Here's a few coffee time snippets...
Jimmy Jewls was on board somewhere reading a damp newspaper on how to invest money; but more about him later, maybe in another book yet to be written; suffice to say he was drinking tea with the number 37 who was telling him off again for being a jewel thief while waiting for a fried egg and sausage sandwich to be delivered by air mail, or par avion as they say in France.
And that’s all that’s going to be said about him for now, except, he had a trunk full of money hidden somewhere and only he knew where it was.
TIME FOR CHANGE
And then the number 37 sent a news message over the tannoy:
“It is time to go past the precedents that have been used as guides to judge which is the best path to go down.
These waters have been muddied by the evil ones out for their own gain and so can no longer be relied upon.
It is time to go with what we feel, brought about by truth, but if the truth can’t be seen and there is no clear way forward, then do nothing, be still, and wait for the light to show itself so that the correct path can be known.
Many will say that doing nothing will allow the wrong choice to win; this comes from fear; listen out for your own voice; when you hear it, act.
This will put the fear back where it belongs. It is also a taking back of your power.
P.S. you may sweat a little bit, but don’t worry, you won’t be the only one. End of message.”
SATURDAY NIGHT
Other news today is:
A scurvy lot of looking fools wearing masks broke into a serving room in a small unknown town and spat out the juice of a thousand pips to the consternation of the serving girl who was looking the other way at her soap programme playing in the background.
Spilling their money everywhere they ordered triple whopper burgers with a yard of juice to go and don’t hold the sauce.
A small curry in the corner that was doing the vindaloo hitched up a smile and went to work and moments later the orders were on their way into the grubby hands of the scurvy lot who then jumped into the bed of their pick-up truck waiting outside, and five sheets to the wind they were off into a night that accepted them for all they were worth.
So never let it be said that a vindaloo curry in the bed is a bad thing.
Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay
MIDNIGHT TO DAY
On the deck of the submarine floating on the ocean swell many broken thoughts withered on the page as Captain Morgan Jones waited to feel the surge after wandering around from another midnight’s wander.
The picture show was open and all was being revealed along with some things that should be kept circumspect.
The wind blew things around the airwaves and he reached for them, discarding some that didn’t fit and shoe-horning some that were just too good to let go and so roasted them around his appetite to taste.
Morning, second cup of coffee and too early to eat yet but was the best time to begin the flow as the morning sunlight, billions of years old yet as new as now flickered half-heartedly through the rain clouds that had been there for months but at least kept the place cooler.
“Sometimes thoughts intrude; do I take notice of them or do I let them go?” thought Captain Morgan Jones.
As the day progressed and the thoughts piled up around him to be noticed he found himself talking to them:
“When the lizards come, lizard like with their popularity control and break your door down with their smiles, do you go pop into the frying pan or do you wait until it is over and they’ve gone? Or maybe, it’s once more into the breach with all guns blazing, give a dog a bone and let’s be friends?
Never mind, midnight comes again now as if time mattered so let’s go to the next party and leave the dead behind.
Nothing but the stop then to lay us down, nothing but the wind to direct us on.”
When the morning came he found many broken thoughts withering away on the page as he waited for the coffee surge to kick in with its usual abruptness to the liver, and as the place opened up around him he pulled from the moving wind all that he needed to begin the day anew as a weak sunlight escaped through the clouds that were dark to rain at any moment.
As the day kept him company he found himself wishing for things he didn’t have and a door to escape through from his thoughts repeating endlessly.
TOO HOT
Rhetoric of incomprehension aside in a place far removed down in the boiler room:
Ding the Zing Ming.
Who’s there?
It’s too hot.
Stop complaining.
But they gave me two much sugar.
Which you just had to take.
Why are the mosquitoes so big?
If you keep on like this they are going to drink your heart right out of your face and laugh as it withers beneath their noise.
I was just saying is all.
You have to stop just saying or you’ll find yourself standing on that bridge at dawn alone and wondering what you’re doing there so far from home.
I’ve already been there.
And?
You came along.
Heaven help us.
That’s what I said.
It’s funny how one thing leads to another in the big circle of life where the extreme dust of what we cannot say bothers us so much we are reduced to tears and minimal concepts that keep repeating.
What?
It’s too hot.
Images from Pixabay
