Full Disclosure
The robots aren’t really opposed to breast feeding. That’s just a strategic bargaining chip held by one faction of the electronic government. Fortunately, they’re still open to shuttle diplomacy. Remember, one person’s mistake is another person’s profit margin, at least until the ceasefire ends in a crossfire. Better shake your moneymaker, baby, before it’s too late. Of course, I don’t want any trouble, so I’m pacing myself until I can get a golden visa. You can never be too careful when you’re up against the Conservative party, those communists. Yesterday, I was trying to forget my amnesia. The moon was gone and the trees were hysterical. Astro Boy said to me, This weather is designed for a shorter man. I said, Yeah, sometimes electricity does funny things. It gives me special powers when it short circuits my soggy hair. He took one look at the magnetic birds fastened to the gunmetal sky and said, This movie is all over, except for the shooting. In preparation for pummeling fire and limestone, we hunkered down behind a hydrant. As stones began to fall from the algorithmic clouds and the gazelles wept like a tongueless Satan, Astro Boy pivoted to me and said, Now, what do you think about the robots’ freedom of speech? Like a burning candle at wit’s end, I reminded my android friend that while I partially support full disclosure, there are always some things better left unsaid.
Whether or Weather
Damn, if it’s not UFO weather again. So far, none of the family have disappeared and only one of the dogs. Even with all this climate change, it’s not as bad as it used to be, although lately, I’ve noticed that I’m hungrier when I’m full, than when I’m empty, but that’s probably because of the all-you-can-eat dinners I bought at half-price. At least now, thanks to the gravitational pull, it’s not so much mob rule, as it is mob guidelines, so everybody is pretty cooperative. Tuesday, as I was driving to the grocery store, I was followed by an unnamed informant in an unmarked vehicle. I’m not at liberty to divulge the details, but let’s just say that the movie about the book will be better than the book about the movie. Meanwhile, yesterday, Justine came over to tell me that the Come-Back-Kid had just left town because he was tired of all the hidden agendas. She tried to explain to him that his problem was he couldn’t distinguish between an agenda and an itinerary, but by that time, it was too late; The Kid had forgotten where he was headed and arrived before he departed. Then she told me that due to their ill-tempered temperatures, the exo-planets are memorizing their own names. I assured her that no matter what they’re called, it’s only their government bureaucracy against ours. Spy satellites or weather satellites, bullets of rain or cats and dogs? At those altitudes it’s hard to tell whether there’s even any weather at all.
Good Money
I thought I had sleep paralysis, but it was Martians tying me down again for their experiments. Later, my socks shrunk, but my feet remained the same size. God and the weather; what are you going to do? Tuesday, it was so cold, I turned on the TV. Been following all the procedures to get into heaven. The police department has been very helpful, in that regard. In fact, we’re taking it to the next level. In sector “K,” the code of reality is far-fetched, so it pays to have quirky charm and more fun than an octopus has elbows. Next time, though, I’ll have to figure the blood/brain barrier into the final equation. Why throw good money after bad?
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Brad Rose was born and raised in Los Angeles, and lives in Boston. He is the author of five collections of poetry and flash fiction: Lucky Animals, No. Wait. I Can Explain., Pink X-Ray, de/tonations, Momentary Turbulence, and the forthcoming volume, WordInEdgeWise. Seven times nominated for a Pushcart Prize and three times nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology, Brad’s poetry and fiction have appeared in, The Los Angeles Times, Sequestrum, The American Journal of Poetry, New York Quarterly, Puerto del Sol, Clockhouse, Folio, Cloudbank, Baltimore Review, 45th Parallel, Best Microfiction 2019, Lunch Ticket, Unbroken, Cultural Daily, and other publications. Brad is also the author of seven poetry chapbooks, among them, Democracy of Secrets, Collateral, An Evil Twin is Always in Good Company, and Funny You Should Ask. His website is www.bradrosepoetry.com His blog is https://bradrosepoetry.com/blog/