Ingrid’s Top Ten Recreational Drugs

Ingrid’s number one favourite recreational drug was sugar (it was not her true number one.)  Sugar gave her a solid high and she considered it a great drug (except for the cavities and false teeth.) 

Ingrid’s second favourite was caffeine.  It certainly delivered powerful energy and kept her solid in the morning and early afternoon.  Fruit juices had no caffeine but plenty of sugar, so she drank some when the coffee ran out (which was fine except for the ups and downs.) 

Her third favourite recreational drug was food.  Food gave her a warm, full feeling, delivered energy and even had flavour.  (She had IBS so digesting some of her favourite foods was problematic.)    

Her fourth favourite recreational drug?  Spices.  She splashed hot sauce on her main course, pepper and wasabi on the side dishes.  Her mouth burned (but it was an amazing high, your tongue scorched.)    

Ingrid’s fifth favourite recreational drug was entertainment, specifically movies.  It was a delirious high, losing herself while watching, two hours later almost waking up.  Many were violent (it bothered her she enjoyed watching people being beaten.)

Her sixth favourite was religion.  It left her feeling good, reassured her about current life and the afterlife–and did not cost nearly as much as her other recreational drugs.  (Plus, children used religion, which was reassuring.)   

Her seventh favourite recreational drug?  The news.  Every day there was something new, like scrolling on Facebook, every day videos of buildings being blown up.  She got high watching,  knowing bombs were not being dropped on her.  (It was a guilty high.) 

Eighth was exercise.  She would have ranked it higher but for the effort.  She loved the moment she pushed past boundaries, felt the burn (but it left her sweaty and aching and then she needed sugar.)  Ninth was an enema, which also left her relieved (but also unpleasant.)   

Ingrid’s tenth favourite recreational drug?  Herself.  She believed in herself, reassured herself,  got high on herself.  She actually she believed she herself was number one–but did not wish to appear immodest. 

(Ingrid understood she was a narcissist–but of course she did not care.)

Crash

Arnold was distracted for only a second, searching for Gimme Shelter on his car’s USB, when he felt a huge bump and a huger crunch sound.  Not the horrendous sound of metal shoved against itself, an awful screech, but a crunch, followed immediately by a thud.  The thud was followed by a large sound of flopping and shredding, and then the car ground itself to a halt. 

He sat stunned, then pressed the emergency flasher button.  Gimme Shelter began ominously on the car speakers. 

He was on a section of a four-lane local highway, blocking one of the two lanes going his way.  Immediately cars began going around him, not giving him a second look, frustrated at any delay.  It took a long wait before he could safely get out and look at the damage.  He felt okay. 

When it was safe, he got out and went to the front of the car.  He felt numb.  The front right bottom fender was scraped but the fender itself was intact, except for a small missing chunk.  The tire was shredded, the wheel rim broken in half, the wheel tilted. 

He thought for a moment, then used his fob to turn off the engine. 

Arnold phoned the local auto club, he was a member.  What did people do before cell phones?  Wait for a police car to stop and phone it in?  He phoned the auto club again, forty minutes later, then an hour after that, when he was told it would be another forty-five minutes.  By then, his son-in-law had arrived and gotten out the jack.  His son-in-law had the wheel off by the time the auto club tow truck arrived, two and a half hours after he first called. 

The axle was leaking fluid.  The spare tire was useless.  The car was towed. 

It sank in.  No car.  He was retired but his wife worked, she usually had the car, he had it today for an errand.  She would need a car.  That evening he learned it would be two weeks before an insurance inspector could check out the car and assign it for repairs.  If it could be repaired.  He always had a car, from 18 on.  Now he was eighty.  He imagined life without a car.  Without crashes. 

He rented a car the next day, to use until he knew if they had to buy a new one.  He decided it was time to pretty much stop driving…not completely…yet.

Forsaken Vegetables

Sitting in the bag, the string beans never felt they belonged.  The peas and corn were thrilled to be frozen and packaged.  But the string beans took longer to cook than the others and often came out tough.  The string beans wanted to be easy to eat—and, if possible, by themselves, but few people enjoyed eating them.    

It is sad, feeling you do not belong. 

The peas and corn belonged.  The carrots had been diced and were confused, but they also fit.  Only the string beans felt disconnected.  It had grown in similar fields, been harvested in similar ways, though always been grown separately.  Why were they thrown in the bag when they would be incompatible?  It was thoughtless, their fate was thoughtless.    

The string beans knew they were grown for the benefit of society.  They were nurtured, went to school, enjoyed sports.  Then they were harvested, entering the work force.  Being frozen was part of graduating.  A few were sold fresh, a few canned, but most, like our string beans were cleaned, cut and frozen.    

The string beans understood.  As promised, once in the bag they were free to do what they wished.  But they resented their limited options.  Not many humans enjoyed eating them–that was okay.  Your charms cannot work on everyone.  But cooked with the other vegetables, always a little too tough, never fitting in, the string beans felt condemned to be unloved. 

It was worse when the bag was emptied.  The remaining string beans were selected out and thrown in the garbage.  The garbage was put outside in a bin.  Overnight, raccoons opened the bin and tore open the bag and ate everything. 

Everything but the string beans. 

As they decayed, the string beans believed they had been denied their fate, which was to be consumed, not rot–or, in human terms, be laid off.  They also never thought they would be an allegory, but we have no control over posterity. 

Riding The Environment

Phillip and Martha built a very unusual balloon for a very unusual purpose.

Powered by helium, it could reach great heights.  They could control up and down, nothing else.  Hung below the balloon was a small cabin with windows and leather straps on the ceiling and walls.  Today Philip and Martha stepped into the cabin, closed the door, released the cables holding the balloon, and they swiftly rose.  It was a great day for ballooning.  The sky was completely overcast and a threatening storm close. 

They had waited months for this storm–an atmospheric river.  

They intended to ride the river.

They lived and ate green.  They were one with their environment.  Riding an atmospheric river would be their ultimate achievement.

They rose above the clouds as they saw the dark clouds swiftly approach, a large atmospheric river, almost solid water dominating the air a few feet below them.  They rode it, holding onto the straps, the sound of the river a freight train underneath them.    

The sky above was clear, blue, they saw an  almost full moon.  Below, the river–full powerful dark clouds, turbulent, moving forward, having lost no power yet over land.  Martha lowered the cabin windows and the roar rushed in.  Holding onto the straps, they felt wind, heavy with moisture. 

They rode the river, hanging on as the cabin swayed.  They felt one with their climate, with the world, hanging onto the straps, grinning, riding the river. 

They were one with the environment–until the mountain. 

Arnold And Cooking

Arnold loved the taste of properly cooked food but, lately, cooking depressed him.  Creating meals from recipes was no longer fun.  He had to eat, but what was he eating? 

It started with food dyes.  He enjoyed red cupcakes, but learned the dyes were carcinogenic.  Then butter, which no longer became soft on the counter–caused by unusual cow feed, containing chemicals.  Certainly the beef he bought was full of antibiotics and chemicals.  Salads were contaminated by salmonella.  Pesticides!  Excessive antibiotics!  Chemicals!  And…sugar!  Even salt! 

Arnold tried simplified recipes using only organic ingredients.  But organics were expensive and not always available.  How could he solve this culinary disaster? 

Ending One: Insects.  Many ate them, they were full of protein and unsympathetic, with ugly faces.  He began a large cockroach farm in his apartment.  Within weeks Arnold was chowing down on roasted roach.  His friends and relatives reacted poorly to his diet but, to be healthy, he ate bugs.  As there were no cookbooks for roaches, Arnold wrote Bugs In Your Bowl.  It became  a huge best seller and he then could afford organics—but none of them were crunchy. 

Ending Two: Angry and frustrated, Arnold formed a political party and spent his savings on pressuring politicians.  He wanted laws forcing the agriculture and food industries to eliminate pesticides and chemicals.  The push failed.  The public wanted their apples perfect, like their TV dinners.  Arnold became homeless and lived under a bridge, eating whatever he could find.

Ending Three: Arnold and his partner move to the country and grow and properly cook their own food.  Arnold is happy, despite his new hay fever, but after he  developed COVID he could taste nothing.

War And Dr. Melfi

War was terrified. Its future was threatened. It was not like It was a criminal without

conscience. It helped humanity, clearing out the old, encouraging the new. War feared that may end.

In a current war, thousands of drones, missiles and bombs had badly damaged one nation’s roads, power plants, downtowns. The bombing nation expected the bombed to welcome the chance to change their repressive government, bombs having assassinated many of its leaders. War was startled that the bombed were furious not at their government but at the bombers. The war spread beyond borders and far from quickly ending it was far from ending.

“I have been self-indulgent,” War told Itself. It punched Itself. “The bombers are not happy and the bombed fight back. There should be winners and losers. These days, no one enjoys war properly. I have not thought enough about modern warfare. If humans do not enjoy wars, there may be less of them! I must change!”

Which is why War entered therapy.

At first, Dr. Melfi was reluctant to help War, but Its urgent need was clear and she could help, even if it was War. War was initially uncomfortable exploring its self-destructive tendencies (for example, not motivating the bombed and bombers properly.) War agreed self-destruction was natural for It, but must be controlled.

War made great progress until Dr. Melfi was killed in a bombing.

But War now felt much better about Its future. It was not a gangster but simply acting as it

should. It sang with relief, it was a soprano.

Losing Yourself In Her Eyes

I look into her eyes and that’s it.  All over.  I think of nothing else.  Her eyes are deep, I fall into them.  We can be talking and suddenly I am lost in her.  I hear words as they drift by.  I am lost in her warmth.  I swim in her warmth, suddenly surrounding me. 

Relationship?  I cannot remember.  Her job?  What job?  There is nothing but warmth, understanding, ethereal connections I cannot touch but do feel.  All flowing from looking into her eyes, tumbling into them until I do not think, only feel. 

She wears no make-up.  She cares little what others think, will not alter herself for their reaction.  I know she has more than eyes.  A face.  A body.  Hair.  All forgotten when I slide into her eyes.  Sink into her eyes.  Disappear into her eyes. 

Anyone else’s eyes are, well, eyes.  Eyes are windows into who the person is, they say, and you learn more from eyes than anything else, including what a person says.  But no one else’s eyes suck you in.  No one else’s eyes say I want you. 

I hope you find your eyes.

Truth Today

Truth was having a tough time, constantly challenged by new Alternate Truths.  Those Truths were dominated by conspiracy theories about politicians and their societies health and the climate.  They presented war as blowing up buildings, the destruction of objects.  Truth was pleased when a video showing two men killed on a speedboat horrified people—the Alternate Truths never again showed such videos showing people injured by war.  Truth disliked such denial.  Alternate Truths said God was on each nation’s side.  (Truth knew there was no God—it  was at Alpha Centauri, having given up on humans.)  They provided facts disputing ‘fake news’ but their ‘facts’ were distorted or even fabricated nonfacts, leaving Truth aghast.    

Although traditionally neutral, Truth called a conference with the Alternate Truths.

173 showed up. 

Truth was comfortable with everyone–the Alternates, with no one.  Equitable discourse was impossible.  Some Election Truths believed all elections were corrupt except those won by parties it supported.  Some Climate Truths touted fossil fuels were reasonable and carbon dioxide was healthy. Some Health Truths believed vaccines were evil and polio and measles normal. 

In all its eons, Truth had faced Alternate Truths, but never so irrational, never so self-serving.  Truth made a speech about Truth.  At first they listened, then their eyes went blank, then they  laughed. 

Truth considered this a truthful reaction. 

It retreated to its cave in Hawaii, where it signed autographs and listened to waves breaking on the shore, waiting for rationality to regain prominence.  It wanted a far better end to this tale but there was nothing else Truth could do. 

It asked God how It was doing with Alpha Centauri.  God replied, come and take a look, they need you. 

God never asked about humanity. 

Truth left Earth for Alpha Centauri.