“Order up!” LeRoy the cook shouted.

Molly rushed over and grabbed the plates filled with food.

They were very busy, so busy that the coffee shop owner, Pete had to pitch in that morning. He usually stayed in his office, out of the way, only acting as an umpire in a baseball game between LeRoy and Molly.

“He is the best short-order cook around,” Pete told himself every time trouble erupted.

The owner liked Molly. She was quirky in many ways but always level-headed and she did her best to keep LeRoy in line.

“Wish I had an extra hand,” LeRoy complained as he cooked five orders at once.

“Would a prehensile tail work?” Molly asked.

“Sure,” LeRoy smiled, “As long as it can butter toast and flip burgers.”

Molly broke in a sing-song voice, whirling a butter knife like a wand in his direction saying:

“While you slumber,
You will grow a tail,
And all this summer,
You will use it without fail,
As all memory leaves you,
And the boss, Peter, too.”

LeRoy twisted to his right and saw there was nothing there and laughed, “A tail, my ass.”

The following day, in a panic, LeRoy came to the coffee shop early. Only Pete was there.

“Look! She gave me a tail.”

“Who gave you a tail?”

“Molly!”

“Who is Molly?”

“The waitress.”

“I think your cheese has slid off your cracker, LeRoy.”

“She was here yesterday.”

“We were closed yesterday.”

With the thought of Molly fading, LeRoy put on his apron and started setting his kitchen up for the morning rush. And as promised, his prehensile tail could butter toast and flip burgers, and it came in mighty handy when it came to scratching his itchy nose.

As for Molly, she took the summer off and vacationed in the Virgin Islands. Come winter, she returned and incanted the return of her job.

My Cousin Elmo says, “It’s alright dishes, no ones doing me either.”

The sniper laid in the sand, waiting. His spotter laid nearby, binoculars trained on the target three-quarters of a mile to their southeast.

It had taken them days to work themselves this close to the target, a younger man with a beard and horned-rimmed glasses. The pair had infiltrated the enemy’s territory, and should all go as planned, they would be another several days ex-filtrating the area.

“Wind west at five, drop half-a-degree,” said the spotter.

The sniper blew air out his nose, holding his breath and feeling his heartbeat. He squeezed the trigger between beats.

“Canceled,” the sniper said.

faces all over
and where they should not be
you see my crazy

My Cousin Elmo says, “Now that Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head no longer exist, will we still be able to get Tater Tots?”

Faces, I see them everywhere,
Even when they are not there.
The floors are filled with them,
The walls are covered in faces.

The dog’s face presents to me
As does cat, cows, and crows
People walking by with faces
But no one looks for my face

My face, it does not matter
Perhaps I am their flooring
Maybe I am the rough wall
Could it be – I do not exist?

No, that cannot be that at all.
Faces, I see them everywhere,
Even when they are not there,
Including your more than one.

As I try my best to avoid political blogging but fail spectacularly…

In 2020, Nevada’s District 3 Congresswoman Susie Lee lobbied the Small Business Administration for a $5.3 million Paycheck Protection Program loan on behalf of her husband’s company, Full House Resorts. Once awarded, none of it went to Nevadans but was instead used to rehire several hundred casino employees in Colorado and Indiana.

Meanwhile, Lee supports President Joe Biden’s $1.9 trillion COVID-19 relief bill. This bill qualifies the average Nevada family (those who do not drive for service-providers Uber or Lyft) for $1,400 in pandemic relief, while illegal alien families in Nevada qualify for $4,200.

He looked up at the entrance to the well. There was no way out.

Soon he began to hold a conversation with another man in the hole, certain that he was not real.

“We’ll never be able to escape,” that man said, “We’ll die down here. Forgotten and alone.”

“Leave me be,” the other cried out, “You’re not really here.”

“Oh, I’m real alright,” that man said, “You’re simply losing your mind.”

“You’re crazy!” the first man shouted.

The other laughed maniacally.

Suddenly their nurse called down, “Get out of there before I call the orderlies, you two nut jobs!”

Whatever it was, it had stepped on his foot, waking him. Still seated on the couch, he looked around in response to the pain.

Nothing.

“I should go to bed,” he said to the dog as if it might understand.

He looked down, but the dog was gone.

“Ah, the dog stepped on me,” he said.

In a sleep-fog still, he noticed that the TV was on and an infomercial was playing.

“But wait, there’s more,” he grunted, pushing himself from the couch, remote in hand.

He didn’t feel the bite of the Werewolf as it chomped his head off.

Helene got out of the shower, toweled off, and wrapped it around her. She was exhausted and laid back on the bed.

The phone rang. Helene quickly grabbed it because she didn’t want her family downstairs to pick it up.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hi, hon,” it was her husband, Dan.

“Daniel?”

“Yes. Who else would it be?”

“Where are you? You should be here with me. With us!”

“I know, I know, but there’s a little trouble with my flight.”

“Trouble?! Trouble?! We buried you today, Dan!”

The phone went dead, dead like Dan’s body had been in his casket.