Dear Guests, Patrons and People Who Remain Confused about the Socks-with-Sandals issue,

  “Thank you for joining us on yet another night of Bonnywood’s Annual Cultural Arts Festival and Bacchanalia. As we welcome another entry in the 3-Word Challenge, I feel the need to-

Suddenly, two burly men wearing vaguely-military garb tromped across the stage and stood in front of me, their admirable muscles blocking the admiration that I naturally assumed was coming from the audience. “We’re here to relieve you,” said the slightly-more-burly one.

My eyes sparked with lust. “Really? Right here?”

“We need you to come with us,” added the slightly-less-burly one.

My sparkle brightened. “Even better!”

Ellen DeGeneres poked her head out from behind Slightly Less. “You’re making this situation much more sad than it really needs to be. Please quit show-boating and follow Lex and Luthor to the special section of the stage that does not have microphones.”

I was flummoxed, which was far less satisfying than being relieved. “I don’t understand. Did I miss a memo? My email account has been entirely too wacky since Google got really aggressive with the spam filter.”

Ellen smiled primly, one of only two people on the planet who can do so without it seeming to be insulting. “Now, Brian, we talked about this at the last Bacchanalia presentation. You have been replaced by your clone, Me Two. He will be hosting the ceremonies this evening.”

I continued with the flummoxing. “But this is my bacchanalia. I created Bonnywood.”

Ellen continued with the smiling primly. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have taken the company public, where you have to answer to a board of directors. Now, as I often have to tell my wife Portia when she tries to crash my show, love you to death but could you please go somewhere that is not here.”

Before I could prepare an adequately acidic retort, a la Dorothy Parker, Lex and Luthor hoisted me in the air with relative ease (and I ain’t no featherweight, boys and girls), marched forth to the special section which at least had the decency to have a velvet rope around it, and plunked my non-featherness into a chair between two other men. They then raced off to wherever it is that burly men go when their burliness is no longer needed.

I turned to the man on my right, and my no-longer sparkly eyes lit upon another victim of unceremonious relieving. “Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

James Comey, the FBI Director who was fired by The Orange Crush because he wouldn’t throw his legs into the air like most of the Republican Party, grimaced benignly in my direction. “Hey, Bri-Bri. Sucks, doesn’t it, when the people you helped create suddenly turn on you?”

I nodded. “It certainly does, although in your case perhaps things would have gone a bit better if you had picked a side and stayed with it. But still, any advice?”

He nodded. “Keep your mouth shut until the book comes out. Then you can get your revenge.”

I didn’t nod, fully aware that two of my own books had come out and not a damn thing had changed about anything. James no longer held any interest for me. I turned to my left and found another man who had also been relieved, mainly because he supposedly died, but perhaps not. “Has there been a resurrection that didn’t make the headlines?” I inquired sweetly, because instinct told me not to piss off something that might be undead.

Isaac Asimov, science fiction writer extraordinaire, moved his head in a manner that may or may not have affirmed my query. I didn’t catch the nuance, mainly because I was too transfixed by those sideburns of his that could shield the populace from a nuclear detonation. “Anything is possible, if you do the research. Not that the current Administration would know, fixated as they are on slashing funding for education in this country. Education Secretary Betsy DeVos has the scholastic ability of a toadstool, no offense to the toadstool.”

I sighed. “Transmission received and confirmed. Preach, my undead brother. But more importantly in this moment, why are you here?”

Isaac ground his teeth before responding. “It seems that Ellen did not fully appreciate my creation of your clone, one that she insipidly insists on calling ‘Me Two’ and not ‘Cyborg Bonny’ as per my schematics. Something about the demographics for her show.”

Given my druthers, I didn’t care for the cyborg moniker either, but I couldn’t show my hand until I had the full story. “And what, pray tell, did Ellen not find satisfying with your creation, other than the fact that it was apparently designed to destroy the last scrap of joy in my life?”

Isaac lowered his head, possibly due to slight embarrassment but more likely due to the weight of his sideburns having succumbed to gravity. “I forgot to develop a trivia module for the logic processor in Me Two.”

My heart froze briefly, and I struggled to recover. “Wait. Are you telling me that my replicant does not have the ability to answer obscure trivia questions, something that is the foundation of my being?”

Isaac nodded, this time very clear. “Especially if it involves movie or music trivia.”

I could have taken his life right there and then, if he hadn’t already been dead.

Isaac sensed my dismay, despite the buffer of the sideburns. “It’s okay. Other than that minor discrepancy, your replicant is fully programmed to perform just like you and the guests at Bonnywood won’t notice a difference and will continue to love you. Unless somebody asks him a trivia question.”

I was speechless.

Over at center stage, Ellen was not speechless. “Please welcome to the stage the man who will be sharing hosting duties this evening with Me Two. Alex Trebek!”

I died inside once again.

Artiste: Genevieve at “Neuroses Undefined”

Three Words: truly, strong, compulsion

Medium: Humorous Reflection

And here we go…

3-Word Challenge

I followed another blog to this one (https://brianlageose.blog/2018/03/23/writer-to-writer-the-3-word-challenge-2/) and got my 3-word challenge.  The result is below.  

Following people on WordPress creates its own adventures and this one was well worth it.

Why are some days just harder than others?  Considering life is very much work, eat, sleep with the odd variation, e.g. date, dance or outing, there should be some reliability in waking up with the same attitude and compulsion to face the day.

Obviously, reliability is overrated, as is the damn call I just got from Telstra.

Telstra – we can lower your monthly charge.

Me – go ahead and do it, you really don’t need my details to do so

Telstra – no we need that, yada yada yada ….

Me – fine do it if it will save me $100 per month

Telstra – please hold 2 minutes

Me – *rolls eyes and waits*

Telstra – starts yammering and then “if you cancel early…”

Me – WAIT!  Hold on! Is this a contract??

Telstra – yes, and it will save you money

Me – no thanks.  We are pay as you go and quite happy, and you never mentioned contract at the start of this call.

Telstra – but, but

Me – *hangs up*

Yep, no fucking reliability.  Unless you count reliability to be the fact that they will truly screw with you, given a microcosm of a chance.

Now where was I?  Oh yeah.  My start to the day.

The lack of compulsion today could be related to the fact that I had a weekend full of new things.  Dates and dancing, along with some time on the beach.  A weekend full of NEW.  So why the hell would I want to behave in the same manner as I do each and every morning?

Dancing proved to me just how weak and inflexible I am.  The instructor is strong in ways I just cannot describe.  Her muscle control makes me look like a tub of jelly having a serious case of the wobbles.  Belly dancing takes on a whole new meaning!

The dates were cool.  The age difference very apparent in the men I spent time with, and a definite realisation that age does not equal maturity.  Conversations that ranged from AI, creating a reality and taking over the world, to an understanding that sometimes you just want to sit in front of the TV because everything else is too hard.

Backhanded compliments that went something along the lines of “you’re very mature for your age”; that make me shake my head as the person delivering it just has no clue.  It truly is a diverse little world!   I am also reminded that I need to stress less.  We are who we are, all little atoms that bump together in this strange world.  Without the diversity and lack of maturity across ALL ages, it would be boring.  I can see that going with the flow will make me strong in the long run, even if it is a little tedious now.

All in all a weekend that made me think, relax and ended up making this morning bloody hard!  No compulsion to get on with a working day, I would rather be out there enjoying the gorgeous autumn day.

Ah but back we go …

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This piece has been nominated in the following categories:

The Grind and Thrust Award for persevering in the pursuit of belly-dancing despite warning signs.

The Bait and Switch Award for successfully surviving an unrequited telemarketing call.

The Sometimes I Just Want to Binge Watch Award for choosing to follow your own dream instead of the dreams forced on you by others.

Gratitude Award from the founder of Bonnywood Manor.

You can review more of Genevieve’s portfolio by clicking here.

Later that evening, after everyone else had gone home, three men remained on the stage, encircled by a velvet rope and varying degrees of shame…

James: “I’m now beginning to wonder if maybe I should have said something before I had a publicist. Maybe then I wouldn’t be trapped in a story at Bonnywood Manor.”

Me: “I really don’t want to hear it, Jimmy. I created this place without a publicist. And look where it got me, with my own words turning against me.”

Isaac: “As long as you have imagination, you will always be free.”

Me: “Blow it out your ass, Isaac.”