BALANCE OF FORCES
Tuesday: Flamingos moved closer to house overnight. Did neighbor move them, she of towering hairdo, peeking thru curtains at my rococo lifestyle? Can they move on their own?
Weds: Closer still. Malicious gleam in beady eyes. Will watch tonight.
Thurs: Freaking out! Didn’t see them move. How? Peanut brittle failed to soothe. Will try garden store.
Friday: Friendly but tough-looking garden gnome caught my eye. Solid. Bought twenty, line of defense. Sleep better now. |
ANTHROPOLOGISTS FIND EASY ANSWERS ABOUT OUR ALIEN VISITORS
"Comfortable?" The alien sipped from a tall can. "Good. Ah. Glad you asked. Since your government admitted our existence, your scientists invented many foolish theories about us. Ours are the same -- any artifact they don't understand, they label 'ritual object.'
"Crop circles don't have religious significance. They're an advertising campaign." It showed the logo on the can. "Cattle mutilation? Gets the tastiest cuts. The face on Mars? A hill; duh!
"So, though you won't remember later, you should know the degredations we're about to inflict on you aren't for some harsh god." A sip. "We do this for fun." |
A NEW EXPLANATION FOR THE FERMI PARADOX
All the great races -- those who'd reached for the stars and pulled themselves into space, conquering death and want and distance -- when Brother Quee broadcast his sermons, they all listened. Whenever his voice whispered across the heavens, they clustered together, floated quiet in their methane pools, or paused in their dances between the stars to hear, every one.
He spoke of those unseen who ruled them, the ways to know them, their plan for the universe. And when he had done talking, he finished, as always, with time for contemplation. "We pause now," he said, "for a century of silence." |
DITCHING ZUCCHINI
Prolific squash, whose tendrils curl,
Yellow flow'rs that still unfurl.
The growing season's far from done,
But I can't eat another one.
Zucchini casseroles and bread,
All these dishes cause me dread.
I've eaten probably a ton,
And I can't eat another one.
This time of year my neighbors hide;
They do not dare to come outside.
They know I'll share what I have grown,
For I can't eat another one.
And so a midnight raid I've planned;
A bulging bag is in my hand,
I'll leave it on your steps and run!
'Cause I can't eat another one
(until next year). |
TEAMWORK
Mary and Dale --
At first I thought the classes
were for some hobby.
Personal enrichment.
“Medieval Weaponry” and “Haiku.”
But no, they explained to me,
they are for self-defense.
Mary will out with some nugget
on the beauty of dew on a stem of grass
then while the mugger stands there stunned
by this report of the wonders of nature,
Dale slips the morningstar out
from under his coat
and finishes the job. |
