Some short stories for coffee time about nothing much...
Time for coffee
Waking up early is not always what it’s cracked up to be and without a good cup of coffee you may as well stay in bed, so when the electric steam onion rolled into Laredo with not one bounce but two with the dawn, it rolled down the side window to have a look-see, but as it was still too dark to see anything it rolled the window back up, closed its eyes and refused to have anything more to do with the subject.
The audience, who were always a rum lot that never stopped laughing would have had something to say about this but were all long in their graves and crying and so were not available for comment. And who could blame them.
“Not I,” said the big sneeze.
“Nor I neither,” said the heavenly glory of the new day coming up over the horizon and painting its toenails pink; time for coffee
Two heads a penny and a tail not long for this world was a cracked flowerpot with an edge and a stoner in the bottom for luck, or something like that, and never went anywhere but always complained about the five odes of day when no complaining was necessary.
Standing in the hot sun of summer all day and freezing in the winter had given it a dour outlook and so it stood apart from its fellow pots, and of course it didn’t get a card at year’s end to wish it well either.
So when the bus bumped into it one fine day after a heated argument and knocked it over all it could do was lie there in the dust and fume a little bit.
Later, after the bus had gone it composed a long letter of complaint to send to the bus company to complain about being knocked over, but after reviewing the letter decided not to bother.
Some days it’s best to just not do anything at all.
A missile that had been fired up into the clouds by the warmongers had gone astray and was no longer sure of its purpose and was beeping home for help.
Down in CIA HQ, Kentucky a red light blinked on a huge board of lights but went unnoticed in the abandoned complex.
When there was no reply the missile decided to go back to sleep and after swanning around for a bit it found a nice cloud to lie on and turned off.
God was on a fly-by and out with two pounds a minute and call me Charlie if you must and had strayed off the beaten track. On seeing the sleeping missile on the cloud God shuddered to a halt and before you could say: “it’s coffee time,” a number seven bus flew down the ramp into the sea of all indignation and blew up into such a brutalism of despair he spluttered into speechlessness and decided not to say anything, just in case.
And this is why when you see God these days he is always accompanied by two pounds a minute and call my Charlie patting him on the back and saying: “there, there.”
On the other end of the scale the monkey that had escaped from another story and was hovering around on the edge of this one was undecided about going any further and so hid out in the bushes with everyone else.
The guru on the other hand had asparagus chips and thoroughly enjoyed it.
UP THERE GRINNING DOWN
All things considered the expectancy of an old urge can only vote as fast as it can decide to move forward and then only by the numbers, so when the capitalists had ruined the world and moved on to their next plunder there wasn’t much left to vote for and what with one thing and another that was it and the big sleep began.
Until one day people began to wake up.
In the beginning the world was already made and so there wasn’t much dreaming to do on that score; but you know how it is with some people, they just have to clean house and what with some houses being dirtier than others there was a whole lot of cleaning going on.
“We cannot run backwards fast enough to keep up with you,” some would say while others didn’t say anything at all, and in this way the world progressed and became what it is today give or take a few plastic bottles still not rotted away and a yingtong or two still with the makings and with all the funny money about things were strange.
And so, ‘we must run before we can walk’ became the motto which slowed progress down considerably as you can imagine.
And then there was the dynamite brigade who wanted to blow everything up and who all came across as the throwbacks of an earlier time and should have been extinct but they kept on breeding and became powerful in some quarters.
A few individuals did rise up and try to take control but they were laughed at so hard they stepped down and disappeared somewhere and weren’t seen again.
But I think what got to everyone the most was the thought of the space station up there circling mother Earth full of dead astronauts grinning their deathly grins at us all down here, and with no way to get up there to fix it that wasn’t going to end any time soon.
Three thousand reactions led by a tooth on fire came to shout for peace and stuff as Sam Drogas the tramp with his chimney pot opened up a rainbow and had a snack beside the road of it all and was quite happy to watch and would have stayed there all day long but the end of the world came along and swept him off his feet, and that was that.
Nothing was left behind to mark this occasion except a hole in the road where the spontaneous combustion of his body had set fire to the tarmac.
The ensuing floods put the fire out and then the hole waited for a very long time for the wheel of the bus to jump into it and break an axle.
The bus stopped and everyone got out and began complaining that maybe the revolution had taken a wrong turn and what do we do now.
The captain stepped up to organise a hole filling team and another team to locate another axle or another bus and one team to find supplies.
And then they were all so busy they forgot about grumbling much.
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