A fly landed on my head today in the coffee shop.
I tried to swat at it and hit myself on the head.
I wish summer were over.
Then the flies would be dead.
Then I could sit in the coffee shop peacefully,
and not be a danger to myself.
Do you ever consider yourself unlucky to be living in the 21st century?
I mean what if you were living in the 25th century?
I think I’d like to be living in the 25th century.
I think the 25th century would be more like the Jetsons.
Wouldn’t that be better?
But maybe I would be gnawing on bones in the sand trap of a life.
There’s no way to tell for sure.
Linkyshire is pretty nice this time of year.
Well, I’ve avoided this topic all summer.
Grim it is.
There is more than one fly in the coffee shop these days.
I just want to go in there with a big fan and blow them all around the shop.
They mess me up.
They sit on my cup.
The owner doesn’t care.
They fill the air.
I am unhappy.
Mrs. Magellan looked sad.
Her computer was broken.
She asked me if I could fix it but I declined.
Computers are just a nuisance to me.
Not that I hate them or anything.
I prefer driving around in my Mini-Cooper.
Later I saw John Puterhead with Mrs. Magellan’s computer under his arm.
I knew it was in good hands.
Arbo turned 14 and got his learner’s permit.
He asked me if I would teach him to drive.
His Dad was away, permanently.
I couldn’t refuse really.
My heart is made of American cheese.
I drove out to a country dirt road and put him behind the wheel.
He was doing fine most of the time.
Then he started moving in spurts.
Starting, speeding then stopping.
Dust plumes rose around us.
What are you doing? I asked.
Gunning for bunnies, he said.
This isn’t a video game, I said and took the keys back.
Later, he couldn’t hide his grin as we said ‘bye’.