Archive for the ‘Mike’s Rambling’ Category
Door to Door
Posted by Mike | Filed under Mike's Rambling
The knock on the door sounded oddly cheerful, but when Gwen opened it, she was startled to see a disheveled man with a crazed look about him. He reminded her of Rasputin, except for the complex looking machine he held in his hand. He produced a maniacal grin and started his spiel before she could close the door in his face.
“Good afternoon, sir or madam!” he exclaimed, small droplets of spittle spraying from his foam-flecked, crusted lips. “You are about to be amazed! Watch this!”
And with that he leaned past Gwen and threw a large handful of dirt onto her new, cream-colored carpet.
“What are you doing?” she screamed, “Have you lost your mind?” She realized too late that it was a rhetorical question.
“Fear not, pretty lady!” Rasputin chortled. “This is your lucky day! I am here to introduce you to the revolutionary Suck-o-Matic 9000, the next generation of home vacuum systems.” He brandished the device in his hand in what Gwen felt was an unnecessarily threatening manner.
“But my carpet,” she protested, “you’ve ruined it!”
“Tut tut, my dear,” he replied, “there is no dirt or stain too tough for the Suck-o-Matic 9000. It incorporates the latest breakthroughs in nanotechnology, space-age polymers and HOBO filters.”
“Isn’t that HEPA filters?”
“Never mind that. Give me five minutes of your time and this modern-day miracle will have that carpet looking better than new or I’ll personally eat every grain of dirt on your rug!”
Gwen looked doubtful. “Are you sure about that?” she asked.
“I guarantee it, madam! Just give me a minute to set it set up.”
“OK,” said Gwen as she turned away, “I’ll go out to the kitchen and get a spoon.”
Rasputin looked puzzled. “What is the spoon for, if I may ask?”
“It’s for you,” replied Gwen. “This is Maine, you know. The electricity’s been out for two days.”
The Troubador
Posted by Mike | Filed under Mike's Rambling
The young man walked slowly, reluctantly up to the entertainer after the show was over.
“Hi Dad,” he said, “do you want some help packing up?”
“Sure, Joey, that’d be great,” said his father as he unstrapped his Roland AX-7 keytar. “How’d you think the show went?”
“Oh, it was great! They really loved ‘Margaritaville, didn’t they?”
The older man smiled. “They always do. Jimmy Buffett’s a sure thing with a crowd like this. Of course, everyone here was at least as old as Jimmy; they grew up listening to him.”
They spent a few quiet minutes packing up the equipment. Finally, the young man cleared his throat.
“Dad,” he said, “Mom’s not at home.”
“Out shopping again? I hope not; she knows we don’t have much money.”
“No,” replied the son, “I mean she’s gone. She’s not coming home.”
The father stared at his son. “What do you mean she’s not coming home? Where is she?”
The son shook his head. “I don’t know, Dad. She wouldn’t tell me. She just said she’s leaving and won’t be there when you get home.”
“But why? What did I do?”
“It’s about the money, Dad. The credit card company called again this morning. And she’s been avoiding the landlord for two weeks now. She said she loves you, but she just can’t stand it any more.”
The father sat down heavily on his amplifier, a stricken look on his face.
“But… I know things are going to get better! I’m getting more gigs”
“Like this one, Dad? You’re doing this for free!”
“A gig’s a gig, son. My name is getting out there! The more I play, the more chance there is someone in the business will see me!”
The young man looked around, frustrated. “Dad, this is a free concert put on by the senior center! There weren’t any talent scouts here; there won’t ever be!”
The father shook his head in protest. “But it’s just a matter of time! Music is my life; it’s all I know how to do. It’s all I want to do!”
“Dad, there are other ways to make a living with music. You’re a great musician and a great teacher! You taught me to play. Isn’t that teaching job at the high school still open? They’d love you there!”
“But that’s a full-time job! I wouldn’t have time to play concerts!”
“But Dad, you’d still be a musician. You’d still be earning your living with music. Come on, at least consider it!”
The musician looked around at his equipment, then out across the lawn where his elderly audience was slowly filing away. He sadly lowered his head.
“What,” he murmured, “and leave show business?”
The Treasure Hunter
Posted by Mike | Filed under Mike's Rambling
Jason walked down the beach slowly, purposefully, swinging the metal detector back and forth in rhythmic four-foot arcs, covering every square inch of sand. The steady tone in his headset assured him he was missing nothing.
Jason had been hunting for buried treasure since he was a little boy, digging holes in his backyard despite his mother’s firm warnings, turning over every interesting-looking rock, reading endlessly about pirates and their treasures. He discovered beach combing with his wife, and they spent every vacation at beach resorts. When his wife died and he retired, he bought his first simple metal detector and was hooked on the hobby. Now he held a top of the line White’s Spectra model, a considerable investment that had almost finished paying for itself in the eight months he had owned it. It was like another pair of eyes to Jason, probing several inches into the sand for the valuable secrets that lay buried there. His ear was attuned to the slightest change in the detection tone; he could quickly identify and dismiss such junk as bottle caps and pieces of foil. He almost never stopped to dig without finding something interesting.
He had been searching for several hours this morning, methodically working back from the low tide mark. Suddenly he paused and swung the detector back, narrowing the arc until it was hovering exactly over the source of the strong signal he was hearing. Keeping his eye on the spot, he grabbed his sand rake and dug down several inches to reveal a large coin.
Jason picked it up and examined it closely. It looked nothing like the gold doubloon he had found last year. It was definitely not gold or silver. It was quite hard, and had a faint bluish tinge. It didn’t look tarnished, but he rubbed it between his fingers to see if the blue color rubbed off. The coin quickly grew warm in his hand and began to emit smoke. Startled, he dropped it and watched as the smoke grew thicker and condensed into the form of a rotund man in a sequined robe and a fez.
“Congratulations, Jason,” said the apparition, “I am the Genie of the Coin of Zander!”
“Holy Crap!” said Jason. “Is this some kind of joke? Am I being punked?”
“No,” assured the genie, “it is quite real. No one can see me but you. You have released me from the coin, so I will now grant you one wish.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be three wishes?” asked Jason.
“You’re thinking of the Genie of the Magic Lamp,” said the genie. “The Coin of Zander is much smaller, so we only do one wish at a time. Now, what do you desire?”
Jason thought for a long moment. “Well, I supposed I could wish for great wealth.”
“Yes, more riches than you can imagine could be yours,” replied the genie.
“Of course, I don’t really spend very much. I earn enough with this metal detector to pay my bills and have all the spending money I need. Maybe I should wish for love…”
“Certainly, Jason. The undying love of the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Jason shook his head. “No, I don’t think I’d want that. No woman could ever replace my late wife; it wouldn’t feel right.”
The genie waited while Jason thought some more. Finally, he grew impatient.
“Jason, you must decide. I cannot stay here much longer!”
“But I can’t think of the thing I want the most!” Jason protested. “I don’t want to waste my only wish!”
The genie smiled. “Perhaps you should let me decide for you. I know what you want the most.”
“Really?” Jason asked hopefully. “How can you know when I don’t even know?”
“Come on, Jason, you’re talking to a damn genie here! I’ve been in the wish business for longer than you can imagine!”
“OK, then, you decide for me,” Jason said with relief.
“Very well,” said the genie. He waved his hands and the coin rose up from the sand into the air. He clapped his hands together around it, held them for a few seconds, and then opened them with a flourish. The mysterious coin had vanished. Slowly, the genie began to fade from sight.
“Wait,” protested Jason, “tell me what wish you have granted!”
The genie smiled. “I’ve hidden the coin somewhere on this beach. Go find it again!”
And then he disappeared.