Episode 58

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. My house was gone. Flattened, as if by a tornado. And yet, there were no remains. It was as if it had vanished without a trace. It was a cold case. There I was the only survivor. I looked to my right; the Simpson’s house was still there. I looked to my left, that family guy’s house was still there. On the other side, the great American dad’s house was there. I looked behind my house; Chuck’s house was still there. Even that house, which was just called House, was still there. I pulled out my cell phone and called the E.R. “Call the justice league! I need some heroes!” They told me they weren’t quite in that genre of house hunting. I said, “come on, we can make a deal.” Then I paused and reflected on life and realized, I had really missed watching TV when I was in Antarctica. Then up the street came the dog whisperer. As he came close, I said “Caesar, can you help me find my house?” He only replied “Shh! The dogs!” I was at a loss for words. He moved on down the street. Then a bus came rolling by. It was filled with the Sopranos. Then, from the other side of the street came that American Idol, Hannah Montana. Followed closely behind her was a marathon, it was the Amazing Race. When they passed me, I yelled out “Who wants to be a millionaire?” Then I realized, I was the Biggest Loser.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 37

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. When I awoke (I seem to do a lot of that) I was in what appeared to be a basement. Two other people were there with me. A young girl and an old lady. I asked them where I was. The girl explained through teary eyes, it was an asylum for those who found out Hannah Montana/Miley Stuarts secret. She was bald. “How long do I have to stay here?” I asked. The granny looked at me and said “when I found out, I was a still little girl.” I groaned in agony. In excruciating pain, I groaned. I was very hungry. I hollered out “JESSIE!” No one came. Then I hollered out “GEORGE! HARRY!” The old woman and the young girl looked at me and asked “what are you doing?” Then I paused, and reflected on life. And I sat, and wondered, what was I doing? At that point I suddenly saw a reason to live. I had to let the media know about Hannah/Miley’s bald head. I scanned my surroundings, searching for something, anything that could aid my escape. I was in a square room with no windows and only one visible door. A cot was in a corner with only one pillow. A poster of Hannah Montana adorned the wall to my right. The wall on the left had a picture of Miley Stuart. The two seemed to stare at me, their eyeballs twitching, moving, observing my every move. I stood up and screamed “I’ve got to get out of here!” Quick as a flash a bat swooped down from the ceiling and stole my hat. Suddenly I realized, I had no hat, and I was bald.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 36

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. I found a cheap car in Las Vegas. I drove into California that same morning, still mourning my loss of a million dollars. After spending a few hours stuck in traffic, I finally realized my car was useless here. So next time I saw a speeding motor cycle heading down the center line of the highway, next to all our idling cars, I flung open my door at the last second. I called 911, but dialed 411 by accident. So I decided just to leave the poor dude lying in the street. His bike made much better time than my car. I arrived in LA in only a few minutes. Then I paused and I reflected on life, and I sat and pondered my situation. And I realized I had done it. I had arrived in California, and I had no idea why, or what to do next. My money was spent. My time was fleeting, flying away. My neighbor’s cat was scratching to get back in. As I sat on that park bench I had a revelation. The world shifted into slow motion and I saw golden locks of blond hair with the sunlight behind her head. It was…Hannah Montana. Ah, Hannah. Montana. Nebraska. Furniture Mart. Wal-Mart. Marty McFly. Fly Paper. Newspaper. Concert Ads. Hannah Montana….Nebraska. What was I thinking about? Ah yes, Hannah Montana. There she was, gliding down the side walk like a goddess. As if in slow motion, her high heel stuck between the cracks in the pavement. Slowly she fell. I could see bruised knees and skinned elbows in her near future. I lunged forward like Flash, like Hercules. I caught her. I was in love. She was in my arms. I closed my eyes. I sniffed in the fragrance of her hair. Her wig stuck to my nose. She screamed. She was bald as a baby’s bottom! But she reached into her bag and pulled out her brown wig and suddenly Hannah Montana was no more. I blinked for a second and she was gone, in her place was an average teenage girl name Miley Stuart. She hushed me and pulled me into the back of a limo. Then I paused and I reflected on life and I realized, she was one and the same – two girls – both bald. We screeched to a halt. After I got out of the limo, a short blond haired boy with a doofy smile shoved me into a chest. It was his dad’s chest.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared