Category Archives: Short stories from somewhere out there…

Thoughts and short stories about what goes on inside your brain when you let it loose..

Daily Prompt: Mirror, Mirror, Please Don’t Crack

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Finish this sentence: “When I look in the mirror, I . . . “

Photographers, artists, poets: show us MIRRORED.

When I look in the mirror, I see an incredibly talented person with wrinkles deep enough to require a putty knife. What’s the point in having a magic mirror, one that makes you look younger, when all it’s doing is telling you a lie?

I’ve never felt the need to be fake, I don’t have the patience. It takes far more time to be dishonest, than it does to tell the truth.

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The next bit is something I wrote about ten years ago, it still makes me chuckle. It doesn’t really have anything to do with mirrors, but rather being truthful about who we are. It seems a good companion, along with my musings for the day.

THE THREE F’S OF LIFE

FAME:  While many people think fame is reserved for the likes of Movie Stars, Astronauts, and Politicians, the real significance of the word is best illustrated by the life of the Rock Star. Rock Stars live the life most of us only dream about. Too much money at a relatively young age with little regard for people punching a time clock.
Endless trips to exotic parts of the world complete with giant bugs and tour buses that do not have flush toilets.
Mobs of screaming young women who want to have your baby, all the while trying to tear a piece of your clothing off, even if it’s the sweaty underwear you’ve had on for the past two days.
Listening to the pleas of loyal fans tell you that if you sign your name “Elvis” any where on their body, they will love you forever.
And last but not least, you get to go back to your high school’s twentieth reunion wearing sequined pants, a black velvet shirt, and hair that once belonged to someone else.

FORTUNE:  Finding one’s fortune in life can take us down many roads, with very different results.
A sudden wind fall in the lottery might bring a feeling of bliss, until we realize our “friend” ratio has dramatically increased overnight.
Some people run away to join the circus in hopes of finding their fortune, only to realize that walking behind the elephants with a large shovel probably wasn’t one of the brighter decisions they made in life.
The stock market is another area where the “risk taker” will invest a large amount of money in a company that sells a breakfast cereal made from tree bark, only to have the environmentalists close the company down using the slogan, “Your Kids Are Eating Mother Nature”.
Treasure seekers are perhaps the ultimate in fortune hunters. They run after clues hundreds of years old, all the while trying to convince the host country they are merely hacking apart the mountain side looking for inexplicably large rodents.

FRIEND:   The word “friend” is highly misused these days. People use it in the lamest of circumstances. Bumping into someone on the street and then saying, “Sorry friend” is a sure-fire way of having the person look at you like they’d rather smack you in the head than put you on their Christmas list.
Politician’s will use the word friend so often, that by the end of the campaign most of us are ready to get out of the political circle and put our efforts toward supporting something less phony like a religious cult.
While in school many of us developed a circle of so-called friends who wasted no time in telling other “friends” that we French kissed the principal, smoked pot in the gym, and drilled a hole in the bathroom wall so we could all enjoy a sneak preview, all this in the span of one day.
Those of us who know what the word really means will understand that a “friend” is someone who will still think you are the greatest person on earth even after your rock star phase didn’t turn out quite like you’d planned, and they will not laugh at you when you tell them you once walked behind an elephant.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/07/05/daily-prompt-mirror/

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Retail Blunder

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TOMMY

part two

Barry had a soft spot for Tommy ever since he stopped a shoplifter from stealing the life-size cutout of Mr. Spock.

Two years ago when the Star Trek convention had come to town, a fellow dressed like Captain Kirk had tried to make off with the giant paper doll. We thought he smelled a bit too much like Vulcan ale so we kept a close eye on him, after all how hard would a bald Kirk be to miss. He had asked Trudy, one of the girls stocking shelves where he could find duct tape, only it came out sounding like duck tape. She looked at him like he had three eyes, excused herself, and went to find Barry to inform him they had another Riverdale runaway on their hands.

Every full moon we could count on the crazies making their rounds. “Just keep a close eye on him Trudy, if he starts getting out of hand give me a shout.”

Now, Trudy was a bit of a prankster and decided to have a bit of fun with the fellow. She sauntered up to him slowly, with this quirky smile on her face. “Excuse me Sir, what size duck did you need that tape for?” I was in the next aisle putting together a display for Depends; I came dangerously close to breaking open a carton.

What do you mean, size?” He was talking real slow like the batteries in his power pack had reached the critical stage and were about to need more juice. Up close the guy looked like he had gone through the replicator with a series of malfunctions along the way. His bald head was shiny, and waxy looking like someone had used his head as a demo for floor polish. The Captain Kirk outfit he was wearing was a good one, but he should have sprung for the boots that went with the costume. On his very large feet he was wearing those black and red-rimmed rubber boots most of us grew up with. He looked hysterical. Trudy turned her quirky smile into one of concern, and very innocently answered, “Well Sir there are three sizes of ducks in this neighborhood. The Goliath duck, the Crappy duck, and the Pewee duck, which of these do you need the tape for?” The poor guy stared at Trudy like he was about to heave, his face the color of day old dish water. He was literally swaying back and forth while trying to comprehend what she had said. He sputtered a few words quietly, leaning closer to Trudy than she had expected. Why would I want to tie up dicks?” The Depends display I had been working on went for a spill into the main aisle, with me on top of it. Trudy completely lost it and bent over laughing so hard she split the back of her pants.

The scene must have looked surreal. A space explorer locked on to the wrong energy beam, a stock clerk in need of repair and a cashier swimming in over sized pads. Trudy began shirking with laughter, startling the dazed shopper. He jerked back quickly like he’d been jabbed with a cattle prod.

The poor guy, he wasn’t sure which way to go or what to do. He ran down the aisle towards me with this crazed look in is eyes, like he knew his number was up. If I didn’t take immediate action he would stumble over me, so I rolled under the day-old bakery cart.The crazed shopper ran towards the exit, bumping into other frenzied customers trying to flee the scene. People were screaming and yelling, unsure of what was happening. The check out closest to the door had a display of DVD’s, with Mr. Spock guarding it. The lunatic stopped abruptly, lifted the cutout from its perch and headed for the door. Tommy was just coming in and scanned the scene in the blink of an eye. The cane he carried shot out tripping the space fool, who landed face down on his fellow traveler. By this time, Barry was running for the entrance, not fully aware what was going on. The way customers in the store were reacting, he must have thought we had been robbed or the place was on fire.

It is a well-known fact human beings panic for the silliest reasons, or maybe I should say they panic for no good reason. One person starts screaming and everyone within ear shot thinks an ax murderer wearing old pantyhose has been stocking the frozen food aisle.

One evening on reality TV I watched a store video where the robber had pulled the pantyhose, legs and all over his face. The store clerk was so pissed she grabbed both legs dangling around his head, and hung on as tightly as she could. The guy had knotted the hose around his neck, wanting to make sure it didn’t fall off in the heist. Little did he know an angry cashier would nearly choke him to death.

All this ran through my mind as I watched the scene from my bunker under the bakery cart.

Brenda was the cashier nearest the exit and had a reputation for being less than friendly with scum who had the nerve to disrupt her daily routine. She had worked at the store for twelve years and wasn’t exactly your customer service specialist. Rumor had it she‘d worked as a guard in an all male sanatorium. Maybe that could explain why she had an obvious dislike for the off-duty interns who would occasionally shop in their work cloths.

When the guy began running towards the front of the store Brenda had been bagging cat food for one of the regulars. The commotion made her head shoot up, her eyes narrowing to an angry glare. Mrs. Minsky, the customer she was bagging for, was so panicked by the side-show she let out a shriek and fainted across the counter, her body almost instantly sliding off to hit the floor. Grabbing a can of chicken delight from the assortment on the counter, Brenda heaved it at the space intruder, missing him, but taking off Mr. Spock’s right ear. She scooted around her stall, wanting to help Tommy, but miscalculated where her customer had passed out. Her foot snagged on the strap of Mrs. Minsky’s purse, jerking the old lady to a state of semi consciousness. Brenda began spewing words we’d never heard before, and her disillusioned customer continued her trip into never, never land.

The local television stations had a field day with this one. Each broadcast had a different version of the events; We didn’t have to ask or even wonder whom they had been talking to. All in all Tommy ended up being the hero of the day, and our cashier from the storm troopers was the one using the duct tape to repair the space traveler’s ear.

 

Retail Blunder

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Having worked for a large retailer for many years has given me an inside look into the insanity of working in a chaotic environment. The surreal things that happen each day are hard to believe, but, yes they really do happen.

I started writing a book a few years ago, about a group of people who work in a similar situation, only different. When I first started this project I thought, novel, now I think a series of short stories, about the store, may do it justice, and be more exciting for the reader.  Right now I don’t have a name for the book it self, but the title of each story stands on it’s own.

Since I’m new to blogging I’ve read that writing a post too long can bore people, and they stop reading. My stories will be split into different days, part one tonight, part two tomorrow…etc. What do you think, do people get bored if it’s too long? Feedback please.

With each story I write, I learn more, try to do a better job at editing and always try to add an element of fun. If the characters were ordinary, that just wouldn’t be me.

TOMMY

Walking through the doors made me nauseous as hell, and made me think of those bathrooms at the back of gas stations. Rusty door with a lock that doesn’t work, dim lightning, and a garbage can overflowing with used everything.

Poppers, was a chain of discount stores, thriving on the obsession the public had, with getting the best for less. It always made me laugh to think about that, especially when we saw some of the stuff that came through the back door. Then again, what came through the front doors didn’t look all that different either.

Every Wednesday we had a regular customer by the name of Tommy pays us a visit. He called him self “Old Tommy,” but we figured he couldn’t have been more than mid fifties. He was a skinny little man, slightly hunched over, and he could move faster than Brad the check out boy.

His claim to fame was being knocked over by a rampaging elephant when he visited the zoo as a youngster. He told the story on a regular basis, especially when children were present. Their eyes would grow as big as hubcaps and their mouths would drop open, releasing unpaid for jawbreakers. Tommy’s voice would lower to a hush just as he got to the part where the elephant stepped on him. Most of the youngsters listening would put their hands over their face and scrunch their eyes closed, for fear they might actually be sucked back to Tommy’s fateful day. The majority of customers shopping ignored him but the mother’s whose children were being entertained could not have been more grateful. Every one of us had heard so many different versions of the story we were never sure which one he was going to pick.

My favourite was the one where the hippo and the elephant were having a race and he got jammed in the middle on his way to buy feed for the flamingos. Go figure, who would have thought feeding the birds could be hazardous to your health. Barry, the store manager liked the episode when Tommy was on a field trip with his class. Out of all the kids, he had been chosen to help feed the elephants. What the zookeeper had neglected to tell them, was that the gigantic beast had cataracts and apparently thought Tommy was a large potato. Hilda, the largest of the elephants wrapped her trunk around Tommy and was preparing to sample him. Tommy screamed, the teacher fainted, and the zookeeper got the pink slip.

to be continued…

Saturday Silliness

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THE THREE F’S OF LIFE

FAME   While many people think fame is reserved for the likes of Movie Stars, Astronauts, and Politicians, the real significance of the word is best illustrated by the life of the Rock Star.  Rock Stars live the life most of us only dream about. Too much money at a relatively young age with little regard for people punching a time clock.

Endless trips to exotic parts of the world complete with giant bugs and tour buses that do not have flush toilets.

Mobs of screaming young women who want to have your baby, all the while trying to tear a piece of your clothing off, even if it’s the sweaty underwear you’ve had on for the past two days.

Listening to the pleas of loyal fans tell you that if you sign your name “Elvis” any where on their body, they will love you forever.

And last but not least, you get to go back to your high school’s twentieth reunion wearing sequined pants, a black velvet shirt, and hair that once belonged to someone else.

FORTUNE   Finding one’s fortune in life can take us down many roads, with very different results.

A sudden wind fall in the lottery might bring a  feeling of bliss, until we realize our “friend” ratio has dramatically increased overnight.

Some people run away to join the circus in hopes of finding their fortune, only to realize that walking behind the elephants with a large shovel probably wasn’t one of the brighter decisions they made in life.

The stock market is another area where the “risk taker” will invest a large amount of money in a company that sells a breakfast cereal made from tree bark, only to have the environmentalists close the company down using the slogan, “Your Kids Are Eating Mother Nature”.

Treasure seekers are perhaps the ultimate in fortune hunters. They run after clues hundreds of years old, all the while trying to convince the host country they are merely hacking apart  the mountain side looking for inexplicably large rodents.

FRIEND  The word “friend” is highly misused these days. People use it in the lamest of circumstances. Bumping into someone on the street and then saying, “Sorry friend” is a sure fire way of having the person look at you like they’d rather smack you in the head than put you on their Christmas card list.

Politician’s will use the word friend so often, that by the end of the campaign most of us are ready to get out of the political circle and put our efforts toward supporting something less phoney like a religious cult.

While in school many of us developed a circle of so called friends who wasted no time in telling other “friends” that we French kissed the principal, smoked pot in the gym, and drilled a hole in the bathroom wall so we could all enjoy a sneak preview, all this in the span of one day.

Those of us who know what the word really means will understand that a “friend is someone who will still think you are the greatest person on earth even after your rock star phase didn’t turn out quite like you’d planned, and they will not laugh at you when you tell them you once walked behind an elephant.

 

Daily Prompt: Kick It

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Well, let me see………..yesterday I posted my bucket list for real, 10 things on it, so I would have to say number 11 for me would be doing the first 10… does that make sense?

And by the way, today was my last day at work, I’ve had the same job for 11 years, so the Daily Prompt for today….. kinda weird huh??

When I left work today I felt like that scene in the movie  “Chariots Of Fire”, the one where they are running on the beach… you’ll know it if you’ve seen the show.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-7Vu7cqB20

Not sure why I felt like that today… maybe because of the sense of freedom I feel.

Thanks to those of you reading my posts… I really appreciate it… plenty more to come!

 

Daily Prompt: Use It Or Loose It

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Dream Store

What would happen if you could go to a store and buy or rent your dreams?  There would be categories under sex, food, happy, sad, absolutely everything. How amazing would that be?

You and only you would get to choose where you will go and what you will see. All you have to do is have the courage and will power to go to the end of the dream once you have made your choice. It is perhaps the most amazing experience you will ever have, one I’m sure you will want to repeat over, and over again.

There is one category labeled “miscellaneous”, which is for the individuals who don’t want to commit to any one thing in particular, people who want to taste everything all at once. The adrenalin seekers, those who seem to thrive on sheer chaos. There is only one draw back; this category comes with a warning. “This dream may have side effects of prolonged anxiety” That’s all it says. The rest is up to the one making the choice to figure it out.

Many of the dreams we have are so disjointed we would never in a million years want to repeat them, or care to wonder why we had them in the first place. They are bits and pieces of things we did today and things we experienced many, many years ago. Sometimes its things we have not done yet but we would have no way of knowing that, how could we? Colors, faces, and feelings flash through at the speed of light, each only lasting a fraction of a second; a menagerie of being.

Some of the most popular selections are duplicates, dreams which you have had and want to repeat.

Every once in a while your mind creates a picture show so unique and remarkable you would do anything to go back. Images from your past, which tug at the very life of you wanting to breathe again. The dreams are so intense, some of them terrifying. There are people who say we don’t dream in color, or we can’t have the same one twice. Some are so terrifying, especially the ones that include family members and we are trying to escape something horrible. “I thought we’d never come back from that one” It’s a powerful thing that has happened to you when words like this give you the cold sweats.

Many people say dreams are the minds way of telling the brain we have unfinished business. Maybe it’s a subtle way of letting us know its “OK” to go back. Everyone knows it’s impossible to really change things, but what if we could go back in our dreams and make things seem different. Not really change them but rather trick our minds into thinking we had done things differently. Would we be more content with different aspects of our life now? It’s hard to say if we would or no, we will never know until we take the risk.

This place isn’t meant to be entertainment, but rather it allows us to embrace images that had the power to cross over.

Impressive, scary, intriguing? All of the above for sure. So how do we get to this store of dreams?

Just close your eyes and let go

Now for something silly… and a little bent.

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Open House

If you stand in a corner and put your hands over your face people won’t see you. As soon as you start to peek between your fingers someone will look at you and wonder why you are being so strange. Something that is not expected perplexes most people, they get this weird look on their face, like when someone tells you a joke and you pretend you get it, but really don’t. Shit, why did I have to look? Why couldn’t I have been satisfied with just being here? So, what now? Maybe if I stay like this people will think I’m one of those real life pieces of art. You know the ones you might see at a fancy art gallery. The models strike a pose and may hold it for an hour then change. I could never do that sort of thing. What excuse do they use if they have to pee in the middle of a pose? I have an idea. If I open my fingers wider so my one eye and just my lips show I can tell the guy looking my way to piss off. What would that do? I have no idea but it would be fun to try. Maybe he would think I’m an escaped mental patient and would leave me alone. I could start laughing. If you start laughing for no apparent reason people always think you’re nuts, that’s it! That always works in the movies. Why wouldn’t it work here? Christ, why didn’t I think of that from the start? I will start laughing while slowly taking my hands away from my face. Now if only I can get my legs to start moving and make my way across the room to the closet. Oh sure, lets just turn this into something really memorable. The eccentric wall flower leaves her home in the corner and takes up residence in the nearest closet. This just gets better and better. Sounds like an ad in a twisted real-estate brochure.
It’s working. Don’t look back, that’s the cardinal rule. If you’re going to do something right out there you can never look back, because if you do people will think you’re an idiot and not weird. Being an idiot is not having the brains to know that weird is good. Today I was defiantly borderline. My hope was to make it across the room without anyone stopping me and asking my opinion on the cheese tarts.

I have crappy balance and my underwear won’t let go. My mind was so disjointed it was like a bumper car that never ran out of tokens, it just kept going and going no matter what it bumped into. The room was buzzing, like the inside of a beehive after the queen has given the order to evacuate. I wonder how many of these people are serious, and how many are here just to sample the free food and pocket stale mints? Do people really find this sort of thing entertaining? They must be joking. How could a room full of complete strangers with limp intentions be entertaining?
I was shuffling rather than walking. I figured I might as well go for the complete weird person, tight pantyhose look. Never, never wear pantyhose and a thong at the same time. I scanned the room as I headed for the eats table.
There was this weird whirring sound coming from above. So tell me, who in this lifetime needs to have mirrors on the fan blades? Maybe they use it as a strobe effect when having sex, hey that might be good, file that one away. I almost felt embarrassed as those images made their slide show presentation through my mind.
Could people tell what I was thinking? Not likely, most of them had that stunned, prozac look. And no, we’re not going to get into how I know that.
When you approach someone you don’t know, is it best to appear confident, like you are an informed individual or is it better to let him or her know you’ve chosen to let the birds fly through once in a while?
Look at this guy standing by the punch bowl, a real winner. Holy crap, this guy must be the big cheese, head honcho, fool of the hour, take your pick. The guy is wearing a shit brown, knit suit. He’s wearing one of those labels on his lapel that says, HELLO- MY NAME IS—Sweeny. Huh? Who in their right mind names their kid Sweeny? I thought those name badges went out with the K-Tell garlic press? This was so entertaining, maybe I’ll mingle for a while and sample a few stale bread sticks. The idiot, he didn’t even know why I was laughing as I walked by. The cologne he was wearing had that ever-popular scent of Old Spice and parmesan cheese, that one had to be a big seller. Probably did well at the discount stores displayed right next to irregular condoms and edible rubber.
Oh my look at this one. She must have thought it was a costume party because the outfit she’s wearing it straight out of “The Avengers”, only she doesn’t have the body that Emma Peel did. Her lips, what the hell has she done to her lips? They are so fat and glossy it looks like she cut them out of a magazine and stuck them on her face. This one is a real prize. I’ll bet she’s with that bald little fart standing next to the buffet. He’s been sucking back cocktail weenies like mad. I’ve been watching him for awhile because I had this feeling he may do something phenomenal. Ya right, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Every time he thought someone might be watching he would stop chewing, only on one occasion he should have made sure the food was all the way in his mouth. How could anyone find a person like that attractive? The sides of his jacket were bulging from the plastic cutler and sugar packets he had stuffed into his pockets. Are people born like this or do they go to a school for cultured halfwits? I think his hairdresser should perhaps go for a reality check. Baldy was one of those individuals who didn’t like being bald, but was too cheap to go for a real hair job. You know the ones. They let the little hair they do have grow extra long then sweep it over the head so it looks like they have a full head of hair. These guys are the ones who look like human corn brooms every time the wind picks up. Poor sod, I should tell him he didn’t have to bother with the bobby pins, that’s just over kill.

People didn’t even notice me walking across the room. It’s like I’m not really here, yet I am. Every once in a while someone makes eye contact then looks away. What’s their problem? Maybe most people don’t recognize normal when they see it. Or I could be so weird they don’t find me unusual enough to pay attention to.
I’ll just mingle and pretend to be part of the in crowd. Now I’m really laughing and not faking it. I never imagined I’d be part of such an elite group of misfits.
Circulating the room I began to take a closer look at some of the art hanging on the walls. A black velvet painting of a bullfighter about to get gorged. Now that almost fits in this room. On the opposite wall was a collage, photos of cars. Hmm, different. I thought it had real promise until I looked closer and noticed most of the cars were hearses, each painted a different color. Weird, not even I would paint one of them polka dot. On a corner table was some type of sculpture that seemed to glow. People were standing around it pointing and laughing. On closer inspection it appeared to be some type of Mood Fool. Remember those mood rings all the kids had way back in the seventies? They would wear them to school and try to embarrass each other so the colors would change. Maybe if I saunter over to that thing and start chanting people will form a circle and throw money. Now that idea has potential.
The music was something else. Who ever put this together has real class. Recordings of the Beach Boys, The Irish Rovers, and Abba all on one track. It reminded me of being at my first co-ed party when I was twelve. I had such a fun time watching others dance, I wasn’t aware the record we were listening to had so many scratches it kept tripping back to the same song over and over again.
No one is dancing but a few couples are making an attempt. A tall, slender gentleman is putting the moves on the woman with the lips. He looks like a horny skeleton. She keeps puckering and he keeps groping her ass. I can only imagine the offspring this couple would have, God why did I even have to picture that. Little beanpoles and miniature turtles running around. Strange how some people can look exactly like another species. Well, they look happy enough feeling each other up, I wonder if they’ve made plans for later. Golly gee I was amused with the most vulgar things, one of the points I liked best about myself.

No one has even asked my name. Am I that boring? Surely someone must be wondering who I am and what I’m doing here. I’m afraid to pass a mirror just in case I can’t see myself. Well at least I know people can see me, it would be far worse if no one looked at me at all, that would be death. Inside every one of us is the need to be popular, whether we admit it or not, even if it’s just for a second. Now and then I do have brief moments of awareness, all this praise I was showering on myself was making me soggy, and cheap deodorant wasn’t helping.

Let’s see; from a distance all of this looked appealing, now up close it looked like a fast food restaurant collided with a Ukrainian wedding. Miniature cabbage rolls sharing space with deep-fried cheese balls. The table looks like a culinary nightmare. I haven’t seen any chalk outlines on the floor so that’s a good sign. There must be something on this table that hasn’t been frozen, fried, or rolled in stale breadcrumbs. They should have warning labels on some of this stuff. Like this, what the hell is this? Looks like it could be that spinach dip everyone makes for baby showers and funerals. Its way too stringy, maybe they used artificial spinach. Christ, it looks like puke in a bun. Don’t people have any imagination? Now, this is really special. A bowl full of miniature pickled eggs; right next to TexMex bean dip. What’s the theory in that? Give them gas so bad they never leave the bathroom? That could explain the stack of business cards next to the Tums dispenser. I was just leaving the food table when I noticed a card with the name of the catering company.

Bubba’s Banquet Bonanza
We Specialize In Everything
“There aint nothin we can’t do”.
(Senior Rates Available)

I put about a half dozen cards in my pocket, one of them I’d give to the local television station when ratings needed a boost, the others I’d send to The Food Network. Surely they could use a good laugh some days. I felt like I was part of a bizarre experiment in human behavior.

People were heading in the direction of the patio so I decided to follow and hope for a sideshow.
This was going to be good. The house we were in had a built in computerized vacuum system, state of the art by the sounds of it. The guy giving the demo handed out glossy colored pamphlets to further emphasize this was no ordinary vacuum. “The beauty of this system folks is that the EnerJize cleans with total efficiency”. Quite the salesman; There were about eight of us standing around waiting for him to do something miraculous with this cleaning wonder. He brought us out on the patio to demonstrate, because it also sucked up garden dirt. Huh? Uh yes, the ultimate test. There was a potted plant on a small table near him. As he was turning to show us a brochure he accidentally on purpose knocked it over.
“Oh shoot, you just never know when you’ll need one of these babies. My wife loves this thing. Not a day goes by when she doesn’t thank me for being a vacuum salesman”. Good grief what a putz.
Everything was going along fine until he accidently touched the blow button. Anyone within a five-foot radius was pelted with soggy dirt and earthworms. One of the women standing close by looked like she was going in for leach therapy. She began to freak out when a couple of the worms figured her ears looked like good hiding places. The salesman was absolutely horrified. He quickly turned the vacuum off and apologized profusely. Maybe the owners of the house should have auditioned this guy first. I couldn’t believe my luck, all this entertainment for free.
I wandered back inside and began feeling bored again. Some how the idea of the closet didn’t appeal to me anymore it would be even more boring in there.
There seemed to be other mini demos going on in different areas of the house. This was apparently a smart house. Everything computerized with many hi-tech conveniences.
I thought watching something in the kitchen might be fun; it had to be better than watching the dirt blower.
Walking into the kitchen was almost like being in one of those carnival attractions with the mirrors. Everything was so shiny it almost made me dizzy. I was a bit disappointed no one was in here but decided to poke around on my own.
Things were unnaturally clean. Maybe there was another kitchen where the family actually cooked. Freaks; how can people live like this? If the kitchen looked like this it almost made me shudder to take a look at the laundry room. I began scanning the counters for some sign of life when something caught my eye. It was a remote, for what? The appliances? Weird. This was too good to be true. I figured it was my duty to play with it and experiment. I couldn’t quite get the point of having a remote to turn things on, oh well, here goes. I touched a small button labeled water and the water in the sink began running. Cool. Another button turned a radio on. Playful thoughts of pressing all the buttons at once crossed my mind but I decided to forget that when I spied the master control panel.
Oh my this was going to be fun. By the looks of it everything in the house could be accessed from here. I traced my fingertips down the panel looking for something of interest. Most of it was the typical, lock front door, adjust temperature, this sort of thing. I figure if I had to be subjected to bean dip and The Irish Rovers all in one day I had the right to play around a bit. Zapper, ok, this one might do something stimulating. I had no idea what zapper really meant but pressed it any way. Nothing happened, bummer. I continued scanning the control panel when I heard shrieking coming from another part of the house. I doubt it was something I had done so ignored it. Hmm, more yelling, lets try one more then perhaps run like hell. I found one that said fumes and let it rip. Almost instantaneously a putrid odor began filling the room. Oh wonderful, things were off to a rip roaring start. I grabbed a dishtowel, held it over my nose and ran for the open door. Other people were running down the hallway, some were wincing with pain. What happened to them?
We must have looked like bugs running from a carcass. Most of us spilled out onto the driveway, some still covering their face while others seemed to have a sore hand. Good grief. The guy in the tacky brown suit looked shell-shocked and began explaining and apologizing for what had happened.
Apparently there had been a malfunction with the alarm system. The intruder alert function had been activated sending an electrical charge to all door handles. It also dispersed noxious fumes through out the entire house. What a moron, who would have done such a thing? I tried to look as mystified and pissed off as the others and made my way down the driveway.
Maybe next time I went out for a walk I’d try a house that didn’t look quite so sophisticated.