Schenectady (two)

(Monday October 31)

Schenectady Two:

So after being away for a couple of days with my Spectrum News gig for last night’s political debate between Chuck Schumer and Joe Pinion, up early Saturday for a two hour drive and a 10am crew call at Union College up the Albany way in Schenectady, a crash at my Sister’s place later but only after two wonderful hours of just sitting at her kitchen table, catching up, telling stories, hanging with her four-fur, one-upping each other’s laughs, nephews Matt and Jacob getting home from their respective jobs in the middle of such including Jake bringing pizza from his new pizza thing, screw you old job, and amid arguments with Matt as to who is the best local pizza “that’s not REAL pizza!” joining the stories while getting Beck “I see you” evil eyes for giving Razzy (the sweetest of old girl Lab family constants) bits of my extra sandwich made from the free work lunch sandwich platter earlier and tucked away in my little seltzer water cooler for just this kitchen table sit down (unexpected pizza crusts to come with more evil eyes) and the ruining of all of Beck’s efforts to try and get Razzy to stop begging at the table … damn that Uncle Steve! … “but she has her awwwww chin on my leg Beck?! What am I supposed to do?!”, a 12 noon crew call yesterday finishing the overly annoyingly meticulous debate stage dressed/camera’s view set-up, check check check … more check check checks, did I mention check check checks? meeting part of a security detail who, future reference, I would always work my best to make sure to keep on the good side of if I could in a need be, maybe a dark alley where I’m a bit out of luck (a really big and really nice imposing fella who is a Ravens fan by the way I found, though I obviously would not hold that, as a Steelers fan, large dude with a coiled wire under his collar earpiece Raven’s fan thing against him (hell, I wouldn’t hold anything against him) then event/debate, a blah blah blah, nothing distinguished for either, though thankfully no Q, credit you that conservative guy, a finish and breakdown into multiple trucks while grabbing the best of shortbread jelly treats from the green room on my way out, a two hour back with a Mickey D’s fries and a too large coke in hand for the ride home, a make my way upstairs past the sleeping dog gang downstairs who don’t wake or bother with me, haven’t for years now in my sometimes late post gig nights like this, as they might with other driveway arrivals, loudly, usually, and there is a comfort in that, in that knowing, in that me being part of the gang and making it to a too long breathless a sentence here …

I don’t really do caffeine. Especially late. After long days. A wired tired tired.

So I made my way upstairs after a couple of days of being away, Celie doing me the best favor for a crazy cat lady guy of cracking a can for the two of mine Saturday while I was out.

Bella on the where the fuck have you have been?

A wait at the kitchen door, a rub and a boop on a button nose and a follow follow follow “dude, let me tell you cat things” follow follow follow.

Meanwhile waking Cricket the Blind to say hello on her Steve bed sleep spot with an under chin scratch?

She’s so excited it’s like I’m at a service for a dear lost Cricket cat friend.

I almost thought to buy flowers.

Schenectady (one)

(Saturday October 29)

In Schenectady (I’ve always wanted to say I’m in Schenectady) today at Union College with Spectrum News setting up for a debate tomorrow night.

Just so cool to hang with Greg and the crew again make a few extra $$ (or recoup some $$ lost with no Spectrum football covered this season) and have someone feed me, in this case a nice sandwich platter from the too kind Union College folks. I’m pretty easy if ya feed me and to tell you the truth I often mark the remembrance of gigs not by the event itself but by what lunch or dinner was that day.

One of the reasons I missed football this season was not just the games but taking home all the extra pizza and putting it in my freezer. I was still eating some of it after last season in June.

Hell, at our Marist debate gig a week ago last Monday & Tuesday, someone from the school ordered us Panera for lunch (I know fancy huh?). 20 sandwich lunch boxes. We had a crew of 7. Thank you unknown Marist lunch patron for the overestimate as I ate Panera for the rest of the week, lunch and dinner, the two day paycheck almost gravy (on a sandwich with a chocolate chip cookie and a bag of I almost don’t like them but still eat them potato chips).

Do I remember the debate off the top of my head? No. Do I remember eating free Panera for a week? Definitely (Cricket the blind says thank you as well, she was a big fan of the Sierra Turkey).

But anyway, just nice to get back with the crew and get paid to actually leave the house on a weekend. A worthy incentive for a nice change of pace.

The picture of me with the half mannequin debater stand-in prop was just proof for my parole officer that I showed up for work by the way (nice fella but a little preppy and not much of a talker. He does look like he works out though).

A Friday Football’s Miss

So another Facebook memory popped up this morning.

From October of last year:

Another game in the books and a dollar earned (well, after tolls, tax, snacks, gas and text stop hookers – a wash). Guilderland did some dancing and CBA wondered why their name of Collective Bargaining Agreement is so uninspiring. But I’ll take that wash any day. Cheers to another Friday Night Light’s escape and Greg breaking out the “Frankencam” every week, though I don’t really know how this could be considered good TV. I mean, Jesus! Look at that. You’re gonna frighten the children!!

My response to this Memory:

Man, I really miss doing our HS football games (Spectrum Sports opted for an outside production company this year – don’t ask). Yes, they were really long Fridays, leave work around 3:30p drive a couple of hours to some High School in the Albany area, work a game on the sidelines with my parabolic and then do the couple of hour return, usually home around 1am or so but once I did get to the whatever High School of the week was I just felt at home.

I know I am famously, in my small circle, happily anti-social these days but I miss the crew, I miss the crowding excitement, the crisp of Fall, even the cursing cold of the last couple of games on the schedule not feeling my toes, I miss the grunting, dramatic, loudly focused, almost comically so, exuberant sidelines of High School footballers doing what High School footballers do, fist bumps with recognized refs pre-game, I miss handing out chocolate at halftime to my fellow sideliners for the break, I miss the paycheck of course and I even miss that ride home, the quiet of it, best if it was clear and the moon lit the way, headlights almost unnecessary sometimes, I miss that last/first stop at an any McDonald’s for a large fry and a large Coke for the ride, I miss the tired of it after a day well dayed.

Plus the upper Hudson Valley has been denied now the once weekly grab, courtesy of director/boss/friend Greg, from the “Frankencam” … such a tragedy.

Though at least I’m not scaring the children with such shots this season.

There is that.

New Cat Scratcher … Sir (audio post)

(this is something I wrote back in August of 2021 … a bit of a feeling old moment ya might say)

On my way home tonight I stopped into PetSmart to see if I could find a cat scratcher that wasn’t ridiculously expensive, something I wasn’t all that confident in accomplishing. Though I have managed to trim them on occasion, it’s not the easiest of endeavors to convince Bella to let me clip her nails and they’re getting a little long again as she’s clicking on the hardwood now like she’s taken up tap dancing and rehearsing a new number so I thought a new scratcher would at least help her with some nail maintenance.

I know she wants another one, a stand-up model (I do have a nice large well used wood framed one with cat scratch cardboard inside that sits flat on the floor but it’s not quite the same) as she keeps trying to also use this old one and well, a couple of short naked two by fours nailed together with a carpet top don’t really do the trick. It’s also Bella’s way I think, with the repeated attempts, to say “yo, knucklehead, human, can ya see what I’m tryin’ to do here on a couple of short naked two by fours nailed together with a carpet top?! Are ya catchin’ my fruitless cat scratchin’ drift … numbnuts?!”

She’s right, as this old stand up model doesn’t really have any cat scratchedyness to it anymore as almost all the rope is gone or fallen to the bottom like scratchy rope one legged shorts around its ankle. I only keep it for a couple of reasons. First is a sentimental one. It’s one of my earliest and favorite pictures of Shoes from when he was kitten, one of my bestest of pals who passed away 6 six years ago now, clutching onto it in its newer days to give me a stare and a sniff while we were getting to know each other and second, I keep it on the floor at the end of the bed as it’s kind of become a pretty good lean to assist for old man stand ups. You see I stand UP from my bed as I don’t have a bedframe, just my box spring and mattress on the floor ( got’s to be proactive on possible spots for monsters underneath right?) so the assist can be welcome, but not always necessary, I’m not quite there yet in my oldness thank you, though still welcome on occasion, breathy light grunty exhales sometimes included.

Anyway, as I was looking wide raised eyebrow eyed at price tags of cat seats and cat condo’s that can also serve as scratchers on the big shelves or a few smaller ones in an aisle across from them on the regular shelves a very pretty young woman passed to step into the next aisle for canned cat food, the aisle that has the Wellness Brand by the way, which is pretty good stuff and correspondingly expensive.

I found two possible scratchers but held the thought for the moment, debating 30 bucks versus 40, as the pretty young woman buying some canned food suddenly reminded me that I should do the same, even though this wasn’t my initial intent tonight, before that reminder fell out of the front of my head only to silently slide out the back. You see PetSmart has a few things the girls like that the grocery store doesn’t carry so I then passed her, the pretty young woman, reminder still holding noggin front, on my way a couple of aisles past her to where another less expensive brand is located, but, knowing that she was stocking up on the Wellness, I almost felt guilty and a bad cat dad for going with the cheaper stuff. I was even worried she’d notice, disapprovingly.  

After I grabbed a few cans of what, like I said, I can’t find at the grocery store , and a slightly more top shelf version of this one at least to ease my new found bad cat dad guilt, I made my way back to the scratchers aisle to make a decision on that 30 versus 40 bucks but accidentally came up one aisle short (because of course I did) and stepped right into the one that the pretty young woman was standing at the end of, still, though unknowingly, shaming me as she loaded a cardboard flat with the Wellness food, and I almost bumped into her.

“Whoa, shit, sorry, wrong aisle, my bad”

“No problem” she said

It then occurred to me as I stepped around into the cat scratcher aisle that all of this could have looked as if I had done it intentionally. See a pretty young woman pass me when, “suddenly”, it seems I need to walk past HER and then come back again only to “accidentally” step into her aisle and almost bump into her?

Future reference. I never do anything like that intentionally, I REALLY only ever do things like that accidentally, usually too lost in my own thoughts to sidetrack them unnecessarily for that kinda stuff. Plus that whole possible thought’s attention silently sliding out the back of my head thing I mentioned earlier. In general, if I happen to note, wherever I may be, that there’s some younger woman there who, like in this case, is very attractive I also then, almost immediately, note the operative word in this sentence, “younger” and that I’m most probably old enough to be her dad, a dad who would surely kick my ass at any of this whole notion of noting things. So, quick admiration and acknowledgement of pretty and I’m done with the thought. Then it’s just to possibly some accidental awkwardness.  

She ended up at the checkout line in front of me and as she was getting ready to leave, bag in hand full of her good cat mom Wellness Brand food and as I was slowly putting my cat scratcher down for the cashier while holding back ever so slightly on the lesser stuff being seen she looked at me and said.

“Have a good night Sir”

“You as well” I replied

Damn … yep, she called me “Sir” to which I had three thoughts.

1. Sigh.

2. If she did for some reason think I was actually trying to “check her out” or even hit on her and that I was a bit too old for the attempt and should know better the “Sir” was very subtly and very well played, very well played indeed. Bravo lady!

3. Sigh.

You know I think I might just be leaning a little more heavily on that old Shoes cat scratcher at the end of the bed for the stand ups this evening while pausing the TV or in the middle of the night when I have to pee a million times it seems, sometimes even when I don’t have to but just think that I do.

Me 2: “Well is that right now … is that what you’re thinking … Sir?”

Me 1: “Shut up Me 2 … fucker.”

Flat Earth (song)

So a grabbing of another instrumental from our production library site at work, one that I came across and liked recently while looking for music for some radio stuff and saved for future reference.

Well, that future reference then is now, and an attempt to write something to it for a short song.

“Attempt” may be the best way to put it but it works for me.

Flat Earth

I looked out onto the water

To a horizon that’s always just one crest away

It keeps stretching getting further

With every stroke ta-ken

Till soon a-gain  



Another day now

To leave me wonder

Do I even know what I want there

If I swim out

To the edge now

Skirting sea demons

But still fall off of this flat earth

Into space

What would I hope to find

Maybe a lover

From my immor-tal days

One blithely left behind to fend her heart’s ways

Maybe my father and a proper goodbye

Say sorry for not being there not looking to the


Or maybe Mother have her wake from her daze

And maybe recognize the world once again

Or am I just treading waves hoping they hold

Long enough

To skirt more demons

Before I fall

I looked again now

Onto the water

Horizon still always just one crest away

It keeps stretching getting further

With every stroke ta-ken

Till soon a-gain 


Maybe there’s still more air to gasp

Grasp and flail swim up from beneath the heavy waves

Back from off the edge of a flat earth

From space  

And swim back

Take on sea demons face to face

It’s Not A Freakin’ Portal!!! (audio post)

In talking with a good friend at work recently about, well, nothing really, just the talking that gets you through the day, he mentioned having to log into the “portal” of his medical account or something of the sort, like “portal” is somehow a normal thing.

It made me think of this post from a couple of years ago. From back in June of 2020.


(posted here in the Attic June 23, 2020)

When I recently had an allergic reaction to a medicine I’ve been taking for just a short period of time that blew my face up into a bulbous early Halloween costume winner I was relieved by a couple of things.

One, there was the relief after the urgent care Doc gave a diagnosis, that was then confirmed by my regular doctor, of it simply being said allergic reaction and that it wasn’t something that was … ya know … gonna dead me.

And two, I was relieved that my “bold” “dangerous” “fierce” “had us trembling under the bed” new look, as some influencers and trendies may have exclaimed, didn’t last very long, and, more importantly, not long enough for the villagers down in the town to make the discovery of the new monster up on the hill forcing them in anger and fear to their woodsheds and barns for torches and pitchforks and Sharpee’s for crudely fashioned and misspelled signs.

But of course that relief couldn’t be allowed to last very long now could it, as later on that afternoon, when checking my bank account online I realized that instead of just me paying my 40 dollar co-pay before I was seen, I had somehow, accidentally, paid my entire balance of 1300 hundred dollars instead. Son of a bitch.

Yeah, that came as QUIIIIIIITE a shock, even more so than my lumpy, just not quite right porridge face, though for those of you who know me I’m sure you don’t find such an accidental occurrence all that surprising, but that would have caused some serious issues in the Land of Steve if I couldn’t get it reversed.

Eventually I was able to get things worked out and get my money back but in the process I also realized, shit!, I have a balance of 1300 bucks with these folks, so I asked the woman who assisted me if I could set up a monthly thing, like I have with a number of creditors for medical bills stemming from my hospital limbo shuffling slow hallway hospital socks for nine days discovered adrenal deficiency something or other requiring a daily steroid dose now vacation a few years ago. I asked if could set something up for, say, 25 bucks a month, like I do with the others only to be told that they don’t set up automatic payments for an amount that small because, of course, why would they? I mean if you’re gonna keep up appearances of being part of the remarkably unaffordable world of U.S healthcare you even gotta have payment plan standards that are difficult.

I figured though, that I would just go to this care company’s website, find my account and start paying this 25 bucks on my own. I’d get the small money ball rolling at least.

Easy right? HeHeHe. Oh, you are so gullible my friends. No, first thing I discovered, and I haven’t been to the site in a while, not since I set up the account years ago, was that they’ve changed their password requirements “FOR YOUR SECURITY” as well as added some new steps of verifying who you are.

Now let’s get one thing straight, and I don’t think I’m alone here, I DON’T WANT TO CHANGE MY FUCKING PASSWORD!!! And it’s not like this is some monetary account, like my checking or my HSA or that stash in the Caymen’s from that last bank job (the one Billy almost fucked up by the way – and I SAID “don’t think Billy, please just don’t fucking think, just drive the car Billy … just … drive … the … fucking … car”) or the stock investment portfolio I don’t want to brag on about. I mean, what’s the concern here? That some no goodster online meanie person is going to hack my account and do what? Pay my bill?

And I don’t want to come up with a new password with a minimum whatever the hell they’re asking for now, like 37 characters, a capital letter, a number, a symbol, any town in Bulgaria but spelled backwards and a trucker handle from the 70’s.

And the other new security measures. 5 questions? Really??!!

Well, and I don’t care if you all know, but my first girlfriend, my first pet, my Grandma on my Mother’s side, my Grandad on my Dad’s side and my fourth Elementary school after I was kicked out the first three are all, coincidentally, named Bob.

But, once you get past all of this, you are then ready to log into … the Portal?!

Ok but no, hell no, that’s the last straw. It’s NOT a freakin’ Portal!!! it’s just me logging into my account at a website! If I’m going to enter any type of “Portal” it’s going be something space age and futuristic and all science fictiony and shit. It’s going to transport me to another dimension, take me to the future, drop me into a world that isn’t as batshit crazy and astoundingly dumb as this current one, it’s going whisk me away to a universe with all the rainbow of colors alien chicks Captain Kirk slept with (I’ll bring condoms though, the large size, just in case, I mean ya never know what weirdness might arise in this strange new universe. Plus, love James T an’ all, but I don’t trust where he’s been) but it’s definitely NOT going be my boring and depressing account, life, at a medical company’s website with a history that just shows me getting fucking old with a daunting balance.

Well, anyway, I stopped at “Portal” and I closed things out before it spirited me away to someplace even more exciting than my medical bills, like maybe the details of my bankruptcy 7 years ago or my tax return history.

I’ll try again tomorrow I guess.

Freakin’ portals.   

It Is “My” Time Of Year, Frankenberry And His Monster Friends

Well, it is that time of year where Frankenberry and the whole family of Monster Cereals become relevant again, I mean what’s scarier for Halloween than the amount of sugar, artificial colors and other surely unnatural things in these smiling Monster boxes that I ate the shit out of when I was a kid and even into my college years? (actually might explain some things)

So one of those Facebook Memories popped up at me a couple of days ago. It was from a year ago, a little post I wrote in response to an early morning text message I had received from a friend and co-worker who was working from home.


(October 13, 2021)

Good friend and co-worker, Patty, sent me a text this morning as she works from home. It was just one word with a picture.


Now besides brimming with obvious snickering pride at her choice I was also proud that she was starting her day in such a nutritious and sugary sweet vitamin charged way, I mean it is important to try and eat healthy …

Corn Whole Grain ( Includes Corn Bran ), Corn Meal Sugar, Marshmallow ( Sugar, Dextrose, Corn Starch Modified, Corn Syrup, Gelatin, Malic Acid, Flavors Natural & Artificial, Citric Acid, Red 40, Blue 1, and Blue 2 ), Corn Starch Modified, Corn Syrup, Canola, and/or Rice Bran Oil, Salt, Tricalcium Phosphate, Trisodium Phosphate, Red 40, Flavors Natural & Artificial, Wheat Flour, Peanuts Flour, Vitamin E, (Tocopherols Mixed Vitamin E) and BHT added to Preserve Freshness, Vitamins & Minerals, Calcium Carbonate, Zinc, Ammonium Phosphate, Iron, Sodium Ascorbate Vitamin C, Niacinamide Vitamin B3, Pyridoxine Hydrochloride HCI, Riboflavin Vitamin B2, Thiamine Mononitrate Vitamin B1, Vitamin A Palmitate, Folic Acid Vitamin B9, Vitamin B12, Vitamin D3.

… but the most important part of her start?

You’ve probably already noticed but yes, she’s putting all this nutritiony sugary sweet vitamin charged goodness, from a Family Size 50th Anniversary (*) Monster Mash box of nutritiony sugary sweet vitamin charged goodness no less, in a freakin’ straw bowl!!!!! A FREAKIN’ STRAW BOWL!!!!! (**)

Very nicely cereal played Patty!!

Every now and then your friends confirm why it is, indeed, that they are your friends.


(* – Frankenberry cereal came out when I was 7. 50th Anniversary Box? … sigh)

(** – or sippy bowl if you must)

Take It To The SCOTUS (backwards where we’ll be found) – (song)

So with the Supreme Court back in session for a new term and as we brace to possibly regress to a new American stone age “Oh, remember the good ol’ days when the lessers knew their place?” and as the Orange appeals to those he feels he has bought and paid for to give him an above the law “what documents of national security?” delay packed in boxes with old crumpled quarter pounder wrappers and used sharpies from photo-op autographs (4500 dollars each and you get a sticker) assist, who get SO very offended at accusations of being nothing more now than another partisan political tool, even taking to stages to cry their dismay but only ever speaking to the very choir of those they claim to resist, to defend their self perceived objectivity, the surest of signs that they know of what they do, I thought of this of mine from back in May.

A little ode to the new High Court.

To the Talking Heads version of “Take Me To The River”.

We don’t know why you livin’ like ya do

G O P can – help you un-blue

We stole two seats now to leave you bereft

Of any hope of what – fair was left

And we wanna know – and we’ll – tell you

Progress stops right here


We’ll take it to the SCOTUS

A court beholden to us

We’ll take it all to SCOTUS

Partis’n arm we made thus

To lead it around

Backwards where we’ll be found


The extremists are not on the left

That’s just cry rally we’ve always kept

No radical court – it’ s square to the right

They hem and haw but it’s in plain sight

Want you to know, can’t you – see how

We lead them by the haaaaand


Take it to the SCOTUS

A court beholden to us

We’ll take it all to SCOTUS

Partis’n arm we made thus

To drag your rights down

Backwards where we’ll be ….


Crosshairs, dazed stares, we don’t care, what you want here

Till we can’t,

Till we can’t,

Hold our glee at

Our own court’s red de-crees now


It’s a court beholden to us

We’ll take it all to SCOTUS

Partis’n arm we made thus

To lead it around

Backwards where we’ll be found


We don’t know why you’re stewing like ya do

Bout all the rights – next in the queue

To be struck down now  – with radical hand

Voting women equal they don’t stand a chance


Want you to know now

That your rights now

Are up to Uuuuusssss

We’ll take it to the SCOTUS

A court beholden to us

We’ll take it all to SCOTUS

Partis’n arm we made thus

To lead it around

Backwards where we’ll be found

We’ll take it, we’ll take it, we’ll take it to the SCOTUS

They’re all ours now and we’re gonna have them show us

We’ll take it, we’ll take it, we’ll take it to the SCOTUS

You’re gonna regret that you didn’t vote for us

We’ll take it, we’ll take it, we’ll take it to the SCOTUS

We own them now and they’re gonna send us backwards fast

Angel of Death (audio post)

In keeping with the last post and of the reading things out, thought to grab an old post I like and do the same.


(and a guy dressed as the Grim Reaper holding an hourglass in the middle of route 9 led to this …)

So I saw the Angel of Death tonight … on Route 9 in Poughkeepsie standing on the median between the North and South triple lanes, at a traffic light, near a T.G.I. Friday’s and a Mattress Firm and across from a new specialty soap shop, a new Sleep Number Bed place and a convenience store among a number of other spots.

Tall guy dressed as you might expect of an Angel of Death/Grim Reaper type. Long black robe, oversized hood and he was pointing at things, menacingly, possibly specialty soaps and he seemed like he might even have been yelling though I couldn’t really hear as I passed him amid that damned rock n roll I was playing too loudly on a nice sunny almost Spring evening, finally, one you surely wouldn’t expect the end of days to arrive on, at least you’d hope not, though I’m afraid my Mom might feel vindicated now all these years later of her worries of, when I was younger, while I was playing that damned rock and roll too loudly back then as well and cutting up perfectly good heavy metal band concert T-shirts to have her sew them on the back of denim jackets, that some might think the end of days would sneak up on me because I wouldn’t hear it/them coming.

The only thing out of the ordinary for this particular Angel of Death though was that he was carrying an hourglass. Not that Angels of Death don’t sometimes carry hourglasses, they do, I’ve seen artist renderings, some pretty cool artist renderings as a matter of fact, but this was in lieu of the tall, sharp, pointy, violent looking scythe’s we’ve more come to expect in a clichéd Angel of Death kinda way which, truth be told, is probably for the best in this day and age that that wasn’t what he was carrying.

Tall, sharp, pointy violent looking clichéd scythe’s? Yeah, that’ll getcha noticed, and not in a good way, and possibly even get ya tased or worse. Hourglass? Much less threatening.

I did though think, if I could have, that I would have politely pointed out that this hourglass of his was a little small, not really of a size befitting his stature or one to really get him noticed in the middle of a busy roadway here in Poughkeepsie, and right at the height of an evening rush hour with people being lost in thoughts of get homes and dinners and dog walkings and sweatpants and checkings in on that show that you’re pretty sure your better half cheated on and watched the next episode of without you, again, and conversations/angers left open ended the night before.

I would have pointed out that he needed something a bit more dramatic, more theatrical, something oversized to really catch that thought lost eye. The hourglass he had was, well, a little on the Spinal Tappy Stonehenge side but with him being the Angel of Death an all, I would have been as deferential and as delicate as I could with this observation (plus, he most probably still had that clichéd scythe somewhere in reserve – and that shit looks like it would hurt … a lot, like in a death kind of way).

Now was there any reason, I thought, any significance to this specific spot of his as I drove past? I don’t know. Was this where the thunders and the lightnings, the great fires or floods, or great fires followed by floods to drown out great fires making people tread water in floaties the only thing they had on hand, damn the children, the pestilences and rivers of blood were newly ordained to happen, or was he just waiting on a pick up order from that T.G.I. Friday’s and doing what Angels of Death do to pass the time, what little time may be left?

Had he been maybe having some trouble sleeping recently (certainly possible as carrying the weight of his message has gotta be a heavy sleepless nights kinda burden) thus reason to be in between a Mattress Firm and a Sleep Number Bed store or was he really pointing menacingly at specialty soaps, a could be 21st century haven of witchcraft with all the witch-like curatives some of the soaps and maybe oils and creams inside can surely promise … plus Hell, you know there’s gotta be a crystal or two hanging in there somewhere right? Or maybe he was just waiting to cross the highway way to get to the convenience store for a pack of smokes thinking to his Death self, well, if I’m bringing word of the end of the world to the peoples, I might as well smoke up while I can.

I don’t know. Whatever the reason was for that location or whatever the reason wasn’t, all I really thought on my way home after passing this Angel of Death fella with his too small hourglass (you just need a big black sports hearse car to compensate my not friend) was “listen, if this is it tonight big guy, if this is the end of days, after you’ve possibly picked up your order at T.G.I. Friday’s could you …

“Hi, can I help you sir?”

“I’m here for a pick-up”

“Your name?”


“Angel? Hold on … hmmm, hmmm, hold on a sec, I’m sorry I’m not seeing that here for our pick-up orders right now”

“You sure … nothing under the name Angel? With an A?”

“I can spell Angel sir, thank you, and sorry, but no … could you have ordered under a different name?”

“Oh wait, you know what, I may have. Do you have one under the name Death?”

“Death … Death … Death … sorry busy night … hold on … oh, here we go … Death … burger, blood rare, locusts, frogs, extra cheese, fries and the apple cobbler dessert special?”

“Yep, that’s me. Sorry, I don’t usually use my last name, way too formal and can be a little off-putting”

“No worries Sir. Let me get that for you, Oh, and by the way? Cool hood”

“Oh, well thank you so very much”

“I would say though, if you don’t mind a little constructive criticism, that you get a slightly larger hourglass”

… and could you, after you’ve put a deposit down on a new bed …

“You’ll be so happy you chose our little slice of sleep heaven … (stop short silent stare) … sorry, my bad … probably not the best of selling points for you I’m thinking now … you’ll be so happy you chose our bed Mr. Death instead of something that feels like a bed of nails like from those sleep hacks across the street …”

“They have something that feels like a bed of nails?”


“Bed of nails, those sleep hacks across the street have something that feels like a bed of nails?”

“Ummm, well yeah, that’s what we say … Ok, but hold on, I got ya. If you’d like, Jimmy, one of our delivery drivers, works at a small local hardware store and I’m sure we could throw in a bag of nails, support small business right, that you can toss on the bed, like scattering rose petals for you and the Missus …”

“There’s no Missus … I’m Death. It would make holiday family get togethers very uncomfortable.”

“Ok, well, bag of nails just for you it is then”

… and then after checking in on potential modern day witches …

“Do you have a soap or some oils that can just ease some tension, possibly transport me away to a better place? I think I’ve seen a commercial like that … a place like … HELL!”

“ummmm, Ok then, well?”

“Gotcha! I saw ya glancing over at that crystal … witch”

and after you’ve a grabbed a smoke outside the Exxon while you’re getting yelled at for your loitering could you at least let me feed the cats and have my dinner and maybe clean a litter box or two? I would SO hate to have to face the end of days, you know, the rapture or something, even if you all do the rapture, I’m not sure, or some sort of reckoning, with messy litter boxes and on an empty stomach.

“Will do”


Alright Bella, alright Ms Cricket … Last Fancy Feast “Savory Centers”

Eat up quickly girls, I don’t know what kind of deadline he might be facin’.