It’s the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix – Unique Personality
giving it much thought
the skyscraper kissed the sky,
a cloudburst ensued.
Author: Ergo, the Ogre
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When Twilight Slips
Today’s Three Things Challenge at The Haunted Wordsmith blog are the words twilight, magical and automaton.
When twilight fell on the village of New Britsky, the sky took on a magical glow. It was more than just a sunset. Some describe it as a small-scale aurora borealis. An array of greens, pinks, and golds illuminated the village and time seemed to stop. Even the animals were still as the world around them shimmered.
It was when twilight slipped into nighttime that life got spooky. The New Britsky villagers lost their humanity like a snake sheds its skin, and became humanoid. Like automatons, they moved through their lives without thought or emotion. They cooked dinner, ate, put their children to bed, and even made love as if programmed.
The animals, pets included, avoided contact with the humanoids. This was fairly easy since the humanoids failed to notice them.
When the sun rose the next morning, humanity returned. No one had any recollection of the night before.
The same thing happened to visitors who spent the night in New Britsky. They too never knew the difference.
Who knows where humanity goes every night, and what makes it come back?
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Chillin’ with Proust
It’s #AnythingGoes Linky Week over at the My Random Musings blog. Go check ’em out!
⇔⇔“A big ‘hello’ to all you folks out there in Radioland. Boy, oh boy, do we have a show for you! Ladies and gentlemen, today—for the first time in radio history—we’re bringing you a live, tell-all interview with your favorite appliance and mine…The Refrigerator! And here he is now!”
<canned applause>
“Welcome to the show, Mr. Refrigerator!”
“What’s buzzin’ cuzzin? Call me Chillie.”
“Sure thing, Chillie, heheheheh. You’re familiar with the Proust Questionnaire, correct?”
“I’m hip.”
“Great! Let’s get started then, shall we?”
“Righto, Bobbo.”
“Okay, Chillie. What do you think is your greatest virtue?”
“Well, Bob. I’ll tell ya. It’s my compartmentalization gig. Dig this: I keep ice cubes solid without freezing the ankle-biters’ Kool-Aid. Oscar Oven and Tillie Toaster ain’t cookin’ like that!”
“Indeed, Chillie. Indeed. Now, what do you feel are the most important qualities in a man?”
“Bob, I gotta tell ya. I dig a cat who doesn’t yank me open and slam me shut. One time, this dipstick yanked me so hard he busted my handle off! Cast an eyeball <points to handle>. I wasn’t born this way. There oughtta be a law.”
“Oh, the trauma, Chillie! And what about in a woman?”
“Well, it gripes the <bleep> outta me when some doll opens my door, and stares at my innards with this odd-ball look on her face. It’s nowhere, dig? I mean, if you don’t know what you want, what makes you think Igot it?”
“So, in essence, Chillie, the life of a fridge isn’t as glamorous as we’ve been led to believe. Am I right?”
“Bingo.”
“All right, then. Chillie, what is your greatest fear?”
“Bob, I’m scared to death that turquoise appliances will go out of style. If that happens…Bob, I’ll be shot down. It’s the royal shaft. Deadsville. I’d be done. Done! <Waaaaaa! WahWaaaa!>”
“Aww, don’t cry, Chillie! <somebody grab a beach towel!> I’m sure turquoise appliances like you will be around for a long, long time.”
“Thanks, Bob.” <sniff sniff> “That question really rattled my cage, dig? Got me cranked…”
“I see that, Chillie. Are you ready to continue?”
“Punch it, Bobby!”
“Chillie, share with our listeners, your most embarrassing moment.”
“Oh, geez. The power outage. I was unplugged, if you get my drift, for days when the family finally came home. Bob, when they opened me up, every one of ’em got sick; I’m talkin’ physically ill, all because of my putrid stench. We’re talkin’ sauerkraut and kielbasa; a tuna casserole, curdled milk. We’re talkin’ onions, raw chicken; melted ice cream bars, thawed TV dinners and pork chops. I felt like a grody pig. A real slob, dig?”
“Phew! I would imagine so. Okay, Chillie . Now, for our final question: if you could be anything else in the world, Chillie, what would you be?”
“Bob, I’ll tell ya. It’s between a Sherman tank and a Brillo pad.”
“Wha…? But the two are polar opposites!”
“I know. I pulled ’em out of my drip tray to bug ya, Daddy-O!”
“Very funny, Mr. Refrigerator.”
“Hey, don’t be a wet blanket! I’ll get on the stick. Lemme answer the question. Pleeeeease?”
“Go ahead.” <sigh>.
“Cool. All joking aside, if I could be anything else in the whole wide world, I’d be…a Sherman tank and a Brillo pad. Bwahahahaha! You walked into that one, Big Daddy!”
“Why, you irreverent hunk of junk. I oughtta…
<beep-beep-buh-beep-beep><beep-beep-buh-beep-beep><beep-beep-buh-beep-beep>
We interrupt this program for a breaking news bulletin.
“It’s just come into the newsroom that turquoise appliances have become obsolete. That’s right folks, they are ob-so-lete… “
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Captain January
It’s still my favorite January.
The typical grey, cold nothingness
hovered until the magic happened.
You made the sun shine and flowers
bloom — like only you could. Albeit
fleeting, I’d do it all again. With you.
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Wild-Ass Vacation
“Dude!” Sebastian elbowed his brother. “Can you believe we’re on our way to Ireland?“
“I can’t get my seatbelt fastened!” François fumbled with the clasps. “Here, hold Pendragon.”
Sebastian gently hoisted the mini-man from François’ lap. “There’s the little-bitty monkey-guy…goo-goo!”
“Don’t call him that! It hurts his feelings.”
“I’m just joking, Dude. Monkey…homunculus…get it?”
“Duh?” François rolled his eyes. “‘Okay. I’m all set.”
“Here ya go.” Sebastian passed Pendragon back. “You know what else I can’t believe?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“That Mom & Dad let him come with on our family vacation–even though we have to sit in coach while they’re in first class.”
“Mom’s crazy about him, Dude!” François grinned. “No way would she trust a babysitter with this precious little bundle.” He bounced Pendragon on his knee. “Whee! Horsie ride…badoomp badoomp badoomp….”
“Yeah, that’s weird in itself.” Sebastian squinted his eyes. “Personally, I thought she’d be grossed out. I mean…wtf, right?”
“Whaddaya mean, grossed out & wtf?”
“Look at him. Yikes!” Sebastian chuckled. “And he wasn’t even potty-trained, for Cripe’s sake!”
“Neither were we, Sebo…if you recall.” Françoise countered. “Anyway, Mom’s maternal instincts must have kicked in. Notice how she sent Dad for diapers and Gerber’s before he even finished his cake.”
“Yeah, then he comes back two hours later, toasted, carrying a bag of Depends and a McDonald’s Happy Meal! “BWAHAHAHA!”
“I know, right? Dad kills me.”
“Seriously, though. Do you ever get the feeling that Dad doesn’t like us?”
“All the time.” François shrugged. “I think he wanted girls.”
“Oh, well! Hey, here comes the flight attendant. What should we get for Pendragon?”
“Hmmm. Well, he seems partial to the dark liquors. Remember the night he raided the liquor cabinet?”
“…and we got blamed!” Sebastian grimaced.
“Yeah, but I liked when we found him underneath the sink, playing with his toes. Mom was so proud of him. I guess it’s a big deal when babies find their toes.”
Sebastian shook his head. “Dude, how could he miss them? His toes are the size of my fingers!” Sebastian pressed his right hand to Pendragon’s left foot. “See? Freakin’ gunboats.”
“YeeeeeeHeeeeeeHaaaaaawwwww!” Pendragon shrieked, smiling his toothless, gummy-drool smile. “YeeeeeeHeeeeeeHaaaaaawwwww!”
Passengers in all directions turned to stare at the odd trio.
“Sebo! Knock it off!”
“Ooops!” Sebastian whispered. “I forgot he’s ticklish.”
The flight attendant approached warily.
“What can I get you bo…” She gasped as Pendragon reached his giant hand toward her flight pin. “Oh, my! What an…unusual-looking….child?”
“Yeah, he’s somethin’ else, isn’t he Ma’am?” Sebastian snickered.
“Is it, I mean he, your little brother?”
“Not exactly. Frankie here,” Sebastian motioned his thumb at François, “incuba…”
“Uh, we’d like to order some drinks, please.” François interrupted.
“I suppose…” The flight attendant eyed Pendragon with suspicion. “What would you like?”
“Two ginger ales and an Irish coffee.”
“How old are you boys?”
“I’m twelve and Sebo’s thirteen.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Oh, the Irish coffee’s not for us,” François explained. “It’s for Pendragon.”
“Pendragon.” She repeated. “That’s its name?
“He is not an it.” Sebastian fired back.
“Are you boys flying alone, or is a parent or guardian somewhere on this airplane?”
François spoke before his brother had a chance to mouth-off. “Our folks are in first class, but please don’t bother them. We’ll settle for two ginger ales and a black cuppa joe for Pendragon.”
“Coffee? For a…for that?“
“Yes, Ma’am. If Pendragon doesn’t get his java fix, he turns into a little monster!”
“Okay, okay… I get it.” The flight attendant glanced around, grinning. “The jig’s up, kids. Where’s the camera?”
“What are you talking about?” Sebastian inquired.
“C’mon! I’ve seen these shows a million times on TV. And this is a baby in disguise!”
“No, wait!” François tried to shield Pendragon, but it was too late.
The flight attendant grabbed Pendragon’s nose and tried to remove what she thought was a mask. In turn, Pendragon, overcome with fear and cranky by nature, fought back the only way he could: by attaching his massive, blubbery lips to the woman’s forearm, and sucking. Hard.
She yelled, screamed, and waved her arms like a spastic baboon, but Pendragon couldn’t let go.
“Dude!” Sebastian exclaimed. “Lookit ‘m go! He’s hangin’ on like a pit bull!”
“Dad’s gonna kill us….” François sighed.
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Ergo, the Ogre 