The Unconscious Mind and Cheese

I’m not sure, but I think a caffeine deficiency can keep my unconscious mind awake. It’s a little bit like having a college roommate who has a schedule opposite to your own. You know about each other’s existence and you may occasionally leave notes for one another, but you never actually sit in the same room. You walk in, see the state of the apartment and wonder, “What happened here?” or “What was he thinking?” or “How did melted cheese end up there?”

I don’t know about yours, but my unconscious self usually keeps to himself. Most of the time, he’ll stay in his part of my brain with the lights off. However, on those occasions where I’ve been too busy to down the minimum amount of coffee for the day, my conscious mind will get drowsy and my unconscious self will emerge from his crawlspace. We’ll exchange uncomfortable pleasantries and he’ll complain about the excessive quietness. We’ll both eye the dishes in the sink and then one of us will change the subject.

He’ll close the window blinds, turn off as many lights as possible, and slink into the shadows. His eyes glow just a bit, so the net effect is a tad unnerving. “Are you awake?” he’ll whisper. I’m not always sure what he hopes the answer will be. I’ll usually pull myself up and pretend that I’m fully alert. While not convinced, he will usually make some excuse and then slip back into his crawlspace. Just before closing the trapdoor, he’ll say, “Stay out of my room. You wouldn’t like what you’d see.” The door will creak closed and metal will scrape as heavy locks grind closed.

“Right,” I’ll declare. “…As if I’d want to see your lair.” He knows I do. However, I know that he knows that I do and that he still got away without doing his own dishes or explaining what happened to the couch.  I’ll pour some more coffee and rub the sleep from my eyes. “That should knock him out for a few hours,” I’ll crow. Deep down, I know that it’s only a temporary fix and that as soon as I fall asleep, he’ll sneak out and lurk, unrestrained, throughout my brain.

That reminds me, I’m going to leave him a note telling him to stop using all of my cheese.

Deeply Disturbed Donuts

Sugar is the least of your concerns with these donuts. They’re not natural. They do strange and unpleasant things to people. Everything about the donut shop screams, “Do Not Enter!” Urban legends whisper unbelievable stories of bizarre accidents caused by these donuts. Some say that the people who eat them may never return to normal. Very few have ever dared to enter the shop. Legends say that even fewer have returned. Even more terrifying, however, are the descriptions of the owner, a dark and mysterious woman known only as, “Chaos.”

Deeply Disturbed Donuts is a novella that I’m writing. I’ve uploaded the first part to Wattpad.com for those who are eager for an early taste. I am not responsible for any unexpected side effects you may experience. You’ve been warned.

If you are the sort whose curiosity gets the better of you, I have one piece of very important advice. Whatever you do, do not eat the donut with the furry purple frosting. I think that’s probably a good rule of thumb in general.

Un-Advice

Sometimes, I’m asked for advice. Most of the time, however, I’m not. Go figure. All of that advice just bubbles and festers, waiting on an inquiring mind (or one without a sense of self-preservation) to ask for it. After waiting for several decades for someone with a dangerously over-developed curiosity to ask, I’ve begun to realize that it’s just not going to happen.

I know. You’re probably just as stunned as I am. Don’t worry, though, because I’ve thought of the perfect solution. I’ll assume that you asked. I’m sure you meant to do it. I’ve got you covered.

I call it Un-Advice and I’ve created a category for it on this blog. I’ll post some random pearls of wisdom which may infest your life and help me to clear out some of the mental toxic waste I’ve been hauling around. Here are some examples.

“Humans are red meat, but we taste more like pork. Researching this can raise eyebrows. It’s a good idea to realize that when conducting research for a story, not everyone will share your enthusiasm.”

“Creative problem solving is based upon the concept that most people are hopelessly incompetent. Never assume that anyone else did their job properly. Sure, they might have, but the odds are not good.”

“People. There’s just no excuse.”

“Learning about Electricity at a conceptual level is different from licking an electric fence. Some lessons are only learned through acts of unbelievable stupidity. The question is whether or not one chooses to learn by observation or participation…”

“If you agree to review a book, you should pay an appropriate amount of attention to it. Skimming a book, glancing at pages and flipping through it in order to spend as little time as possible on it is a bit like texting throughout a movie and then complaining that you couldn’t get into it. If you put in the effort and still don’t like it, at least you’ll know that you gave it a chance.”

“Just because melted cheese gets stuck in a beard, does not mean that one must give up pizza when one grows a face blanket. I mean, we’re talking about pizza. One can always wear a facekin (It’s like a napkin, but for your face.) Hey, I didn’t write the rules for dining etiquette in polite society.”

There you go. You’re welcome. You see? This is what happens when you let un-advice spoil in my head. You’re probably rethinking that decision not to ask for advice now, aren’t you?

The Hair Inside

I’m not sure, but I think I’ve been tricked by my hair. For years now, I’ve been cutting it, hacking at it like a jungle explorer with no real sense of direction. It’s had enough. I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think it has secretly been growing inward. I mean, it’s not like there’s much coming out on top anymore. There are a couple of wanderers who appear to have a faulty GPS. They may claim to prefer wide open spaces, but they’re not really fooling anyone. Deep under the skin, safe from razors and sharp objects, my hair has secretly explored other nefarious options.

Wrapped around my brain, coiled around my spine, and worming its way between organs, my hair lurks in smug arrogance. I don’t know where it gets that. Oh, you’re looking at me like I’m crazy. When I had a full head of hair, I was a skinny Bubba. Now that my head reflects so much sunlight that it can shoot down satellites, I’m not quite as svelte as I used to be. The implications are obvious. I’m packing hair.

Of course, it slips up every now and then. When one of my eyes feel itchy, like there’s a stray eyelash that can’t be found, I know it’s being tickled from the inside. Strange hairs looming from ears? It’s just my hair taking a peek outside to see what’s going on. The nose hair thing is really just to irritate me. It’s playful that way.

I’m not sure about my hair’s end game. I doubt that it thought this through to a logical conclusion. Sooner or later, it will run out of room, even with an expanding cargo bay. At that point, I think it will attempt to disguise the excess hair as a bad case of Hobbit-Feet. Since hobbits are known for sporting copious amounts of silken locks from their feet, there’s a good chance that no one will notice for quite some time. Eventually, I will solve the problem by using the foot fur as a comb-over, with the added benefit of saving expensive satellites. Hey, I’m not a complete fashion noob.

Surprise!

People say that they love surprises. I’m not so sure. I think it depends on the nature of the surprise.

Many years ago, when I was in my teens, our community was foolish enough to allow my friends and I to create a “haunted house” for a Fall Festival. More accurately, it was a Barn of Surprises. Now, we lived in a rural area and we had an intimate knowledge of barns. While none of us was into Halloween gore, we loved practical jokes. The best jokes always included a surprise element, something that no one would see coming.

We didn’t have any budget for this event, so we used materials readily on-hand, including a local farmer’s barn. This particular barn featured several empty stalls and small rooms around the periphery and a 2-story stack of hay bales in the middle. It was perfect. We created scenes for each room and stall, with a path that would lead “guests” through the barn. Since we were all adept at stacking bales, we created an elaborate tunnel through the stack. There was enough room to crawl, single-file, through a narrow tunnel made of 60 pound bales. After a couple of turns, one would have to explore the tunnel completely blind. That’s where we planned a surprise.

Night fell and guests arrived. We waited until we had enough people to begin the tour. Our victims were led inside, where they were treated to a few rather obvious “scary” elements. People laughed and relaxed, thinking this would be pretty tame. In a room in one corner of the barn, we had placed an old tub filled with red water and a willing volunteer. She kept her eyes closed and lay still, with water up to her neck. We kept the walls clear around the tub so that people would walk around her to get to the door on the other side of the room. Along each wall, there was an open window. Everyone expected the tub-girl to lunge or splash them, so they slowly backed up against the wall and stepped sideways to get around her.

That’s where I came in. I was waiting outside a window until several people had passed by. A few young girls slowly crossed in front of the window. Everyone in the room was fixated on the tub, expecting the inevitable lame attempt to startle the unwary, so no one saw me. I selected one in the middle of the pack, reached in, grabbed her around the waist, and yanked her out of the window.

The screaming inside the barn lasted for several minutes. My victim thought it was hilarious and I brought her back so she could catch up to her friends. After another couple of rooms, the guests were informed that the only way out of the barn from that point, was to enter The Tunnel. We explained that we had created a path through the hay bales they could crawl through and that it was perfectly safe. We could hardly contain ourselves as they lined up and crawled inside.

Everything had led up to this moment. You see, one of my friends had come up with an idea to add a little something extra to the tunnel. He had rigged up several thin strips of raw liver (yes, liver) on strings to hang across the tunnel. We had placed these slices of joy deep within the darkest part of the tunnel.

So, when you’re crawling on your hands and knees through an enclosed mass of hay, there’s no room to turn or let someone else go ahead of you. You can’t stand up because there are dozens of bales over your head. You can’t back up because there are people in your way. When you crawl through a tunnel and encounter an obstacle, such as strips of slimy liver hanging in mid-air in the darkness, you hit it with your face. Oh. Yes.

We knew when the first person encountered our surprise from the screams. Each face that enjoyed it added screams of their own. One by one, our guests fled the tunnel, pausing only to wipe their faces and shudder. When we told them later what that substance was that had slid across their exposed faces, the screams were deafening.

My friends and I enjoyed our little surprise immensely, but our guests did not appear to love it as much as you might think. In hindsight, it would appear that one’s enjoyment of a surprise depends largely on one’s perspective. Oddly enough, we were not invited to participate in the festival in subsequent years.

I know. We were surprised, too.

Cool Summer Sale

Heat is hot.  Summer has a lot of it.  Sitting in an air conditioned room is cool.  Sitting in an air conditioned room with an eBook is even cooler.

This year, the month of July is getting cooler.  From July 1 to July 31, 2013, you can purchase a copy of Reality Challenged at Smashwords for 50% off.  Just go to the Smashwords web site http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/262469 and use Coupon Code SSW50b when you check out.

The question to ask yourself is, “Would I rather endure the horrendous suffering caused by frying under a massive ball of fire dangling precariously overhead, or relax in serene comfort while reading a funny book?”  I think you know the right answer.