Flitched the Horse goes for it!

I rode my horse, Flitched, through the desert until we reached the edge of the cliff. There was a beautiful sunset splayed out in front of us.

Flitched said, “I want to snort it.”

I encouraged Flitched who stuck his head out towards the sunset and snorted deeply over and over. After a few minutes, bright reds, oranges, and yellows broke away from the sunset and their thin colorful rivers traveled across the expanse and into Flitched’s big nostrils.

After fully ingesting the sunset, Flitched let out a tremendous belch, warbling the air with a mini and misty rainbow.

Time-travel visit in attempt to learn from Gustave Flaubert

I took my time-travel machine to Paris 1855 and the home of writer Gustave Flaubert. He was in the midst of working on his first novel, Madame Bovary. He briefly looked up at me and the time-machine and went back to writing. That’s what I was hoping for. I’d heard that Gustave was a writer of amazing discipline, and I wanted to learn that skill from him.

See, I’m a lazy writer. Sure, I have a notebook and pens. But I’m more drawn to sitting under a tree in my backyard, or digging a hole in my yard until I strike an underground river. It’s only when I’m tired of being outside in these ways that I come inside and write.

I sat in a chair across from Gustave and watched him write with fury. He wrote as if the paper was certain to tear. He dabbed his pen in the ink well as if he were a diver coming to the surface of the water for a quick gasp of air before diving back under. I was inches from him, but for him I was not there. This was his pattern page after page.

Eventually Gustave passed out on his desk from exhaustion. I found a blanket and covered him. I mopped the sweat off his brow. I waited. A few hours later he awoke and attacked the paper, striking it with words at a rate faster than one could read them. I watched with equal intensity.

Hours later I got back in my time-machine and rode back to the present day with a new determination. But when I arrived, I went out to my backyard, got out the shovel, and began to dig.

Time-traveling to Spring 1960 in Wisconsin

I got in my time-travel machine and traveled to a back road in Wisconsin in the spring of 1960. There was no traffic, but soon there was a car approaching. I stuck out my thumb. The car pulled over and the driver asked where I was heading. I said to Kenosha. The driver said so were they and I got in.

Inside was Massachusetts senator John F. Kennedy and his driver. Kennedy said he was on his way to speak as a candidate at a rally for the Democratic Primary.

I told them that I was a time-traveler. I’m always honest about this because even though most of the time people think I’m just being poetic, they feel comfortable and open up to me.

Kennedy joked, “Okay, Mister Time-Traveler, what does the future hold for me?” I said that he would win the primary, and go on to win the Presidency. Kennedy laughed and said, “Well, I like the sounds of that!”

Kennedy asked if I would like a campaign button. I said yes and while he pinned it on me, he looked me in the eye and said, “You’re not from around here.”

I said that I was from California. Kennedy said, “What brings you here?”

I said that I like to travel. Kennedy said, “A kindred spirit. I’m most at home while away from home. I feel like I’m meant to move, like the wind.”

I suddenly got very sleepy, a common occurrence that first hour of going back in time. I asked if it would be okay if I took a nap. Kennedy said, “I’m mighty tired myself. Let’s say we both take a sleeper.” I closed my eyes and was gone.

When I awoke, Kennedy and I were nestled together, like two puppies, post litter. He smelled like Brut by Faberge, a cologne my dad wore often when I was a kid.

 

Milksop

I stuck my head out the window of my home and looked up at the cloudy sky. I cleared my throat and began to address the clouds, when the clouds said, “Yes, what is it?!”

I said, “Um, would you…”

The clouds said, “Would we what?!”

I said, “Ah, nothing” and went back into my house.

My dog Rexy looked up at me with disapproval.

My dog Rexy let herself out. I heard her bark. I heard the clouds respond. Rexy cut them off with a ferocious volley of barks. The clouds were silent. The sunshine came through the window.

Rexy let herself back in and said, “Okay, now can we go for a walk?”

Discussion with the ghost of Millard Fillmore

I was visited by the ghost of President Milliard Fillmore. We were both kind of shy at first. I nodded. He nodded. I went back to building my model airplane. He wandered around the room, occasionally looking out the window.

I put down the model and said, “How are things, Milliard?”

The ghost of Millard said, “I’ve just been exploring, really. Looking around at things.”

I said, “What’s something you’ve seen recently that had an effect on you?”

The ghost of Millard said, “I saw someone making an ice sculpture of an eagle. I was amazed at the carver”s ability to be delicate with his cutting movements. If it had been me, I’m certain the block of ice would have been cut in half, or I would have lost a leg.”

I said, “I hope that when I die, I can visit Antarctica. I can’t imagine I’ll ever get there when I’m alive since I’m so opposed to the cold. I want to get close to the penguins and pet their shiny heads.”

The ghost of Millard said, “When you die, I’ll make sure to catch up with you and we can go together.”

I said, “It’s a plan!!”