My afternoon in France

I took my time machine back to 1843 and the town of Seine-Maritime, France to visit my buddy, the author, Alexandre Dumas.

We shared a pot of coffee at the Boutique Nespresso Rouen. Alexandre was fretting over his latest novel, tentatively titled, Les Quinze Mille Mousquetaires (The 15,000 Musketeers.)

I flipped through the manuscript and casually suggested, “Trois.”

Alexandre nodded and sighed with relief, and began scratching out the superfluous names with his quill.

Luckily he carried a 5-gallon inkwell with him wherever he went.

Good-bye

“Hi, it’s God. You should know I’m quitting and starting another Universe. A much smaller one. Like about the size of a table. That way I can sit and move things around without getting up.”

The Bricks

I lost my home. I figured I would go for a walk. Soon I came across a group of bricks.

One of the bricks said, “Would you like a house?”

I said yes.

The brick said, “If you’d like, we could be your house.”

I said they weren’t a house, but a pile of bricks.

The brick said, “A pile, yes. But compiled, we become your house.”

I said that was a generous offer, but I was unskilled at compilation.

The brick said, “No problem, we know how to do it. Please wait.” I stood and watched the bricks quickly assemble into a house. When they were done, a brick door swung open at the front of the house.

I walked in through the door and sat down on a brick sofa.

The original brick that spoke to me was now a part of the sofa. It said, “Do you like it?”

I said yes, and thank you, but that I was a little tense from the hardness of the brick sofa.

That’s when the totality of bricks sang me a lullaby that went like this, “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see. It’s going to be okay. Before you know it. It’s going to be…okay.”

And in a few minutes, it was.

The Duchy of Prussia

This morning I was woken up by the ghost of John Sigismund, the Duchy of Prussia in the early 1600s.

The ghost of John S. spent a good two hours trying to convert me to Calvinism. I could barely get a word in because back in the 1600s no one’s attention was distracted by electronic devices, so everything was full steam ahead.

I couldn’t take it anymore and handed the ghost of John S. my iphone. Within seconds he came crashing down into a zombified stupor, and I went back to sleep.

Talking again with the Sun

I laid out on the grass, looking up at the Sun. I said, “I appreciate that you don’t charge me for you shining services.”

The Sun said, “I hadn’t considered that before. What would you pay for these rays?”

I said, “I was saying that I’m grateful they are free.”

The Sun said, “But if you did pay, how much would it be?”

Knowing that the Sun knew nothing about our monetary system, I said, “A handful of dirt.”

Suddenly the Sun went out. Everything was pitch black. The temperature plummeted to 40 below and falling. I barely shivered out the words, “$12,000 dollars.”

The Sun went back on in full. The Sun said, “Isn’t it a lovely day?”