#DiceGames3 : A Fire, A Teddy Bear, A Hidden Treasure

Teddy Smaug stood on the bed in the middle of the night while Princess Bree slept. It was his job to guard the greatest treasure on Earth, the future ruler of a family, the future queen of a household, the future mother of the heirs to the kingdom. Teddy Smaug smiled as he guarded the priceless princess, and a wisp of smoke escaped his smile and left a curl in the air.

A cute curl of smoke, as it should be, in case Princess Bree woke unexpectedly, and saw it. “Has to be cute, so I don’t scare the princess. Always have to make the princess happy.”

Teddy Smaug was so proud to have been reborn to such a purpose.True, he was no longer a giant, armored dragon, with razor sharp talons, and teeth. True no one looked at him and cringed in fear, or prayed to escape his wrath with their lives. But he was OK with that.

“I’m a fire-breathing teddy bear.” His black circle eyes searched the darkness for any threats to the princess. “The knight of the realm.” He studied the floor all around the bed, moving carefully to not wake the princess. “A beloved hero.” He gazed upon Princess Bree. “Protector of the future of the kingdom.”

It was nice to be huggable. To be the one the princess picked up, and hugged when she was happy, and laughing. To hear the stories the princess told of all the things that made her happy. “I’ll never tell your secrets to anyone, Princess. Though they torture me, or flay my soft, fuzzy hide from my tiny body.”

It was a gift from the Universe when the princess was sad, and picked him up, and hugged him, and buried her face in his tummy, and cried her heart out. “I know. Oh, how I know how hard it is to grow up in this nasty world. And I will always be here when you need me. To protect you. And keep you safe from all the dragons, and the black knights.”

He returned to his post beside the pillow on which she rested her head. He blew a smoke ring to make sure his flames were ready if he should need them. He carefully checked each of his tiny claws. “That cat has nothing on me! Ha!” He did have to admit, though, it was certainly tough to let the cat throw him around, and claw away at him. “The things I have to do to remain hidden, so the king and queen won’t notice me.” That was the unspoken law of the guardian of the princess. He must remain hidden, unnoticed by his charge, and by the king and queen. He must be invisible to them. Just a fuzzy, cuddly, little girl’s teddy bear.

It was only as the princess grew, both in stature, and in age, that he could reveal himself. It would take years, but he knew from the long history of the Teddy Bear Knights of the Realm, all Teddy Bears wound up beloved protectors, and friends, of the princesses they defended with their lives. Teddy Smaug looked forward to the day when he was old, maybe with an eye missing, or glued on, with carefully added stitches to close his busted seams here and there. And maybe even a patch. All signs of a successful knighthood. And always, such bears were the most loved of all by their Princesses.

And when the princess became a queen, he would be able to pass on the torch of knighthood to another Teddy Bear Knight who would protect the next princess in the family.

No. Teddy Smaug was not a fierce and mighty dragon any more. He was a beloved Teddy Bear Knight. And he spent that night, as he spent all nights, watching over the most priceless, hidden treasure of the King and Queen. The Princess Bree.

#DiceGames3 : Wake Me Up When I’m Famous

Marty shook his head as he looked at his truck. The back left tire was flatter than the state of Iowa. “Damn,” was all he could think, over and over, “Damn, damn, damn.” He studied the one inch wide, foot long piece of wood trim that jutted from the tire’s remains. “How?” It made no sense how a piece of wood he could bend with his fingers had been able to pierce the tire’s sidewall. “Damn, damn, damn.”

There was nothing he could do save haul the jack out from under the front seat, and lower the spare hidden under the truck bed. Using his cell phone he called the office, “I’m gonna be a few minutes late. Got a friggin’ flat tire.”

Marty never realized how flexible a human had to be to move the front bench seat forward as far as it would go, then lower the seat back, then lean over the bench seat, and reach under it to the jack that was clipped to the floor beneath the seat. He tugged at the clip. Then pulled at the clip. Then tried reaching the clip with both hands. More than once the silly thing half opened, then snapped shut when his fingers played out. It took him seven tries, but he finally heard the clip unlatch with a rather disturbing, “Crack!”

The damn clip had come apart, and he was staring at half of it, sitting in his hand. “Damn-it!” He threw the remains of the clip out of his truck, not caring at all where they landed, grabbed the jack, and pulled it free.

Then he realized he had to find the wrench that went with the jack, so he could jack the truck up, and unbolt the wheel. He climbed back under the bench seat. It wasn’t there. He stared at the jack. It had pictures on one side. The first showed the clip opened the other way than he’d tried. The second showed the wrench pulled from the jack, then the jack placed under the truck. He knew from the pictures the jack had to be carefully positioned to keep from damaging the truck body as he raised it up.

After studying the jack for what felt like hours, he finally saw the wrench wedged through the hinge openings in the jack. “Funny damn place to put that,” he mumbled. He grabbed the end of the wrench, and wanked.

“Ow! Fuck!” He stared at his index finger and thumb, as blood started slowly leaking from the torn skin on them. “God, damn-it!” That’s when he figured out picture that showed where the wrench was also illustrated how the wrench was locked in place by the jack until the jack was manually loosened by twisting the raising mechanism. “Stupidest damn thing I’ve ever seen!”

Marty twisted the mechanism a half turn. The wrench fell out. He glared at it as it rested in the driveway, then he wiped the blood of his thumb and finger on his pants leg. That’s when he realized he needed to change pants for work.

“I never knew how low to the ground this thing was.” Marty practically had to get on his back to see the notches on the bottom of the truck bed the jack was supposed to attach to. He carefully positioned the jack, then started raising away. He noticed the jack missed the notches when the metal started to bend.

Marty lowered the jack. Then, left it beneath the truck, the wrench still attached to the mechanism. He went inside, washed his hands, put bandages on his torn skin, grabbed a bottle of his favorite beer, and sat down before the TV.

“If ever there was a time when life sent me a message and told me not to go to work, then this is it.” He called the office, and explained he’d torn up his hand while trying to fix his flat, and wouldn’t make it to work that day. Then, he tuned the TV to the sports channel, chugged his beer, kicked off his shoes, and propped up his feet.

He stared at the replays of the good plays from last nights game, and felt himself drifting off to sleep, which struck him as a good thing. As he faded, he looked at the ceiling. “God. Wake me up when I’m famous, and don’t have to put up with this kind of shit.”

I Fall

I spread my arms as I fall.
Like useless wings.
Fingers gripping nothing.
Then reaching once again for something
To hold.

And I fall.

I don’t know how far.
I don’t know how long.
I know I’ll never see the ground
As it approaches.
If the ground is even there.

There is no breeze.
No movement of the air
As I fall through it.
Though it flows past me.
Between my fingers.
Through my hair.
I feel nothing.
As if there is no air there.
No air at all.

It’s there, thought.
The air.
Because I still breathe.
I breathe in.
I breathe out.
I feel my lungs fill with air.
I feel my heart beat.
I feel my pulse.
I’m still alive.
Breathing as I fall.

I know there’s air.
Yet I feel nothing.
Nothing at all.

I move my arm.
Hold my hand before my face.
I can’t see it
In the dark.
I can’t see anything.
But black.

There is the night.
When the sun has set.
And the gentle light of stars
Fills the sky.
And you can watch the clouds move
The stars come and go.

But not here.
Not in the dark.
There’s no light.
No light at all.

I wonder
Will it hurt when I hit the ground?
Will I feel anything?
Or will I just be numb.
Locked in oblivion.

Will my bones break.
Turn to splinters.
Will I feel anything?
Or will I just be numb.
Locked in this dark

And I hear that whisper
In my mind.
The one I’ve heard so many times.
That echoes endlessly.

“Let me be numb.”

So I don’t have to feel anything.
So I won’t know
When I reach the ground.
Won’t know
How long I fall.
Won’t know
Anything at all.

Then I wonder.
How do I know I’m falling
When I can’t feel anything at all?
When the air
Does not move past me?
And the ground never comes?
How do I know?

Perhaps I’m not moving at all.
Just hanging.
In empty space.
In nothing.
In the dark.
Waiting for the ground
That may never come.

Or maybe
Everything is falling.
Even the ground.
The air.
And that’s why nothing moves.

But something inside me knows.
The ground lies somewhere below.
Hidden in the dark.
And I will reach it sometime.

Somehow I know.
I’m falling
Through the darkness.
With my arms spread.
Like useless wings.
And my fingers grasping at nothing.

Waiting for the ground
To arrive.

#ThursThreads Week 235 : Now It’s Time To Go

I sat, in my car, at the Christmas Tree lights. In the other lane sat Jeffrey, in his heavily tuned Camaro. Really, the only left of the original Camaro were the body panels. The engine was hand built by his racing team. The transmission was a continuously variable unit designed to stay in the maximum torque range of the engine. His car was fast, and so was he.

I looked at the gages on my car’s instrument panel. The car put text on my crash helmet glasses. “Is it time to go?”

I chuckled, “No, car. It’s not time to go. We have to wait for the green light.”

“The green light?” The autonomous drive train of my car sounded irritated. “Can’t we go now, and get this over with?”


The car shook as the engine revved, “I know. I know. For the green light.” The engine dropped back to idle, “Time the rate at which the lights on the tree change. Project when the green light will be illuminated, and have the vehicle ready to move at maximum acceleration when the green light first illuminates.”

I nodded.

The light first light changed on the tree.


“Now it’s time to go.”

The car leaped forward as the light turned green. It was a very successful test run. Soon, no human lives would be put at risk on the drag strip. Racing would never be the same.

238 Words
I’m Not On Twitter Anymore.

I decided to write something for Week 235 of #ThursThreads. As always, #ThursThreads is hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.

#ThursThreads Week 231 : Just The Fun Parts

I sat at my computer, staring at the screen, and trying to figure out how to say the words. I finally just gave up, and typed anything. See. I was chatting with Sally. And she’d asked how my brother, Simon, was doing. And I’d had to tell her Simon was in jail.

I hadn’t told anyone else about it yet. I was trying to figure out how, when, or even if. But Sally I trusted. She’d always talked with me. “I know when you’re hurt. I know when you’re heart bleeds. You can’t hide that from me. Please. Talk with me.”

I couldn’t tell her no. I could never tell her no.

“You know how Simon watched movies? How he fast forwarded through them, and stopped here and there?”

“Yeah. He said it was ‘cause he wanted to see just the fun parts. Nothing else. He skipped over the bad parts.” Her words came across the page.

I paused as I tried to think. “He did that same thing with books. And restaurants, and food. He left what he didn’t like on the plate. He threw out the pizza crust. He only bought the songs he wanted to hear, and never bought an entire album.”

I waited for her response. “Just the fun parts, right?”

“Well. Yeah.” I paused. There was no polite way to say it. “Um. Guess what he kept of his ex girlfriend…”

Sally didn’t answer. So I did, “Yep. Just the fun parts.”

247 words
I’m not on Twitter anymore…

Cara Michaels asked a bunch of us to write for this weeks #ThursThreads, since she’s judging it. So, I decided to write something for Week 231. As always, #ThursThreads is hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.

You Do Not Understand The Problem


Humans. Oye.

Well. We’ve now had the entertainment in Milwaukee. And we’ve now been observing the brain dead responses of way too many white people, who just flat don’t get it.

There is a time for peace.
And a time for war.

Everyone knows those words. What everyone doesn’t know is when the time for war arrives. And again, I’ve been watching it get closer, and closer, for 36 years now. And the saddest part? It’s the white people who are making it happen. The very same people who don’t understand why it’s happening.

You can not beat down an entire people forever. They will rise up. They will strike back. They will, when enough blood has been shed, defend themselves.

It seems we are approaching that time when enough blood has been shed.

When you force, demand, expect, a people who have their own traditions, their own history, their own society, to become just like you, and you bitch, endlessly, about the problems they have, the conditions they live under, being caused by their not being like you, you clearly do NOT understand the problem.

When you live in a society where everyone thinks the same, holds the same beliefs, holds the same values, places the same emphasis on the same things you place emphasis on, and declare anyone who doesn’t hold those same values, same beliefs, gets what they deserve in this life, again. you clearly do NOT understand the problem.

When you have closed your mind, frozen your heart, and no longer can see anything but the “successful path to life” that our media, our society, and our religion, have all combined to convince you is the only way to be happy, and declare those who have problems in this life need to get with the program, and be like you, and everyone you know, you clearly do NOT understand the problem.

When you argue that your child, your flesh and blood, cannot learn in a classroom setting, and demand the public school system change, to better address the needs of your child, and to teach them in the way they best learn, and then demand the children of other people need to “buckle up, and get serious about their education” so they can pass those standardized tests, you clearly do NOT understand the problem.

I could go on, and on. I could ramble about this for hours. And still…

You would not understand the problem.

For you have closed your eyes to it. You have frozen your heart. And you believe that everything is as it should be. For you, it is not a problem. For you, the problem does not exist. You cannot see it. Cannot feel it. Do not live it. Do not experience it. So it’s not real.

And those who say it is?

They lie, don’t they.

And so. You will never understand the problem. Or how much you are part of the problem.

#ThursThreads Week 228 : I Was Ready

The asphalt was cold from the rain as it pressed against my back. My bare arms were limp by my sides, as I stared at the sky, unable to move, unable to speak. If I looked, I could see the hilt of the sword that protruded from my chest.

I tried, again, to shift my head, to locate, to see, Damien. I wanted to see my sword, protruding from his body, his blood leaking out, staining the puddles of water he was in the same shade of red I knew I’d see if I could see myself.

“I was ready.” The thought repeated in my head. Echoed again, and again, “I was ready.”

We’d agreed to meet, to talk of how he’d taken my family from me. One by one, they’d abandoned me, to join him. Our war had left me broke, bankrupt in every way, no money, no possessions, and no friends.

He’d won. We both knew that.

I will always remember his face as I opened my case to hand him the title to my home, and instead drew my sword, and shoved it through his torso. I will always remember the look of betrayal, the blind rage.

Imagine my shock when he remained standing long enough to draw his sword, and run me through. We’d both fallen. Now, I was going to die with him, in the rain, in the dark.

“I was ready. And still, he won.”

241 Words
I’m Not On Twitter Anymore.

Slowly returning to writing, starting with #ThursThreads Week 228. As always, this is hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.