Episode 22

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. The other day I was walking down the street, when I paused and realized, I often start my days by walking down the street. Sometimes I wake up, walking down the street. My friendly psychiatrist, Mr. Brown, said I probably sleepwalk. I said, I probably don’t. He didn’t say anything, so I continued talking. He still didn’t say anything, so I stopped talking. I left him after that. What good is a person who doesn’t talk? Back to where I was walking – I was walking down the street. The street was where I was walking. Yes, the street. And then I reached the corner of the street, and the garden gate. As I reached the garden gate, I spotted a cute little puppy, squatting over a bush. And I paused and reflected on life, and puppies, and bushes. I bent down and kissed the little puppy right on his dear little nose. Suddenly - to my great horror – I realized I had fulfilled the old adage. “Never kiss by the garden gate/Love is blind/But the neighbors ain’t.” I stood up, quick as a flash, kicked the dog into the bush and whistled down the street. I glanced from window to window, expecting to see a face. And there, there was a face. It didn’t belong to Mace. It definitely wasn’t Chase. (Daniels, that is.) Then I remembered something. Most of my neighbors were blind. In mind and soul. Plus they couldn’t see out of their eyes. Then I paused, and corrected my grammar and said “they don’t got good eyes.” Then I paused and reflected on life. And I lamented the poor dog I had kicked. I went back to that bush, but I couldn’t find the dog, only a lump of yellow smog.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.