Archive for the ‘Edd Vick’ Category
Bed Time
Thursday, January 15th, 2009
First, you should floss and brush your teeth really well. And wash your face. Here’s your towel. Yes, that looks like the perfect nightgown to wear.
Do your clothes go on the floor? No, I don’t think so; I think they belong in the laundry hamper.
Thank you. Now climb into bed. No bouncing!
Okay, maybe just a little bouncing.
Yes, I like to bounce, too, but I might break the bed.
Okay, I’ll bounce, too, but just a little bit.
Oops.
I’m sorry about your bed, but isn’t it just as much fun to be in your sleeping bag on the floor? I think so, too.
Stretch out and I’ll pull up the top of it just right. Do your feet go on the pillow? I don’t think so; that’s where your head goes.
Do you want some music like usual? Okay, there you go. Give me a kiss on the cheek, and here’s one for you.
Why yes, the music is very nice. It makes me want to dance.
Let’s dance!
Watch me stomp!
Oops.
Isn’t our basement nice? It’s a good thing we have all these comfortable boxes down here to land on. Now let’s not bounce any more. Let’s not stomp any more.
It’s time for bed. I’ll turn off the light now.
Wait, did we do everything? Let me think: floss, brush, gown, hamper, bounce, oops, pillow, music, kiss, dance, stomp, oops, light. Yes, I believe we remembered everything.
Of course we remembered everything. Elephants are very good at remembering
Good night, sweetheart.
Refuge
Wednesday, December 24th, 2008
Satan came to supper last night. There’s nothing peculiar about that, or in his usual feeble stab at getting me and the missus to make a deal. Once we get past what he calls ‘the formalities’ he’s a pretty good guest. We take what we can get–ain’t many people around here we care to have to supper.
Philippa starts with the soup, rabbit with leeks. There’s only a hint of hare from the rabbit I shot last week, but it’s rich enough. Satan smacks his lips. “That’s fine, just fine. You added rosemary, didn’t you?”
“You know,” he says. “I couldn’t help noticing your herb garden is, well, let’s say small. I could furnish you with considerably more space. I could offer, oh, that patch over there.” He gestures out the window at Mount Buffalo-Runs-Over-Cliff silhouetted against the evening clouds.
We laugh it off as always. We’ve got enough growing space for the two, sometimes three, of us.
Over fried chicken and corn on the cob we dissect local politics, rightly guessing which ninety percent of the school board is in Satan’s pocket. He does surprise us by saying that Ferd Tucker down to the feed store is on the side of the angels. Ferd talks so all-fired religious we just take it for granted he’s going straight to Hell, do not pass Go.
Philippa brings out the cherry cobbler. The Devil tries to compliment her on it, but she tells him it’s from Winn-Dixie. We talk on about one thing and another over cigars on the porch, until he brings up the usual subject just as the last flicker of light winked out in the west.
“Join me,” he says. “I like ruling down under, but I’d rather take over up top.” He looks to the sky, but it’s not the first stars of the night he’s looking at. He’s looking at Heaven, torn six ways from Sunday.
Rebellions make refugees. God’s got plenty of angels and Satan’s got his, but there’s plenty more besides.
I shake my head. That’s all it takes.
Like I said, ‘the formalities’. Once we get past them he’s okay.
Satan spreads those beautiful wings of his. I spread my own to see him home.
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This is Edd’s 50th story for The Daily Cabal.