This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker marking time until the cliff.
Short Fiction, Doggerel and Insensitive Opinion are spoken here.
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Tuesday, January 9, 2018
Too Old (Blogophilia 46.10)
I’m getting too old for this.
In the last couple of days, I’ve dealt with a just silly guy who thinks he is a turtle, a woman with a sheep gimp and a bunch of disappearing cops. Only think missing is a partridge in a pear tree.
So, who...or what...is behind all this madness?
To find out, I return to the Psychic’s shack. I’m met at the door by Larry, his brother Darryl and his other brother Darryl yelling they found the solution. Channeling my inner Moe, I smacked them with a lamp. I had to laugh as their heads rattled together. But it was effective. The noise slowed down enough to where I could understand what they were saying.
They had a brainstorming session after I left, while Joleene fed them tea. First thing they did was list out the sequence of events and a pattern arose. Trevor remembered something about a movie from long ago. Close Something or other. He showed me an image of a large rock that looked vaguely familiar. Jay piped up it also had a five tone call from from something like a space ship. If this was true, maybe the tone could be played backward and everything would reverse.
Oh, like when you play a country song backwards, you get your truck back, your woman back and you sober up? This was sillier than Turtle Boy. This was standing in deep water and bailing yourself out with a straw.
My head was spinning. All I could do was sit down and drink a cup of tea.