The Second Commandment says not to make graven images or likenesses of things in heaven above, earth beneath, or in the water.
But what exactly is heaven above? Does that mean Heaven, or does that mean the air?
Scholars and rabbis pondered this for years.
“It probably means the air,” the Head Rabbi concluded. “But, Yahweh’s a smart cookie, and would say air if He meant it.”
The Head Rabbi also happened to like clouds and birds. So, paintings of clouds and birds were fine.
And naked women on trampolines. He liked those a lot, too.
“Bounce higher,” he said.
The dumb dream
The lot across the street used to be a credit union.
After that, they made it an ATM outlet.
And now, it’s an empty lot.
Parking for the truck that hauls in wrecked beemers and benzes.
Or a place for cops to write tickets.
I had a dream of buying it, razing it, and making it a park.
But that’s a dumb dream.
Because people would just bring their dogs to shit in it.
When they’re not letting them shit on the apartment complex sidewalks.
Some carry plastic bags and pick up after.
Some are respectful.
But too damn few.
The new insurance
The first thing I do when I plan to leave one job for another is to refill all of my prescriptions.
Who knows how long it will take for the new company to start insurance for me.
Or, if I’m doing contract work, then I’ll end up having to pay for my own insurance.
Might as well stick the old job with the cost of the pills before it goes on my tab.
And I have to fight with the new insurance plan to reimburse me for the expense.
Which makes worse the high blood pressure these prescriptions are for.
The porthole
Cobblestones and gaslamps, old brick buildings back when they were new.
Fog-filled alleyways, whores in corsets and skirts,
The time machine is like a glass-bottomed boat, a window into the past.
A keyhole into history.
The danger is, if there’s too many watchers poking holes in the fabric of time-space… the birth of Jesus, D Day, Jack the Ripper… the fabric will rip apart.
There’s no way to sew the fabric back together, so we turned our time machines to one moment:
The invention of the time machine.
History repaired itself quickly, but the future broke apart like shattered glass.
Two weeks notice
Oh no. You forgot to announce you’re back.
You forgot to email a followup for a case.
Or sign and turn in every report for the week.
Does it matter? You’ve turned in your notice.
In two weeks, you’re out of here.
And with every slight transgression of procedure, policy, and rules, you should laugh.
What are they going to do… fire you?
This should be going through your head every time.
With a cackle.
A loud, throaty cackle that echoes off of the walls and rattles windows.
One that invites the gods to bring clouds, thunder, rain, and lightning.
The fucked up shit
My first real job has a lot of fucked up shit about it.
And I would bitch about that fucked up shit at my next job.
Then, when I got another job, I’d bitch about the fucked up shit at the previous job, but I’d bitch less about the fucked up shit from the first job.
Job after job, I’d bitch about the fucked up shit, but over time, I’d bitch less and less about the earlier jobs.
Until I totally forgot about that first job’s shit.
Because of all the fucked up shit from the other jobs I’ve had.
Weekly Challenge #955 – Cat’s Pajamas
TOM
With red pizza pattern
They used to be my pajamas, now they are the Cat’s pajamas. They were a goodwill purchase ages ago. I think it’s the color that alph-cat is drawn to. If the basket lingers for a mere moment the cat will dig down to the pizza pajamas. It isn’t good enough to be on the pajamas, the cat must be inside of one leg, while her head is poking out. When caught she eyeballs me back with an expression of “So”. Total ownership. When I am wearing said evening wear the cat will glide past a leg and thwack my ankle.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert’s mother looked at the clock. “Oh. It’s late. Go get Sabrina my pajamas and show her to the guest room.”
Rummaging through his mother’s dresser, Billbert found some PJs with cats on them. “You like cats, don’t you?”
Billbert gave her the pajamas and pointed down the passage. “The guest room is next to mine.”
Sabrina didn’t move. “You don’t seem very happy to have me here.”
Billbert shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a girl staying in our house; especially a girl who’s a friend.”
Sabrina frowned. “Would it be any different if I were a boy?”
LIZZIE
“The Cat’s Pajamas” was the name of the play. It involved a man pretending to play the piano on a rock plateau surrounded by water while the audience tried to reach him. They had to climb over rocks, slide on their butts, dodge rolling boulders, till they reached the water level. Most were taken to hospital with broken limbs. Several ended up in the morgue. And one managed to overcome all the hurdles. He got a certificate with a neat little stamp and a ribbon. Was there any music, the media asked. Ahm, nope, none whatsoever. Just wackos, many wackos.
SERENDIPIDY
We’re not completely evil you know.
Certainly we get a bad press, and I’ll be first to admit we deserve most of it, but we do have a good side. It’s just that most people never get to see it.
Why else would we choose cats to be our familiars?
You’d imagine rats or lizards, or even spiders would be more appropriate?
But we prefer cats, because even witches like cuddles and cuteness from time to time.
I even made mine special cats’ pajamas, because she gets cold at night.
And I’m far too stingy to put the heating on.
RICHARD
Animal Instincts
She thought she was the cat’s pajamas, the bee’s knees, and the dog’s… well, you know the expression.
The fact is, with all that morphine sloshing around inside her system, you could have told her she was the monkey’s uncle, and she’d believe you.
It was amusing, both for her and for us spending long hours at her bedside, and it took everyone’s minds off the pain.
Thankfully, neither the pain, nor the idiocy lasted, and eventually, she was nursed back to full health.
Not entirely a good thing, unfortunately.
Now, she behaves like a bear with a sore head.
PLANET Z
Every few days, the cats change their sleeping spots.
I’ve tried heated cat beds before, but neither cat used them.
Instead, they’d choose a shoe box, or under a pillow on the bed, or on a blanket in the reading room.
Laundry baskets are a frequent selection. Especially when there’s soft things to shed all over.
It’s all going in the wash anyway, right?
Except that shed cat hair clogs up the lint trap or gets all over everything like a shredded kleenex left in a pocket.
And keep the dryer closed.
To keep the cats from sleeping in there.
Trackpad
Ever glide your finger across the trackpad and the cursor doesn’t move?
Tap it. Double tap it. Three finger wipe.
Nothing at all.
You type on the keyboard and text doesn’t appear, and you’re all DAMMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT and type all kinds of angry shit on your keyboard and nothing’s appearing.
You switch it on and off, still nothing.
Then you realize you’re using your work keyboard and trackpad, not your personal keyboard and trackpad?
And you look over at the insane crap you’ve sent to your team’s Slack channel on your work system and think “Time for a break.”
Bus Stop
I don’t like to drive Downtown, so I take the bus to the train, which takes me to the ballpark.
The transfer is at Houston Community College, and the stop is across from a bar.
I check my bus system app for times, and I’ve got 30 minutes to wait for the next bus.
So, I head into the bar, get a coke, and relax in a leather chair.
Others sit at the bus stop, in the heat, on an uncomfortable concrete bench, or standing around.
My watch rings, I pay my tab, and go outside for the arriving bus.
Hood over her head
The new girl wore one of those whole body cloaks and long gloves, and a hood over her head.
She had a note from her parents.
Bobby says it was something about a skin condition.
“You’re so full of shit,” said Lisa. “It’s religious.”
Instead of gym, she read books in the library.
And she never ate lunch with us or rode the bus.
A black van dropped her off and picked her up.
Bobby said he’d try to see what she looked like.
Five minutes later, we found him in the hall.
Breathing heavy, eyes glazed, pale and cold.