Episode 72

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. This morning, I decided it was time for another trip. It was time to go to the beach. Then I paused and reflected on life and I pondered beaches. And which beach I should go to. There’s the beach...on the west coast. The beach...on the east coast. The beach...on the south coast (excluding Mexico of course). And the beach on the great lakes. The beach...in Africa. The beach...in England. The beach...on the Red Sea. The beach....on the Dead Sea. The beach...on the Sea Sea. Oh! CiCi’s pizza...on the beach. With MLT on rye, when the mutton’s nice and lean. (That’s mutton lettuce and tomato by the way.) The beach in Hawaii. The beach in Fiji! Yes, Fiji. That would be my destination. It has been a long time since I’ve seen her. Yes, I am referring to...the blond native. I hopped on a plane. An airplane. I even remembered to buy a ticket. My flight was rather uneventful. Made out with a couple stewardesses...stole a couple blankets...threw up my shrimp all over the lavatory. Dumb airplane food. But like I said, rather uneventful. I was slightly befuddled and bewildered to see Hurley on the plane. And Kate. And Jack. And Sayid. Some dude with his face all bloodied and bashed in, and his arm in a sling. And also Sun. The whole Lost cast was on board. Fear gripped my heart. My hand gripped my chest. Then, it happened. We crashed. Now I had been in many other plane crashes before. But this one was different. All the Losties vanished in a flash of light. Then, we crashed. We just kept crashing, as if we were stuck in a time warp. They were there one second. They were gone. We crashed. They were there again. They vanished. We crashed. They re-appeared. Poof, they were gone. We crashed. Disgusted I stood up, walked to the end of the room, pulled out the DVD, and blew the hair off of it.
    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 16

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. Today I decided to fly to China. So I strapped on my wings and stuck out my tail and took off from the roof of my house. I landed shortly thereafter, and I paused and reflected on the sidewalk, right before it came up and smacked me in the face. And everything went black. When I awoke, I felt as if I were in heaven. For leaning over me, was that face…that one true love of mine…the blond native had returned. She was beautiful. I was speechless. She was a little wrinkled. I didn’t care. I had found her at last. The music rises. I was lying on a hospital bed, in the middle of the city. And somehow she had come from Fiji, all the way to see me, or so I had assumed. But then I paused and reflected on this, and realized, she didn’t seem to recognize me. Perhaps it was because I was covered in bandages. We will assume that was the reason. Apparently I had been revived by true love’s kiss. Or so I assumed. That would be the only way I was not dead right now. For I realized, I could not fly.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 6

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. There I was in Fiji, looking for that girl, I met on the beach, so many years ago. I must have only been about five years old. I waddled out across the sand, and I saw the ocean for the first time. And I saw her. The ocean paled in comparison. Her beauty was beyond description. It was so indescribable, I couldn’t describe it. By the way…what does indescribable mean? I pondered this, as I sat on the beach. Staring at the ocean. In Fiji. So far from home. Home…the thought of home made me pause and reflect. If home is where the heart is, my home is on the beach. Here in Fiji, with that girl. Alas, I fear she is no more. For I have looked upon this beach for too long. I have searched in vain. I must again make my home, away from my heart. (The music swells. I suddenly feel like an old romantic.) I hop on a plane and head home. The plane ride was long. Very long. Very, very long. So long I fell asleep. And then it felt very short. How strange.
Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 5

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. I was looking through my photo album today. I saw a picture I had not seen in years. It was tucked away behind another. It was of a girl I had once known. At least I assumed I knew her. If I didn’t, I wish I did. I recalled something as if it were a dream. I remembered a girl standing on a beach. She was a native…with blond hair. Maybe she wasn’t a native. There is only one way to find out. I must travel back to Fiji. Because its as far away as you can get before you start turning back. The plane ride was long. Very long. Very, very long. So long I fell asleep. And then it felt very short. How strange. Then I reflected on life. Sleep…sleep is good for you. I wondered why I had not seen it before. Without sleep I would be awake. We landed in Fiji. If you could call it landing. More like we crashed. I was searching for my luggage amongst the wreckage. When I realized, I hadn’t brought any luggage. It made me pause and reflect on how luggage is good for you. Without luggage you are but a bum. I guess I am a bum. I walked down the beach, searching for that native. But then something occurred to me. It had been thirty years. Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.