Existential Meditations: Early Summer

By Bub 

The sun woke up today, morose. It cast its shine halfheartedly only as far as the top of the clouds. 'They probably wont notice anyway' it thought to itself. They didn't. The clouds acted as a broiler to the sunbeams. It sweltered in the midday twilight. The creatures below slowly baked to death as they thought they were falling asleep.

The basketball champion exited the arena post-game to the sidewalk on a mild summer night in the city. He felt the impulse to hold his hand up in the air. Serendipitously a yellow car pulled up on the street directly in front of him. The man inside rolled down the passenger side window and asked the basketball champion if he needed a ride. The basketball champion welled up with tears, overwhelmed with emotion, and asked in a quavering voice, 'How did you know?'

'Good guy... Bad guy... Good guy... Bad guy... Bad guy... Good guy...' The commander marked off the subordinates on his check list as he swaggered past each one in the line that stretched nearly a mile from one end to the other. When he reached the end he wrote down a few concluding comments, and then turned to the last solider and whispered in his ear, 'I love each one of you, no matter what'. That soldier turned to his comrade standing next in line and whispered the news to him. This repeated all the way down the line to the other end. The final soldier received the message of benevolence as this: 'Initiate island self-destruct sequence'. He followed the command.

Despite investing hundreds of thousands of dollars in the most scientifically advanced fertilizers, the turkey farmer's seeds failed to take root.

'Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven...' The child braced herself before facing her fear. 'Six... Five... Four...' A rush of adrenaline kicked in and she twitched her nose and clenched her fists. 'Three... Two... One...' She took off running and plunged into the swimming pool. She broke the surface in a cannonball position, and unfurled underwater. Disoriented, nostrils burning, she flailed in all directions. She quickly gave up hope of reaching the top, and began to thrash only hoping to pierce a pocket of air for one last gasp of breath. After revolving around herself a half dozen times to her surprise she thrust up above the water nearly leaving it completely. She coughed up water and mucous and regained her composure, floating chest deep in the pool. She had done it. She'd overcome her fear of water and was now relaxed and at peace with the world in a swimming pool on a beautiful day. Then she felt a rumbling. The rockets beneath the pool fired and blasted it and her up out of the earth's atmosphere never to return.

The new weatherization program was as wildly successful a program as the municipal government had ever implemented. Every room in possession of the city government had decreased its energy expenditures exponentially - down to every last shed and closet and secret cell block underneath city hall. Turns out all they had to do was stop being subject to the weather. The weather objected at first, but soon realized the mutually beneficial nature of this relationship and acquiesced. The city government and the weather still think of each other often and subconsciously miss one another to a degree but the absence is particularly stark in the most obscure sheds, and closets and of course in the secret cells.

'Good morning valley viewers. I am Parnell Mornton with a special positive message about our community. People in our region are blessed with the gift of blood. And we here in the valley use it often. It is perfectly acceptable to donate blood at registered vans, resale shops, and street carts. But please for the sake of the community stop donating blood to any taquerias, tamale shops or tortilla factories. As we all know our Mexican community has been subsumed by Jewish vampires that subsist on untainted Christian and Bahai'i blood. In order to put these cursed souls to eternal rest AND support our community we must continue to patronize their establishments, but discontinue to donate willfully or unwittingly, our pristine blood for the purpose of prolonging the life of the undead. Remember to tune in later for Mitzy's five at five, where she lists her five favorite blood types/tamale stuffings for the day, and extra remember to not send her blood in the self-addressed envelope that she will transmit through your television screens at the end of her countdown. I am Parnell Mornton, thank you, and good night.'

When she finished eating her breakfast cereal, she rinsed her dishes in the sink. Gazing at the spoon, she realized that she never wanted to run another horse race for the rest of her life. Then she whinnied and shit in the kitchen.