doc's birthday is coming up. i do so love my girl.
a random search for images on google inspired a birthday story.
the dawn of the aerospace age
by jfante
as the rest of us waited in back, pulling at our laces, and thinking about our next meal, she walked confidently out onto the stage. applause flooded the areas behind the curtains, hurting our ears. "what must it be like out there?" we wondered.
she began with simple tricks, pulling arbor day treats from the air, spinning silken webs to capture the worries of the folks in the front rows, floating off to the ceiling to retrieve a helium-bulged stuffed cat for a youngster in the middle. "a plant. obviously a plant," we thought, but we were jealous and wrong.
the Dawn of the aerospace age moved into the meat of her act. a projection screen drop behind her, and a film began. the wonders of the modern world, explained.
"a flashlight works like this," she said. "the battery is crowded with wild light horses. when the button is pressed, they spring out, and run full boar, straight ahead, as the crow flies, direct to what you want to see. the clomp along the water molecules in the air."
"a toaster works like this," she said. "the bread is inserted, the button is pressed, and the filaments crowd around and tease the bread for its softness. it is embarrassed it tries harder. it hardens itself to the cruelty of filaments. it heats from the inside with self-righteous anger, and that's why the butter melts."
"a baby works like this," she said. "you buy one at the hospital. it has been spit out, like a watermelon seed, by the baby machine seen here. it grows in a glass of water on a window sill. that's why hospitals have so many windows. babies do not need food. babies do not need water. they are self-contained. anyone who says otherwise is quite likely mad."
"a treefrog works like this," she said. she did not speak. she let the film speak for itself. the audience marveled at the steam engine, and the billows.
"the aerospace age," she said, "is a marvelous time to be alive. look at all we have." and she showed all we have on screen. "thank you," she said, and left the stage.
we waited for the applause to die down, and took our positions. as she walked by me, i stared at her. marvelous her. wonderful her. how i loved her.
she smiled at me, and i thought maybe it would be nice to live in the here in the present, the two of us together, a baby machine baby drooling in the corner.
and then, i returned to my position, ass end of a juggling horse costume. spot, the dog in our dog and pony act, waggled his butt as she tickled his back.
she was good to animals.
there will be more.
a random search for images on google inspired a birthday story.
the dawn of the aerospace age
by jfante
as the rest of us waited in back, pulling at our laces, and thinking about our next meal, she walked confidently out onto the stage. applause flooded the areas behind the curtains, hurting our ears. "what must it be like out there?" we wondered.
she began with simple tricks, pulling arbor day treats from the air, spinning silken webs to capture the worries of the folks in the front rows, floating off to the ceiling to retrieve a helium-bulged stuffed cat for a youngster in the middle. "a plant. obviously a plant," we thought, but we were jealous and wrong.
the Dawn of the aerospace age moved into the meat of her act. a projection screen drop behind her, and a film began. the wonders of the modern world, explained.
"a flashlight works like this," she said. "the battery is crowded with wild light horses. when the button is pressed, they spring out, and run full boar, straight ahead, as the crow flies, direct to what you want to see. the clomp along the water molecules in the air."
"a toaster works like this," she said. "the bread is inserted, the button is pressed, and the filaments crowd around and tease the bread for its softness. it is embarrassed it tries harder. it hardens itself to the cruelty of filaments. it heats from the inside with self-righteous anger, and that's why the butter melts."
"a baby works like this," she said. "you buy one at the hospital. it has been spit out, like a watermelon seed, by the baby machine seen here. it grows in a glass of water on a window sill. that's why hospitals have so many windows. babies do not need food. babies do not need water. they are self-contained. anyone who says otherwise is quite likely mad."
"a treefrog works like this," she said. she did not speak. she let the film speak for itself. the audience marveled at the steam engine, and the billows.
"the aerospace age," she said, "is a marvelous time to be alive. look at all we have." and she showed all we have on screen. "thank you," she said, and left the stage.
we waited for the applause to die down, and took our positions. as she walked by me, i stared at her. marvelous her. wonderful her. how i loved her.
she smiled at me, and i thought maybe it would be nice to live in the here in the present, the two of us together, a baby machine baby drooling in the corner.
and then, i returned to my position, ass end of a juggling horse costume. spot, the dog in our dog and pony act, waggled his butt as she tickled his back.
she was good to animals.
there will be more.