Friendly Snake

My pet snake, Stanley, loves to go the movies with me. Stanley slithers underneath the seats during the movie. He eats dropped candy and popcorn.

I can always tell where Stanley is because someone is screaming when Stanley slithers by. The thing is, Stanley is kind-natured and doesn't bite or harm anyone. Still, it's fun to see someone get terrorfied, and then realize it's only Stanley, and bend down and pet his head.

Caves

I like caves. They are a place to go when you don't care to be warm or have illumination.

I own a cave. I like to visit the cave when I feel like being left alone. Even from myself. I'll sit on the cave floor in total blackness and forget who I am. Like the song says, "When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose."

I'm excited by caves. The other day I met a bear in a cave. The bear said, "I'm hungry and I'm out of food. I'm thinking of eating you for lunch." I told the bear about the benefits of vegetarianism. Then we went outside to an apple tree and ate some apples. The bear said, "I'm still hungry." Luckily a guy came by selling sandwiches.

Changes

Today I was hired to do some clutter busting for David Bowie. He noticed that I was nervous and asked me what was up. I told David Bowie that I'd recently downloaded some of his songs from a CD at the library. I felt guilty that I didn't pay for them. I said he could deduct the cost from the work I was doing for him.

David Bowie said not to worry about it. He said that he used to tape songs off the radio when he was a kid. I asked David Bowie if he still had the cassettes. He said yes and fetched them from a box in his attic. There were 13 cassettes total.

I asked David Bowie if he was okay about letting the old cassettes go. He said yes and tossed them in a trash bag.

David Bowie confessed that he was thinking of quitting singing and recording. I asked him if he still enjoyed performing and he said no. Mostly he liked gardening. I said, "You might as well do what you like, otherwise you're just hitting your toe with a hammer."

Frank Discussion

Today I took an afternoon walk with the ghost of Mary Shelley. She was/is the author of the novel Frankenstein.

I told Mary Shelley that I had a poster of the Frankenstein monster on my ceiling above my bed when I was a lad. I said that the movie Frankenstein was the first film to actually scare me. On a good night, the poster would make me wet the bed.

Mary Shelley said that as a child, she was scared of flowers. She felt that flowers seemed nice, and emitted an aroma that would draw you near, but the flowers secretly had tiny sharp teeth that could bite off your nose.

I said the flower phobia would have made for a good book. Mary Shelley said it's hard to write about the truth. Fantasy and fiction allow the real feelings to assume new identities. She said, "The truth gets confident to show its face, although it's not its face."

I told Mary Shelley that I wrote a non-fiction book about clutter busting, and that I never write fiction. I asked if this meant I had nothing to hide. She said that figuratively, I'm really good at holding my breath.

Caution Is Not My Friend

I took my pet rhino, Betters, shopping at the china and figurine store today. He didn't knock over anything. But I was distracted by the prospect that he might, and bumped into and shattered a rare china set from the early 1900s.

Betters laughed and said, "I can't take you anywhere."

Building

I decided to build a tree. I was tired of planting things and waiting for them to grow.

So I took a bunch of old newspapers and put them in a big bucket. I added the newspapers because they used to be trees and I think they would do well with a second chance. I added some oatmeal and water. I included some pieces of metal because of their strength inducing qualities. I put in some dirt and yolks. I added the egg parts because I was hoping it would make the eventual tree enticing for birds and their nests. I had my neighbor come over, who's a priest, and pray for the tree. I don't believe in God, but I don't want to take any chances in case I'm wrong. I tore out some photos of trees (birch, crab apple, and willow) from the encyclopedia because the best things stand on the shoulders of their predecessors.

I mixed the goop and formed the mixture into the shape of a seven foot tree. I included roots because it gave my frankentree some stability and confidence. I dug a hole in my backyard and installed the tree. I couldn't believe how beautiful my grayish mighty tree looked!

When I got up the next morning, I went out and looked at my tree and was stunned to see that it had a full coat of leaves, two bird nests with chirping baby birds, and some sap running out the side of the tree. I ran over and touched and tasted the sap. It was maple syrup!

The tree put it's branch arm around me and said, "It's my way of saying thanks."

Making Sure It Was the Right Thing to Do

I ordered steak. I was ready to cut my first piece when the steak said, "Could we talk?"

I'm courteous and said, "Yes, what about?

The steak said, "I used to be a cow. Now I'm a steak. Soon I will be digested by you and become you. I just wanted to make sure the transition to you is the right one. What do you do with your day?"

I said, "Well, I sleep every other day. I don't like to sleep daily because it makes me lazy. Any kind of repetition makes the mind go to sleep. You may say that sleeping every other day is repetition, but it's not by choice. Exhaustion makes me basically conk out while in the midst of my three major daily activities eating, writing, and watering the lawn. I own sixty acres of land."

The steak said, "What do you write about?"

I said, "I write journal entries online about my day."

The steak said, "Will you write about me?"

I said, "Absolutely!"

The steak said, "Bon Appetit!"

Lost in Space

I was coming back from Jupiter and recovering from the lunch I had with a Spichlisther. A Spichlisther has similar looks to a human baby, but is about five stories tall and weighs about 20,000 pounds. The thing is, a Spichlisther is hyper-intelligent and rapid-fire speaks like a cross between Shakespeare, a carnival barker, and a mockingbird. You have to stand tall and stay alert to have a conversation with a Spichlisther, otherwise you might wane and get teethed.

Nonetheless, I was tired as I drove my rocket-ship back to Earth. Tired enough that I headed space west rather than space east and ended up in a different galaxy. I knew that I needed to rest, so I landed on a planet and got a room for the night. The funny thing is, no matter where you go in space, no matter how strange other species think look and talk, or how crazy is the atmosphere, hotel rooms are exactly the same. There's the queen-sized bed, the TV, the bathroom with the tub, and check out time is 11 am.

The Next Best Thing

I got in my rocket and went to Venus. I got out and walked around. Talk about desolate. You can't see the sky because of the denseness of the carbon monoxide. This made me go inward.

I thought about how I do all the strange things that I write about in these posts, and now they all seem normal. It's hard for me to do something anymore that feels out of the ordinary.

Last week, I went back to the Big Bang, and in the midst of things, I thought about what I'd like for lunch. Not long ago, I traveled back in time and prevented the assassination of President Lincoln, and afterwards I realized it didn't matter because eventually Lincoln would die anyway.

Suddenly a Venusian came out of the heavy mist and shook my hand. He said he wanted to show me an amazing property that just came on the market. We went and looked at the place. It was a three bedroom, two bathroom house. Normally I don't need that much space. But it had such a nice feel, and interest rates on Venus are at .18589%!!

To the Moon!

I felt myself slipping forward in time. I can tell forward because of the fresh scent. Going back in time has a putrid aroma. Everything at some point starts to rot.

It was 2094 and I was on the Moon. A majority of the population had left Earth to move to the Moon. Land is cheap, the view of the Earth is amazing, and after thousands of years you get tired as a species living on the same planet.

People on the Moon have to wear space suits. Not the bulky kind we're used to seeing on astronauts. Now it's silky one piece suits and something resembling a scarf across the face.

There are no countries or armies. Gravity is seen as the main enemy. It takes all your efforts to get anywhere or do basic tasks. It's hard to hate when the elements conspire to lift you and everything you own off of the ground.

But there are benefits. Trash isn't a problem. People open the windows to their home and throw out trash which rises upward and disappears out into vast space. Sometimes that happens to people when they forget to wear their weighted boots. It's seen as a cause of celebration because the Moon is greatly overpopulated.

A Visitor

An asteroid landed in my backyard last night. I went out to take a look. The asteroid glowed because of the frictional heat from entering the atmosphere. I was thinking I would look the same way if I fell from space. I'm sure it would scare my dog.

I got out a hose and watered down the asteroid. It created a temporary geyser. The sudden temperature change caused the space rock to crack in half. Inside the rock was a tiny creature. The tiny creature crawled out of the rock and up to my feet.

This reminded me of the ad for the movie Green Lantern. I was excited because I might be getting super powers. But then I was discouraged because I would have to do a bunch of things to protect the Universe.

The tiny creature said, "Good evening. My name is Blip. And you are?"

I said, "Brooks."

The tiny creature said, "Good to meet you, Brooks. I have come from the planet Klorn. My planet is dying and inhospitable. I was wondering if it would be okay if I stay with you? I promise to be very helpful around the house."

I said, "Sure." Normally I would have said no, but that's the power of good manners.

Out to Sea

It rained for twelve hours straight. Water flooded around the house. I was nervous and scared.

Soon the house detached from the ground and floated east. Eventually the house and I ended up floating out onto the Atlantic Ocean. Finally I felt some peace of mind.

The Ocean must have therapeutic powers.

Dystopia

When I was a kid, my parents moved our entire family into Corning Up-World Estates. It was a Utopian community. Ernest Corning was the visionary behind the hullabaloo. Corning believed it was possible to create a society where people liked each other and treated one another nicely at all times.

The thing is, as a kid, I knew this was impossible. People have a nice side and a mean side. We're coins. There's no one-sided coin. But my parents said that was hogwash, which helped me realize that grown-ups created the idea of utopia because they were tired of not getting what they wanted, and this was one more way of trying to get what they wanted.

We had to attend classes on perpetual agree-ability, how to always see the bright side, and why the group is more important than the individual. A few months into our stay, my mother developed constant migraines, all my dad's hair fell out, my sister got asthma, and I got Rachtner's Oppositional Defiant Disorder.

When I was caught not-smiling while sleeping, I was immediately brought to Ernest Corning's office.

Mr. Corning said, "What seems to be the problem little boy?"

I said, "Since you asked, I don't think that you can't maintain conceptual perfection. The best utopia is where you see that everyone is tired and not thinking well, and on a good day you can't help but forgive them."

My family was booted out that night. My dad, mom, and sister were fuming at me as we drove around looking for a hotel.

We found a Howard Johnson's. As the hotel night clerk checked us in, I backed into a lamp, which fell and shattered. My dad said, "Haven't you ruined things enough?" The night clerk smiled and said, "Not a problem. Life's one broken thing after another."

The New Mayor

I was riding the el train when newly elected Chicago Mayor Rahm sat next to me. I just said hi. I kept it low key. Recently famous people appreciate the lo-hello because they get high octane greetings all day long which soon becomes offensive. It's been said to feel like an attack. Can you imagine a hello being violent?

I went back to my usual blank stare. I call it "the giving up." I long ago go up the fight for control of my mind. Now it's just non-stop foot traffic thoughts of every kind.

Chicago Mayor Rahm said to me, "And what do you do?" Usually my blankness causes people to leave me alone. It's like an empty house. Why would you knock on the door? But he knocked.

I said, "Nothing. Everyone seems to be taken care of."

Chicago Mayor Rahm said, "Not everything. Would you like to be my deputy?"

I said, "Okay." He even gave me a shiny badge!

Ponded

I went out to the wishing well in my backyard.

The wishing well said, "Yes, what is it?"

I said, "I'm okay. I'd like to see what it is you want."

There was silence. Then the wishing well began to cry.

The wishing well said, "No one's ever asked...I think I would like to be a duck pond."

I got out a shovel from the garage. I dug a great perimeter around the wishing well. I got out a sledge hammer and knocked out the rock and cement that once defined the well's shape. I got out the hose and filled the now larger hole with water. Then I went a few miles away to the lake and found two ducks that wanted to be part of the new pond. I gave them a ride back to the house and they waddled into the pond.

I asked the once wishing well-now pond, "Are you happy?"

The now pond said, "No, I still feel miserable."

I said, "Yep."

For Writing's Sake

Late last night, I awoke, got up for a drink of water, and ran into the ghost of Kurt Vonnegut. Usually I'm not impressed by celebrity ghosts. I see the famous things they did as just part of their job. Everyone has jobs. The celebrity ghosts are somehow remembered by a lot of people for what they did at work. But Kurt Vonnegut made me sweat.

I said, "H-h-hello, Mr. Vonnegut."

He said, "Call me Kurt."

I said, "Okay." I wasn't going to do it. But I liked that he gave me permission.

I did say, "I wish I could be as good a writer as you."

Kurt Vonnegut said, "I wish I could have been as good as Dickens. But then I met Dickens after I died. Dickens told me he wished he was as good as Shakespeare. And then Dickens met Shakespeare after he died and told him he wished he could have been as good as him. Shakespeare said he wished he'd been a tailor. I wish I'd said that...It never ends."

Review of the Neil Young concert

I went to the Neil Young concert at the Chicago Theater. He came out on stage with a tuba. Neil began blowing into the tuba. Neil was an okay tuba player. Some people booed though. It's hard when what you want to happen is otherwise. But you'd think people would lose that kind of reaction after playing the lottery a few times.

Next, Neil Young sat down and breathed into the mic. At first I thought he was out of breath. He's 65 and travels a lot. Plus I think he smokes a lot of pot. It's hard for the lungs to deal with smoke. It's hard to extract oxygen from smoke. Fire fighters have been trying to figure it out for years.

Five minutes into just Neil Young breathing, some people booed as they left the theater. Booing as you leave is how people practice being a ghost before they die.

Then Neil Young stood up and danced around the stage. He danced by himself. Usually I hate that kind of thing, even when Fred Astaire danced with his shadow in the movie Yonder Ahoy. But it turns out some people are charming even when they tie their shoes. Neil Young didn't tie his shoes, but if he did, I think it would have been very good.

Soon I was the only person left in the theater. Neil Young squinted at me through the stage lights. He said, "What would you like to hear?" I said, "Old Man."

Neil Young got out his guitar and sang Old Man. When he was done, he asked for another request. I was hungry, so I asked Neil Young to have dinner with me. He said he was hungry too.

Neil Young and I went to Thee Chop House and had steaks. He asked me what I do. I said, "I have dinner with Neil Young." He thought that was good.

Smokey

The ghost of my cat Smokey visited me today. I hadn't seen Smokey since he was hit by a car when I was 17. The funny thing is, my old allergies came back. I don't know how dander survives the afterlife.

A mouse ran across the floor. Smokey didn't chase the mouse. I asked why not. Smokey said if he ate the mouse, a second later he'd have to encounter the mouse in the afterlife and make amends. Smokey said it takes all the fun out of it.

I asked Smokey if he's anybody's pet in the afterlife. Smokey said that after you die, no one's owned by or in charge of anyone else. Smokey said he likes to come back to the land of the living now and then to realize how lucky he is.

I scratched Smokey's head. He purred. I sneezed and my eyes turned red and teared. I realized how lucky I was too.

Whom

Today I clutter busted with Pete Townsend. I was nervous on my way over to his house because I like his music. It's hard being a fan of someone. You can't actually speak with them because of the tremendous amounts of saliva in your mouth. It's like your mouth is one of those constant fountains in a dog park.

But when I showed up to work, I was a professional, and my mouth returned to its temperate climate. We went through his guitar collection. Townsend had over 2,000 guitars. I asked him how many he actually plays. Townsend said only one at a time.

I think authors can't help but be witty. It was like the time I clutter busted for the famous math genius, Professor Gerald Lambeau. Lambeau mostly spoke in math theorems. I didn't know if they were correct, but his confident delivery made my fold my intellect.

Townsend became reflective and said he was thinking of giving up music and all his belongings and becoming a hobo and roaming the countryside. I said that's something you don't have to order from a catalog or stand in line for.

You Can Only Do So Much

I was finishing up breakfast when I heard the snap and crackle of time travel. My kitchen disappeared. I free-floated in the protoplasm of time.

Suddenly I was sitting at the solid gold breakfast table of Queen Nefertiti. The queen was eating pancakes. I understand. They're delicious!

Queen Nefertiti said, "Who are you?"

I said, "Brooks Palmer, great time-traveler from the future." It helps to say, "Great" with royalty, so they won't automatically react and have you killed.

Queen Nefertiti said, "What saith the future?"

I said, "In the future, lightening will be tapped, allowing toast to be cooked automatically without fire."

Queen Nefertiti said, "Ahhhh. And what will become of me?"

I said, "Your head will become an iconic bust, inspiring women all over the world for centuries to obsess and starve themselves in the quest for the perfect neck."

Queen Nefertiti looked at me deeply. She said, "My husband Pharaoh Akhenaten died two years ago. I have known nothing but great loneliness since. Stay with me and I will make you king of all Egypt."

I said, "If I hadn't of just had breakfast..."

Queen Nefertiti sentenced me to death. I was brought out to the town square. My head was placed on the chopping block. I looked up at the palace window as Queen Nefertiti gazed at me with tears in her eyes. I don't think there's much you can say to someone to appease their deep sorrow.

Finally, It's Over

I was at this weekend's military raid of Osama bin Laden's hideout. It was a tense situation. It's stressful to harm someone.

I remember when I was a kid and the school bully Jimmy Harper hit me in the stomach. All the kids in the hallway chanted, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" I felt rage well up inside me. My fist filled with blind anger as I punched Jimmy in the head. He fell down and cried. The kids cheered and lifted me onto their shoulders. But I felt terrible.

So there we were at the front door of bin Laden's compound. I knocked. The person on the other side of the door said, "Go away!" I said, "I'm selling magazines to pay my way through college." Bin Laden's people shot at us through the door. In retrospect, being nice was not a good choice.

We blew up the door and fought our way in. Eventually we found bin Laden. He was taking a shower. It's awkward running into someone when they're naked. You're apologizing, plus you can't help but look.

Bin Laden dropped his soap, slipped and cracked his head. I checked his pulse and he was dead. We made up a story that he died in a fire fight. Honesty is the best policy unless it brings ridicule.

Some People Are Never Satisfied

I was planting tomatoes in my garden this weekend when the ghost of Al Jolson stopped by.

I said, "I heard you once got an hour standing ovation on Broadway."

Al Jolson said, "What you say is true. I had a powerful rapport with my audience. We recognized our need and support for one another. We were a true marriage."

I said, "Once I forgot my lines in my grade school play about the Civil War. I froze. My teacher whispered my lines to me, but I couldn't move my mouth. I peed myself, which shorted some wires under the stage, and there was a fire. Everyone but my drama teacher got out with their lives. The school ended up naming the cafeteria after her."

Al Jolson said, "Fret not, young man. Nothing powerful and wondrous is achieved without great distress, misery and sorrow...Alas, I can tell my words don't alleviate your guilt. In the hopes of lifting your spirit, I've brought you this gift."

The ghost of Joyce Quillson, my second grade drama teacher, appeared.

I cried and said, "I'm so, so sorry, Mrs. Quillson."

Mrs. Quillson said, "The lunch room? What, are you kidding me?"