Bear Coat Invention

Live Bear Fur Coat, genetically engineered to live docilely as an outer garment. With hollow tubes for arms, you can slip right in and cozy on up. Just don’t forget the muzzle!

Ever get spray-paint on your fine fur things? Does it seem like everywhere you go, you’re getting blood thrown on you? Why not try a Bear Skin Coat, complete with live bear! Real organs pumping blood throughout the coat will keep you warm through the toughest winter and also give you a friend for company. When you’re in from the cold, just set the bear-coat on the ground and watch it pull itself around with its teeth! How adorable. These bear coats are also thick enough to keep you warm but not make you look fat.

Live bear coats. The answer to all the critics!

I Went Fishing

If I were a fish and I got caught, I would sit in my bucket and think on life. Probably about all the other fish I had eaten and about those times I swam past a rock and didn’t look closer. Maybe other things but those two would take precedence.

Before the death rattle, I would be happy I was no longer able to vampire my way through the ocean. No more mama fish without a baby fish coming home because of me. No more upset stomach because of fish guts and fish tears. I suffered along with you small fish and this is a fitting end. Glob, glob.

As I suffocated slowly I would also consider the many rocks gone unexplored. Adventures in floating and swimming that could have taken place. Rocks perhaps hiding female fish that knew how to have fun but also be serious and help with my issues and baggage. And, oh. Oh, the fish eggs that might have been fertilized. Hidden yes, and now forever hidden, the little Eric fish that would have looked hard through fish eyes and not made the mistakes of their father fish.

To be a fish on this day and to die in a bucket. Sweet irony of the fish world. Funny, sad fish gods! There’s fish blood on your hands humans! And fish in your fish stomachs!

Communion Cracker Down!

If anyone doesn’t know what intinction is, it’s when you dip the cracker representation of Jesus’ body into the grape juice representation of Jesus’ blood and then eat the drippy bread-ish cracker.  It is done at church to remind people of Jesus.  It’s not like at Catholic Church where the priest lays the bread into your mouth and then pours a little wine into your mouth from a communal cup; it relies a lot more on the rememberer: his skill, his basic motor functions.  It’s a lot of pressure.

Yesterday, I dropped the cracker into the grape juice.

It started well.  I reached into the little wooden bowl and went for the big piece like I always do but then it ended up being an illusion of a big piece and I unsteadily came up with just the tiniest bit pinched sideways between my fingers.  People were behind me so I made for the juice quickly as the cracker wiggled back and forth like a guy climbing a sideways rope ladder toward a carnival prize.  Right when I thought I had it, post-dip and pre-rocket toward my mouth, it slips out and sinks to an unseen depth.

I’m like “dammit” under my breath, already assuring my spot in hell but then I just make the move like everything’s all right.  Empty hand up to lips and furious chewing of nothingness, feigned composure.   I turn quickly and walk back to my seat staring at the floor. 

I imagined the people playing pop-Christian music-to-commune-by up front looking at me to the side of their microphones, creasing their foreheads.  They hold themselves back from stopping the music, exposing me to the congregants and forcing me to fish out my sacramental failure, demanding an explanation, attempting an exorcism, hitting my forehead with their open palms. 

In my chair, I stare at the back of my eyelids pretending to feel the benefits of a successful communion and trying to guide my harried thoughts to a prayer.  After a few minutes, I give up and settle on the hope that God’s enjoyment of representations doesn’t extend to my empty mouth. 

Blog Blood?

Do blogs have feelings?  What if I were to not write on one for a while?  How would it feel?  Would it reformat my charts?  Would it unexpectedly quit many times over?  If you prick a blog, will it not eat your documents? Oh blog of mine, forgive a lowly blogger for his blogless blog blog.

Bed Bugs

I think there are bugs in my bed and they bite me at night.  I’ve found two.  One looked like a cricket and the other I looked up on the internet and learned it is called a house centipede.  They have 15 sets of legs and an overall scary-ass appearance (see picture).

I’m no stranger to bug bites at night as I’ve spent a combined year, maybe two, of my life sleeping in cabins or tents.  After most nights out there, I wake up, start scratching and then get really tingly, like the bug venom/bacteria is distilling with my blood and testing its defenses.  After a time, I calm down and get on with my life but I don’t think I’m the same person.  I’m part bug now.  And the bugs are part me.

Cleaning Things Thoughts

I enjoy cleaning when I can see a real result.  Viz. 

1.  I cleaned my hardwood floor and little carpet that sits in the middle of the floor yesterday and filled up my trashcan with rocks, dirt and dust bunnies. 

2.  Picking at my fingernails where, if I have not scratched under there recenty, little collections of crud come away, is a great pick me up.

3.  Flossing is much more satisfying if you get bits of food that taste like lemon juice out from between your teeth.  Swishing afterward and spitting out reddish, speckled water trumps spitting out bit-less, clear water any day, too.

So this is what if feels like to clog.

The first blog.  Here's something I thought about this morning: blood sacks and putty.  All the littlest blood sacks ran around the room with their human shoes and RC racers.  They had their putty and it didn't make anyone laugh because it was serious and wouldn't pick up the print on a newspaper and it was thrown.  Some putty got pulled across the floor until one of the humans walked by and tripped on it.  The blood sack broke into a blood pool and made us all a little creeped out because this is the first blog and it's supposed to interest us.  The first blog.