Episode 83

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. Trapped. Like a rat in a cage. Like a cat in a corner. Like an alligator out of water...in a garbage dump... on the outskirts of town...underneath a volcano about to erupt...at the foot of a floating city on Bespin. So there I was. Trapped. There was a certain level of de-ja-vu to the situation. Sort of like I was trapped, like a pickle in a pickle jar, full of jalapeno salsa. Trapped. Like a lyric in a rap song... on a Saturday night. So anyway, if you hadn’t gotten the point, I’m trapped in a coffin. Sealed like an elephant in a bar. Like a bear in a car. Like a pizza in the tsar of Russia. So anyway, I was sealed in this coffin. My mind was going in circles. Circles were going in my mind. Slowly, the circles turned into chocolate chip cookies. I ate them, and was nourished. My mind wandered. It crawled through my mind’s eye. It roamed down to my toes. The smell made it retreat back into my head. My prospects were grim. It was looking rather dim. Not to mention it was pitch dark in the coffin. Dark as a gorilla with its eyes gouged out. Dark as my thoughts in this little tomb. Then I paused and reflected on life, and pondered my situation within. Then I paused and reflected on death. I prefer life. But I was still trapped. Like a gnat in a mosquito net. Then I paused and reflected on mosquito nets, and realized, gnats are smaller than mosquitoes. Therefore, they can escape from mosquito nets. And that solved my dilemma. I got a running start and flung myself to the bottom of the coffin. I felt myself falling...falling...and when I landed, I was no longer trapped. The coffin shattered on the hardwood floor.
    Thus ends this week’s reflection, and then my mirror image disappeared.

Episode 81

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. This morning when I woke up, my first thought was going back to sleep. In fact, I thought I still was asleep. For the room was dark. Very dark. Very, very dark. Very, very, very dark. Very, very, very, very dark! I tried to roll out of bed, and met resistance. If you say that like a French person, that sounds pretty awesome. Re-si-STONCE. Anyway. I met resistance when I rolled to my right, and when I rolled to my left. It was as if I were being boxed in. I sat up, and I hit my head. I was boxed in... I was IN a box. The inside was padded, as if someone had stapled a comforter to the inside. It was a coffin. Or so I feared. Suddenly I felt compelled to compose a dirge. Compelled to lament for the dead. I started thinking of all those who had passed before. Aunt Bertha. Uncle Eddie. Grandma Bartholomew. And of course, dear old mum. I had a strange feeling I was going to see them soon. Dun...Dun...DUN.  I decided to write a poem. And this is how it goes:

They all passed away
(Echo: away, away, away!)
They were no more
(Echo: more, more, more!)
I will soon be joining them
(Echo: them, them, them!)
I am sad.
(Echo: mad, mad, mad!)

Then I paused and reflected on mournful poems. And realized, I am a horrible poet. And I know it. Suddenly I had an incredible urge for Starbucks. That's kind of in like, Star Wars, where they have credits, but this is Star Trek, where they have star bucks. With this mournful thought, I sat alone. In the gloom. In my tomb.
    Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.

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.

Episode 19

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. I was lying in peril, awaiting my doom – on the slopes of Mount Doom. Orcs all around me, trying to slay me. Aragorn on one side, Mace Windu on t’other. Up above a blue heron was flying to my rescue. On a cart with six wheels came Mario and Luigi – two Italian boys – and they smashed orcs left and right with their brand new Lego toys. But then I realized I was not helpless. I had my “orcs-away spray”. I pulled it out and started spraying. Like a skunk, it stunk, with an awful funk. And then came Michael Jordan, and he made a slam dunk. As I sprayed my spray on the head of an orc, it spun around and popped like a cork. I felt like a dork. The orcs were falling, they all started bawling. Suddenly I felt pity – pity, stayed my hand. And I yelled to my allies – stop! Stop! But it was too late – the orcs were all kilt around Aragorn’s waist. * The orcs were all dead. I sat on my head. I mourned their defeat. I don’t know why they were trying to kill me. I don’t know why I mourned them, that is. But then, with all those blood-thirsty men, strange cartoon characters and various birds, something was bound to happen. They would all turn on themselves, I knew it. Then in a heavenly chorus descended Chuck Norris. Then the Enterprise came out of the sky and squashed him flat. I was so happy; I hit his flat body with a bat. Then Aragorn charged at Mace Windu. And the blue heron dropped bombs on Mario and Luigi. Luigi whipped up a batch of spaghetti and launched meatballs into the sky. Again I yelled “Stop!” Again they did not listen. So I decided to employ my super power of the imagination shut-off button. And in a flash they all disappeared, leaving nothing but Gandalf’s beard.

Thus ends this week’s reflections. Then my mirror image disappeared.

*This means the orcs were all “killed” and then their skins were turned into an Scottish kilt, and Aragorn was wearing it.

Episode 18

Reflections from the life and times of Mr. Smith. Yesterday I was walking down a mountain side. But this was not just any old mountain side. This was Mount Doom. I said MOUNT DOOM. But, I didn’t not know what mountain it was, until after this small story has ended. Anyway, I was walking down the mountain and I saw two short people with furry feet and big bushy heads. Thinking it was my two best friends, Matthew and Josh, I called out “George and Harry!” They didn’t turn around. So I called out “Matthew and Josh!” In a rare moment of insight, I called out “Frodo and Sam!” The fat one turned around and said “look, Mr. Frodo! It’s a weirdo running down the mountain side with lava behind him!” At that I turned around and nearly died from fright. In fact I nearly died from lava. I hastened down the mountain side at a tremendous clip. In front of me, Frodo and Sam collapsed on a rock jutting out. I tried to reach them but I was swept away by a pool of lava. By a river of lava. Lucky I was wearing my duck-tape suit, which lava cannot penetrate. The last thing I saw before my head struck a rock was an eagle soaring out of the sky and picking up Frodo and Sam. Something unusual in movies, it faded to white. Sometime later, I woke with a fright. It was very warm. It was out of the norm. I felt reborn. And I saw Aragorn. He walked towards me, battling Orcs left and right. They fell off his sword, cut clean in two. Mountains of orcs piled up all over the place. Then suddenly, I saw Mace. Windu, that is. He was coming from the other direction. His light saber glaring and a siren was blaring. And then, up above, I saw a blue heron. “Look out below!” Was the cry from the sky. White pellets came raining, smashing orcs on high. (It rhymes with sky.) Who would reach me first? Who would save me? Find out next time on…
The life and times of Mr. Smith.

Thus ends this week’s reflections. And then my mirror image disappeared.