Category: story time
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Time Flies Like An Arrow
Every so often I like to reach for a volume of the printed-out version of this drivel that I keep on a bookshelf over my desk and flip back to see what I was doing on today’s date five, ten, fifteen years ago. Sometimes it’s worth a laugh, sometimes I gain a little perspective, sometimes Read.
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Crossing
Driving home from work tonight I glanced left, then right to check traffic after the light turned green at the intersection to Washington Avenue and happened to notice a blind man feeling his way along the pedestrian crossing with a white cane. That’s an awfully wide, scary intersection for anybody to cross. I do it Read.
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Dickishness
My favorite language school story: As you may or may not know, I learned to speak, read and write Russian at the hands of some pretty ruthless teachers hired by the military to make me learn it or die trying. Or maybe it’s not entirely fair to call them “ruthless.” My teachers were pretty wonderful. Read.
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Farnsworth
I remember only the very last part of the dream I had right before the alarm clock began to bleat: I was at a dirt-strip airfield waiting for a hop on a plane out of some little banana republic, and when it finally came and I climbed aboard I took one last look out the Read.
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Prang Your Head
Do you like tunnels? I love tunnels. It’s one of those irrational things, like fear of snakes, although if you ask me a fear of snakes is very rational. I admit that’s an unfair characterization of snakes and maybe even people who like them, but I just don’t care. But anyway, tunnels. I love ’em. Read.
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In Future
A story about patience and civility: While I was living in Bedford, England, about a million years ago, I used to take the train to London just about every chance I got and wander around because, you know, cool! Why wouldn’t I, right? I mean, when was I ever going to get the chance to Read.
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Boots
I was waiting in the parking lot of the hotel for a lift into town from the air base where I was staying. I’d been hiking through the countryside of southwest England all week, but was taking some time off to hang around town, browse the book stores and pick up a few knick-knacks for Read.
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Goats Ate My Kid!
I don’t know why they puts goats in petting zoos, do you? Goats are pretty creepy-looking animals. They’re kind of skeletal with all those bony bumps, they’ve got demon eyes, and they’re always jerking around as if their own personal invisible devil is jabbing them up the behind with a sharpened, flaming stick. Yeh, let’s Read.
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The Vaseline Story
Dad was mowing the grass in the back yard. My brother Pete and I were working on something in the garage with the back door open. Dad was about as far away across the back yard as he could get when suddenly the growl of the lawnmower engine died and was replaced just moments after Read.
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Veedub tale
There’s a Volkswagen microbus parked along the curb on Midvale Avenue, the street we drive every morning when I take My Darling B to work. It’s got a fresh coat of toothpaste-green paint and For Sale a sign in the back window and each time I passed by I became even more powerfully convinced that Read.
This Is Drivel 