Kitten on the Keys

I've been:

Frantically rewriting all the Neighbors stuff the past month, so no new material to post here. But this last Thursday Prompt from Duroc was the word "sphere" which, of course, was Thelonius Monk's middle name. So I had to write a little poem about the mixed feelings Monk's music has always stirred in me, didn't I?

Tickling the keyboard,
Purring to the beat,
Notes soft as moonlight,
Hard as noontime heat,
Flowing and jagged,
Sometimes make the ear
Fold, twitch the whiskers,
Odd but sweet to hear.

Improvisation,
Impromptu and planned,
Stretching the claws, the
Mind, the heart, the hand,
Ruffles the fur, trips
Paws and stumbles thought.
Wrong notes?  There are none:
That's what Monk has taught... 

The Allegory of the Cave

I always knew my M.A. in Classics would come in handy! Though I doubt Plato would appreciate this--never struck me as a "talking animal" sorta guy...

Still, this is chapter 50 of Neighbors, and it's the first inspired by the new series of Thursday Prompts now living at Duroc's place. This week's was "shadows."

The previous chapters of all this are numbered accordingly as follows: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, and 49.

     Just off the top of my head, I don't think I've ever seen 

such a look of concentration on any face, human or otherwise, as 

I saw then from Heather, standing perfectly still in the grass 

and focusing an absolute torrent of attention on Deena, sitting 

on the top step of their porch with the box of Doggie Noms in 

her lap.

     "It's uncanny," El Brujo whispered, and even though I 

wasn't about to admit it, I felt so much better with her 

stretched across my lap.  "I'd've bet money the child was 

physically unable to stop moving."

     "OK, Heather," I said in animal speech.  "I'll need you to 

pay attention to me for a just a minute."

     "I can't!"  Heather didn't move a whisker.  "If Deena takes 

a cookie out of the box and I'm looking away, she might think I 

don't want it and give it to somebody else!  And that would be 

horrible!"

Dollar Diplomacy

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, and 48 come before this, so it must be chapter 49! It's also the final one of these I'll hafta do myself with dictionary and index finger since Duroc'll be starting up the next series of Thursday Prompts next week!

But still, here's this one now.

     I rolled up the Schwarber's driveway to the gate, Deena 

crossing the front lawn to open it, Heather dancing between 

her feet and singing: "Mr. Augie's gonna teach me things!  Mr. 

Augie's gonna teach me things!"

     Not that I had any idea what I was actually going to 

do, of course.  The night before, I'd headed home full 

of intentions: I would Google info on dog training techniques, 

try to develop some steps that would make it look like I 

wasn't communicating directly with Heather, maybe see what 

sorts of whistles or hand gestures or whatever went into the 

actual practice of what I was about to phony up.  But, well...

     See, I'm not that organized a person when you come right 

down to it.  I mean, yes, I've had to get more methodical as 

my legs have slowly seized up and stopped working over the 

past decade, had to become more aware of the constant pull of 

gravity on those parts of me that didn't move properly 

anymore, had to get a handle on how torque works so I wouldn't 

accidently snap any bones by trying to go one way while the 

cold, dead half of me tried to go another.

     But that's the sort of thing that teaches you to live in 

the present, to concentrate on what's going on around you at 

this very moment.  Planning for the future, well, it had been 

a long time since I'd had any thoughts about that...

Strawberry Blossoms

This week's dictionary poke:

In lieu of the vacationing Thursday Prompt, landed my finger smack onto "strawberry." Adding the word "blossoms" to it, then, got us chapter 48 of Neighbors. The previous chapters, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, and 47, fall under their respective numbers in case you'd like to do any reviewing...

     It was a weird feeling, rolling down the street without at 

least one animal sitting on me or clinging to me or batting me 

in the head and telling me something I probably didn't want to 

hear.

     Because that pretty much summed up the last few weeks of my 

life at that point.  No, not just weeks.  Not even just months.  

More like years: the decade or so I'd been riding this 

chair, my four or five years on crutches before that, my very 

first cane way back in second grade.  Ever since then, there'd 

always been something about me that made me stand out, something 

that stopped me from blending in with a crowd.  

     And, yes, sure, I'm exactly like everybody else in wanting 

to be special, unique and remarkable.  I just don't want to be 

special, unique and remarkable in the weird and ugly way that I 

actually am...

The Birth of Harmony, Part 2

Part 1 starts this whole adventure off, and this is the conclusion. Now maybe I can get back to the next chapter of Neighbors!

     "Where--?"  Clover stared at the crater around her, couldn't 

keep from thinking about the ponies who'd been in those now-

vanished buildings, couldn't keep from wondering--

     "Shhhh," came a soft voice above her, and she blinked at 

Cadence, the pink winged unicorn's striped mane flowing in the 

damp, chocolate-scented breeze.  "Don't let him unnerve you."

     A bark of a laugh from Discord, hovering overhead on his 

mismatched wings.  "Excellent advice, my dear!  But I fear it's 

wasted on our little Clover."  He settled to the ground, the dirt 

making a sound like air rushing out of a punctured balloon under 

him.  "You'd almost think that 'unnerved' was her middle name."

     Snorting, Pansy glared at Discord.  "Shows what you 

know!  Clover's middle name is 'the'!"

The Birth of Harmony, Part 1

More My Little Pony fanfic:

I'm afraid, and this one, well, this one gets down into the weeds, as they say.

It extrapolates upon information given in the two-part, second season opening episode, "The Return of Harmony" as well as the historical play the ponies put on during the episode entitled "Hearth's Warming Eve." Add in a strange revelation from a Hasbro toy display that there's apparently a third winged unicorn princess named Cadence who hasn't actually appeared in the cartoon, and the stewpot I call my head threw together the following.

This is Part 1. Part 2 is soon to follow!

Trying her best to look like nopony at all, Clover trudged 

through the backstreets and forced herself not to sigh when the 

sun reversed course with a screech and plunged back below the 

horizon.  A sound like glass shattering, and the full moon shot 

into the sky like a stone from a sling, the drifting cotton 

candy clouds bursting to pink mist.

     How long had it been like this?  Weeks, maybe?  Months?  

Years?

     Her whole life, it seemed sometimes....

     She shrugged the cloak closer around her shoulders, winced 

at a gust of chocolate milk rain spattering into her face, at 

the cobblestones below her hoofs suddenly going squishy, 

squeaking like rubber toys with each step she took.  She could 

still remember the time before, though, could remember Princess 

Platinum standing on this very hill and proclaiming it the site 

of Canterlot, the city the unicorns would build in accordance 

with the agreement Clover had put together with Smart Cookie and 

Pansy: "A shining jewel," the princess had said that day, "and a 

symbol of this partnership we unicorns have forged with our 

neighbors, the earth ponies and the pegasi!  Together, 

therefore, let us create our land, our dream, our Equestria!"

     That had only been a year ago, she was sure, two years at 

the longest, the construction going so quickly with the pegasi 

and earth ponies helping.  And she would never forget standing 

with Cookie and Pansy at the party the princess had called the 

Grand Galloping Gala, the purple flare of the princess's horn 

wielding the scissors, Commander Hurricane and Chancellor 

Puddinghead on either side of her as they cut the ceremonial 

ribbon across the city gates--

     Just as that first drop of chocolate splashed against her 

snout...

Sprains and Bruises

This week:

Opening the dictionary at random and poking down a finger brought me to the word "arnica," a sort of plant. This seemed less than useful till the second definition told me that the flowers of this plant are made into a tincture "much used as an external application in sprains and bruises."

Which did it right there.

This is the 47th chapter of Neighbors, which means that you can find the previous bits under their appropriate number as follows: The previous sections are as follows: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, and 46.

     Now, maybe you've gotten the idea from reading through 

all this stuff that I'm not what anyone would call a forceful 

guy.  And you'd be right.

     I mean, 'wimp' might be too strong a word, but not by 

much.  I don't like arguing or confrontation, and not just 

because I'm so bad at it.  I am bad at it, make no 

mistake about that--when I get mad, my throat tightens up, and 

when my throat tightens up, even my regular croaking belch of 

a voice dries to powder and blows away.

     But I couldn't use that excuse when arguing in animal 

speech because, well, so few sounds are involved.  Still, not 

wanting to get into an argument made me hesitate there in my 

wheelchair on the sidewalk, one crow perched on my left 

shoulder, another on my right arm, a squirrel hanging from the 

front of my jacket, and a big black cat stretched out in my 

lap.

Painting the Roses Red

Since the new series:

Of Thursday Prompts don't start up till February, I took it upon myself to come up with one this week. Opening the dictionary and poking my finger down at a random location, however, gave me "Munsee: one of the two Algonquin languages of the Delaware peoples."

Further down that same column, though, was "mural" which made me think of painting which made the phrase "painting the roses red" pop into my head. So I used that for what turns out to be the 46th installment of Neighbors, our ongoing saga hereabouts. The previous sections are as follows: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, and 45. And here's the next!

We made quite the parade that morning.

     I'd asked Honoria and Serena to wait outside for me to 

get dressed and have my breakfast, but as soon as El Brujo and 

I wheeled through the side door at Chrysalis House, down they 

swooped, the crow passing over once to let Serena drop from 

her claws, then circling back to settle on my shoulder.  El 

Brujo already took up most of my lap, but Serena caught hold 

of my jacket as she fell, swung herself into a head-downward 

position, her tail just tickling the tip of my chin.  

"Onward!" she announced.

     For my part, I would've preferred something a bit 

subtler, but, well, I was apparently in the minority.  Even El 

Brujo was grinning as only a cat can.  "Indeed.  And how 

rude we've been, keeping our associates waiting!"

     Shaking my head just made both Serena's tail and 

Honoria's wings brush against me, so I stopped.  I grabbed the 

rims, rolled us down the sidewalk toward the Ramsays' place, 

and tried not to flinch when one of the hundreds of SUVs 

infesting the neighborhood slowed on passing us just long 

enough for me to catch a glimpse of the driver's astonished 

face staring out the passenger side window.