“The creepy man in the haunted house said that?” Timmy asked.

“That’s what he said, really,” Jonathan replied. “Robert said so. And he’s in high school, so you know it must be true.”

“Well, I’m not trick-or-treating there Friday. You can go alone if you want.”

“Timmy, don’t you see how cool it would be? You should come with us.”

“Sounds scary, not cool.”

“What do you mean?”

“Me arse—it looks OK?”

“Why? Did you do something to it?”

“Can’t you be serious?”

“You’re aware it has a crack in it, aren’t you?”

“Do you think you’re funny?”

“What do you want to know? Is it the right shape? The right size?”

“Is it big?”

“What does big mean? Can you walk over by the door?”

“To here? Far enough?”

“There now you’ve made it smaller, haven’t you? Does that make you happy?”

“I didn’t see it coming,” she told me, when she recovered.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I knew it could happen, but not so soon. I thought you were harmless.”

“The same they say about climate change.”

Anxious guests chattered in anticipation of what would happen next. The priest glanced at the row of individuals immediately before him. Then, at his watch.

Time passed on. The front door opened. A man rushed in.

No one turned to greet him. No talking caught his ears.

Who would’ve believed his story of being caught up in traffic when he was golfing with friends and lost track of time?

He fumbled in his dress jacket pocket, finding the wedding ring lodged in its creases.

As I came to a clear, calm stream, a lovely naked woman rose before me, her long black hair drenched and covering her breasts. She pulled me under with the strength of a man, as other women surrounded me.

“Relax, Hylas, we are here to please you.” Her voice melodious and soothing.

I drifted for what seemed an eternity and surfaced as if nothing had happened.

The receptionist looked up at the cop coming through the door and smiled.

“Good evening officer. This is becoming a regular occurrence.”

“Yes, Ma’am, second Friday night this month,” said the cop.

“Let me guess, seventh floor? Mrs. Smith called about Frannie’s drinking party again?”

“Bingo.”

“We’ll try to settle Mrs. Smith down first, then talk with Frannie.”

“Thanks.”

I tossed the pillow at her, and white fluffy stuffing went flying. We both giggled as we bounced on the bed in our pjs until Mom came in.

“Enough, girls,” she said, smiling. “Time for bed.”

We lay our pillows down and panted, holding hands. “Best friends for life?” she asked, hooking her pinky in mine. I nodded.

Kenneth looked his friend over as if to check for any cracks needing medical intervention.

“It’s time you learn,” Benjamin said. “How can you go through life without making an omelette?”

Kenneth reluctantly selected a recipe. He gathered all ingredients he could find and set out to cook.

Benjamin took a bite. “You call this an omelette?”

The cook wriggled uncomfortably. “I didn’t know we ran out of milk.”

“You could’ve used skim milk powder, mixed with water.”

Benjamin continued crunching, picking out bits from his portion.

“Are you sure he’s qualified? I’d even be better at it.”

Came the Great Lockdown when most shops had to close and his appointment at the barber shop got cancelled.

After a few weeks his hair started getting unmanageable, so he said: “Go ahead, dear, show us you can do a better job.”

“Hola.”

“Robby, rather than talk about your recent injury, why don’t you tell us why you and your father were named after Jackie Robinson?”

“I wasn’t named after him. I was named after the great irascible poet, Robinson Jeffers. I learned English so I could read his poems.”

“I didn’t know that. Can you quote your favorite lines?”

“I’d prefer to paraphrase.”

“If it makes you more comfortable, go right ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go for it.”