Doug is famous, and he has a big entourage.
He’s got family and childhood friends always hanging around.
Then there’s the bodyguards. They keep an eye on things.
His manager and publicist are there to deal with the press.
A photographer snapping photos of everything.
Social media influencers to boost the likes and shares.
Accountants are always around to handle the numbers.
Drivers to drive everyone around.
Maids and servants all around his houses.
Bartenders and cooks to keep everyone fed.
Know what’s missing?
Doug.
Nobody’s seen him for weeks.
And as long as the party keeps going, nobody cares.
Kind words
A friend once said “Kind words cost nothing.”
“Not true,” I said. “I had some kind words tattooed on my ass and had to pay the tattoo artist for them.”
The friend said I was missing the point of what they said.
I continued: “When I sobered up, I had to pay a specialist even more money to get the kind words tattoo removed. Oh, and the antibiotics, the skin cream, and painkillers cost money, too.”
My friend threw up their hands in disgust and left.
Next time we go drinking, I’m making them get a tattoo on their ass.
Restoration
When Blake would restore a car, the moment of truth came when he turned the key and the engine would start.
Mission accomplished, Blake washed his hands and then rewarded himself with a cigar and a glass of port.
“Remember our agreement,” he’d say to the client. “This is a car, not a collection piece.”
Blakes restorations were not meant for museums or garages.
They were meant to be loved and driven.
And when he’d hear of his successes caged in a collection, he’d go out with a sledgehammer and smash that car.
Better a wreck again than a prisoner.
Camera collection
I’m a photographer.
I like to go to the shore and stand by the highest cliff, and offer to take photos for tourists.
“Can you take my photo?” a guy asks.
“Sure,” I say, and he hands over his camera.
It’s a nice camera, an expensive one.
He shows me how to set it and use it.
“I’ve got one just like it,” I lie.
“Okay, stand there… a little back… back a little more… more… more…”
The guy walks back… and back… and then falls off the cliff.
“Number thirteen,” I say, pocketing the camera, and running back home.
Pill Caddy
As I get older, I take more pills.
And it’s hard to keep track of them.
The bottles get all mixed up on the counter, and I can’t remember which ones I’ve taken.
My phone reminders aren’t so helpful with this.
And writing on the mirror with dry-erase marker doesn’t help when I forget to read it or update it.
So, I got one of those pill caddies.
Every day has its own compartment, and I fill it on Sunday morning.
Just take the pills for that day, and I’m fine.
Now, please remind me… what day is it again?
Weekly Challenge #831: Too much to bear
RICHARD
Too much
I’m all for the older generation living life to the full.
For example, I don’t have a problem with silver surfers, the internet kind or those that go out to catch a wave and show the young ‘uns how it’s done.
But sometimes there’s a line that has to be drawn.
I went to the old folk’s home yesterday to visit grandma, and they were having a ‘night of entertainment’
There she was, up on the stage, gyrating to Miley Cyrus, dressed only in a bikini and her colostomy bag.
Then she whipped off the bikini!
Too much… Too bare!
LIZZIE
It was just too much. Pack your bags, quickly. And this urgency… This overwhelming fear… How can we choose which parts of our lives are salvageable? Photos, documents, diaries, books? Books? Which ones, because they are so heavy… Just one. Choose one, quickly. And we don’t know which one to choose. I chose “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”. It’s small and oh, so big. And we took some seeds. Seeds are light. We need seeds to start over. The bags were placed at the door, side by side with the million steps that would take us away, for now.
SERENDIPIDY
Kids today!
A bunch of entitled, spoiled snowflakes, the lot of them!
Mark my words, we’re breeding a generation of spineless, whiners, with a chip on their shoulder and absolutely no character.
And how has this come about?
Well, you know the expression, ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’? Now we’re living with the consequences.
As a youngster, when I misbehaved I got the strap, the cane or the belt.
And, when all that got too much to bear, I turned the tables, and it was my parents turn for a beating.
And it never did me any harm!
TOM
What Could Go Possibly Wrong 030
From the breaching Leviathan deck descended a slimy gangway. “That’L be a slippery slope to hell that be,” said Molly. “That will be our ridge,” replied Ford. “When hell freezes over, deary” The captain tossed her a crown. In two beat she was halfway up the gangway. “You know the red head, Arnesto?” inquired Ford. “So do you, Ford, or will, wait did.” “I thnik I would have remembered a woman like that.” Red turn toward Ford and removed her Ray Ban. “Hello, Titus.” she called. Ford froze in place felled my a memory of ancient force. “Constance Emerbee.” screamed Ford.
What Could Go Possibly Wrong 031
It was almost Too much to bear concerned Ford. He’d been so much in love. She had been so ever chasing rainbows and unicorns. Actually, found one, but that’s another story. Ford had lost track of her over a decade ago. Was Africa or Asia, did it really matter, might have well been the moon. Which is actually another story also. He turned to Arnesto,” Did you know this was going to happen?” he asked. “No, Ford. I thought it was going to be him.” A tall hooded figure appeared next to Red. He flipped his hood. It was Bender.
NORVAL JOE
Gracilda grabbed Billbert. “Wait. Don’t go. I must explain the responsibilities you will have with the weather witches as you advance in power and competence.”
Sabrina nodded at him, her eyes wide and hopeful.
“Responsibilities, power, competence?” Billbert griped. “I didn’t ask for any of this. It’s too much for a kid to bear. Besides. This isn’t magic. It’s my superpower.”
Gracilda scoffed. “I know magic when I see it. For your magic, and Sabrina’s, to advance you must maintain daily contact.”
Billbert just wanted to leave. “Whatever. I’ll talk to her, but I’m not going to kiss her everyday.”
PLANET Z
Yeah, we argued a lot.
But she was stubborn.
I swear, I didn’t mean to kill her.
She told me to sit down, and she sat in front of me.
Then she tugged on my boot, trying to pull it off.
After that, well, I don’t remember.
But she was lying on the ground, her head had hit something, and there was a boot print in her face.
I swear I didn’t mean it.
But it happened.
Do I remember anything else?
Yes. I remember saying one thing: “Shouldn’t you use that bootjack over there?”
But she was so stubborn.
Willy and Max
Willy and Max were a old-time comedy team.
Willy the straight man, Max was the clown.
Best friends from childhood, they put together an act, took it on the road.
Radio, movies, television.
Mansions next to each other, married a pair of best friends, and spent all their time together.
Max noticed that Willy took longer to remember the setup lines.
Alzheimer’s, said the doctor.
Willy looked forward to Max’s visit every day, even when he couldn’t speak.
Friends to the very end.
Willy’s wife said “Good morning, oh you just missed Max. But he kissed you on the forehead.”
Battery Anxiety
I have battery anxiety.
My car is a plug-in hybrid, and I worry about getting to the end of the electric range.
Sure, it has a gas engine, too, but I have that anxiety.
It’s why I didn’t get a Tesla.
When I go out, I keep spare batteries with me for my phone. And a charger cord.
Just in case I run low. Or get injured.
Same with my laptop, my flashlight, and all my other devices.
As for my smartwatch, I don’t have one.
I have a simple, dumb mechanical watch.
Which I constantly wind.
Just in case.
Room
For team-building exercises, we seek out activities and experiences.
Sometimes, we go to escape rooms, where the team is confronted by a series of puzzles to get out of a locked room.
Other times, we go to smash rooms, filled with outdated equipment, mirrors, and other breakable items to bash with hammers and metal pipes and baseball bats.
They’re great relievers of stress.
I mean, you go into a room and just smashing the crap out of everything.
And the owners of the place, running in, and yelling.
I guess we got confused and smashed up an escape room again.
A good bath
There is an art to having a good bath.
You need the best oils and salts.
Lay out the softest towels, washcloths, and a robe.
A candle or incense is good, but an essential oil diffuser works as well.
Turn off the lights and let the candle light the room.
Unless you have a diffuser with a light built in.
A bottle of wine, a glass, and a side table.
Maybe a favorite meditation track on your phone, fed to a portable speaker.
A good shower curtain to block out the world.
Oh, and clean the tub.
That thing’s filthy.