Episode 64

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. I had arrived in Smithville Florida. I put on my mustache and big nose disguise. First I surveyed the area. I had to look for a way into NASA’s secret testing facilities. I looked to my right, I looked to my left. I looked down the middle and *oomph* you take a bite! I was chewing tobacco. I was trying to look like a hick farmer from Kansas. I saw the Royal colors come down the road. It was the Queen, God save her. Her motorcade was coming down the road towards me. I put on my best British accent and spat out my tobacco. I said “ahoy there, mateys! I’m beholdin’ to ya to bring me into the inner courts for me buckos have let me down.” The motorcade stopped. I was guessing my English accent was working. One of the guards turned to me and said “What are you talking about, chap?”
“Uhh…” I stammered. “I wish to speak to the queen.”
Suddenly, God Save the Queen started playing, and her royal highness herself popped her head out of her limousine. “What’s all this rot??” She exclaimed. Bewildered by her sudden appearance, I immediately forgot my intentions. “Hurry up laddie…I’ve got to go to the loo!”
“The who?”
“The loo! Get out of my bloody way!”
The motorcade swiftly commenced on its way in a puff of smoke. Then I heard it. That unholy noise. Someone BROKE WIND.
“What was that?”
One of the guards solemnly turned to me and said in a perfect British accent, “The Queen broke wind, God save her.”
Thus ends this week’s reflections...and all that rot. And then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 63

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. It was time for a trip again. I paused and reflected on life and pondered places to visit. After a while of pondering I decided I would like to go to the moon. It would be very succulent to stand on a huge ball of cheese. But it can be very expensive to go to the moon. I would have to hitch a ride with someone else. Preferably where they are paying. I paused and pondered the meaning of life, and pickles. Why, why I ask do people eat pickles on sandwiches, Instead of sandwiches on pickles? Then it came to me, NASA. They were responsible for many things. They were responsible for tooth paste tubes, and cats that don’t lick themselves. They were responsible for the pickle on sandwich craze sweeping the nation. After all it was the famous astronaut Buzz AllSmith who took pickles to the moon and back on a bun. It was he who ate said sandwich with a slice of moon cheese in all the commercials, selling the sliced pickle idea even more. I had to have a talk with these crazy people who seamed to think that pickles should only be a condiment. I was heading to NASA headquarters in Smithville Florida. My goal: change pickle history forever, and catch a shuttle ride to the moon while I was at it. Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 62

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. It has been a long while since I paused and reflected on anything. Or at least that I have shared with you. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t sat in the street and thought deep thoughts, or flown around the world, looked down on Texas and paused and reflected on how the state looks like a loser sign. This day started much like another. They all seem the same to me these days. I woke up. I rolled over and went back to sleep. Suddenly my eyes shot open! I was tired of sleeping, and dreaming of tired. This time when I rolled out of bed I did it with a spring in my step! I was launched up through the ceiling. I was stuck, with my head in the attic and my feet in the attic’s attic. I wiggled my body this way and that way, did you ever see a Lassie go this way or that? I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye as something zoomed past me in a blur of color. Then I felt a strange twitching in my stomach. I looked down and where my folds of fat were folding over the timbers, a small mouse nibbled to set me free. Slowly the mouse nibbled and slowly the timbers grip was loosened. I started to slip out of my crushing perch. Then with a mighty nibble of its small teeth, my friendly mouse bit through the last of the folds of skin. As if in slow motion I slid out of my fat suit and fell to the ground..
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.