Bird Watcher

It was time, he thought. Clad in his flannel quilted overshirt, pointy knitted tasseled cap, Levis and heavy boots, he put on his gloves and sunglasses, grabbed his binoculars and Audobon's Guide to American Birds, and trudged out the door.

Heading off into the woods, he climbed onto a recently fallen blue spruce, took up his position, and waited. It wasn't long before he saw her. There she was, in all her glory - a most majestic, inspiring, and colorful...

The Rash

It started off as a small rough red spot on his arm. It didn't itch, it didn't hurt, it didn't do anything, but it didn't ever heal either. Several times he'd tried ointments and once, in a fit of metrosexuality, loofahed the spot, thinking it might be some displaced dandruff. It wouldn't budge.

Until one day when, during a routine physical for his job, he showed it to his doctor. She peered at his tan, muscled bicep, trying to discern what this spot could mean, wondering if it might be ringworm or maybe a melanoma. Scraping off a few dry flakes into a petri dish with the dull edge of her scalpel, she suddenly thought of something. She kept her emotions under control, though, as she said to him...

She can't do that!

I woke up this morning, and my first thought came to mind, "that didn't really happen, did it?"

I met him for a quick bite to eat, he greeted me hello....gave me a kiss on the cheek...and then...

The Night

The night was...

And Then

I had some sort of weird Ashton Kutcher amnesia that prevented me from fully recalling why the words 'AND THEN' held so much amusement for me. Then, I remembered one of the greatest movies ever made, "Dude, Where's My Car?" In lieu of a super secrety handshake, or making anyone fork over club dues, I propose we mandate the watching of this very special video for all 'And Then' blog writing participation. Only those suffering with issues from Chinese Food Mind Games, may be excused.

Throwing Roses in the Rain

It was a dark and stormy night. Melissa shuddered as another blast of thunder rattled the windows of her small turn-of-the-century home, as well as her nerves. She didn't enjoy being alone much at all, but never after dark. The violent storm brewing outside just added to her misery. The sounds, the smells and the heavy presence of nature unleashed brought back too many memories.

"No!, Not tonight," she begged. An unexpected knock on the door saved her from starting down that path. Although relieved to be distracted for the moment, Melissa wondered if she dared open the door. A glance at the antique grandfather clock in the entry told her it was only just past 8. "It must be one of my neighbors," she reassured herself out loud. Melissa slowly slung back the deadbolt and carefully swung open the massive solid-wood door. . .

The Man Who Flew Too Much

Once upon a time, there was a man who could fly. While almost everyone admired and praised him for his superhuman ability, there was one person who didn't approve: