Chester, the Dragon (a re-post)

There is a dragon in my house, a little pot-bellied dragon.  It is cute, which is probably why it is allowed to sit on the kitchen countertop all day long.  Still, Patches, our cat, is cute...   Life is just not fair.  

The dragon, by name, is called Little Kitchenware, but little sister and I simply call him Chester.  I believe that Chester is my dad's favorite of all the pets in the house, and I believe my dad is Chester's favorite human.  

They do share a very special bond.  In the morning, my dad gets up and feeds and waters Chester, while I take care of Barney, our loyal dog.  Barney is my favorite pet in the house, and I think that I am Barney's favorite human.  I pour kibble out of a bag for Barney, who sits and licks his jowls.  Chester's food come from a bag as well, but my dad grinds Chester's food, while Chester stares on.  Apparently, our dragon likes only very dark colored powder that smells like tar.  So, one day, I tried to feed Chester part of our driveway, but I could not dig up any part of the driveway (it was very hard), so I went to the garden.  After feeding Chester compost, my dad screamed and yelled.  My mom pointed to the living room.  Mom gave Chester a bath.  I do not understand; they should have been happy that it wasn't mud pie.

I asked my father once if Chester was a baby, and whether he would soon fly.  My father replied something about flight feathers and without them he would not take to wing.  So I waited for two weeks, then I found light brown feathers in the yard by the pond.  They were very stiff and fairly long.  So, I glued them on to Chester, but they wouldn't stay on.  Then, I went to the basement and found the special tape, so I could tape the feathers on.  I then grabbed a chair and then I grabbed our little dragon.  I was just about ready to let go when my mother came in.

"I'm trying to teach him to fly," I told mom as she grabbed Chester away.

"He stays on the counter; he's too young yet today."

So, Chester, our dragon sits in the kitchen.  He purrs and he gurgles and he puffs clouds of steam that smell like tar after he gets fed.  He sounds very happy and sits like old Buddha, as adults gather around him while my parents entertain.  Barney and I go outside so we can play.  I look back in the window, and see Chester sitting there on the counter with his back to the sun.  I wonder if Chester ever gets antsy to just smell the grass or feel the wind on his skin.  I wonder if he would ever consider a lounge in the sun or a long game of fetch or even tug-o-war.  I wonder if he will ever get old enough to break free if our kitchen (and that tar smelling food) to fly with his relatives amongst the wind-driven rains, to see the great world from a air-thin altitude, and I wonder: will I would be there, too?

Don’t Want to Go to School

The alarm went off in his bedroom, but he did not want to listen.  He was in the middle of a pleasant dream.  When the electronic scream to get out of bed went out, he slapped the stupid button hard to punish the rude intrusion.  He hoped to permanently silence the nasty beast, but when Mom came into the room, he realized that it would not work.  He did not want to go to school; he did not want to get up.  He just wanted to lay in bed.  His dream was all he wanted.  

But Mom stood hovering, and so he said, “Mom, I feel sick.”  

But Mom said nothing; she wasn’t buying it.  Instead, she yanked the covers off his nestled body, letting the cold air do her dirty work.  He put himself in a fetal position, trying to regain the pleasant place he had left behind.  Finally, he could not handle it; the shivering made him ache.  And so, he got out of bed.

He tripped over the bedding that had now covered the floor, kicking at the grabbing covers.  In the end, he won the wrestling match, refereed by his big stuffed bear.  And then, he tried for twenty minutes to get his clothes on, but his shirt and pants also tried to wrestle, especially his underwear and socks.  They went on in twisted ways or stuck, so he grabbed hard and wrenched and unwound.  At least, the bedding and his clothes all wanted him to stay. 

Sounding like the voice came out from under his bed, his mom called, “Breakfast!”  And taking in the news, he finally felt himself again.  But when he tried to leave his room, his stuffed bear and friends grabbed a hold of him and sat down on his bedroom floor.

“Please, don’t go.  We have to talk, we have to explore.  It is what we are all made of.  Please, don’t go,” said the big stuffed bear.

“But I have to.  I have school,” said the boy, not wanting to go.

The tiger jumped into his lap and purred, “But what about the explorations.  You might miss a discovery.”

“My mom and dad both say that school has plenty of that sort of thing,” said the boy.

“Edward!  Breakfast!  Get down here now or your pancakes will get cold!” Yelled the voice from under the bed.

“Sorry guys.  I have to,” said the boy, who was now torn between staying and, well, pancakes.

“No, you don’t.  You can come with us,” said the defiant stuffed yellow bear.

“But Mom fixed pancakes,” whimpered the boy, who was not sure if he was liking his polyester filled friend any more.

“Sure, whenever your mom makes pancakes, you have no time for us,” snorted rabbit with holes in its ears and scratches on its button eyes.

“Come on, guys.  This isn’t fair,” whined the boy to the crowd who now stood around him.

“Life isn’t fair,” snarled an unrecognizable thing with ears and red bid overalls.  It pointed to its head.  “Just look at what happened to me.  Stuck in the toy box.  Waiting for you to rescue me.  It’s a good thing that I only have stuffing upon there.”

“Yeh, and then you stopped playing with me as soon as I lost my wheel,” said a small metal car on the floor by his feet.

“You just don’t play with us any more,” said a red little pup with a big bow on its head.

“Yeh, it’s like you just don’t care,” said the big stuffed bear.  

“Stop it!” Screamed the boy.

“Edward?  Is everything all right up there?” Asked the voice from under the bed.

“Yeh, Mom!” He responded back.

“Well, hurry up.  Your pancakes are getting cold, and the bus will be here soon,” said Mom.

“Okay,” he called back.  And then, he looked at the gathering, fiber-filled crowd.  “You can just stop it, right now.  You know that I have to go,” said the boy as he yanked his arm back from the bear.

“But what are we supposed to do when you go away?” Asked the bespectacled owl with the black robe and cardboard hat.

“Whatever you guys do when I’m not here,” said the boy, getting up off the floor.

“But it is not quite the same,” said the bear.

“Well, it will have to do.  Maybe after I get back...”

“You’ll have homework, then,” sniffled the big old yellow bear.

Finally, unable to handle the guilt, he said, “I have pancakes.”

From under the bed came a different voice then before, a silly little voice, “Pancakes?  Did somebody say pancakes?  I would like to have a bunch.”

And very quickly, from a tangle and a tumble, Quiggly the Pink Pig with blue overalls and lapping tongue dug himself out from under the bed.  He missed the call for the intervention and looked around at his friends in confusion.

“Did I miss them?  The pancakes?  I would be really sad if I had,” said Quiggly, trying to lighten the apparent “heavy” moment. 

“They are downstairs,” said the now standing boy.

“You’re on!” Said the eager pig.

And so, the pig and the boy left the room and closed the door.  The entire fiber-filled gathering stared at the door, listened as the thumping, racing feet took off down the hallway and then down the stairs.

“Well, that didn’t work, bear,” said the tiger in disgust.

“Next time, we’ll try it my way,” added a gray, dusty lion.

“Hey, you still got some of that stash you were talking about the other day,” said the tiger to the lion.

“Yeh, I think so,” said the lion.  “Anyone want to hang out on my shelf is welcome.”

With a lot of okays and certainly’s, the crowd disbanded, leaving the bear and the bespectacled owl staring at the door.

“It should have worked,” said the bear.

“You didn’t make reference to the dream.  I told you that you should have used the dream that you whispered into the boy’s ear, but what does an owl know compared to a bear?” Huffed the owl as he left.

In his solitary stance, the bear said, “Yeh....I should have picked something other than pancakes.”

Village News - Date 28 October 2017

There is talk floating around the village these days like a dense fog of peanut butter.  (That’s right.  “You eat what you like, and I’ll eat what I like.” <best line from “Rudolph, The Red Nose Reindeer>).  You see, there is a new delivery boy for the Daily Trumpet, he took over the route from Harold Glum.  Apparently, Harold’s arm started acting up once again.  Villagers have been crying, “Harold is somewhere in his 80’s for crying out loud, leave him alone!”  But apparently this time, there were injuries...and perhaps, just a little blood.  “I simply can’t control the old urges any more,” said Harold Glum, sadly.  The new boy, one Jeffrey Horn, a truly brassy boy for his age, is the new pitcher for the varsity baseball team at the Fortress of Higher Learning.  His father told him that it would be a good job to keep his arm warmed up and loose during the cold, idle winter months.  I worry for the ball team this coming year, though; I had to retrieve the Daily Trumpet from the roof of my house.  We shall miss you, Harold Glum....and your mysterious and creepy arm.  

From the Daily Trumpet: There is excitement brewing in our fair village as the doors to a new eating establishment are scheduled to open on National Fright Night.  The new restaurant is to be called: “The Extruder.”  It is the brain child of food enthusiast, Pepper Jackson.  Pepper told this reporter that her parents never told her to stop playing with her food.  In fact, once they discovered she had a real talent for such things, they often encouraged her dinner table play by handing her different things with which to experiment.  After a painful week with a single soda straw, she was able to spell out her name on the plate with some peas.  Soon, the neighbors were clamoring for an invitation to have dinner with her family to see the newest in extruded design.  Pepper was hooked, and now after 15 years at the prestigious Cordon Blah School of Kitchen Arts, she was ready to set the culinary world on fire...or at least push it down the street a block or so. 

So, with the backing from her lovely parents, Pepper has purchased an old plastic extruder from the old plastics mill in Oakwood, and has placed the machine in one of her restaurant’s windows looking into the kitchen from the dinner area, so everyone can watch their food in preparation.  “Everyone will know their order, because their names will be squished out and written on their plates.  There will be lots of very artistic and pleasing meals extruded, but the house specialty will be Schmooshed Turkey with Squished Potatoes and Gravy with highlights of Pea paste.  So, delish!  Oh, and there will be available at every table the usual silver settings along with chainsaws, straws, chisels, drills and other powered tableware.  Nothing says excitement and encourages play like something pushed through a tube.

Already, Ms. Jackson has been getting quite a little buzz from local villagers with ad campaigns like: “It doesn’t say food, ‘til it’s pushed through a tube,” or “What could be ruder than going to The Extruder?”  Who’s to say just how long this little restaurant will last, but Pepper Jackson can not wait to see everyone’s reaction to the individual creations made with food, and with toxic love.  

The Extruder is set to open at 666 W Main St, Our Fair Village.  Festivities will start in the afternoon, but Pepper promises they will end in time for all those cute little families to attend any and all activities for the National Fright Night at The East End Parking Lot and/or Hell’s Gate subdivision of our fair village which ever one you wish to attend.

And speaking of the activities for National Fright Night, there is to be A Sugar Extravaganza sponsored by the committee for the annual “Gimme Some Sugar” campaign.  It is a new village activity planned this year to bring everyone together in one big happy sugar haze.  The Sugar Extravaganza will begin promptly at 8:39 and a halfish...that’s P.M.  Besides, the Sticky Gauntlet of Tricks or Treats  and the Chuck the Pumpkin Contest (aimed at Mr. Carson’s house which was chosen by “lottery”), there will be the Confectioners’ Confessional, run by the lay folks from the Sept of September Church.  “We couldn’t resist joining in the celebration of the impending cold, long sleep.  Besides, it will be fun to cough up your sugary sins,” said toothy smiling Wendy Woodsman, one of those lay folks from the friendly (if not tall, creepy, and stoic), little church.  Lights will be turned off promptly at 10 PM, for full darkness effect.  

We, at the Daily Trumpet, also wish to include a notice that the festivities for National Fright Night are still planned for Hell’s Gate, a subdivision in the south part of the village.  In case, anyone is wondering, agents are still needed for both locations of festivities.  Please bring your masks, uniforms, make-up, and sugar collection devices to the Haberdashery on Main Street.  Also, the pumpkin smashing event in Hell’s Gate has been elevated to a personal car event, please ask mom and dad for the keys.  And if you can not get your parents to say yes to the keys, there is still room for the Chuck the Pumpkin contest at the East End Parking Lot.  As is the tradition for National Fright Night, please don’t forget to bring your own candle or torch.

Around our fair village:  Our fair village police have been called in to investigate reports of orange, roundish things appearing on village area porches.  Some of these roundish objects are reported to have smiling or scowling faces.  So far, our fair police have been driving around shining lights on to the porches of the offending crime scenes, but with Jack Frost and Old Man Winter joining in the investigation and using their expertise of spreading a blanket of white upon the village, we should have footprints of the culprits soon.  As this is an open case from two years back, our fair village police force are remaining mum on the subject, but our fair chief of police vows to get to the bottom of the matter. 

One Giant Step

Did I ever tell you of a child I once knew 

Who had a great deal of spring in their step? 

Well, one day, they stomped on the ground, oh so hard, 

That they found themselves on the moon, imagine that?

Well, they sat there so long with feelings of unease

That they decided to snack, the moon is just cheese.

Afraid they would never, to earth, have a rescue

And finding no restaurant with any good barbecue,

They decided to eat and so they did, until one mighty sneeze.

That’s when it happened, a grand mighty fall.

It all happened so long and so fast,

That, off the earth, they bounced like a ball.

And so now, instead of the moon,

And this is the worst news of all,

They can be found on the planet of Neptune.

Blinking, a School Bus Kids story

So, this week, the children on my “not so ordinary” bus decided to start a new hobby.  Perhaps, hobby is not the correct word, but it’s the best that I have.  One day, I shall increase the vocabulary.  One day.  Anyway, they all decided to tell me about this hobby while we waited for the teachers to come out to the bus.  I wasn’t exactly sure what they were saying to me as they were all very exciting and talking over one another.  They were cute, and I tried to listen to their earnest, overlapping descriptions, but there it is.

It was fun watching them practice their new found hobby, though.  They were trying to disappear here, only to come up over there.  At first, it was only face scrunching, and then, it was a whole lot of face covering, all with the hoods on their hooded sweatshirts.  You could say that it was a touch of science fiction or “Bewitched;” no nose wiggling, though.  Of course, by accident, one of the students would manage to disappear, then reappear just a couple of steps from their original spot.  But no one could really figure it out.  And naturally, they would do this often while trying to exit the bus, and would tie up the whole departure sequence as they would make contact with an immoveable seat or get caught up in a fellow student’s book bag arm strap, though how student and another student’s book bag made contact was not so easily discerned.  And then, there was the incident on the steps of the bus when they tried to exit and the doors were still closed, and book bags, and….well, let’s just say that I, the bus driver, named the moment: The Great Tangle.  But I have been sworn to secrecy by all of the students about that moment.  Anything that you may learn about The Great Tangle could put your hair at jeopardy like, for instance, the “code name” of the incident.  Drat!  Okay, please do not use your hair conditioner for a little while, um…maybe a week.

But on Thursday, as the cool autumn wind and hot summer sun kept one student company at his stop, the child decided to combine both scrunch face and head cover techniques, at the same time.  To his astonishment, and the entire bus’s for that matter, as the bus door opened to swoop the kid up from his stop, he disappeared.  There was much gasping of surprise and delight to see the result.  Fortunately, he reappeared in time to climb onto the bus and make his way to a seat.  He was greeted in triumph; everyone patted him on the back.  And for the rest of the day, he became the sensei and taught his technique with a big toothy smile, which, of course, everyone faithfully copied with full dentition.

As they have progressed, quite nicely I must say, sound effects now accompany the phenomenon.  There is, what can only be, though I am told it is supposed to be a stretching sound, a prolonged “fart” noise, then a brief disappearance and then, a reappearance with a sharp “pop.”  Though I am saddened by the prospect that there may no longer be a need for the “Nuther World” button, I am positive that with perseverance and a whole lot of practice, of which there is plenty, these kids will “blinking” around the whole “blinking” universe in no time.

Gone! Was All It Said

So, I came home.  It was nice.  It was beautiful.  Not like the day before, all cold and wet.  Yes, I came home, and found a mystery.  I discovered it.  I found the debris in the Forest of Milky Trees, and in life and deed.  “Gone!” Was all it said, the headlines, in big bold lettering.  Gone, no goodbye or any hint as to what direction to take.  No hint, even after a long and thorough search of high and low.  The only evidence left behind was simple, the shattered remains of what once was, nothing more.  I wonder yet just how simple.  Now, there was hints, maybe allegations, a figure at a construction site, a new school.  Trying to improve one’s self?  So, a mystery revealed itself, unfolded, and everyone connected to the Forest of Milky Trees seemed steeped in the fog of it.  In kind, they started a rousing game of “Half Full/Half Empty,” all taking sides.  Everyone pointed at everyone.  After all, there was not much else to do.  All appropriate entities were called and on the job, but here we all sat.  So, they, the Milky Tree Forest fanatics, all took the clues to the mystery, and rolled.

Those who took the side of “Half Empty” surmised an abhorrent death, a brutal death at the hands of some predator, physical or metaphysical.  Perhaps instead, there was a sense of being frozen out, perhaps even, a giving up.  I guess the proverb of “those who live in glass houses, should not throw stones” may apply here, but, oh, to break the glass ceiling, what a glorious moment!  Even if, or maybe especially because that ceiling is of two minds, may be someone else’s glass floor.

To those of us who took the side of “Half Full,” it was a triumph of self-realization, a coming to grips with what does it take to know one’s self.  To place yourself into reflection and meditation, to reconcile all the contradictions, to proudly come out of the Chrysalis, TA DA!, Faaabuuulousss!  To embrace what makes you unique, show the world your true self, all the while still standing tall and secure; so, brave.  What an amazing achievement.  And then you become so light, lifted out of the despair of self-doubt, to fly above the others, to fly above it all.  Freedom.

Of course, there are those who simply say that missing visitor just stayed long enough to sock some money away, then took the first flight outta here, right off to somewhere quiet, where he can simply be with others that looked and thought the way he did.  Breath away from enemies.  They envisioned some naughty little resort high on a hill with lots of trees where they could all gather and party all their troubles and cares away, delirium.  They’ll just say the deeply concern visitor went on a holiday to Mexico or South America, for a long winter’s getaway.

Then, there are others who simply say, “SHE.”  And then they walk off on their merry way.

Gone! Was all it said, and all it took.  Is the mystery solved?  No clue, but have a turn anyway.  Go ahead, we give you full permission.  Go on, nose in and give a poke.  You really don’t need to know the fact.  Half Full/Half Empty, it’s your turn.  Take it.  We insist.

The Great Fold, a School Bus Kids story - reedited from first post

So, it has begun, the new school year.  We are officially a full 11 days into the year.  This is the year of big changes for us in the school district, and it’s all thanks to the new cube of basic education (because it’s elementary, my dear Dr. Watson).  I have to say, this is going to be an exciting year; at least, I am trying to convince myself that it will be exciting instead of fearful.  I mean changes, new school, one regular AM/PM route.  Even my noon route is different.  The little four-year-olds that I haul are very quiet; I can, at times, forget that they are even there…until, of course, they get to school.  Oh, don’t worry, I still have a bus that is not like any other bus in the fleet.  I know this because I have talked to the other bus drivers, but at this point, they leave the conversation very quickly, shaking their heads and rubbing their brows, even my bosses, who seem to want to hide when I appear in the office door.  I really don’t know why.  Maybe, I should ask.

Well, anyway, this past week, things are a little dodgy.  Yes, every scary.  You see, Mother Nature decided to throw a nasty wind our direction.  This one day on the route, the wind was so harsh that I struggled to stay on the road with my bus.  Believe me, when you encounter some of today’s farm equipment on the road and you fight with your steering wheel, it can be very scary.  It was decided, on the bus, that we should hoist some sails in order to stay safe, and so we did.  It helped a little, but then someone suggested that we extend the wings, and all went okay from there.  It did make it a bit tough for the other vehicles on the road to get by us, but we stayed on the road, and somehow, so did everyone else around us.

All was fine until I got to this one stop, Grammy and Grampee’s house.  My little rider got on, and promptly had to tell me of his concern about the wind.  Grammy told me that he had been very worried the entire time he had been at her house.  In fact, he was in a slight tizzy over the situation.  So, in order to ease this poor child’s mind, I told him that we hoisted sails and set wings to help as both things are wind related items.  He seemed cautious; so I then told the child about a button that has helped in many situations.  The button I refer to is the beach ball button.  It’s a great tool; push the button and a giant beach surrounds the bus.  If you hit something, you simply bounce off of it.  Okay, you might get a bit dizzy as sometimes the bus gets stuck in a tight spin inside the beach ball, but there are no bumps or bruises if you stay in your seat.  He seemed fine with that and boarded the bus, and so, we went on our merry way.

Then, we turn around to get back on to the main road, and that’s where the struggle began.  As I backed into a field road, the bus rocked toward its side, causing the bus to list.  This happened a couple of times in the process of getting turned around (tiny road, you know).  My little passenger started to get scared again; in fact, everyone was getting nervous.  And yes, when I said everyone, that also included me.  There was a couple of times that I thought we were all going to be need a change of clothes.  It got to a point that we decided that we needed to drop our sails to keep from tipping over on our side.  So, we went about the bus to drop sails.  

In the process, the wind blew at us, and pushed the bus sideways, as we were perpendicular to Grammy and Grampee’s road.  The wind seemed happy to have the bus sideways in the road, for it seemed to make it easier for the wind to push the bus.  And we found ourselves inching our way over to a place that I had not noticed before in all the driving throughout the school district, until now.  We got so close to the edge that I was able to look down into the bottom of a mighty and dark drop off; at least, I think it was the bottom as you really couldn’t see anything, except maybe a little trickle of water.  Everyone was screaming.  Even though, I hate the sensation of falling, I stayed calm remembering “The Beach Ball button” was only a fingertip away, because my bus is different than any of the other buses in the fleet.  Everyone kept on trying to tug on ropes and let the sails hit the floor.  Finally, we got our sails down, and we managed to get turned around toward the main road.  Only a few “smallish” clumps of dirt fell into the darkness before we moved, but there was no need of button pushing this time.  Back on the main road, we hoisted sails and breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally, at school, as we waited for the teachers, I had to ask the one student about that drop off, and very quickly, I was awash in all the excitement that 4 small children could muster.  It was very difficult to determine through the conversation of one, held simultaneously by 4 exuberant children, just what it was that I was being told, but this is what I think it was:

We were near the Edge of the World, which can also be called the Great Fold.  The walls of the Great Fold are so steep that even the sun stays far away from the edge, to keep from falling in, because it is a bottomless pit.  And if you do fall in, you are dunked into a darkness where you can’t see your hands, like when they turn off the lights on the Crystal Cave tour.  In fact, I think that you might actually be in Crystal Cave if you fall down into the bottom.  Oh wait, there is no bottom at all.  Oh, and at the bottom, there is a creek where gold fish that glow like stars swim.  Incidentally, this Great Fold is just upstream from the Bouncey, or as I believe, it has also been  called the Bumpy, Bridge, and yes, there was mention of gold fish when we bounced across the bridge to get away from the Forest of Angry Trees.  Some times, the Great Fold gets hungry and simply sucks things into its mouth, like when Grampee lost his tractor.  Apparently, the Great Fold gets hungry for iron once in a while.  I told the kids that I preferred spinach over tractor for iron, which illicited the response, “Ew, yuck!”  Oh, and on the other side of the Edge  of the World, there is another place called Reverse World, and that is why you don’t get to stars and the moon.  I asked them what Reverse World was, and they told me that was the place you go to on Backwards Day.  I thought the other side would be a “Nuther World” and I showed the kids the bus’s “Nuther World” button.  All I got was the “are you kidding me” stares.  One child told me that The Edge of the World was the scary place between today and tomorrow, the place where the future lives, while another child mentioned that it was the place between today and yesterday where ghosts live.  

But then, the teacher came out to collect the little darlings off the bus, and it was as if nothing happened on our way to school for the day.  I know that one day that beach ball button will come in handy; I’ll just have to wait for the right moment.