The Refrigerator Bandit

Linda G Hill’s  Prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “brush.” Use it as a noun, a verb, or an idiom. Have fun!

Let’s just toss this hypothetical work scene situation out there.

Let’ say you have a long commute to work by train and found it was more convenient to bring a week’s worth of frozen lunches to work on Monday instead of bringing something every day.

Not only were you set up for the week, but if you forgot on any given day to bring something, you wouldn’t have  to go out and buy lunch- which is problematic in the age of Covid-19  or have something delivered which is an option but if you work in an area where it’s expensive to buy lunch,  those delivery fee aren’t worth it.

Now let’s say the weather was pretty hot and  hot meal wasn’t appetizing so you didn’t tap into your lunch stash for a few weeks and when you did…

You find out one of your  coworkers not only scarfed your groceries it looked like he powered his way through the frozen meals that our other  hypothetical co-workers who are tele-commuting left thinking that would be there when they come back.

Which can happen at any time now.

To rub salt in the hypothetical wound, this Refrigerator Raider is the same co-worker who when I tried to give him his paperwork one day, pulled his  hands to his chest with one small paper bag in his hand said, ” My hand’s are full ” and then he did this little twirl and literally flounced out of the room…

Which meant I had to follow him as he literally  pranced away from me and deliver his paperwork to his work station. I should have tossed it in the shredder, but I was desperately trying to be professional at this point,

I figure I  fed this hypothetical person for over a week.

Under any other circumstances I would let it go. I mean, if you’re in a pinch and you’re hungry and I have extra food, Hell yes I’m going to help you out.

But if you are a  glib little twerp why the hell ( hypothetically) should I?

Do I brush it off, should I brush it off?

I’m thinking no.

Hypothetically

Road Trip

From Linda G Hill: The prompt for  Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “pro/con.” Talk about the pros and cons of anything.

Photographer Unknown

I could find a road, you know one of those roads that people stay away from because they’re out in the middle of nowhere and there’s this story about a car crash where all anyone found was three of the victims fingers embedded in smashed up windshield and one shoe  with a foot in it out  in the middle of the road minus a leg and the rest of the parts that are attached to it.

The locals, of course,  called this road Three Fingers.

For years and years until things got modern and they started to clear the road of trees and deadfall and when they brought one tree down close to the road they found the driver of the car- well parts of him -stuck up in the tree near the place where the car crashed.

I could find a road like that and drive down it maybe during a snow storm or just before Halloween and I bet I’d see something like-

a Hitchhiker with a limp and some missing fingers-  I’m sure it would be just a coincidence but I could dine on a story like that for years, so sure I’d take a trip down a road like that.

I’m not sure if there would be a down side to taking a drive down that road unless of course you take into account that nobody knows exactly why the Driver crashed that car. Was he drunk? Did he fall asleep at the wheel? Or did he see something in the middle of the road that made him slam on his brakes and sent him head first into the place where urban legends are from?

That could be a con to this entire Pro-Con argument that I have going on in my head right now. Would I be willing to take that chance?

Let me think about that for a minute.

Okay.

Minute is up.

” BRB ” as the cool kids say.

I’ll let you know how it goes, providing of course I have all my fingers and can write it all down when I get back.

 

 

A Spot of My Own

From Linda G Hill’s Blog: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “spot.” Write whatever image the word “spot” invokes. Have fun!

Photographer Unknown

One second

one minute

one hour

dare I wish for one day

where time stands still and I can hear Mozart or maybe an ice cream trunk

jangling nearby like windchimes in an almost there breeze?

I am always looking for

I am always searching for

I am always hoping for

One spot

where I can stand still

be still

feel the quiet

taste the quite

for one second

one minute

one hour

dare I hope for one day?

Andrew Wyeth, Night Sleeper, 1979. Tempera on panel.

Time Links

Linda G Hill’s Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “link.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

My Dad

used to tell the best stories about his family’s history.

Most of his stories came from the extensive work my Great Grandfather did when he traced his family tree- that was no small thing because this was way before we had the internet and his family history was massively extensive.

I was surprised when I signed up for one of those family tree sites and started to build my own tree to discover how much my Great Grandfather had gotten right without the benefit of technology to aid him.

So my Dad could colorfully connect all of these links to our past and what great links they were!

One of my Great Great Uncles actually moved to Australia with his wife and children and was a Minister. He went back to England and his grave actually turned up on a website. It turns out that my Great Uncle was a successful attorney before he was a Minister and his change in vocation had something to do with what he experienced in War.

The stories were endless- the names were even interesting- I had Aunts in the 18oo’s name Patience and Experience. Their father’s name was- wait for it- Lancelot.

Part of our family fought in the American Revolution and others stayed in England and later moved to Canada. There were stories about Knights and mysterious deaths and drownings. Some of them performed in Vaudville acts and were Magicians. There were even stories about being witnesses to exorcisms and wives who turned out to not be who they said they were and bodies buried in a basement of a home one of my relatives bought.

They kept the house despite the fact it had an unsavory past and years and years later when I came along when I was little I used to beg like a thing possessed to go down into the ‘basement graveyard’ to look around for- I don’t know. More bodies I guess. I was probably 5 or 6 at the time.

The basement floor was hard packed earth and the lightbulb would make a sizzle sound just before it went out, so I had to hit the steps and race upstairs before I was plunged into darkness.

I was enchanted by these stories and used to ask to hear them over and over again and with each story I could feel the links to the past snap together and with that the sense I knew were I came from and where I could go.

One day I said that I wanted to write, just like one of my distant reletives did. It didn’t seem like a reach. My entire family are natural born story tellers.

And my Dad- who was never really crazy about me for his own reasons- one being that I was sort of a freaky thing who looked for corpses in the dark- looked at me and said- ” Well, you know what they say. The light bulb burns brightest before it burns out.”

To this day I can hear those links snap one by one and heard them hit the ground like stones.