"Bless my pure belly-button soul!" Eugene cried out, as the craters on the moon shook with the impact of his ship's landing. He smiled as he looked out the window but his conflicts and confusion were spiraling about his eyeballs.
"Why didn't my mom and dad ever tell me that I was astronaut?" He asked the black emptiness, "...and me with only one kidney!"
Eugene made a toast with a piece of burnt toast. "Here's to Alexander the Great-ish, my hero and, coincidently enough, the name of my favorite sub-sandwich! May we all be so tasty and conquer the world by the age of twenty-five! Cheers to you and all of your accompanying condiments!"
Edna Myerson slept on the couch. Her arms were wrapped around an empty bottle of recollections.
Marvin jumped up on his desk and accidentally broke the clay paperweight that his daughter had made for him in school.
"Sing that one song," Sheila yodeled, "the one we sang during the war, remember? While the bombs made drumbeat thunderings and the artillery rounds from Mount McKlinical sounded like rolls on a snare drum. Yes, yes, I still remember the cacophony! Rim-shots for bad punsters. Vaudeville is now Hitsville, U.S.A.! Roll out the barrel, we'll have a barrel-full of belly-laughs! Please! Will someone get this dead soldier off of my front porch! Oh, yes...those were the days!"
Eugene kissed the lunar module.
I know what I'm supposed to be doing, but I haven't started on it yet.
"Remember this...yes!" Marvin sang and tore his white shirt and tie off his hairy chest and began to dance upon his desk.
Edna rolled over.
Eugene built a small castle in the lunar soil. Tiny toy soldiers guarded the entrance from marauders.
Technique. Style. Praying hands don't hold me back. 440Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0JGxpllrxb
I can see the sky but I haven't seen the worst of it yet.
"Let her sleep. She's had a rough night."
"Eugene."
Sheila ran over to the closet while her guests were busy eating the macaroni and cheese casserole she had made for them. She opened the door and dived into a trunk of clothes. She started to frantically search for an old costume she had worn during her minimalist 'gray phase.' Clothes flew past her head and landed on the carpet in large, abstract piles.
Her husband started to tell the assembled guests of his many exploits in motor oil recycling excursions. He emphasized 'I' at the beginning of every sentence. Meanwhile, Sheila coughed and shuffled coat hangers and empty shoe boxes.
"Maybe I'm just dreaming it."
I know what I'm supposed to be doing but I haven't started on it yet.
The old man suddenly raised up in his coffin and the mourners simultaneously leaped out of their chairs and scattered like squealing rats. His eyes blinked open and his first sight was of a wooden crucifix hanging slightly askew upon the wall. He began to speak in a melodic baritone, "My, my, my, what a fine quandary I seem to find myself in. Such derring-do for a doddering dullard!" His pale and stiff face looked about the room and all of his memories came back to him in one single surge of recollection. His mind spewed details out like a drunken intellectual at a convention. "Thank you sir, I'll have mine with scrambled eggs and sauerkraut. Hold all my calls and the pickles, too. No, thank you, ma'am, I thinks that's enough relish for now. Hold on, I've changed my mind. I'll have one hoagie without the Carmichael. Hold the mayo...I gave at the office. My father used to eat crumbled bits of cornbread soaked in buttermilk. I, on the other hand, never did finish my Brussel sprouts."
"You say tomato, and I say tom-ah-to,
You say potato, and I say 'poot-ah-nah-too-mawp-a-poppah!"
"I know it must be in here somewhere..."
"No...no...no..."
There's a dog underneath the table licking my ankle. Does anyone else know this or is it just me?
Edna began to drool.
"Who wants dessert?" Sheila cried out from inside the closet. Her voice was so muffled that it sounded like it came from next-door. Her guests all lifted their heads from the communal casserole dish and perked their ears toward the window. Her voice became louder and louder and they all thought she was getting closer, but the truth was, she was diving deeper and deeper into the depths of the closet. Her voice drowned out her husband's speech about the chemical composition of polystyrene. "Who wants to desert?" Sheila sang, "Who feels that life is like a desert? Who gets their just deserts? You'll get just what you deserve. Yessireee! I was in the reserves but I had my reservations. It was a magical time between the interrogations. Oh, what a great place! What a great place to starve!"
"Let her sleep. She's had a rough night."
"Eugene...are you out there. It's time for dinner...Eugene!"
I know what I'm supposed to be doing but I haven't started on it yet.
"No, no, no..."
"Eugene?"
Marvin poured a bottle of hand sanitizer upon his head and then screamed at a group of co-workers assembled in the doorway.
"Looks like you all have gotten quite a show! Well, I'm here to tell ya...life is always a flexible flux. It undulates and dilates between the worst and bests of luck. We toss our chips and marbles and hope that our numbers come up...and thank our plucky stars that we're not suddenly hit by a truck!"
Marvin's boss pushed his way into the office with a look of disbelief upon his noggin. "Hey, hey," Marvin proudly spouted, "It's Mr. Spoonbill! Another card that needs to be dealt with! Well, my good man, I'll have you know that I've already hobbled out of the bunk-house and am now making my way off this here reservation! I have an impending date with the sunset and I'm not wasting time counting sideline commentaries!"
"She's been sleeping all day."
"Boy, get it into your skull...this is real life. It's time you wake up and smelt reality."
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle...
Edna Myerson is dreaming of large, armored vehicles.
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