A flicker stayed still long enough for me to photograph him.
Mama Owl peeking over the edge.
Daddy Owl preening and proud of it.
Peek-a-Daddy-Owl-Boo. What’s up, Daddy Owl?
Talons
Hanging on in the wind
Flicka Dahling
The Invitation
Venus, Mars, and Saturn.
The Invitation
By Timothy Price
Jake was high as a kite when he walked into the convenience store. After looking around nervously to assure himself there was no one there besides the clerk, he walked up to the counter, pulled out a pistol, and demanded all the cash in the drawer. Before the clerk could react, Jake heard a voice to his right ask, “Are you sure you want to do this?” He turned and saw a rather nondescript man standing about six feet from him. “What did you say?” Jake asked, jerking his head nervously between the mysterious man and the clerk. The man didn’t answer Jake. He asked the clerk how much cash was in the till. “Less than one hundred dollars,” the clerk told the man. The man turned back to Jake and asked, “You want to commit a felony and possibly murder for less than a hundred bucks?” Jake stood dumbstruck, trying to think of something to say.
The man continued, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you two hundred dollars if you put your gun away and go to the coffee shop across the street with me. Over there you can tell me your story over a cup of coffee, on me, of course. If I find you suitable, I might offer you a job.” Thoroughly confused by the man and his offer, Jake continued looking back and forth between the clerk and the man before he pointed his pistol at the man and said, “You’re messing with my head, man! Are you like a cop, man? Or maybe the Devil? Or what? Well, it’s like it doesn’t matter, man…”
Jake started to squeeze the trigger when he felt his finger breaking against the trigger guard as the pistol was ripped from his hand before he felt the back of his pistol tearing at his face. He only heard the first of three shots that sent bullets ripping through his heart. He hovered over his body that was slumped on the floor at the feet of the man holding his pistol. He heard a voice say, “Never turn down an invitation from the Devil.” Darkness fell all around.
The man ejected the magazine from Jake’s pistol and racked the slide, sending the chambered round tumbling through the air before it bounced off Jake and splashed into his blood pooling on the floor around him. The man stepped over Jake’s body as he laid the magazine and pistol on the counter in front of the clerk, who stood like a statue in shock from the scene that had unfolded before him. “The police will want these for evidence.” The man told the clerk as he turned and walked out of the store, disappearing into the street.
Wormhole Part Two
Wormhole part one left off with El clarifying that he had ended up in the past by driving through a wormhole or timewarp.
Wormhole
By Timothy Price
Part Two
“A wormhole or time warp,” he explained to the Captain. “No, sir, I’m not crazy, sir. Everything he has with him is nothing like I have ever seen before.
“Hold on a second!” El interrupted as he pulled out his wallet, took out his driver’s license, and handed it to Sergeant Prescott. “Hold on Sir!” He said as he looked at the license with furrowed brows. “Sir. He just handed me a New Mexico driver’s license that looks like nothing I have ever seen. It has a clear coating on it, it’s in color, and it shows that it was issued on 10/15/2015. It expires 10/25/2023. No Sir. I’m serious. You need to come to Building J and look at his things. He told me we should get a scientist and mathematician to come here and see these things. Yes Sir. We will be waiting, Sir.” He hung up the phone and stood up. “We will go back to the conference room and wait for Captain Fremont.”
They walked back through the gray/green hall to the conference room, which was more spacious, with natural light from several windows on one wall, a large table in the center, and chairs sitting neatly around the table except for the four chairs they had pulled away from the table on the side that faced the window wall.
Sergeant Prescott was still examining El’s driver’s license. “What does ‘Donor’ with the read heart mean?” He asked. “I’m an organ donor,” El answered. “If I was killed in an accident when I was in the future, the medics would remove my organs, kidneys, heart, etc., and transplant them into a person who had renal failure or heart disease and needed more healthy kidneys or heart.” He stared at El for a while trying to arrange his thoughts. “Are you telling me they can transplant organs from one person to another in the future?” El answered in the affirmative. “There is much greater demand for organs than there are organs available” El continued. “There is a global black market that deals in organs illegally harvested from people in the 21st Century. Sometimes people are drugged and one kidney is removed, and the person might survive, but mostly, people are murdered for their organs which are worth a lot of money on the black market.” Seargent Prescott looked at El with a puzzled shocked look in his eyes. “That is horrible. I don’t understand all your talk about the future. I can’t imagine such things.”
They stood in silence for a few minutes as Seargent Prescott tried to process the strange talk he’d heard from El. “I could sure use a cup of coffee or something stronger to clear my head listening to you talk about the future” Sergeant Prescott stated breaking the silence. El picked up his Nissan Stainless thermos and shook it. “It’s about half full. Go get that cup that’s sitting on your desk, and you can try some of my coffee.”
Prescott looked a little weary at the offer but turned back and walked through the door. Less than a minute later he walked back through the door with his coffee cup in hand. “I will probably regret this…” he said as he held out his cup, “but I’m really curious about your coffee from the future.”
El poured a little bit into his cup. “It’s very strong. You should try just a taste to see if you like it before I give you more. It’s probably only lukewarm, and since microwave ovens haven’t been invented yet, we can’t heat it.”
He rocked his cup, making the coffee swirl at the bottom of the cup while he pondered it. “Microwave ovens? I’m not going to ask, but your coffee is very dark and black. It looks thick.” He sniffed at the cup. “It smells like coffee. Here goes.” He took a sip, and his eyes widened. “Wow! That is very strong, but the taste is very good.” He held out the cup, and El filled it about half full.
“It’s Italian Roast, “ El explained. “The beans are roasted until they are very dark and oily. I grind the beans to a fine powder before brewing the coffee, which makes the coffee strong. The finer powder runs through the filter, making the coffee ‘thick’ before the sediment settles to the bottom of the cup.”
“I don’t believe I have ever seen coffee beans” the sergeant replied. “Coffee comes in a can already ground.”
“People still buy ground coffee in a can in the future, but there are all kinds of ‘designer’ coffees available as whole bean or ground. There are ’Starbucks’ coffee shops on almost every corner, with drive-through windows. Coffee is a big deal and big business in the future.”
“Coffee is rather scarce here, as most commodities with the war effort.” The sergeant explained. “I don’t understand most anything you say. Did you say ‘drive through the window’? You can drive through a window and get coffee?” The sergeant asked.
“They are really ‘drive up’ windows, where you drive your car up to a window on one side of a building, you pay the clerk for your order, and the clerk hands you the order.”
“How does the clerk know what you ordered?” Prescott asked.
“Generally, several car links before the window, there is a two-way speaker or screen on a kiosk where you place your order. “Key-osk?” Prescott interrupted. “You have the strangest words for things. What does a ‘key-osk” look like?” El thought for a few seconds. “I don’t really know how to describe it. They are like the posts that have the speakers on them at drive-in movie theaters or a TV on a pole” El looked at Prescott to see if any of his explanations made sense. “I’m trying to imagine it,” Prescott answered El’s look. “Continue with ordering coffee.” “Where was I?” El continued. “Oh yes. I think people can order coffee using apps on their mobile phones, also. Since I make my own coffee, I don’t know all the ins and outs of the coffee culture.”
“Can you get other things like food from a window in your future?” Prescott asked.
“Yes. Almost all fast-food restaurants have drive-up windows. You can get hamburgers, French fries, burritos, chicken fillets, and soft drinks from all kinds of fast-food restaurants without getting out of your car. Although, I don’t believe anything like it has been introduced yet. What year did you say it was?”
“1943!” answered Prescott. “You just listed off more words describing foods that I have never heard of. I hear you speak English, but I don’t understand much of what you say?”
Dawn was pretty in pink this morning.
Tuff Tufts
Sweet Dreams Are Made From These
Spunk
The Psycho Kitty
Beemer i = electric 3
Dawn
Tristan bought a BMW i3 electric car. It was delivered this morning and she drove it out to show it off this afternoon. It’s a cool car. Well thought out and well designed.
Resa’s Tree under the Big Dipper.
Wormhole
And now for something completely different, I’m presenting a serial fictional short story. This is the first of four installments in the series.
Wormhole
By Timothy Price
Part One
“I Phone? You mean to tell me this is a telephone?” Asked the sergeant, surprised at the small device he held in his hand.
“It’s what we call a ‘cell phone,’ ‘mobile phone,’ ‘hand-held device’… But of course, I can’t make a call here because I have no service, cell coverage, Internet, or wifi…”
“You seem to speak English,” the Sergeant interrupted. “But I hardly understood a word you just said. Cell phone, Internet, wifi, what are you talking about?”
“The time I come from the whole world communicates with cell phones and the Internet. Here let me show you some of the other things a cell phone can do.” El took the iPhone and woke it up, “It doesn’t have much battery left, and I don’t think I have a charging cable…”
“Wow! That thing is in color! How did you do that?” Asked the sergeant, “I’ve never seen anything like that before…”
“And you won’t see much of anything with color screens for several years when color TVs become the norm.”
“Color TV? You mean television in color?”
“Yes. Nothing stays black and white for long in the future. Let’s see here… I’ll put this on ‘airplane mode’ and low power mode, so it doesn’t use up the battery searching for non-existent networks. You see, this little device is really a computer with programs, applications, games, music, a camera…”
“A camera?” asked the sergeant looking surprised. “Where do you put the film?”
“Oh! There is no film. The images are digital, and they are stored electronically on the device. I can take a picture of you, and you can see it on the screen. Hold still. It also has a lens on this side of the device. Come over here and stand next to me. See how we can see both of us on the screen? Smile! There I just took what we call a ‘selfie’…”
“Self… what? Did you say selfie? What kind of stupid word is that?” the sergeant interrupted.
“One of many stupid words associated with social media. See, here’s the first photo I did of you, and here is the ‘selfie’ of the two of us.”
The sergeant stood there, mouth open, looking at the images of himself on the device, completely dumbfounded and at a loss for words. “I, I don’t know what to say. How does it do that? The pictures are so clear, and they are in color.”
“I can record video with it, also. Here. Look at me, move around, and talk to me.”
The sergeant stood in front of the phone, frozen. “What do you want me to say and do?” he asked.
“Walk over to the window and tell me what you see.”
He walked over to the window and said, “I see a red car the likes of which I have never seen before…”
“That’s good. Come over here and watch.”
As if in shock, the sergeant stood still as he watched himself walk to the window and mention the car on the little screen in front of him.
“What did you say that is? It’s like a movie,” he said as he stared at the screen.
“It is a movie, but we call it video. I’m not sure when the word ‘video’ came into the English language, but it’s what we ascribe to moving pictures on tape, CDs, DVDs, and other digital media, as opposed to movies on film, I suppose.”
“There you go using words I don’t understand again.”
“You can listen to music, also. Although, I doubt I have anything that will sound anything like you have heard before.”
The sergeant looked puzzled but was interested.
“Let’s see. Oh, ‘Wall of Voodoo’ is first on the playlist.” Selecting the “Call of the West,” the beat of electronic drums came out of the phone, followed by the twangy electric guitar typical of Wall of Voodoo.
“That’s music?” The sergeant asked. “You are correct. I have never heard anything like that before.”
“I think I need to get some more people here to talk to you and see this thing.”
“I suggest you get scientists and mathematicians along with any other military personnel. I think they will find the rest of this stuff we have spread out on the table interesting and possibly useful.”
“Follow me.” the sergeant motioned as he turned toward the door. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. You could probably make yourself disappear with one of those ‘devices,’ isn’t that what you called them?”
“Devices. Yes, but, unfortunately, none of them can make me disappear. I’m afraid I’m stuck here.”
They walked down a gray/green hallway into a rather sparse and drab looking office with only a couple of chairs, a filing cabinet, a large metal desk with a few papers and a coffee cup on it, and a black rotary dial phone sitting on the left side of the desk.
“Have a seat.” The sergeant said, motioning to the chair on the side of the desk closest to the door as he took a seat behind the desk. He opened a drawer in the desk, pulled out a folder, and flipped through pages with handwritten names and numbers. He picked up the phone and dialed a couple of numbers.
“This is Sergeant Prescott. Please connect me with Captain Fremont’s office at 356.” He waited for several seconds while he was being connected. “Yes, Private, this is Prescott. Is Captain Fremont in?” A few seconds later “Captain Fremont, Sir, this is Prescott. Yes sir. I have a man here who says he is from the future. Yes sir. I said ‘future.’ He told me he got here by driving through a… hold on a second.”
Turning to El, he asked, “What did you tell me you drove through?” El answered, “A ‘worm hole’ or some kind of time warp.”
To be continued…
The Dreaded DST
When the time changed to Daylight Savings Time, Marina at Marina Kanavaki — Art Towards a Happy Day, made a comment about “the dreaded DST!” I told her that was a good song title. I had intended to write and record the song a couple of weeks ago, but DST got in the way. It seems I’m always coming up an hour short. I did the calculations to answer the question about how much daylight we save each year, and address them in the song.
The Dreaded DST
Lyrics and Music by Timothy Price
Inspired by Marina Kanavaki
Daylight blinds fools who have no skills
They create silly rules they are so unreal
Daylight’s scarce, why don’t we care?
We save it eight months out of… every year
Bedtime at ten feels like nine
Don’t feel sleepy? Have more wine
It’s midnight damn, the bottle’s empty
I’m still awake… I’m feeling pretty cranky
Now we’re on the dreaded DST
Body clocks are broken why can’t we see
That hour we save every single day
Is two-hundred forty hours of daylight that we have… stashed away
Alarm at five it feels like four
Like a zombie, I hit the door
Preparation-H on the old toothbrush
Toothpaste up my… Whew! What a rush
No time to shower, sleepin’ on the job,
Stinkin’ up the office, what a slob
Head bobs up and down, fishing at the screen
My boss is cranky… making quite a scene
Now we’re on the dreaded DST
Body clocks are broken why can’t we see
We can look forward to falling back
We get one-hundred twenty hours of daylight from… our stash
We’ve changed to DST for 56 years
That’s six-thousand seven-hundred hours, my dear
Of daylight, we’ve been banking away
So let’s go spend it on our… sanity
Now we’re on the dreaded DST
Body clocks are broken why can’t we see
That hour we save every single day
Is two-hundred forty hours of daylight that we have… stashed away
Marina’s Incognito Pear Tree
Morning contrails
Mama Owl was sowing her head last night. The Owlets might have hatched.
Afternoon clouds
I Can Haz Ghost Pepper Sauce
I added 10 drops to the chile I had for dinner. It was insane++ hot. Yummy!
SVOCPS
Sandias
Vulture
Owl
Coyotes
pTerodactyl
Sparrows
Off Center & Not Even 