Session October 7 2017

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She didn’t know better than to say what came into her head.

By CC

Ursula went to find the magician in the woods late one winter evening. She was wearing her ermine cloak closely wrapped around her body to stave off the cold. The cold was her enemy; it made her mechanism stop working.

Today she was lucky; a curl of smoke twisting from the cottage chimney told her the magician was home. She kicked politely at the door and heard him shambling over to open it.

“Oh, you,” he said dismissively, standing to one side to let her pass. “Tick tock tick tock,” she replied nervously. It was always difficult dealing with him, or anyone, for that matter.

“Here,  let me take your coat,” he said, chuckling.  She walked over by the fire to warm  her legs. “Let me see. You want me to un-curse you, I’ll bet.”

“Tick tock, tick tock,” Ursula replied, hoping to convey subdued humility.

“Well, it’s been long enough, wouldn’t you say?” he chuckled, and waved his magic wand over her form. They both stood expectantly, waiting for something to happen. She was so excited she could barely hold still But nothing changed. He waved it again, and then again. Then he laughed outright and she knew he was just being cruel. It was his nature to be cruel. She didn’t know better than to say what came into her head and replied “TICK tock TICK tock TICK tock…”

The magician laughed until he fell down and cracked his head on the edge of the sofa. Knocked out, he rolled and dropped the wand. Ursula grabbed it with her toes and waved it around a few times, not sure how it worked. Suddenly a crackle filled the room and the magician turned into a large pot of flowers with legs. The flowerpot suddenly surged to its feet and began running around the room, banging into things, dropping blossoms.

“Tick tock tick tock,” laughed Ursula. Let him see what it felt like now. She warmed her mechanism before the fire, while they both lasted.

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A month after he arrived he had been writing letters full of miserable nostalgia.
by MD

He'd always wanted to visit the forbidden city. He'd stared at the photo of the royal red gate for hours on end, dreaming of exotic sites and fascinating people. He entered every sweepstakes, every lottery, every Publisher's Clearing House contest, in an attempt to win enough money to finance his trip. Finally, ironically, it was his Irish Sweepstakes entry which bought his ticket to China. So he packed his bags, booked his trip, and boarded the airplane.

After what seemed an interminable time of flight delays, custom searches, taxicab scams and rickshaw malfunctions, he found himself at the red portal. He knocked and was quickly admitted by an inscrutable doorman outfitted in black silk pajamas. In his excitement, he failed to notice that the doorman locked the gate behind him.

It took a while before he recognized that the door he had daydreamed so long about entering was really the entrance to a prison. There was no escape for him. A month after he arrived he had been writing letters full of miserable nostalgia. He wrote about his longing for burgers and fries at Mickey D's, and losing at the weekly lottery, and cleaning out the litter box of his childhood pet cat Dribbles. 

The problem was, there was no way to mail them. So he spent the remainder of his life learning to speak and write in Chinese, so he could introduce the prison guards and his fellow prisoners to the miserable nostalgia of life in 21st century America. It wasn't long before his writings incited a riot, and the prisoners battered down the gates and escaped. All except our lonely letter writer, who was trampled and killed in the  melee.

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The individual profits were issued quarterly in separate checks.
by RMAF

Mount Heaven gazing was a big mountain, a mesa in the vast American desert. Back in 1955, there was a little ad in the Wall Street journal: "Big Mountain for sale by Chief Mighty Flighty." He was a solo Indian who had roamed the desert for decades. 

A group of planet gazers who read the ad in the Wall Street Journal decided to put their money together and buy the massive mountain mesa. Then they put ads in all the planetary magazines: "Rent Mount Heaven Gazing for a day, a week or a month."

They were successful in their business adventure. They even let the now-rich and popular Chief Mighty Flighty keep his 10 tepees and 10 wives and 33 children (and counting) on his old home spot on the mountain mesa. 

The individual profits were issued quarterly to the co-owner of the rock, in separate checks.

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He was appalled at his anger, but he couldn’t stop himself

By RC

Angus was an average bull—at least, he thought that he was average. His owner had named him under the mistaken impression that he was an Angus bull, but then Fred was not really much of a cattleman. He had been a top CEO in the corporate world at one time, but had always harbored a secret desire to be a rancher, so when he retired he bought his acreage in eastern Texas and started acquiring animals. What Fred did not know was that Angus was actually a Mexican breed of bull, and he was proud of the fact.

Angus had a very protective nature, and all of the young calves, of whatever breed they were, just naturally sensed that. Whenever there was danger they resorted to him. And Angus would charge anyone who came too close, because the calves and their mothers were always afraid that they would be taken away and relocated to another ranch—or even worse, taken to the slaughter house. Now, Angus couldn’t really see too well, because first of all, he had a thick patch of hair which hung down the front of his face. Sometimes he charged the wrong people, such as the time when the missus came out to collect a young, white calf. She only wanted to show him off to some friends, because he was a very special breed.

Angus would get very angry at such times. Really, he was appalled at his anger, but he couldn’t stop himself. On this occasion the missus scrambled away, in a deathly fright and tripped, sprawling face first into what humans called a “cow patty.” Well, of course, Angus being the kind soul that he really was, was mortified. He didn’t know what he could do to make it up to her. He decided to herd the little white calf over to the ranch house and her waiting friends. They admired the calf, of course, but even more the bull which could do herding chores. One of them was in the news business and it wasn’t long before she brought a camera crew out to do a story on the bull that herded animals. Angus was not too jazzed about this, so he charged them. But then, again, he was ashamed of his behavior. He just could not help himself, but his anger never lasted long. So, to make it up to them, he rounded up every calf on the ranch and brought them to the house and the waiting group of reporters.

And that was how Angus ended up in the circus. He never really wanted to be a circus bull. To him that was just too much bull! But, he tried very hard to hold his temper, and the circus even had a solution. They let him charge the clowns. Of course, Angus had never actually struck a single person, but he was the delight of the circus as he pretended to hit them in the butt. Still, he missed the old days on the ranch, so he ran away several times. Finally, the missus there sent him a photo of him and the little white calf, who was his favorite, and they put it up on the wall of his stall at the circus. Finally, Angus settled down.

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We see the times set out in a graphical form that encompasses location, duration and order.
by JS

We see the times set out in a graphical form that encompasses location, duration and order. I am using this picture to illustrate my position.

Currently we are encumbered by piggishness. The graphics here depict a society reflecting that. The location (from the photo) could be anywhere in rural America - keeping in mind that citizens of large cities often travel to the hinterlands to perform their most nefarious deeds: to let loose and become the inner animals that they truly are.

Further, it is a test of endurance, for example, to stand in the hot sun (or cold wind) exposed to the elements, for unless a man (or pig) is willing to devote himself to such a display - giving time and energy for the cause - it cannot be said that he truly embraces it.

The order depicted in this picture - each man standing stolidly beside the next, chests, snouts and belly buttons aligned, all adhering to the Chief situated in prominence behind them - is a prime example. Without this order, it is obvious that the pigs, and their just cause, would fall apart.

And so, we have herein, a picture of our times: Piggish men, controlled by one white, duck-like being, restructuring our society, for better or worse, into a new ideological framework.

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She put the letter down and looked out to sea.
by BG

She put the letter down and looked out to sea. Wiping the stray tear from her eye, she thought back on their bittersweet parting earlier. She was not going to let him get to her even though it was no fair for him to leave right before Christmas. It was even more unfair to the little guy. He just adored him. Couldn't bear to let him go this morning and clung to him all the way down to the dock to see him off.

Realizing he hadn't come back home, she turned and went over to the front door, grabbed her jacket to go out and look for him, and as she pulled the door open, there was her little man with Christmas in his arms. Even though he was not going to be there in person, he hadn't let his boy down on his promise that they'd have a good holiday.

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She was not surprised to see that already he was a million miles away.
by TNT

As she glanced down at the guidebook she was not surprised to see that he was already a million miles away. She could enjoy the art galleries without his whining demands. A million miles behind her wasn't far enough. Why had she ever allowed herself to give in to his pressure to have a child? As soon as she returned from Europe she would ask for a divorce and allow her husband to have the child to raise. 

All she wanted to do was travel. Her husband did not appreciate her culture and her mind, but at least he paid for her stylish clothes and the high style of her life. She was very happy to be alone. Who needed a little Sasquatch to drool on her clothes and throw up all over the new couch?  Goodness! Her resolution permitted her a brief smirk, He wanted the child. Now he could deal with it.