RichardLisaLizzieSerendipidyNorval JoePlanet ZThe next topic is You’re not going
Sometimes you have to treat yourself, even if it means being extravagant. Everyone deserves to feel special every now and again.
My treat? A forty year old, limited edition single malt.
Lovingly distilled on a remote Scottish island, following a family tradition, centuries old.
It wasn’t cheap. Actually, it was eye- wateringly expensive, but I felt I deserved it.
I was out the day it was delivered.
UPS left a card.
They also tossed the box over my eight -foot fence, where it landed on a pile of rubble.
So, no whisky for me, just a box of broken glass.
The Start of a Not Normal Day
It felt like the outside was inside and everyone was in a temper. Glass glittered the carpet and Dad was looking for someone to blame. We were shouted at to keep back but the cat didn’t listen and ran through the shards. The glass had gone into my brother’s school shoes.
A speck of blood from the cat’s paw painted red on the carpet. I wanted my breakfast but I didn’t dare say. Dad had something else to shout about as the cat dragged a half alive sparrow from behind the TV.
We were going to be late for school.
Sparrow, a limited edition of dolls, had everything but sparrows, the symbol of protection and hope. A doll house, doll furniture, doll-everything. It looked dark and gloomy. An adult now, his sister still loved dolls, the pink kind. He hated his sister. When he gifted Sparrow to her, she loved it. Well, that didn’t work, he thought. So, he got another doll, wrapped in a white shawl, a reminder that even when you’re trying to get revenge, there is always a glimmer of hope. OK, great, now he wanted to destroy the damn thing. He smiled. Perhaps that would work!
Isn’t the birdsong lovely?
Most would agree, but not I.
You see, birdsong is by no means cheerful or joyous. In reality, it is bleak and despairing.
The sparrow sings of pain and anguish, of death and destruction, of such sorrow it would break your heart.
The songthrush sings of shattered dreams, like broken glass shards, harsh and piercing.
The robin, mourns each passing day, cursing life and its misfortunes.
Songs of woe, of loss and melancholy.
But, not the crow.
The crow’s harsh cawing is a joyful, happy sound.
He’s laughing at all the other birds, poor, sad things!
Peering through the broken glass of the small window, Billbert saw that Sabrina was blindfolded and gagged, and wore oversized coveralls with the arms wrapped around and tied in front of her like an ouroboros.
A dot of red light appeared beside Sabrina. A laptop computer sat on a table next to her. Its webcam had just come on. Were her captors in another room watching Sabrina from a distance or was the camera aimed at the window, watching him?
The back porch door burst open and feet pounded down the wooden stairs. Billbert had the answer to his question.
I don’t know why I collect Pez dispensers, but my closet has dozens of bins of them. They’re all kinds of different designs and colors and characters. If I get one from a series, I have to complete the whole set. I used to have them out on shelves to display. But after we moved, I haven’t taken them out of the bins yet. There’s one that was a limited edition Tiffany glass dispenser, but I think it got broken in the move. So instead, I’ll probably put my Millard Fillmore dispenser on the lit rotating stand on the shelf.
