It is that I shall write about the unexpected. I will strive to avoid embellishment and exaggeration. Within the structure of these guidelines I expect little controversy upon discussion, neither should there be gun play, although that in itself would be unexpected.
Having now brought it up - it is possible I have planted a seed.
I assure you, that was not my intent.
Okay, I believe I have just accomplished discussing the unexpected.
You're Welcome
Zobostic Corwin
None of them were asked to explain their thinking or to justify their decision. They simply stated that they were unanimous and quietly filed out of the courtroom and went their separate ways.
It was, of course, years later when the truth came out about juror #8. By then it was all too late. Things had been done based upon the verdict. Lives had been changed, one life ended and society as a whole took a step backward. The system was indeed flawed and a great change would be made.
The
Governor and his cohorts were indicted along with juror #8. The city stayed on the front page for longer
than was comfortable. The Feds would be
taking a long look at the system and soliciting outside opinions from law
professors as to possible changes. Myron Goldstein would head the
taskforce. A panel of 500 citizens, 10
from every state would be allowed to view all meetings on a designated
television channel. The 500 had been selected
from a National lottery to ensure randomness.
Their access code to this channel was controlled and monitored 24 hours
a day. The President and Congress would be in on the final decision. The decision as to how the new Constitution
of the
The Goldstein’s, their friends and extended family had been assigned guards 24/7. Each and every college professor chosen for the task was assigned personal bodyguards and was under constant surveillance. Nothing was left to chance.
Independent agencies were hired to monitor the overall operation and no agency was informed about the other or how many total agencies were involved. Checks and balances were in place and even those were being monitored.
Of the
people, by the people and for the people would no longer be an empty
slogan. Americans First was the
new battle cry and
My neighbor's cat is missing.
Her name is Butterball.
They are offering a small reward
so please call if you see her.
1-800-288-8372
Thank you
that get you.
If you are going to write a book
for children -
you should leave out the
sinister, mean spirited and nasty.
They will have plenty of time to learn about
those things in grade school.
The next time I have to visit the dentist,
when they sit me in that expensive
dentist chair and lean me back,
I'd like to see blue sky and white, wispy clouds
passing overhead.
you want to think about
when flying...
Thanks Sky Mall
Solar Tubes
Chapter 1
If you came in the side door the first thing you would notice would be the bouquet of hiking boots piled by the stairs. Unfortunately, they are not fresh boots but rather well experienced, worn and sweat-soaked. It is a memorable fragrance all its own. The walking stick next to the boots has no scent to speak of.
None of that, however, has anything to do with the solar tube. The solar tube is a hollow shaft that runs from the rooftop, down to the ceiling of the kitchen. It is designed to let natural sunlight flood into the room.
Because of Murphy’s Law, it isn’t just sunlight finding its way into the tube, but as it turns out, the hollow tube also functions as an express elevator, carrying hundreds of small insect bodies down to the glass cover at the ceiling.
As the sun finds its way in and lights up the glass, this bug graveyard becomes illuminated for all to see. Really, there are more bugs than you can shake a stick at. Even a scent free stick.
However, to be fair, this story must be told through the point of view of the insect, for it is their final resting place. Like the sacred burial ground of the Native American, without an act of congress, and the proper forms, this solar tube must never be disturbed.
Ancient insect spirits, have a hard way to go during their life and get nothing but the shaft in the end, usually from a misinformed insect cemetery salesman – who, when questioned about the best place to end up says, “I’ll put some feelers out.”
Well, although the bug spirits are quiet and show no desire to expand their territory, this solar tube is not an appropriate view to be presented to the dinner guests below.
Thus, The Solar Tube Treaty of 2020 is now before
Congress. If passed, homeowners, as well
as long-term renters will be allowed to exhume these insect remains with approved
government vacuum cleaners, which should give these tiny spirits their final
comfort.
Eureka.
Solar Tubes are real, only
The Rare Hardcover Paperback is not.
zc
Yes, this magic putty will stop a leak.
Sure, it dries hard as cement,
but if you ever want to turn the handle again...
you'll be calling a plumber.
Okay, so maybe I could have been a little
more neat when applying the putty.
In my dream I am sitting in a waiting room. Nobody else is around but I can hear very
faint mumbling off in the distance.
There is no way to tell who is talking or what they are saying. I just know I am supposed to wait.
Having been around the block before, I know the longer I sit
the more my thoughts will conjure up all sorts of things. I simply need to ignore them and wait
quietly.
I should mention that I am not wearing a watch, I never do. There are no clocks in the room and I did not
bring my cell phone. A magazine or two
would be nice but there is nothing.
There are no paintings on the walls but across from me is a statue. It is a bust of some guy, not sure who, but
apparently someone who was worthy of a statue.
The more I look at it the more I realize the expression on
the face of the statue is not a serious look but its more of a smirk. I don’t
believe I have ever seen a smirking bust before. It is quite odd. It seems less of a Teddy Roosevelt and more an
Alfred E. Newman, but just off somehow.
I want to look away, but I keep being drawn back to it. Now I truly am curious as to just who it
is. Did they have to wait?
Is this some sort of test?
Does everyone who looks at the bust see something different? Just what is the significance of this
thing? I’ve decided I don’t like it. The fact that I have to wait while someone
smirks at me, well that’s just wrong.
I can’t let myself get agitated. My thoughts, as I knew they would, are
running wild. I have focused on the only
other thing in the room and have become obsessed by it. I need to calm down.
I don’t hear the distant mumbling anymore. Now its too quiet. My heartbeat has become noticeable to me. That can’t be good. I need to think about something else. What can I think about?
I have this desk lamp at home. It is mostly metal, but with a crystal globe
in the middle. There are four people, of
sorts, holding up the glass part. Each
person is only a stick-figure, but they have a face. Each one is looking in a different direction,
kind of a north, south, east, west deal.
Perhaps they were meant to be guardians.
I can’t really place a region on the thing. I mean, it looks a little Egyptian but then
again not so much.
I’m not really sure I have ever noticed the faces on the stick
figures before. I obviously noticed the
crystal globe in the middle. It is cut
glass and looks more elegant than the worn brass supporting it. That’s good.
As long as I am thinking about the lamp I am not looking into that smirk
across the room.
Now the voices are back, but this time they sound closer. Maybe it’s my turn. Maybe they are coming for me, walking down
some hall, getting closer, talking about their weekend. I am straining to hear. What?
Whose party? I couldn’t quite
hear that.
“Welcome back. Did
you have a nice rest? The procedure went
smoothly, there were no complications.
You’re in recovery right now. Do
you have anyone in the waiting room? Did
somebody drive you here?”
“Looks like he’s drifted off again.”
I understand humble beginnings.
I know, you buy what you can afford.
I realize not everyone can live in a palace.
What I can't figure out is
why the lock on the door is on the outside.
Just recently I stumbled upon an odd combination that you
wouldn’t ordinarily think went together.
It was time and punctuation.
Maybe, had I been on the surface of the moon or anywhere away from Earth’s
gravitational effects, they may have blended differently, or not at all. I’m not sure.
This combination, of time and punctuation generated a
responsive balance of thought, whereby sleep seemed to advance movement, while
individual thought stopped time cold.
Not only that, but this was a repeatable event. I did it three different times just to make
sure it wasn't a fluke. It wasn’t.
During those periods when time ceased to exist, the affected zone appeared to encompass only myself and my awareness of my immediate surroundings. I'm not sure how to better explain that.
Imagine, if you will, a wind-up toy whose spring contains sporadically placed commas. The action toy will advance through its programed movements, with those movements being interrupted by voids in its reality. Now do you see?
This is a discovery of epic proportions, with a usefulness yet to be realized.
I can see a Pulitzer in my future.
This is Z. Corwin
I think I should go and lie down for a while -
the unlikely pair I refer to is myself with a Pulitzer.
My washing machine was made by LG. It is the Houdini model, and it works great.
I have these sweatpants that have a drawstring around the waist. I keep three, count em’ three granny knots
in the string. They are pulled tight and
never slip.
Here’s the thing, whenever I take these pants out of the
wash, the drawstring is completely untied.
Each and every time, as if by magic.
PS
There isn’t an Untie setting on the machine. That’s the first thing I checked.
Hershey Bars
when I was young
were big
and cost a dime,
One would last you
through the show
munching double time -
The story's different
now-a-days,
our movies not so dapper -
and 50 cents for Hershey Bars
while most of that is wrapper,
My sweet tooth's suffered
these last few years,
as I here now recall-it,
and not just tooth
that's felt the strain
but the stuffing
in my wallet.
zc
Under thundering hooves
spattering divots
oblivious
to the fact,
Jay Hopkins - long past due
has lost his rent
and groceries -
under thundering hooves.
zc
Atop the falling barn
squeaks an arrow-
turning painfully
with the wind
perhaps yelling
at the rusty, bent
nails
who never cared which
direction they pointed,
and who are now
in their old age –
finding it hard to
support
the gravity beckoned planks.
There – in a unison
of cries
leveled
bursting dust
a stabbing reunion
between a now silent
arrow
and a long awaited rooster
turned to rust.
Zc
He had the heebie-jeebies
he was a sight to see
way over there, across the room
was still too close to me,
His Mother wouldn’t hug him
His Dad said, “Sleep outside”
The bus, it wouldn’t take him
His friends would always hide,
He had the heebie-jeebies
perhaps a Cootie too –
The Doctors, they would speculate
But didn’t have a clue,
And then one day it happened
A girl moved into town
Her hair was long and golden
Her eyes were lovely brown,
She had the voice of angles
Her step was light as air –
About the heebie-jeebies
She didn’t seem to care,
She smiled when she walked with him
They’d laugh and giggle too –
I even saw them holding hands
Hee-bee, she were two,
At the top of June they married
They bought the Miller place
Planted flower – sat outside
With smiles on their face,
Come March we heard a rumor
Of a little Cootie due –
Twood be a sight, twood cry all night
The Hee-bee, she and Boo,
The town was in an uproar
No gossip left unspoken –
We’ve been polite throughout this plight
Because we had our token,
But another living here in town
Might cave our value in –
much adieu, what would we do
If Hee-bee, she had Twins?
Well sure enough it happened
A set of lovely girls
Golden locks and Lambchop socks
Pink dresses, lace and curls,
The strangest thing – the Hee-Bees packed
living here will never do
They up and left the Miller place
They left to start anew,
He had the Heebie-jeebies
Perhaps a Cootie too
And never cared for other folks
And all the things they do,
So let this be a lesson
If small town charms for you,
Don’t ever buy the Miller place
You could get Heebees too.
zc
The rusted frame was hid with paint
the pitted chrome did gleam,
the leather seats were Naugahyde
that burst at every seam,
A rumble and a cloud of smoke
the salesman turned the key -
Papa took a look at Mom
Momma looked at me,
The salesman wouldn't toot the horn
something about the wires -
Momma slowly walked away
Papa kicked the tires,
"I've got a fellow coming back
to buy this car no doubt."
papa only gave a grunt
and pulled the ashtray out,
Can you Sir put something down -
or have you got a trade?
I still remember to this day
the smile Papa made.
zc
A tiny nest of excuses
I found when at the Who's
I quickly snatched
and hid them
up my sleeves and
in my shoes,
I don't think
that no one saw me
as I hurried
back to when,
I took them home
and fed them
and built a wire pen,
I've had excuses
ever since,
and some have grown
so hairy -
I keep them now
in circus tents
and some
I have to carry,
I feed them lies
and twisted tales -
throughout their life's
duration,
and from wooden troughs
it never fails
they sip
procrastination.
zc
There came to me
an inspiration -
two Saturdays ago,
Crazed with hungry
desperation -
and nowhere else to go,
I took him in
and fed him well
two Saturdays ago
and wasn't till
this Tuesday past
that he was fit to show,
I bathed and combed
and spruced him up -
and took away his frown,
but lost this silly
inspiration
cuz I didn't write it down.
zc
Gusting down the canyon sides
across the striking lizard's tongue
it came and went
as armies
loosing tent pegs
then skipping up the mountain,
Escaping to shift the footloose desert
and be ribbonized by cactus
we turn to curse it
but it is times away
nestled behind a sail.
zc
The weeds to bed
we fold and lay
within the space of night -
awake we lie
on backs to see
a ship streak past our sight -
Yet all we find
throughout the dark
are twinkles, faint and bright
and know the dew
that sprinkles us
when morning snaps the light.
zc
I'd given thought
to what I'd be
if I could climb
outside of me
and then look back
from where I came
I wonder -
would I be the same?
Well I did escape
I did get out
I walked away
then turned about
and laughed
how foolish I could be
for all I saw
was home to me.
zc
There are many doors
at the end of life
from which one must be chosen -
To lay beneath
to burn atop
or simply just be frozen -
Well adventurous me
chose door number three
with good-byes to Monty and Mom -
and life for me
that is, what you see
has been peaceful, cool and calm -
I cannot see
so I don't look,
Can't hear
so I don't listen -
I simply think I'm in the pink
with an icy kind of glisten -
and for those of you
I left behind,
I say without a doubt
every time you close the door
the light - it does go out.
zc
