mind me, she said breaking me out of my thoughts. I guess, it is more interesting to be in Dream Land then to talk to me?” Her head disappeared back into the house, and the door slammed with a fury, that I thought a tornado had hit our neighborhood.

“Grab the kids and the dog” my father yelled through the screaming wind! “Down into the shelter!” Things were swirling around our heads like being in a Waring Blender. I would have wanted some fresh-squeezed orange juice instead, but that would have to wait until later! The car suddenly began to rock from side to side. “Wait a minute!” my father screamed. “I forget to set the emergency brake!” and with that he left us to fend for ourselves, and jumped into the car, fumbling around, looking for the brake handle. Suddenly the car was lifted up over the rooftop and carried away! “Dad!” I cried, even though it was too late. Not even Dorothy and Toto could have helped him now.

The door opened once again. My friend’s hand appeared and knocked on my head, like it was a coconut. “Hello. Hello in there!  Are you going to stand there all day? You are making a scene! Get off my porch, Are you listening? Try to wake up, and smell the coffee!” What. Coffee. Porch. Wow, where was I? I looked around me and realized that the tornado had gone, but I was still worried that my father had gotten blown away. “What is it, I’m busy packing for the trip, so I’m not late tomorrow morning!”

Women! Just when you think you have them figured out, they go and do the reverse once again. “Uh, I. I just wanted to see if you knew when we were leaving, but I guess you do, don’t you?” She just looked at me like I was some sort of door to door salesman who couldn’t sell her any brushes, or steak knives. “Look at the edge of these knives. You could slice a piece of paper with one sweep of the hand. She took one of the knives in her hand. “Yep. Looks pretty sharp to me”. I don’t know, but I was worried to take this daydream any farther, lest she did something with that knife to someone, which made the police come and…. “When was the last time you saw her?” The Policeman asked while following what looked like a trail of blood through the house. “Oh, I’m not sure”, said while trying to wipe the blade while he spoke. I think it was a week ago Tuesday, or perhaps Monday, during the last Presidential Election?” “You look familiar”, said while slapping his pockets for the wanted poster of my now-missing friend. “It says here under known accomplices: Boy who lives next door. Constantly Daydreaming, Mildly Confusing, Most likely just as guilty as she”. I wish, I had a getaway car like in the Hardy Boys. One of those dark jobs which could whoosh through the city without being seen.

Someone was knocking on my head again. “Hello. Anybody in there?”. My friend didn’t seem to be the worse for wear. No blood to be seen, nor Brush-Knife Salesmen with a pale complexion, lying on the floor. “Uh. So I guess, we’ll see each other tomorrow morning. Don’t be late!” And with that I backed away from the door, making sure that the Cops were looking the other way, as I raced to my Roadster.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny as I rolled over in bed for another 40 winks. “Hey, Sleepyhead! Wake up! You need to beat those Chickens to the punch!”

I rolled over, and looked at the time: 5:30. 5:30 was she out of her mind? Stop right there. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. I might as well have hit the Go to Jail. Go Directly to Jail. Do not collect $200. Why wasn’t I allowed to buy Boardwalk and Park Place? Why did I not land on them, when there weren’t any houses, but managed to hit them when they had hotels on them? Why did I have to sell out of my Railroads, leaving me Connecticut, but not the other Blue Properties? I might as well ask, why the sky was blue. Rather a deep blue, if you are not used to 5:30am Blue?

I dressed as quickly as possible and rushed downstairs. Before she had a chance to wake up the rest of the neighborhood, I threw the door open and saw….

There she was. Sitting on a heap of this and that. Everything from Tennis Racquets to Pots with broken handles, and this and that all over again.

She just looked at me and said, “Good Morning Sleepy Head! Ready for our new adventure?……..”


Posted in Canada, Stories

End of the Day, Blog

I might just be writing this at the end of the day, but you might not be reading it until you wake up.

I’ve been troubled by Time Zones before. If I post a blog at Midnight, then it’s still only 3 in the afternoon in California. What are they doing at 3 pm? Someone always responds with a read or a like, with Canada and not California coming in with the majority of votes.

Perhaps my blogs could be released at different times around the globe? Then people in Australia wouldn’t be confused by my dark Danish night descriptions in the middle of a Sunny Australian Summer Day. You see, it’s not even enough dealing with time zones, but with Northern and Southern Hemisphere problems as well.

I might just have to join the Flat Earth Society in order to make things fit, no matter where on the fearth you might find yourself. Wouldn’t it be called that? Fearth? Or perhaps Flearth?

I’d hate to confuse the Round Earth People with the Flat Earth People.Maybe if they had their own special App which would automatically convert my Round Earth Northern Hemisphere UTC+1 blogs into Flat Earth, Southern Hemisphere UTC+11!

I might just end up having 2 Facebook programs, side by side with my now, 9 Friends on the Northern Hemisphere, UTC+1 on the left, and the other UTC+11, Southern Hemisphere Flat Earth Friends on the right. It might get confusing, but my fears would probably increase to overflowing if my Family was divided among the Flat Earth vs. Round Earth people, throwing in the Fantasy Elements vs the Real Elements. I might just end up chucking my Spread Sheet Program for some sort of multi-level chess board, which the various elements could be placed upon?

Some people might say that my life is way too complicated to figure out anymore, even to those die-hard readers who have attempted to keep up with my blogs over the past 7 months.

Those same people might suggest that I wiped the slate clean, and started out once again to describe my life and my family, leaving out the Fantasy elements for now. It’s those kind of radical thoughts that add fuel to my blog fire, enticing me to write yet another, perhaps even more confusing blog than before. I guess, it’s the devil in me that makes me do those things!

This was just supposed to be the last blog of the day, and not a journey into the Twilight Zone. That’s always how it seems to happen with me, without any warning at all. It could be traced back to my upbringing, or a visit of Canadian Aliens who placed pods in my cellar?

That’s it, this evening’s journey is over. Those Aliens will just have to wait for another day to influence my thoughts once again.

Perhaps in the Southern UTC+11, Flearth Facebook Friends, of my Fantasy Australian Family……


Posted in Stories

Far, Far Away in a Magic Fairytale Kingdom Lived…

Far, far away in a Magical Fairytale Kingdom lived a Princess. She longed to see the Outside World so much that she traveled over Mountains and Valleys, over Oceans and Deserts finally reaching God’s Country.

She didn’t have any Magical Shoes for her Dream Prince to try on, nor did she have a Fairy Godmother to wave her wand, bewitching him into loving her. Nay, this princess used her Natural Charm and Great Beauty to entice and yes, later ensnare her Dream Prince, taking him back with her to  Her Magical Fairytale Kingdom.

She was delighted to return to the land of her Forefathers. But as the months rolled on she began to fear that her Great Beauty and Natural Charm wouldn’t be enough to keep The New Prince satisfied enough to live in her Fairytale Land! She decided to enchant him, which would assure that Her Dream Prince wouldn’t discover that he had moved far, far away, over Mountains and Deserts, over Oceans and Valleys, never to gaze upon his Cherished Lofty Misty Mountains once again.

Her father, the King, was less than excited with his new Son In-law. He had instructed The New Prince to bring his Majestic Golden Vehicle with him. The most wealthy patrons of the Fairytale Kingdom could then bid on it, wishing and hoping that such a rare delight would someday be theirs. The Queen on the other hand, beamed with joy every time the New Prince said something, reveling in his Foreign Ways and Manners.

The Princess never lost Hope. “The Royal subjects of this Great Fairytale Land must be convinced to Love and Cherish the new Prince, as much as they Love and Cherish me”. The Evil Count of Ignorance, however, had other plans. “He’ll never be able to speak the Native Tongue correctly, making him fall into disrespect among the True Native Speakers.”

Alas, there was always Good and Evil to be found in the World, and living in the Fairytale Kingdom was no exception.

The Princess lashed out at the Count. “You will see, how clever he will be!” I know how he will excel at speaking the Royal Native Language, even better than the Reigning Prince! Just look how fond the Royal Dog is with him. It must be a Sign.

The days and weeks passed with the Royal Subjects of the Magic Fairytale Kingdom waiting and watching for an inkling of Good News. The Prince came out of the Castle one day to mingle among his subjects, cloaked in Modesty. “If only I can Master the Royal Native Language, I know that I will gain the respect of the King, the Royal Subjects and inherit half of the Kingdom,” he thought to himself

The Princess began to worry that her enchantments were beginning to fade. The long Winter months of Sad Clouds and Barren Trees didn’t help the situation at all. She was afraid that her New Prince would start to remember about his Lofty Misty Mountains, and lose his longing and undying passion for the Princess, who had enchanted him.  She too, began to look for a Sign, like a pack of Wolves running through the Countryside, or a Gaggle of Geese flying overhead. Those things would surely tell her that the New Prince’s Time had come.

Finally when Summer came to the Fairytale Kingdom, the long awaited news was proclaimed! The Prince had overcome his fears, pushing away those Long Lost thoughts of a Dreary and Depressing Winter. He succeeded in Impressing both the King, the Queen and the Royal Subjects. Now he too, was worthy of becoming one of the Happiest People in the Magical Fairy Kingdom!

The Princess got everything she had hoped for. The Prince, still under her enchantments, was convinced that he traveled to this Fairytale Kingdom due to Love, thus forgetting completely about his Former Life, The Lofty Misty Mountains, and the Language He Learned as a Child.

The Count of Ignorance was banished to the Pointless Forest where he was destined to live with little Oblio, another forgotten has-been Prince, and was never was Heard from Again by anyone in the Magical Fairytale Kingdom.

The Moral of this Story is: Even though You are enchanted by a Princess, You still might end up being in Love, inheriting Half the Kingdom,  getting The Girl of your Dreams, and being able to walk The Royal Dog!