Endless Shifting Sand 1: In the Wind

(c) Michael Steven Platt 2012 : Camel Sand Imprint:  Undine Press

Dear Readers,

When last we met, life was a turmoil of things I have forgotten and things I remember but don't know what they were related to, and other such important issues, I'm sure. Stuff happened and I haven't been writing much. But now, I finally did find my way back in to this blog after some years of frustrating inability to do so.

That's the Grand Explanation as to How I've Done and Where I've Been. I wanted to keep it from getting too confusing.  I'm glad to be back... I missed you, too. (The applause is thunderous)

New effort coming through, looking for readership. It follows here:

Endless Shifting Sand 1: In the Wind

I am going to post excerpts from my book, 'Endless Shifting Sand' ... thinking that, perhaps, someone else might enjoy the offbeat humor in the surrealistic flow of smoothly chaotic imagery. Different. Wildly different. I do hope you might give it a whirl... you might enjoy it. Thank you.

Therefore, I put forth the entire Table of Contents as introduction and beginning of what ESS is. Cheers!

(Pardon the quirky alignment. The draft does not match up with the actual posting and this creates some interesting configurations of order)

(All copyrighted, of course)

This Page

Endless Shifting Sand

(or Keeping Score in the Big One)

~ Disclaim Maintain Refrain: Page Numb Baring Approximations ~

Table of Contents …………………………………………………. This Page

Chair of Intents …………………………………………………. Under the Table

Visual Selection ................................... (Under the Chair and Under Construction)

Introduction …………………………………………………….. How do you do?

Opening : If it’s time to get up this must be Monday ………...…….. 1

Part One – Part Another: Take the Wrong Way Home

Chapter One - Greetings......................................................... ..........  3

First Hourglass Spill ………………………..……………… 3

Deal With It ........................................................................... 9

Tracking Treats and Nervous Noise: Answering the Call ... 14

… tock ……………………………………………………. 18

Chapter Two (, Too)……………………………………….....…… 22

Chapter III: Growing Older in the City …………………………... 23

Pardon Yourself and The Great Peanut Butter Caper ….…. 23

Harken to Thy Will ……………………………………….. 24

A Chair is Born …………………………………………… 26

A Neu Firing Line ............................................................... 30

Which Way Do We Go? …………………………...……... 34

Nothing but the Best ……………………………………… 36

Watch Your Hat and Head ………………………………... 39

I Never and A Message from the Stars …………………… 42

This Page, Too

I Retire Undefeated ......…………………………………… 45

Feeling Game in Florida ...…………………………………47

Have a Pleasant Flight ……………………………………. 51

Scientific Announcement ...………………………………. 53

Score and First Kiss (Yes, in that order) ………....…… 57, 58

Intermission ……………………………………………………….. 65

Continuum ………………………………………………………… 65

Break Time and Cryptaxidgience …………..…………. 69, 70

Chapter IV (Intra-Vacuous) ……………………………………..… 73

The Ins and Outs of Communication .................................... 73

Apologies Not Necessary  .................................................... 77

AI: AS: The Phantom Cub Scout …...…………….……….. 79

The Story I Don’t Tell .......................................................... 81

Let’s Go to the Cemetery! ………………………………… 81

Household Hints …………………………………………... 85

A Solstice Celebration Entwined ………………………….. 88

Giving at the Office (or Where am I now?) ……………….. 91

Family Branchings, a Grandfather’s Tale …………………. 93

After the Party Party (or Just Where Have I Been?) ………. 96

Summer Job Farm Adventures ............................................. 98

Go Fish …………………………………………………… 103

AP: SD ……………………………………………………………. 107

Time to Relax …………………………………………….. 108

The Very Next Chapter …………………………………………... 111

This Page Three

Prognosticating Reminiscent Sand Piles ...…………….….… 112

Inspiration Calls …………………………………….…..…… 115

(I Forgot … um… ) ………………………………….…..…... 117

Drink This Book and Like It ...………………………...…….. 119

Sip on This, Two………………………………………..……. 120

Prognostication (Part Duh), “It’s Obvious.” ……..…..……… 121

In Control and Lost for the Plucking …..……………..……… 123

Community Services Announcement ………………..……… 128

A Stoic Pause Orchestrates the Usual ..................................... 130

Amazing Facts …………………………………….………… 133

Lunch Time, (try and) Take a Seat ………………….………. 134

In Cattus Requiem ………………………………….……….. 135

(Further) Into the Fog ………………………………………….……. 137

What I Haven’t Written Yet …………………………….…... 137

(While Waiting) Time to Think About the Passing Time:

Encrypted Dream  ......................................................... 137

Interred Mission to Post Mission …………………..….. 141 - 142

Change the Subject (Please!) ……………………….……….. 145

A Study in Situational Ethics and Karma ………….…….….. 146

Are You Done? …………………………………….………... 150

The Reluctant Snowflake …………………………………… 154

The Pause that Refreshes …………………………………… 156

Waasa Matter? Choke on This Paragraph .................………. 158

A.E.: I.O.U. (and sometimes ‘Why?’)…………..................... 164

This Page Four

Willow and Grayswandir ........................................................ 169

If You Do It, Mean It! ............................................................  171

How God Saved the Little Boy ……………………………... 172

Scorez-vous? ........................................................................... 177

Nope ........................................................................................ 180

This Ain’t Ravinia .................................................................. 181

Do it (to) Yourself Chapter: Fill Your Own Space …………………. 185

Back to My Chapters (Yours is Boring) .......................….................. 186

Dosewallips Coming Down..................................................... 186

Invitation to Imagination and Actual Party Mode................... 187

Happy Returns the Day ……………………………………... 189

(The Preceding Day) Fathered Attentions for Lunch ............. 192

The Lonely Puddle ………………………………………….. 194

The Next Part (Lost In Toxic Subsidy)………………....…………… 197

The Other Next Part and Courting Dreams ……..…………... 198

Birthday (Maid) Service …………………………………….. 200

(Sponsored Inter-Mission) and (continued) ............................. 201

The Offer of a Strife Time ...................................................... 204

Trains Passing in the Night ..................................................... 206

The Philosophical Limits of Imagination ............................... 209

Knock Yourself Out (Please)................................................... 213

Close the Window, Mon Ami ................................................. 214

Politics in Chicago: Snow jobs ............................................... 216

This Page Five

Part Two – Experience Expands

The Following Chapter: Let’s Spend a Day Together ........................... 218

Think Green and Pick a Day ...................................................... 218

Smoke This ................................................................................. 222

Happy New Year Connections ................................................... 225

Where Was He When We Needed Him? ................................... 228

(Pointed Pivot On To) Dark is Where the White Out Finds It ... 228

On Call: The Situation is, well, In Hand ................................... 229

Taco Time Juggling ................................................................... 230

From Small Chunks Break Bits and Pieces ............................... 232

The 4 R’s and Sunday Morning Pounding Down ...................... 235

A Call Up Wake (or Finding The Big Thrill) ............................ 238

Moral Sport Dedication ............................................................. 239

Chapter On or A Pocketful of Mondays ................................................ 241

Adventure, Mystery and Romance (Maybe Not) ...................... 245

May Day and The Tube ......................................................246, 247

Juggling with Words...... (Every Page, but Specifically)........... 250

Page Two-Hundred-Fifty-Two ................................................. 252

A Grade School Lesson in Neanderthal Humor ....................... 255

Morphalexic Daydreams ........................................................... 257

Wet, Wild and Swinging (This is Ravinia) ...............................259

My Other Foot Steps Out (or) Two For One Camel Magic ..... 261

Letters to My Daughters .......................................................... 268

Chapter Next ........................................................................................ 270

This Page Six

Talk about a Character and Vocabulary Check .......................... 270

Festive Land Gluttony Day ........................................................ 272

Did You Hear Them Say It? ....................................................... 273

Random Page Number Winner! ................................................. 274

Written Memory Test ................................................................. 279

Perspection ............................................................................................. 284

Everybody’s Got to be Somewhere ............................................ 286

My Grandmother’s View of Life ............................................... 289

(I remain sleeping for the duration...) No Return ................290, 291

My Daughter Supplies Another Karmic Lesson ........................ 291

(Retroverbalizations) Intersmitten Blast from the Passed by Past.......... 293

Job Responsibility and My All Over Twist Request ................. 295

Memories in the Dark or Serving a Long Sentence ................... 296

Getting Organized ...................................................................... 298

Reminiscing the Toxic Heir ....................................................... 300

The Great Missing Page Caper ................................................. (???)

The Latest Word ......................................................................... 304

The Low Down .......................................................................... 306

There Really Should Be ............................................................. 309

Welcoming Prologue ................................................................. 311

A Child is Born ............................................................…. 10-18-79

Marriage and Diapers Leading to (More) Snow Jobs ............... 313

Part Three – I’m Looking Up So I Must Be Down

Part To (Otherness) and Ivory Tower Dreams ....................................... 315

This Page Seven

Quixic Tandal ................................................................................ 315

Decide What I Mean .....(every page, but confined here to:) ........ 321

Self-Indulged Food for Thought et Progress in the Job World ..... 322

Winding Down Watch ............................................................................... 324

Special Poetry Section ................................................................... 324

Pertinent Questions and Check Your Scorecard............................ 326

Cheesy Target Practice................................................................... 328

Clear Cut Scoring the Whole Caboodle .......................................  329

Minimalistic Excess and Silent Landing ....................................... 332

Vision Doomed ............................................................................. 335

“     Dimmed ............................................................................. 338

(Invisible Chapter) ....................................... (Your guess is as good as mine)

Final Chapter (SODI?) .............................................................................. 341

Psidereal Matrix and Garden Delight ........................................... 341

Captain Naptime Wins a Gain ...................................................... 344

Scoring through Noblesse Oblique ............................................... 347

Communication Shakedown ......................................................... 351

Am I Supposed to be Here? .......................................................... 353

A(nother) Hollow Weaning .......................................................... 354

I Digress and Hit the Bottle on the Head  ..................................... 356

Is it Ever Not Monday? ................................................................. 360

Torquellipsis .................................................................................. 361

My Aim Keeps Wandering and Missed Her Tame, Boring Man .. 363

Prologue and A Stray in the Life ............................................................... 366

This Page Eight

Epilogue ......................................................................................... 377

What Remains is Gone ................................................................... 378

Narrowing the Way .................................................................................... 379

My Magus Opium .......................................................................... 380

(Further) Winding Down and The Curtain Falls ............................ 382

The Final Score and I Would Say................................................... 384

Final Chapter (Encore) and Final Word...................................................... 385

Closing ....................................................................................................... 386

Son of a Beach …………………………………………………………… 388

And so, again, I am washing over your eyes, sifting the written word across the perceptions of your awareness. I offer you my other way of seeing life in a big city:

(next posting)

I hope to see you there (I'll be the one looking over my shoulder at you)

Thanks.and Cheers

There's Easy Listening Music Playing Somewhere

I have begun transcribing the next installment of Withering Flats and I hope to be able to finish it in the not too distant future. Stay tuned and keep an eye open (otherwise how can you read it?) and let me know when it arrives... I want to read what happens! I am going to continue to use this blog for longer things, and my other two (I know there is a fourth, but I’m not quite up to maintaining that many) for more spontaneous and random translocutional efforts. Readership slowly grows on the WordPress blogs and I feel good about reaching out in other methods of creative display (for isn't that an artist's aim?), stimulating a thought, relating a story, sharing a memory, inspiring confusion or just giving a smile. I enjoy other’s enjoyment and so live the artist’s dream.


I have a couple Zlodt Bardo stories in mind, so that will be in the science fictioned future herewith transcribings as well.

And smiles back to you...
...do you hear that?
...sounds like....

                                         Adrift on a Sea of Stone

Last Willing Test To Money

12-09-12 I’m putting this same post in all three of my blogs, because, hey, it’s my birthday and I’ll blog if I want to.




Ambivalence rocks me to the core, drowning my sorrows in a thirst for more insipid perspectives, as I abjure token repletion to the hard bitten truth of my skin deep irritations, my neglected seats of contort and relaxation and my need to define and communicate, in lieu toward resigned decay and complacency. Symptoms of intentional focus are quickly attended to and disbursed among the wonders of the universe and imagination. What reflection can compose my substance as it eases into its berth effectioned moorings with the water levels getting low and the imagery all wet for the sinking? Yet I swim forward into the clear blue sea of the tomorrow, as every moment has its own day. I look to see who I am, where have I brought myself to within this life, in what direction am I traveling, how am I working toward my life’s goals and how can I help myself be a better person within the context of those around me, yet all I find are the shadows cast by that which lies yet up ahead and thus unclear. I move to the light of entropy and dream , not really sure which is holding sway over my attentions in the greater capacity, and starting to feel the strain of day to day existence as it is applied within the hierarchical confines of the society’s conditioned reflex. Philosophical maunderings muddle the already turgid flow of my evening inspirations, the chill of autumn’s wind washes its hand over the face of my days, causing me to bundle my dreams and keep them warm in the thoughts my heart holds when it sleeps. Perchance to dream, and the chance is given. It is the visionaries who read this dream who hold the dream come true, who see the light beyond the light and passed it beyond view in vision won by current effort spread across time and space with limits existing only outside the realm our immeasurable imagination can project. Coming soon to a literary communication device near you. Now, if only this can be directed to produce viable, steady and significant income then it’s all yours to have and to hold which would give me a break, and I wouldn’t mind the rest, for I am getting tired.... I’ll see you next year, whether I’m there (appropriately aged but with spare change to show for the spending) or not.

Withering Flats, Episode Two, part 6, conclusion

(Episode 2, Part 6, conclusion)

Greetings and welcome to the conclusion to Episode 2 of Withering Flats! We left Nick standing dejected at the door after the trick-or-treaters laughed as they thought his prideful declaration of villainy was all part of a Halloween act. Poor Janee has been wrapped in copper wire for quite some time (especially since I have not met a timely production schedule) and is patiently sleeping while waiting for Nick’s return. Let’s not keep her waiting any longer and we present the exciting conclusion to our tale...

“Ha ha, thanks Mister!” and they turned and went on their way, as Nick lowered his arm and looked rather deflated.

“Kids nowadays,” he lamented, “No respect...” and he closed the door.

Then, seeing Janee still trussed and asleep, he shook himself, growled, cocked his head at the sound, growled again, and then smiled his old evil smile once more. He waved the plunger at her and said, “Now it’s show time for you, my sweet!” He put the plunger back between his legs, pulled the goggles out of his pocket and pulled them on so that the elastic back was against the back of the helmet, took the gloves out from under his arm, pulled them on, grabbed the plunger from between his legs and strode over to where his helpless victim stood propped against the wall.

Janee’s rhythmic snoring had caught the interest of a fly that was now buzzing in and out of her mouth with the vibrating tides of her breath, but otherwise showed no awareness of what was transpiring around her. Nick knelt at Janee’s feet, picked up the two ends of wire and...

Ding-dong...

“What?!” Nick Cried.

Ding-dong...

“I don’t believe it!” Nick denied.

Ding-dong...

“I don’t care!” Nick belied, and he stuck the wires into the socket, causing Janee to jerk and clamp her mouth shut with a “WHOOP!” just at an influx of breath (much to the consternation of the fly), then he got up, picked up the plunger and stormed over to the door.

He flung the door open to see a person standing there who was dressed in a blue and green striped jacket with matching trousers, a yellow shirt with purple polka-dotted red tie, a pair of red, white and blue gym shoes, a straw hat sporting a plastic daisy from its band, and who held a large bunch of oily looking tulips in one hand and a box of candy in the other. Nick stuck the plunger under his arm, glove handedly fished in his coat pocket, pulled out the box of foil packets, stuck the whole box down into the flowers, grabbed the plunger again, waved it threateningly and said, in goggle-eyed frustration, “Trick or Treat yourself!” then slammed the door.

The door re-opened immediately, Nick reached out, grabbed the box of candy, said, “My treat this time!” and, as sparks flashed behind him, re-slammed the door.

The door again opened, this time with smoke accompanying Nick, as he said to the person, “And that’s the silliest costume I’ve ever seen!” and slammed the door once more.

The door opened still yet again and, as smoke billowed out, sparks shot from behind him and a sizzling sound grew louder, Nick added, “And my costume is not a costume at all, it’s my working wardrobe because I’m a scientist and I’m getting mad! So don’t bother me, we’re busy!” and with that he finally slammed the door for the last time, leaving Clem Clump standing there in great confusion in his Sunday best suit, wondering if perhaps Janee is busy for the evening and can’t go with him for a walk in the moonlight to watch the fireflies at the city dump.


Well, that’s (fianlly!) the end of Episode Two of Withering Flats. Will Janee survive Nick’s shocking intentions? Will Nick get the deed signed over? Will Janee agree to marry Nick? Will Clem find someone to go watch fireflies with? Will the Trick-or-Treaters find a good use for the foil packets? Will the toilet plunger become the new weapon of choice for magicians? Tune in again next time to see if these questions are answered! So for more action, suspense and romance be sure to return for Episode Three of Withering Flats!


Written by Michael Steven Platt 5-17-09

Withering Flats, Episode Two, part 4

(Episode Two, part 4)

Hello again from the ever interesting world of Withering Flats! We are continuing our installments of Episode Two and tonight we pick up right when nasty Nick Nak had sweet Janee Trubloo tied up in copper wires and was about to plug her into the electrical socket when the doorbell rang. Nik answered onoy to find himself confronted by a host of Super Heroes. Let’s find out what happened next...

He swung the door open, politely saying, “What can I do for ...” then suddenly was struck dumb in seeing right there in front of him, Superman, Batman, Iron Man, the Wolverine, Harry Potter and a Cheerleader!

“Gulp,” Nick nervously swallowed and, in his most innocent voice, asked, “Well, hello there. Whatever brings you all to ...um, visit this evening?” hoping that it was some kind of mistaken address situation.

“Trick or Treat!” they chorused, as they all raised their arms up to show the bags that they carried.

‘Huh? What’s that again?” responded Nick, in some trepidatious confusion.

“Trick or Treat!” and they all offered up their bags a bit more insistently.

Nick stood in motionless befuddlement a moment longer as the gears of his thought processes disengaged, remeshed in a realigned differential configuration, ground, chuttered and clattered a bit and finally produced enough mechanically organic electrical energy up the convoluted wiring of his evil mind, to finally light the ultra-violet bulb in his idea attic, shedding dark illumination on the realization that it was Halloween and these were kids out begging for loot. (“My kind of deal,” his subconscious entity acknowledged, and then followed with, “No wonder they all look so much shorter than I imagined them to be.”)

“Oh,” his conscious mind finally vocalized, then, “Oh! Okay, you sneaky little brats, I know your game,” once more reverting to character, rocking on his heels and putting his hands in his jacket pockets, “Well, you’re out of luck here, because I don’t...” then he stopped as his hands fondled the box in his pocket. His thoughts went through their manipulations again, his brows knit down then purled back up again, and he said, “Wait a minute ... here,” pulling the box out, “there’s one for each of you,” and as he held the box in one hand he pulled out individually wrapped foil packets from it with the other and dropped one in each proffered bag.

“There you go, kids, now beat it, I’m a busy man!” and waved them away “Thanks, mister!” they chorused one last time, as some of them looked into their bags, trying to discern exactly what it was that he had given them.

Then Superman spoke up and added, “That’s a great old fashioned costume you’re wearing,” referring to Nick’s slicked back jet black hair and pencil thin handlebar moustache, his long black coat, black string tie against the severely starched white shirt (worn to please his mother), the black trousers falling down around his high healed shiny black boots. “But what is that supposed to be,” pointing between Nick’s legs at the protruding toilet plunger still tightly held there.

“Um,” Nick looked down into the red rubber circle of the plunger’s business end as it seemed to be staring back up at him.

“Um...” he repeated, looking back up at the gathered group, once again in confused stasis. (Mental gears grind, etc.)

“Oh!” he announced, in sudden inspiration, focusing on the Harry Potter costumed child. He stuffed the half empty box back into his coat pocket, grabbed the plunger and brandished it above his head in a menacing way.

“This is my Magic Wand and I’ll use it to turn you all into sewer rats if you don’t scram!” he threatened menacingly.

The gathered children looked at him, then all broke into laughter exclaiming, “Ha-ha-ha!”

“You’re too funny, mister!”

“Cool!”

“That’s a good one!”

“Ha! Thanks again!” and they scurried off to the next house as quickly as their costumed legs would carry them.

Nick slammed the door in self-congratulatory triumph at having overcome this challenging setback, turned and strode back to where Janee was napping peacefully against the wall. He plucked out the rag with his left hand, the right hand still holding the once again forgotten plunger, and stuffed it in his back pocket. Janee stirred a bit, smacked her lips twice, smiled in her continued repose and began snoring in vibrant, open-mouthed earnest.

“I’ll make you sign the deed over,” Nick confidently announced to her, waving the plunger for emphasis, “and tell me that you’ll marry me!” he threw in for good measure, not really caring if she married him or not (or if she even heard him), but enamored with the idea of making her tell him, against her will, that she would. He put down the plunger next to Janee, went and grabbed the spool of copper wire that he had stashed behind the door, then continued trussing the solidly sleeping form of her upper body until she was quite well cocooned.

Stepping back to survey his handiwork, he rubbed his hands together in glee and said, “Now my sweet, you’ll see what happens when you refuse my reasonable offers!”

(end of part 4)

Well! Will Nick make good on his threat to plug Janee in? Will she wake up before he does? Will she wake up when he does? Is there some way to stop this evil scheme? Do we have to wait until tomorrow?

Yes, that’s all for tonight, and we will indeed pick up again tomorrow as the further adventures of those wonderful folks from Withering Flats return!

Written by Michael Steven Platt 5-13-09

Withering Flats, Episode Two, part 2

(Episode Two, Part 2)

We left off last night with Nick rummaging in Janee’s purse after wrapping her in copper wire and stuffing a rag in her mouth. He had just found a significant piece of paper and was flaunting it in front of Janee’s face. Let’s tune in and catch the suspense from there...


He grabbed the purse off of her wrist, reached into it, pulled out a piece of paper and exclaimed, “Aha! I have it at last!” brandishing it in front of Janee’s face

Her quizzical frown caused him to look at what he held and mirrored her frown as he realized he held the invitation to a bridal shower to take place later that week.

“Drat!” he muttered, as he shoved it into his back pocket and again reached in to Janee’s grab bag purse. He found another piece of paper, pulled it out triumphantly and said, “HERE it is!” again waving it in Janee’s face. She shrugged at him with a blank stare, causing him to look closer at this item, which turned out to be a receipt from Ernie’s May Day Floral Supplies and Sludge Haulers for the removal of 130 gallons of “Liquid Waste” from a septic retention tank. Grimacing with frustration, Nick stuffed this into his shirt pocket and once again thrust his hand into the purse, rummaging around until her found some more papers, which he pulled out and exclaimed, “Finally!” but growled in anger as he saw it wasn’t what he was looking for, then paused in thoughtful musing as he saw that it was a copy of ‘Soap Opera Crossword Puzzles,’ raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips and thoughtfully tucked it in his other back pocket from the Shower invite. He reached in one more time and came out with yet another sheet of paper which turned out to be a preprinted-autographed picture of purple-haired Rosco MacGoulash (Oodles and Oodles served) which he reverently folded and stuck in the inside pocket of his black coat.

“This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought,” muttered nasty Nick, and he opened the purse up wide to look into its voluminous depths.

“Sheesh!” he complained, “What is it with women and their purses? What is all this stuff for?” as he started to haul out various contents, placing them in his pockets (a Television Program Directory, a half eaten apple, several bottles of ‘Color Perfect’ nail polish and typing correction fluid, a tin of Garlic Roses Breath Mints and a screwdriver), under one arm (volume seven of the Encyclopedia Lusitania), then the other (a deflated inflatable ‘Man-around-the-House’ for the girl who has everything else) and finally between his legs (a short necked toilet plunger... it really is a big purse). He finally noticed a grungy piece of paper sticking out from an outside pocket, and, as carefully as his encumbered arms could allow him, he extricated it, unfolded it , perused it, scrunched his face up in confusion, rubbed some dried mud off it, had a sudden insight, turned it top to bottom and perused it once more. He then raised his arms and jumped up and down in lock-legged triumph (dropping everything except the toilet plunger, which he still held between his knees) and cried, “Eureka! I’ve found it at long last!”

Janee, mulling over her own issues as Nick was occupied with the contents of her purse (“I wonder if Clem will show up tonight, this place is a mess and I haven’t raked my hair yet,” shaking out her seaweed locks), was startled as Nick jumped up and shouted. He grinned evilly and held out the soiled yet still legible piece of paper. She looked at it with mild curiosity, then looked at Nick and shrugged. Nick frowned, said, “Don’t you recognize this?” and waved it around for emphasis.

Janee, bobbed and weaved her head as best she could, trying to study the unsteady paper. Nick stopped moving it around, grabbed top and bottom to straighten it out and held it up close to her face as she still stood wrapped and propped against the brightly stylish cinder block wall. She looked closely and then shook her head as she once more regarded her tormentor.

“Oh really,” Nick exclaimed in exasperation, turning it around so he could look at it again, “it’s really quite easy to see...” and he stopped as he studied the paper, frowned, then sheepishly turned it right-side up again and once more offered it to Janee, stating in triumph, “It’s the deed to your father’s Tulip Ranch!” and, as he once again turned it around to study his prize, he sneeringly added, “And, it comes complete with tip-toe rights!”

“Oh no!” thought Janee, still chewing on the rag in her mouth as if it were cud, “Not the Tulip Ranch!”

“Mmm-nnh!” articulated Janee out loud through the rag, as she stopped her rhythmic chomping, “Nnn mmm Nng-nngm Rnnnhn!”

“What’s that?” asked Nick, looking up from the dirty deed, and then, seeing her wide-eyed, plugged mouth stare, apologized, “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to be rude,” and he reached over to pluck out the rag.

“Not the Tulip Ranch!” she cried out...

(end of part 2)

Oh dear! Janee seems to be quite taken aback by Nick’s desire for her father’s ranch. Will he force it from her? Will she suffer at his whim? Will he stuff the dirty, oily rag back in her mouth? Will she survive it if he does? Will the rag survive it?

Tune in again tomorrow for the next exciting installment of adventure, drama and romance from Withering Flats!

Written by Michael Steven Platt 5-11-09

Withering Flats, part one

Today, coming from the storied vaults of Memory’s Old Literary Domain, where the shows of yestertimes just don’t get any better, it’s drama, suspense and romance from Withering Flats, the small town in the Heartland of Decency and Family Values. Yes, dear old Withering Flats, where men are men, women are women, children are seen and not heard (unless written into the script) and tongues (when they aren’t wagging about the neighbors) are planted firmly in cheeks where they belong.

This morning we find our protagonist and hero, down right up right Clem Clum, out searching by the railroad tracks, looking for his sweetheart, the twinkle of his thoughts, the bell of his heart and the apple of his smile, sweet Janee Trubloo. It was very important that he find her for she was last seen in the company of that archfiend, that despoiler of good manners, that vicious and dastardly unsavory character, nasty Nick Nak.

The train track switch house operator, Mr. Wuntrak was sitting outside his little shelter near the big switch that moved the tracks to send trains to the left or right, depending on their cargo.
“Hello, Mr. Wuntrak,”Clem called out in greeting, “Have you seen Janee or Nick about at all today?”

The old man looked up from his dozing focus on the ground in front of him and sputtered, “Eh...huh? What’s that?” And, upon looking closer as Clem approached, said, “Oh it’s you, youngster. What’s that you say?”

“I’m looking for Janee Trubloo and Nick Nak and I was wondering if you’d seen them,” Clem repeated as he stopped along the track bed near Mr. Wuntrak’s chair. “It’s really important!”

“Hmmm,” mused the grizzled veteran of countless decades along the tracks, “Seems to me I saw a couple of whippersnappers this morning. They wanted to know if that silly, new-fangled passenger express was due soon. I told them it had already gone by, off to the left into the city and good riddance. Then they wanted to know about the slow and steady freight that goes right to the industrial mills with all the important stuff for industry, and I told ‘em it wasn’t due until late this afternoon. Gotta keep to the schedule, you know.”

“Was Janee okay, Mr. Wuntrak?”asked Clem, seeming a bit anxious.

“Janee? Was she the one gagged with her hands tied behind her back? She didn’t say much... grunted a lot. She seemed well enough to me. It was the other one all dressed in black that did the talking,” was the answer. “Seemed a nice polite boy,” Mr. Wuntrak continued.

“Did he say where he was taking her?” asked Clem, a bit more nervously.

“Well, it seems to me he said something about Woodinpate’s new saw mill, but I warn’t payin’ too much attention ‘cause I gotta mind the track,” replied old Mr. Wuntrak

“Now you skeedaddle, young man, you’re too young to be playing about these here tracks, it’s a dangerous place,” shaking his finger and standing up to emphasize his point and then over-balancing on his wobbly legs and falling onto the nearer rail.

“Eh?” he grunted, “Where’d you go?” he wondered, as Clem hurried over and helped him back up.

“Oh, there you are,” getting his bearings again. “What was I saying?” he wondered out loud.

“You were telling me I’m too young to be near the tracks, but I was forty-two last October, Mr. Wuntrak,” Clem voiced.

“What’s that? Forty-two? Yessir, that’s what I said, too young to be around here. Now move along home, your mother is probably wondering where you are and I’ve got to get ready for the train... it’s due in a couple hours and the track needs to be switched.”

“Okay,” said Clem, “thanks, Mr. Wuntrak!” as he scurried off.

“Maybe I should try Mr. Woodinpate’s new saw mill,” Clem spoke to himself, as he hurried back along the way he came, desperate to find them. He turned down the path through the woods and headed back toward town.

Coming up to the old mill a few minutes later he was greeted by the loudly abrasive sounds of lumber being sawn into planks. Stepping through the open door he was greeted with a spray of saw dust and wood chips as the vibrant buzz of the big blade screamed into a fresh log. Mr. Woodinpate was standing by the long lever that operated the belt-driven conveyor that ran the log into the whirling teeth. The log finished its run through, the newly hewn plank falling off onto the rollers along side of the belt platform. The plank slid along the slight downslope of the rollers as the angle of their plane tilted to the left causing the plank to fall into a large, long bin holding several other freshly cut planks. Mr. Woodinpate pulled the lever, stopping the forward motion of the belt, then flipped a small switch in the box next to the lever and pushed the lever forward again putting the belt into reverse, bringing the log back to the front of the saw once more.

As he stopped the conveyor after the log had been pulled back far enough, Clem shouted out, “Mr. Woodinpate! It’s Clem Clump!”

Mr. Woodinpate flipped the small switch again, pushed the long lever forward to start the conveyor’s motion toward the saw once more then turned, saw Clem, lowered his eyebrows in suspicion and shouted, “Hey there, what are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Janee Trubloo and Nick Nak, have you seen them?” Clem shouted above the shrill whine of the blade.

“Hold your horses, young man, there’s too much noise here,” shouted back Mr. Woodinpate as the blade tore noisily into the log again.

He reached over to a nearby upright beam and pulled off a large pair of sound proofing head gear from a hook, pulled them on over his ears and said, “That’s better,” with a contented smile as the log kept screaming into the saw, “now I can talk,” then he looked at Clem again and scowled with suspicion, “You’re not one of those danged perverted tree-hugger types are you?”

“Oh no, sir” Clem shook his head, “I’m looking for Janee Trubloo and Nick Nak and I was wondering if you had seen them.”

“Confounded tree-huggers,” continued Mr. Woodinpate, not hearing Clem’s query, or anything else for that matter, “Can’t trust ‘em and don’t want to. All they want to do is grow things. If they had their way, pretty soon we’d all be overrun with trees and we wouldn’t have any lumber to build things!”

“No, Mr. Woodinpate,” protested Clem, “I just want to know if you’ve seen Janee or Nick!”

But Mr. Woodinpate was lost in his own musings, and said, “Why just the other day I was out cutting down a prime specimen to make lumber for the new tourist office for the Visitor’s Bureau and some busybodies tried to stop me saying some silly thing about that tree being the main attraction of the town,” he fumed, getting into his subject.

“Well, of course it would be something to look at, it was a wonderfully large oak, hundreds of years old! Did they think I was stupid and wanted to cut down some scrawny little sapling? Sheesh, it’s no wonder those tree-hugger saps are so ignorant and full of ridiculous ideas trying to stop progress,” he was getting more into his story.

“So I told them if they wanted tourists to look at it, then hang up a picture of it in the new building. Then I knocked a few of those protesters down and had Sheriff Blyndors lock the rest up until I was done,” he finished with smug satisfaction. “I showed those wacko’s a thing or two, and told them that when the trees are all gone then I’ll go ahead and stop!”

And with that, he turned and pulled the lever to stop the conveyor, which had long since finished running the log through the saw. He flipped the small switch, pushed the lever once more, brought the remaining log back, pulled the lever to stop it, flipped the small switch again, then before putting the conveyor in motion again, twisted to Clem and said, “Go on, sonny, just like I told that nice young fella earlier today who wanted to cut up his rolled up, lumpy carpet, I’m too busy keeping this place running to be bothered with unimportant, mundane things like anyone else’s problems,” and he pushed the lever forward sending what remained of the log into the hungry saw once more.

“Thanks, Mr. Woodinpate,” shouted Clem as he turned and left.

Walking back into town, Clem was at a loss as to where to try next. He thought, that since Mr. Woodinpate had mentioned him, to try Sheriff Blyndors and ask if he had seen Janee or Nick. He was beginning to get worried that his searching would get him to the focus of his concern too late!

... to be continued ...

Oh my, dear readers! What ever will happen? Will Clem find Janee and Nick in time? Will Nick find a place he can act out his evil plans? Will Sheriff Blyndors see the need for action? Will I stop asking these silly questions? Find out tomorrow in the conclusion of this episode of Withering Flats!

Written by Michael Steven Platt 4-19-09

Digging Deep and Three Thoughts

Dianne and I spent a taxing couple of hours looking through old notebooks of mine for stories that have never been put into the computer, and, by the time we had found a few, there is not enough time to transcribe, edit and present one in a suitable format. Dianne did a delightful job typing up a transcription of a dream I once had, but I will use this as a rough draft and offer the polished version at a later date. So for today’s entry I will make due by putting forth a few Thoughts of the Moment and call it a night.

Doing the best one can is the ultimate goal of any given moment.

Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting a losing uphill battle just to stay where I am.

Some people are gifted with a generous dearth of awareness.


Catch you in the greater later on!

Written by Michael Steven Platt 4-15-09

The Five P's of Good Thinking Health!

Today’s exciting episode is brought to you by Peabottom’s Peptomatic Perky Placebo Pills, for the downright upright feeling ...from your split ends right down to your toe-nail clippings, and everywhere in between! Safe and effective Peabottom’s Pills are the natural answer for all your psychosomatic ailments!

Yes, Friend, if you are feeling run down, tired, deflated, overwrought, under the weather, in a rut, out of sorts, over the hill, around the bend or just plain bored, a couple of Peabottom’s PPP Pills will work with your own inner drive and vigor to restore your natural state so that in no time at all you’ll be right on top of things, feeling like you again and ready for action! Containing our special, patented blend of absolutely one-hundred percent ingredients, these little miracle workers give you all the power your mind can muster to help you face the world around you like nothing at all! And, they can be swallowed or taken as a safe and effective suppository with the same one-hundred percent guaranteed results!

Get back to being your old self as if nothing has changed and let everyone know that in spite of the daily grind you are still the same person you have always been!

Have dieting issues? These marvelous little pills are also appetite suppressants and can be used in conjunction with any diet plan. Just take three of Peabottom’s Pills every two minutes for as long as you feel is necessary and you will naturally curb your stomach’s desire for anything else! They work wonders!

Recommended by astrologers and phrenologists worldwide, as well as our own on staff experts, and safe for folks of any age!

Don’t let yourself get the best of yourself, fight back with a double dose of Peabottom’s Peptomatic Perky Placebo Pills and show people who’s boss! Order a bottle of today! Order two bottles at the regular price and we will throw in an additional third bottle free for the price of only one more! (Plus shipping and handling)

So do yourself a favor and stop being the victim of your normal, everyday condition, take Peabottom’s and let the good times roll naturally! Be sure to tell your friends and family, and, as an extra bonus with this ad only, for everyone else that you get to buy a bottle of PPPP Pills, we will sell you another one at the regular price for no extra charge!

Sold by mail order only from a secret location outside the seven mile limit. Supplies limited so order now. Special discounts apply to the first one-hundred people to order. One-hundred percent money back guarantee if we are not completely satisfied with the results of your purchase! PPPP Pills have been clinically tested by certified secret third world laboratories. No animals were harmed or fed in the process. Cash or money orders accepted. Your credit card information most gladly accepted! To order by phone, call the special 1-900 number and speak with one of our highly trained operators or write to us in care of our P.O. Box, NY, NY.
Remember, it’s Peabottom’s Peptomatic Perky Placebo Pills for the Real You!

And now, on with the show...

Today we have a Thought of the Moment:

There’s no time like the present, but when the future gets here we will be able to say, “Now this is what I’m talking about!”

This concludes today’s regular show. Be sure to tune in again next time when the makers of Peabottoms’s Peptomatic Perky Placebo Pills bring you another (one-hundred percent guaranteed interesting) blog posting!

Written by Michael Steven Platt 4-10-09

A Story Told in a Special Way According to the Dictates of the Day

Hold on to your hat and keep watch on the sky, be ready to dance, run, sing, dream or fly,
Anything goes, but that’s nothing new, it’s my presentation that’s altered in view,
This is the game my words will play here, (and I’m sure that by now the intention is clear)
It’s not only what but how I will say, so get ready to roll: it’s Rhyming Day!

The story of mine that I’ve chosen to share has an unlikely cast and a romantic flair,
So without further note I set it to sail, straight from the swamp, here’s

A Froggy Tale
Once upon a lily pad
there was a frog who looked quite sad,
A passing horsefly stopped to say,
"Just what has made you feel this way?"
The frog looked up and shed a tear,
then said, "The reason that I'm sad is clear,
Come close and I shall share my woe
and then you'll learn why I act so."
The fly buzzed close and said, "Tell me."
The frog said, "It's like this, you see,
I had a friend, a lady frog
the cutest frog in all the bog,
With skin all green and slick and spotted,
her beauty had me quite besotted!
And when she put her legs to jumpin'
she set my froggy heart a pumpin'!
And so unto this winsome miss
I gave a great big froggy kiss!"
Then he sighed, was quiet again,
the fly buzzed closer, asked, "What then?!
The frog breathed low and looked at him,
then went on in voice quite grim,
"I thought she knew I only joked,
but then, by golly, she up and CROAKED!"
...the frog just sat with bug-eyed grin,
and flexed his throat and froggy chin.
The fly sat still, then moaned with grief,
"That was dumb beyond belief!"
The frog still smiled, then with a leer,
said, "Not as dumb as you it's clear!"
With that his tongue snapped with a crack
and made that fly a froggy snack!
The frog intoned, "Works every time!"
and that's the end of our froggy rhyme!


I hope you enjoyed this poetry time and had fun with my silly tongue in cheek rhyme,
Romance, adventure, humor, surprise, all brought together in a treat for your eyes!
I found great pleasure in sharing with you, but now I must close and bid fair adieu.
We’ll try this again on some future post and I’ll act the part of your narrator host,
And so I’ll ride off toward the fast setting sun, with this time of rhyme I’m finally done.


Written By Michael Steven Platt 4-09-09