Episode 52

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. I decided I had gone too long without a job. Ever since my factory exploded, I had been living off my dearly departed mother’s endless wealth. When thinking of where I wanted to work, I first thought of my interests. Of course, food came to mind. And I thought of my favorite restaurants. Chick-fil-A…I could eat there 7 times a day. I went into my closest Chick-fil-A and asked for an application for employment. A girl who appeared to be 13, with no chin, brought me an application. I asked for a pen. She didn’t have one on her, so she called over to the other side of the room, “Ben, can I have a pen!” Then, out of the back, came a tall…handsome…masculine…distinguished looking gentleman. It was Jason, the manager I had talked to last time I had been there. He said “oh, we’re hiring! Don’t bother filling out that application - you’re hired!”
“Thank you.” I said. “How much does this job pay?”
“How much are you willing to work for?” He responded.
“100 dollars an hour?”
“You’re fired.”
Sadly, I turned to leave. I was trying to make him feel pity for me. It didn’t work. I left the restaurant feeling dejected. I had forgotten to eat any food again. As I was walking out the door, I bumped into a tall, graceful, youthful girl, who doesn’t spill pasta all over the counter. “Pardon me, ma’am,” I said. “Allow me to get the door for you.” I tried to pull it in, but it would not budge. I pulled with all my strength. The young lady said “Push!” I knew right then and there that I had made a fool out of myself.
Thus ends this week’s reflection. And then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 51

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. After I returned home from Africa, I spent the night in my tree house. Fortunately I did not get motion sickness from being up too high. I’ve been in other tree houses but there’s something different about my tree house; it doesn’t make me sick. The next morning I decided to go for a walk. On top of my fence. I walked completely around my yard…before I fell into my neighbor’s pool. This is not the empty pool, this is the one on the other side, Mr. McKnight’s pool. I floated on my back for a while - fat floats you know - before Mr. McKnight came out and saw me. Let’s just say he’s not a happy man. As soon as I saw him I turned over and pretended to be floating dead. The water muffled his cursing. He fished me out with his net. He expressed some glee at seeing it was me. I pretended to be dead for a little while, right up until he phoned all his friends and put me in a coffin. I sat up and looked around, but his back was turned, so I decided to play along a little bit longer. I’ve always wanted to attend my own funeral. The last funeral I’ve been to was my mother’s – God rest her soul. When the guests started to arrive, I was pleased not to see a dry eye. But I think they were laughing, not crying. This time when I sat up, I stood up. Then I promptly fell out of my coffin. The room was silent. And then I heard a voice from the tomb, “I might still be able to get my money back for the beer.” Mr. McKnight worries too much about finances. The crowds left. And I went home. Alone. And I had a party! A living party. I borrowed my neighbor’s pool. It was little Timmy’s from across the street, one of those one foot deep, round blow up pools.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 50

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. So there I was in Africa. Somewhere in Africa. It’s hot here. I’m hot here. At least the natives think I’m hot…for a 52 year old balding white guy from America. I think its supposed to be a compliment. I was staying in a grass hut made of…grass. They had lots of interesting types of food, too. Like chicken-soup, made with goat. And pork broth, made with chicken. Every evening, the whole tribe gathered around the camp-fire and danced and sang songs, and sprinkled powder over me. It was some type of honorary new-comers thing. They kept on feeding me lots and lots of food. Lots of cornbread made of rice. Huge hunks of wild boar, made of domesticated pigs. I stuffed my face every night, and they continued to sprinkle white powder on me. One day they brought out a huge black pot, big enough to fit Elvis in it. As they danced around the pot, they poured water in it. Then they showed me a cool hut, in which there were several strikingly beautiful females who gave me a massage. After that, they invited me to come sit in an honorary place – above the great big black pot full of boiling hot water. I could tell it was reserved for very important people only. Then as I sat in my throne, I enjoyed watching a game of ball, played by the young children. I couldn’t quite grasp the purpose of this game, but it seemed they were aiming for this little round target, down to my right, which was connected to the bottom of my chair. One of the boys hit the target. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the boiling pot. Then I realized it was just a fun way of getting me into a Jacuzzi! Then, because the vents apparently weren’t working, they took two large wooden spoons and spun me around. I could have sat there for hours. In fact I did. It was very nice and warm. I couldn’t quite understand the looks on the faces of the natives, when I stood up and got out of the pot. Had they never seen a duct tape suit before? I had been wearing it underneath my clothes, which had boiled off. The natives all dropped on their hands and knees and started singing something in some strange language I couldn’t understand. As I walked towards the edge of the village, I raised my arms and said in a loud voice, “Thank you for the food and the Jacuzzi!” They all shuddered and ran. I never understand strange natives, except for the blond-haired one. In Fiji.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 49

Reflections of the life and times of Mr. Smith. I got a call from a friend of mine in Africa. Surprised I could hear him? You shouldn’t be. He has a very loud voice. I decided to change my normal ways and bought a ticket. Then I hopped on a plane. Normally I leave out that ticket buying part. Unfortunately, my plane crashed. I paused and reflected on life and realized, this seems to happen to me a lot. It must be something with me and plane rides. But then after all, a famous person once said, “What’s life without a plane crash?” Don’t ask me who said it; he must not be as famous as I thought. As is common with plane crashes, I survived. And fortunately, we crashed right in front of the runway in Africa, so I only had a little ways to walk. My friend had a car waiting for me, and I was driven to his house. But on the way, I was driven to insanity. The driver wouldn’t stop singing with the radio. I think he thought he was Elvis or something, he kept singing about a hunk of love. When I arrived at my friend’s house, I asked him why he called me. He said “Mr. Smith, I need your help. I need to decide, should I eat banana or mango with my lunch today?” I paused and reflected on banana and mango, and realized, I had flown half way across the world to answer this question. So I said “You should eat both.” He said thanks. But he didn’t offer me any. I guess I should have had him leave one of the choices for me.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.