One of my best friends is a pint of cherry vanilla ice cream. I don’t eat it but I take it out of the fridge a couple of times a day and talk with it. I hold the pint and share everything that’s on my mind. I feel like the pint of cherry vanilla ice cream listens to me. It hears me. I tell the pint things I’ve never told anyone.
There have been times where I’ve felt really close to the pint of cherry vanilla confection and wanted to take off its lid and eat a spoonful. But I didn’t because I worried I wouldn’t be able to stop and I’d finish it off and have no one to talk with.
I did that once with a jar of Goober Grape PB&J Stripes. It was a combination of peanut butter and grape jam in a jar. I talked with it more often than I do with the ice cream because it didn’t need to be refrigerated or frozen. At night I would hold it next to my heart and whisper my secrets as I fell asleep.
Well, one day I was sharing something sad and I felt like the sweet and salty treat said, “Just take a bit of me and everything’s going to be better.” So I got out a spoon, took off the lid, and I did. I felt better. I like feeling better. So I ate another bite. And another. Until it was all gone. And then my stomach hurt and I had no one to share that with.
I work for the Giant. The Giant lives above the clouds. I have to get up extra early every morning so I can climb the two-and-a-half miles of ladder to go and work at the Giant’s house. The Giant gets upset that I’m out of breath and sweaty and need to rest when I arrive. I suggest that the Giant hire someone else. The Giant complains that he just might do that. But he hasn’t so far.
I like to eat mouse cheese. It’s cheese made from the milk of mice. I buy the cheese directly from the mice. I go to the mouse hole at the base of my living room wall, knock three times, and put ten dollars in the hole. I wait usually a minute and then a mouse pushes out a fairly large piece of cheese. The cheese is incredibly sweet and filling. Plus it’s the only cheese I can eat that doesn’t give me phlegm.
Sometimes when I look into my right palm I’ll see a vision of downtown Aneb-Hetch, Egypt, around the year 3300 BC. People are selling their wares on the streets amidst heavy foot traffic. A horse and chariot passes by transporting a local official. Once I saw Queen Hetep-heres pass by in a carrying chair, supported by 12 strong men. And then there was that time I noticed a person looking up towards me, shouting and pointing. Others looked and pointed. I scowled, creating a general panic. That was a good day.
I sleep every night in a giant cupcake. It’s chocolate raspberry with sprinkles. I burrow a hole in the side, and lay down with a blanket. It’s cozy and I fall asleep within seconds. When I wake up, the giant cupcake is always gone and my face is covered with crumbs. I guess what bothers me is that I never get to taste the bouffant confection.
I was feeling low and unacknowledged, so I and got in my time machine and rode to Ford’s Theater in Washington, DC, April 15, 1865, 9:30pm. I went into the lobby and asked out loud if I could talk with the person in charge of security. A tall and rough looking man named, Geyser McMillan came up to me and asked what was the matter. I said I had it on good information that someone would try and harm the President. Geyser said he didn’t see how that was possible since the President’s balcony box seats were guarded by a solider. I said I had it from a really good source that that wasn’t true. Geyser looked me hard in the eyes and I didn’t flinch. He nodded and ran up the stairs. I followed.
We reached the upper floor and saw a figure enter through the unguarded door to the President’s seating area. Geyser and I entered through that door and saw a man aiming a pistol at President Lincoln’s head. Geyser grabbed the man’s arm and there was a struggle. The President turned around and seeing the scuffle, grabbed his wife and ran out of the seating area. Geyser succeeded in getting the gun from the man, and put him in handcuffs. The man turned out to be the famous actor John Wilkes Booth. Booth was lead away and taken to the police station.
The President thanked me upon hearing that I was the source of information that lead to the arrest. He brought me up on stage and announced in his loud orator’s voice to the confused audience that I had foiled a plot to assassinate him. The audience gave me a thunderous two-hour standing ovation, and chanted, “Thank you, oh great Brooks Palmer!” I was taken by the President and his wife to dine at Old Ebbitt Grill. I had two plates of the Shrimp Etouffee. When word spread through the restaurant of my efforts, I was given another standing ovation, though this one only lasted last forty minutes.
That night I stayed over at the White House in the Millard Fillmore room. I had fourteen attendants ready to take care of any of my needs. I had them fluff my pillow over ten times that night. The next day there was a parade in my honor down Pennsylvania Avenue that stretched 17 blocks.
After that I got in my time-travel machine and came back home. I sat on my couch. I was feeling better than when I’d left. I finally felt that I actually mattered.
While flying my twin engine airplane, I zoned out and didn’t look where I was going. When I came too I realized I’d just popped out of the atmosphere. Above me was space. Below was the bright blue Earth. Luckily I’m good at holding my breath. When I was a kid I used to stay underwater in the community pool for up to thirty minutes. I liked the deep quiet, plus it allowed me to imagine I was amphibian and wouldn’t have to go to school anymore.
I flew around for a while in space and soon encountered a pack of space walruses. They are very much like sea walruses but are blue, have yellow spots, and have tusks three times the normal size. The space walruses are able to live in space because they now and then dip their snouts into the atmosphere for an oxygen snort and come back to space and cavort.
A shooting star happened by and I tossed out a rope with a hook that latched onto the star and went for a wild ride. I was pulled so fast that I thought my plane would shred to pieces, which is what happened. I desperately hung on to the rope. The nice thing is the shooting star traveled around the Earth in about a minute and I got to see a lot of my favorite countries like Australia, Uruguay, and Burkina Faso.
But soon the shooting star fizzled out and I was left in space hanging onto a big rock. On a whim I took out the pen I always keep in my pocket with a pad of paper in case I get any good ideas, and I used the pen to chisel my way into the big rock. The inside was hallow and I curled up and relaxed. I like relaxing. I don’t know why.
I sensed that I’d soon be in need of oxygen. I didn’t have a plan. So I sat and waited for the next thing to happen. Soon I heard a wobbling sound. I stuck my head out of the big rock and saw a space bubble floating by. Basically they are oxygen farts from the atmosphere that bubble up into space. I leapt off the big rock, landed on the space bubble, and space paddled to the atmosphere.
I popped back into the Earth’s air and descended rapidly. The force of the compressed air around me disintegrated my clothing and now I was falling naked. Although my situation was desperate, swiftly moving through the air felt tingly on my skin. Luckily I landed with a nice dive into the Indian Ocean. I could tell which ocean because I saw those letters on the water just before I splashed down.
I went deep into the water and touched the sandy bottom. I really like sand. There’s something impossibly great about rocks that are so tiny, their collective presence is soft.
