godwithoutassumption

A place for thought.


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Monday


“Sorry about that.”

“Sorry?”

“We took a little longer than usual.”

“Didn’t even notice.”

“Well, there you go.”

Some places put the water in first. Other places put the coffee in first. It’s pretty much the same but I prefer for the water to go in first, the coffee makes a nice layer of tiny light brown bubbles when the coffee is on top. It’s not just visual, it smells better too.


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“It seems like we’ve been here a long time.”


“It seems like we’ve been here a long time.”

“How long you think?”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Maybe more. What time is it?”

“Twelve thirty-five, twelve thirty-six now.”

“I’m sure we sat down before noon.”

“Well, it is their lunch rush. Here he comes! No, he’s just taking them their bread.”

“They came in before us!”

“That was those people over there, they just look the same. See she has that weird purple bag you liked so much.”

“Well it’s been at least thirty minutes, we should go.”

“I’m hungry.”

“What do we have at home?”

“Left over pizza.”

I love left over pizza, warm it up until it’s like a cracker and the cheese is all toasted. Is there enough for both of us?”

“Almost half a pizza I think but there’s some potato salad that’s starting to sound good.   Let’s go.”

“Sorry that took so long. How can I get you people started?”

“How’s the fish?”


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I Want That


“So if that’s what they want to do why don’t they just come out and say it?’

“Because no one cares about it, they need to find a cause that people will get behind, something that sounds good and unselfish.”

“But they are being totally selfish, all they are looking out for is their own comfort.”

“Okay, short story, a guy, a guy I know, knows, needed a special cord for a fan.”

“What kind of fan?”

“Doesn’t matter but this guy does maintenance for a school district that has a lot of fans just like the one the guy needs a cord for.”

“So they stock a lot of the cords and he snags one for home use. No big surprise there.”

“Not so mon amie, the cords almost never wear out and if one does the schools usually just buy a new fan.”

“Well that’s a waste.”

“School districts have more money than people think, but that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point Jack?”

“Don’t call me Jack. The point is the guy goes out and buys a hundred cords, a whole stocking dealer’s box of special use cords.”

“And he needs one?”

“He needs one but he needs to make it look like something the district uses and stocks, no one is going to count a hundred cords to prove one is missing and if one is missing the dealer may have shorted the box. The prefect crime.”

‘“What if his boss had called him in and asked, “why all the cords?”’

“He did get called in. He told his boss perfectly good fans were being replaced with new ones and his boss gave him a pat on the back.”

“So the guy gets the cord he needed at home and the district is stuck with ninety-nine cords.”

“Well, to be honest, that’s not what happened.”

“Someone turned him in?”

“No…turned out with that stack of cords sitting there the other maintenance guys started using them instead of just replacing fans, over the next ten years the district saved over nine thousand dollars.”

“But, back to the selfish people, just looking out for themselves, they cost us a bunch of money.”

“What they have to do is find a real cause that meets their need and some other need. The other need has to be real or it doesn’t catch on and nothing is done.   Sometimes these very selfish motives help a lot of people.”

 


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Life


Orange, yellow, and red swirls wagged their tails a thousand miles into space before they were sucked back into the ball of fire. The ball of fire, so out of place in the vast emptiness. He stared. Darkness closed in from all sides until the sun was just a pinpoint of light and then there was nothing, no light, no dark, no thought.

It had been different. He knew what had happened but at the time all he sensed was change. All he had know was one temperature, one color, no smells, just being held secure and then there was change. Air, never before tasted in lungs never before filled. Air next to skin, skin always moist now started to dry. New feelings, feelings never looked for but exciting and needing exploration. He felt another’s skin and pushed his face into it seeking something until he knew, “this is it” and his mouth sucked and he tasted, for the first time.   Different, new, explore, test, remember – a thought: “she loves me.” Discomfort, hunger until she comes and replaces them with softness, dryness, flavors and the beating of her heart.

 


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The Big Friendly Giant?


He was tall, not like the skinny girl in high heels that looks tall until you get up close and then you forget about how tall she looked because her blue eyeliner has multicolored specks of glitter in it, he was really tall! If you were to stand him up against some famous basketball player, which is something you would never ask him to do, he would still be the tall one. He was unnaturally tall. Beyond human tall. It took measurable time for a message to get from his brain to his toes! “Big toe wiggle,” one one-thousand, two one-thousand and the big toe wiggles, that was just how tall this fellow was. If he took three steps and I wanted to traverse the same distance I took six steps, only he was walking and I was running. On a whim once I asked, “how’s the weather up there?” He slapped at me, he had already been asked that question one too many times. His hand passed about a foot above my head, but the breeze it created mussed my hair up a little, I never asked him for a weather report again.


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Dead


From the six inch concrete curb next to the road to the three steps at the front porch the walkway is a six-foot wide path of uneven red clay brick, bricks lay side by side on unpacked gray clay. Over the years the bricks had settled in soft spots. Some of the bricks had been pushed up by roots, in spots. Especially hardy grasses found places between the tightly spaced bricks and sent up a few short shoots that seldom survived the heat of the day.

Over all the walkway is smooth enough, a person can trip but it’s more of a choice than a necessity.   The person, or the body of what had once been a person, did not trip; the blood pooling in one of the settled spots in the brick walkway tells a different story. She was thin, small, white, blonde. She dressed warm and well. She made an unremarkable brown hill at the upper end of the walkway; she had almost made it to the steps. Kids on their way to school caught the fur of her jacket, past a hedge of bushes, past trees and bushes, out of the corner of their eyes as they walked and played, if they saw her at all they saw a sleeping dog or a pile of leaves. She no longer cared, time could pass, flies could lay the eggs of their young, she no longer had cares.