Art’s Eternal Truth

Thanks to Rochelle and her commendable efforts as moderator of the Friday Fictioneers, another prompt has tumbled into my In-box. Many thanks also to Douglas MacIlroy for contributing the photo. Join this week’s Friday Fiction effort HERE.

It’s been awhile since I’ve contributed…and it may be awhile again… I’ve been in a general muddle lately! However, when I saw this prompt photo first thing this morning my muse nudged me and called to mind our clever sculptor friend, Marcel. Art Must be Flexible. She suggested this might be his concept of a bird-feeder. I chuckled, then decided to let the tale spin out and see how far it went. What do you think?

Photo © Douglas M. MacIlroy

ETERNAL TRUTH

“I’m calling this ‘Birdfeeder’,” Marcel told his friends.

“Birdfeeder!” Crombie exclaimed.

“My interpretation of man’s efforts to positively impact his environment.”

“How about ‘Gone With the Wind’?” Percy suggested, examining the creation skeptically. “It’s getting rusty.”

“That’s it! I’ll call it ‘Eternal Truth’. Like ‘Dust to dust; ashes to ashes; iron to rust’…”

His friends groaned.

A woman rushed over. “It’s brilliant,” she exclaimed. “I must have it. How much?”

“Three thousand,” Marcel quoted.

As she signed the cheque Crombie nudged Percy. “There’s gotta be an eternal truth in here somewhere.”

Percy winked. “Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder.”

Di di Mau

Enthusisatic Pup

We have a little puppy;
we call him Di di Mau.*
Always in a rush he is
to go somewhere, somehow.

He’ll tear around the table,
dash through an open door,
chase his tail, plague the cat.
Why don’t his feet get sore?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The Urban Dictionary says di di mau is a direct
translation from Vietnamese words “go, go quickly.”

Micro-Poetry Spree

Good morning Everyone, and welcome to all my new followers!

Seeing as this is my birthday, I’m going to do something different. While I’m a writer of fiction and articles, I feel like I’m primarily a poet. Today I’m going to indulge this side of my nature by posting a number of small poems and haiku I’ve written in the last while.

It’s All In How You Feel

Age is only a number,
a matter of the mind, they say,
“You’re only as old as you feel.”
No one mentions, of course,
that arthritis
might add thirty years.

At Last My Ship Comes In

WHAT A TERRIFIC BIRTHDAY PRESENT!

Someone in the United Nations Headquarters must have heard that my birthday is coming up shortly and they wish to celebrate with me. Or else they have discovered that I am the most trustworthy person on the planet. Only this morning I received this amazing notification that a treasure-laden ship is about to fly into my airport — and MY name is on it!

Here are some details from the e-mail so you can all rejoice with me in my good fortune:

Office of Director of Payment United Nations
United Nations Payment Office Jakarta, Indonesia

This is to inform you about our plan to send your fund to you via cash delivery. This system will be easier for you and for us. We are going to send your contract part payment of US 5.2 million to you via diplomatic courier service. This fund was brought to us from America. It was meant for our local AFEM market. …

Note: The money is coming in two security proof boxes. The boxes are sealed with synthetic nylon seal and padded with machine. … The diplomat attached will travel with it. He will call you immediately he arrives your airport. …

I need your response because the boxes are schedule to leave as soon as you respond. Reply me immediately you receive this message. …

He wants me to send him some personal ID info so they can send the goods. I suppose they wouldn’t want to risk just anybody replying to this e-mail. The problem is that my dear husband has such a suspicious nature. He has never allowed me to send our banking info so I could claim all the millions of dollars and British pounds I’ve inherited at various times through the years.

Can you imagine the size of those boxes, each holding US 2.6 million in cash! I suppose it will all be in thousand-dollar bills? The US doesn’t put out million-dollar bills, do they? At any rate, I’d better call Brinks and arrange for one of their trucks to meet the plane.

One doesn’t wish to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I’m not too sure what we’re supposed to do with this diplomat. What if he has really expensive tastes, like caviar, fresh-caught squid and such like. But since this is the Canadian prairie, maybe he’ll want to try our buffalo steaks? Much more do-able. At any rate I don’t want to waste spend US $1 million just to entertain him.

One problem will be that our trailer is too small for hosting a real live diplomat — especially if he comes with an entourage. Still, he’ll likely want to drop in, get to know us a bit, so I’d best give the place a good cleaning. I’ve been wanting to anyway; this will give me a great incentive. And as soon as I hear when he’s arriving I’ll reserve him a room at the Bessborough Hotel — a famous historic Saskatoon landmark that’s housed diplomats before, even royalty.

I want to thank all of you, dear Yankee friends and followers, for your indirect contribution to my good fortune. You may wish to check into the normal disbursement of foreign aid dollars, but in this case, I assure you that the sum is going to a very worthy recipient. (Blush) Since there’s nothing in the letter to say what I should do with this money, I shall do my best to spend it prudently. 😉

“You Have Won A Free Trip”

This is an old news item, but hope it gives you a smile this morning:

An Iowa farmer received a suspicious phone call one morning—from his own cell phone.

A few hours earlier he’d been sorting hogs to take to market that day. During the process he took a few minutes to call the house and check if there were any messages for him on his answering machine. After getting the message, he stuck his cell phone back in the top pocket of his bib overalls and went back into the pig pen to continue his task.

The phone must have fallen out of his pocket and into the pen as he climbed over one of the fences. Later, when he was back in the house his phone rang. He said, “Hello?” and voices at the other end said, “Grunt, grunt, squeal, squeal, snort!”

Evidently his hogs had found the cell phone and managed to hit REDIAL. They say pigs are really quite intelligent creatures. Maybe they were complaining about the conditions in their pen, squealing on on unruly pals, or ordering in more chow?

But the farmer interpreted the message as:
“You have won a free trip to the barn, followed by a lively treasure hunt.”