Musings from the basement...

A Butt for the Holidays: A Christmas Fable

The air tastes like electricity. Stairs are no obstacle; I take them four at a time. If Mom saw, she would be furious. Dad would pretend to be furious, too, but he’d secretly be proud of my stair-leaping prowess. I am the best Stair Jumper in the house. Downstairs, the scene couldn’t be more perfect. Pine needles. Tin ornaments. Bulbs straining to give off light without catching fire. Dozens of neatly-wrapped gifts. Except Debra is there, too. She’s up. She’s awake. Debra. The girl who eats salt in the morning and spits it at people the rest of the day. The girl who chews gerbils. The girl whose eyes melt happiness. The worst sister. Debra. “You slept late.” She’s nuts. It’s 5:37am. Not even Dad…
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It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963) is a bonafide classic

It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963) has long been a favorite. First saw it as a kid, and despite its all-star cast of comedians largely being from before my time, it drew me in and kept me there for all its 3-hour+ running time. I’ve revisited it periodically ever since, and not only has it continued to hit the mark every time, it gets BETTER with each viewing. The laughs, the banter, the stunts, the social commentary – and of course, the top-shelf cast of stars. I absolutely love it. In fact, when Tig and I over on Nerd Out With Me were doing our Movie Club film review series, it was going to be within the next few we did before we…
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I made a dungeon. This is it

Have I ever posted about my model terrain hobby? I don’t think I have. Well, now I am. Like so many of us, I used the pandemic lockdowns as an excuse to dive into a hobby I always wanted to dive into. In my case, it was making model terrain from scrap crap. We had model railroads growing up and I enjoyed them, but it was my old man’s hobby, not mine. He did all the work. This would be like that, but different. Years ago, I briefly dabbled in painting miniatures of the sort used in tabletop games and war games, but was never particularly good at it. My attention to detail just isn’t there. Over time, however, I started daydreaming about making a…
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A Dream of Impossible People 007 (FICTION)

read part 1 – read part 6 Mortar shells. The chatter of gunfire. Pine branches whipped against my face, sugar sand kicking up behind me and bullets ripping through the foliage. The shouts came from behind, from left, from right. In this place of peace, there was only chaos. “Go, go, go!” And I ran, ran, ran. No, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t what this place was. I stopped running and the air stilled. I heard only the echo of gunfire now, from some far off time or place. Explosions like a whisper from yesterday. But there was no pursuit. No figures on a rise. No young soldiers with weapons of wood and imagination. There were only tires in the water that had been there…
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A Dream of Impossible People 006 (FICTION)

read part 1 – read part 5 A bottle of whiskey lay half-open on a counter somewhere, the counter in a void of gray mist. In the next room, a body swollen with gas, three days dead. Bruises kissed its waist. More bottles lay nearby. Further into the void, a hole in the Earth, endless, covered with rotting wood boards. One false step … A garbage bag filled with chemicals. Pine needles on fire. A kick in the night followed by tears. A groped breast in the back of an old car. A night in a basement filled with vomit. All of these things were true. He shook his head, willed the void away, willed the truth away, but the room and the stool and…
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