Smules.

This morning I acted out and almost felt a wave of empowerment wash over my disobedient face until it occurred to me that by "acting out" I had simply taken part in what every self-serving human does every day.  Dare I had done something common? 

Check out time at Walmart with an embarrassing assortment of things that must have been the root of the "one of these things just doesn't belong here....." song from Sesame Street, I went through the 20 Items or Less! without taking numeric stock of my wares.  At 8am, for some reason the Walmart was silent and I took that line.  I was glad I took it.  The more the cashier stared at me, then at my items, then back at me to clearly indicate the inner dialogue of "Oh fuck off with her, didn't she see the sign?  Can't she read it?" made my eyes light up more and more. 

Becoming more giddy by the moment and watching the clerk mute herself, I replied in kind to her mental beams, hoping we would forge a conversation alien style.


"Of course I can read it.  Not only did I see the sign, but I read it and felt an extra shove towards you because it has an exclamation point after 'Less!'  Walmart really wants me to get the point and take this line seriously, and yet I here I am... with more than 20.  On.  Purpose.  Ring me up please.  Mm-hm, ring ring"  Chirped I through cheerful closed lips and gestured a wave towards the items.  Of course I had noticed the sign, I had deliberately decided to disobey it.

Then an older, fuck it.... elderly and idle woman - the type who beg for eye contact and perceive it as an invitation for chat - by then meandered up with all the items I should have been buying and ultimately in time will have to as a result of giving in to tasty goods, remarking to the cashier that she was very fast.  More glee when the cashier flicked her eyes onto me one last time and said "Yeah, I have to be."

 After bopping to my car I ran a .... what would you call it?  Pink?  Stoplight.  Red and yellow halfway isn't pink and I'm not one to be found in pink zones often enough to know but I think that's what they're called.  A pink!  On. Purpose!  I knew it was going to pink on me and both Metro and I skirted the turn like bank robbers with bags of cash.


So... heh, sure my version of acting out is barely noticeable to qualify.  It's just what people do.   I'm either overly concerned about inconveniencing others or am against rule breaking to a level of boring reserved for librarians.  Maybe both as I don't like to be inconvenienced by people breaking the rules, and know why?  Because they god-damned get away with it.  And they do it because it feels goooood! 


- DM

Muddin'

The pups greeted their Father's Day gift mission quite differently, then came together at the end result to both agreeing that the entire idea was of the sort that when their minds danced around the vision, it included neon signs, applause and flowers being tossed at their feet to roars of "Bravo!  Bravo, encore!"  If I had to guess, the youngest of the two even envisioned a few women dabbing the corners of their eyes to absorb how moving their gift was.  

In reality, the thing was a fucking nightmare with good intentions and carefully staged actors on the box, huge smiles plastered to their lying gums.  They, wanted, to make something for Daddy.  Something messy.  Something breakable, edible, walkable, lickable.... mineral, vegetable?  I don't damn well know, their demands and aspirations were exhausting until the epiphany arrived like a beam of light from God.  

Stepping stone.  Stepping stone for Dad.

One hour post prep I announced the personalization process was starting and they ran into the room (one even bringing her best friend and confidant DuckDuck, looked around and ultimately slid to a halt to make trade for obvious disappointment.

"We has muds?" asked Kylee?

"Muds.  Right here, step on up."

"Noooooo, m.u.d.s.!"

Her idea of concrete is the exact same as mud, that much I understand.  I did not know however, was that when I said we could put our feet into a mold, she thought I was referring to a mud pit akin to a monster truck rally to be her personal canvas.  

The Russian scowled at his little sister.

"I told you it was a ruse!  Fool!"

Simon too had an idea of the same product, and his was confirmed by the square drying in the mold, waiting to identify him.  Alas, his version of the gift was some sort of high end plot to garner his fingerprints under false pretenses. 

I did clean it up somewhat, but it is actually their feet.  Bribes were made, treats handed out, submission, tears of pity..... and no cooperation came until I began to shriek and flail through the same clenched teeth your mother had when you didn't listen and come when told to, forcing her to drag your ass and end up looking like the foolish headcase.  They swore they had no clue I was serious, jeez Ma, what's the big deal sheesh?

-DM

DM's head count

It's been a minute but.... right, so, what's new?  Comment section open for role call.


-DM