tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671441173342717802024-03-07T21:22:56.891-06:00The Rest of My LifeSee my new blog: <a href="http://mrkimmosleywrite.blogspot.com">MRKIMMOSLEYWRITE.BLOGSPOT.COM</A>
Diaristic Notations started 7/18/07. The images are created on a Palm Pilot TX. To read the novel from the beginning, go to <a href="http://mrkimmosley.blogspot.com/2007_07_18_archive.html">July 18</A> posting and click on the following day at the bottom of each post. Or if you wish to jump on the train in the middle of the trip and start with today's post, that is okay as well.
Thanks!Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.comBlogger218125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-40158024783268280092007-10-20T21:31:00.000-05:002007-10-21T03:32:47.754-05:00Augusta's Story<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RxsMunvmzoI/AAAAAAAAArc/2LTCVGYhZyk/s1600-h/102007.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RxsMunvmzoI/AAAAAAAAArc/2LTCVGYhZyk/s400/102007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123702996146245250" border="0" /></a><span style=""><center>Augusta, Dusty, and the Bunnies<br /></center></span><br />"I’ve just known Dusty for a couple of months, so my story doesn’t have quite the depth as her story. But sometimes we know someone better as a stranger than we know a long time intimate, so please take note of what I have to say.<br /><br />I am first and foremost a cop. Most people don’t like cops. Cops enforce the law and are often blamed for the law. I could go on and on about how we don’t write the law, but that is for another time. I’ll try to stick with what I know of Dusty.<br /><br />A couple of months ago we heard that the president of the United States was coming through Dustland and our mayor, Rube Adams, decided it was time to clean up our city once and for all. Though he had been treated for many years for his obsessive compulsion disorder, he never really was cured. When he said that he wanted to clean up, he wasn’t kidding.<br /><br />He issued orders to get rid of every speck of dust in Dustland. He was sick and tired of his town being the butt of so many jokes because of its name. He wanted to be known as the mayor of the cleanest city in the United States (if not the world) and not the mayor of a cloud of dust.<br /><br />When my sergeant received the proclamation to rid Dustland of dust he took Rube quite literally. I wasn’t sure if Rube really meant that every speck should be removed, but as a well-trained and obedient cop I was much better at taking orders than at thinking. Maybe that is why I never could graduate from college.<br /><br />I received my marching orders on July 5, the day after Independence Day. I was told to go to Dusty’s house and both get rid of all her dust bunnies and let her know that in the future the harboring of bunnies would not be tolerated.<br /><br />I put a dustpan and collapsible broom in my brief case and set off in my Hummer for Dusty’s house.<br /><br />I had never met Dusty but I thought that this would be a rather simple call. I had been married for a number of years and knew women well. Though my wife walked out on me when she found a younger man, we did have some good years. She generally took my direction, as do most women. I’m a big man with a commanding voice. Not too many people stand up to me, especially women."Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-64935794281978530972007-10-17T14:03:00.000-05:002007-10-17T22:48:08.612-05:00Dusty Continues (more)<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RxbXCnvmzlI/AAAAAAAAArE/ojiVzD_rbjQ/s1600-h/101707.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RxbXCnvmzlI/AAAAAAAAArE/ojiVzD_rbjQ/s400/101707.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122518066208886354" /></a><span style=""><center>And each other, of course.</center></span><br />"I probably was pretty depressed. I couldn't leave the house. I tried to get his pension, but they said without a body I could not prove his death. <br /><br />My dog, Dirty Hairy, just moped around, and so did I. Our friends were the bunnies, and only the bunnies. And each other, of course.<br /><br />We learned to live on almost nothing. In time, our utilities were turned off. In the winter we burned the branches that had fallen in the nearby forest. In the summer we sweated out the hot days and enjoyed any breeze we could find in the evenings.<br /><br />We took care of the bunnies. They kept reproducing, thanks to Dirty Hairy shedding hair. It wasn't a bad life, but I missed Softy, and I missed having a man around.<br /><br />Then Augusta came, first under assignment to get rid of the bunnies. That evolved into a love affair and a business partnership. We commercialized the sanctuary and made enough money to get the utilities on and to pay the back taxes. Life was good.<br /><br />Augusta got word that Softy was still alive, which is why we are here . . . looking for him. He heard that he was still selling pillows, and was in the next town. Augusta wanted to flatten the guy, and I wanted to embrace him.<br /><br />And that's my story."Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-1908623449738042972007-10-15T09:36:00.001-05:002008-11-13T07:38:38.217-06:00Dusty Continues<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RxQ533vmzjI/AAAAAAAAAq0/AtEjnVWKCRU/s1600-h/101507.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RxQ533vmzjI/AAAAAAAAAq0/AtEjnVWKCRU/s400/101507.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121782308246310450" /></a><span style=""><center>Marriage . . .</center></span><br />"Somehow Joan was able to remove the key from the door. We ran down the stairs but Mom was no where to be found. To make a long story short, we heard a year later that she ran off with a cute street cleaner. <br /><br />My friends and I continued to worship the bunnies. Softy asked me to the high school prom and I brought him afterward up to the attic to see the bunnies. I was madly in love with him.<br /><br />One thing led to another and he asked me to marry him. Before I could say yes or no, he said that he wanted to marry me, and not the bunnies.<br /><br />I thought that my love for him would certainly overshadow my love for the bunnies, so I said yes, I would marry him, and yes, I would get rid of the bunnies.<br /><br />We had a fabulous wedding. Even mom and the street cleaner showed up. We all danced and cried with joy. Everyone was happy that I was getting hitched to my soul mate.<br /><br />We moved into my house. My dad had passed by then, and my sisters had already moved out. Softy and I had quite a honeymoon in our love nest, if you know what I mean. But before long the honeymoon was over when Softy started asking me to vacuum up the bunnies.<br /><br />I said the vacuum was broken and he said he'd fix it. I said that my back hurt. I said that I needed to vacuum in the morning when there was more light. I gave him one excuse after another. Finally one day he vacuumed up all the bunnies when I got my hair done.<br /><br />I was so angry at him for not being more patient and understanding;. We start fighting all the time and he spent more and more time in his shack. When the shack blew up I was so angry at him that I was happy. But in time, I began to miss him terribly and was very sad that he had died in the explosion."Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-33390016075248572242007-10-10T12:04:00.000-05:002007-10-10T22:51:05.676-05:00Dusty's Story<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rw2czXvmzcI/AAAAAAAAApQ/C2KU8h2qGUk/s1600-h/101007.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rw2czXvmzcI/AAAAAAAAApQ/C2KU8h2qGUk/s400/101007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119920757751074242" border="0" /></a><span style=""><center>Let Me In!</center></span><br />"So where do you want me to start?" Dusty asked.<br /><br />"At the beginning," the others chanted in unison.<br /><br />"Well, take a seat," Dusty said, as she motioned them to sit on the two logs.<br /><br />Softy and Eliza sat on one log, and Augusta and the highway patrolman on the other. Dusty took a deep breath.<br /><br />"I was born in Dustland and lived there all my life. My mother was a fanatic about dirt. If there was even one dust bunny anywhere in the house she'd go postal. One time I was grounded for a week because of one bunny she found under my bed."<br /><br />"I felt sorry for the little critters, so I started a secret sanctuary in the attic. My friends would come over and we'd go to the attic and light candles and watch the bunnies dance as the wind went through the thin cracks in the siding. We'd ooh and awe and have a great time, until . . ."<br /><br />"Until what," Augusta asked.<br /><br />"Shh!" said the highway patrolman. "Let her tell the story as she sees fit."<br /><br />". . . until my mother came up to the attic one day to tell me that she was going out. We were so engrossed with the bunnies that we didn't see her in time to hide them, and she was furious when she discovered that we'd been praying to the little creatures."<br /><br />"Praying" Eliza asked.<br /><br />"Shh!" said the patrolman.<br /><br />"Yes, praying. We had kind of made up a religion, believing that the bunnies represented the second coming of Christ. Mom said that she had never heard of anything so infantile or so ridiculous, and that there was no way she'd live with dust bunnies."<br /><br />"What happened then?" The patrolman asked.<br /><br />"Shh!" mocked Augusta.<br /><br />"She went down stairs to get the vacuum. We heard her muttering as she was coming back up the stairs with a vacuum hose following her, "I'll suck up those bunnies and give them the surprise of their lives."<br /><br />"By that time, we were so committed to the bunnies that we would have given our lives to save them. So we closed the door to the attic and laid down against it so Mom couldn't come in."<br /><br />"You never told me this," Softy said.<br /><br />"Shh!" said the patrolman.<br /><br />"You never asked. Mom couldn't deal with her kid defying her wishes so she gave one of her many ultimatums, saying if I didn't open the door in the count of five, I'd no longer have a mother."<br /><br />"What happened then," Softy asked.<br /><br />"Shh! said the patrolman.<br /><br />"I wanted to open the door. I could hear how angry and hurt she was, and knew that I'd be better off with a mother, even if she didn't believe in sanctity of bunnies."<br /><br />"So?" Augusta asked.<br /><br />"Shh!" said the patrolman.<br /><br />"My friend Joan got her hair stuck on the key and couldn't move to open the door. We screamed through the door that we couldn't open it right away. Mom yelled back that she knew we were faking it, and that she knew we were now hiding the bunnies, and that she was leaving and she'd never coming back. Our choice was to cut off Joan's beautiful blond hair, or to lose a mom. We looked for a scissors as we heard mom go back down the stairs."Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-42864818243239434552007-10-09T06:09:00.000-05:002007-10-11T09:43:49.795-05:00Invasion<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RwxLMHvmzbI/AAAAAAAAApI/5RZlSdH-NJw/s1600-h/100907.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RwxLMHvmzbI/AAAAAAAAApI/5RZlSdH-NJw/s400/100907.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119549548022648242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:-1;"><center>Who Goes First?</center></span><br />All four of them started to talk at the same time. Blame, shame, hurt and guilt filled the air. Each voice became louder in an effort to be heard.<br /><br />In fact, they were so loud that they couldn't hear the sirens until the highway patrolmen stopped his car behind Augusta's Hummer.<br /><br />"What do we have here, Augusta?" the patrolman asked.<br /><br />"I'm trying to get the story. Do you want to help mediate this dispute?" Augusta replied.<br /><br />The patrolman had taken the conflict resolution workshop with Augusta. This was their first opportunity to try the five fold path to resolution that they had learned.<br /><br />"Ok folks, why don't you each tell me what is going on?" the patrolman asked. Before he had a chance to add that the couples should talk one at a time, they all started in again, once again raising the noise level so high that the leaves started to fall on them from the trees above.<br /><br />"One at a time. Who would like to go first?" Augusta added.<br /><br />"I'll go first," Softy said.<br /><br />"You've lost your inalienable rights when you died, mister. I'm going first," Dusty said.<br /><br />"Ok, let's listen to Dusty." Augusta said.<br /><br />"There is no way that I'm not going first. I gave up my home and husband to be part of this insanity. I'm sure I'm the one with the greatest lost." Eliza said.<br /><br />The patrolmen took Augusta aside to decide who should go first.<br /><br />"Ok, Dusty. We'll start with you. And everyone else listen. You all will have your day in court."<br /><br />"Unfair," Softy said.<br /><br />"Be a big boy now," the patrolman said<br /><br />"Well, all right. But . . ." Softy replied.<br /><br />"Quiet!" Augusta said, pointing his finger at Softy.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-45894533030022296762007-10-06T06:57:00.000-05:002007-10-09T06:09:42.886-05:00They Meet<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RwhmVXvmzYI/AAAAAAAAAow/9K9rYCdlp9g/s1600-h/100607.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RwhmVXvmzYI/AAAAAAAAAow/9K9rYCdlp9g/s400/100607.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118453493843545474" /></a><font size="-1"><Center>The Powwow</Center></font><br />Dusty and Augusta's Hummer sailed along, as did Softy and Eliza's car. In a cloud of dust each saw each other's car coming and slowed down. The road was only wide enough for one lane, so each of the couples looked for a spot to pull over. None to be found, they both stopped their car, and Softy and Augusta got out.<br /><br />As the dust settled, Dusty yelled out, "Oh, Softy, you are alive." and they embraced passionately. Then she remembered the torment and poverty that he had created and started to hit him, yelling, "you S.O.B. . . you S.O.B."<br /><br />Eliza and Augusta were on the sidelines not quite knowing what to do. Augusta remembers his professionalism as a cop and decided not to punch out Softy. "Besides," he thinks, "Dusty is giving him what he deserves."<br /><br />It soon becomes apparent that Softy is no match for Dusty. Five years of anger is quite a warrior. Augusta decided that he needed to stop the fight so he took his service revolver hidden in the leg of his pants and shot a warning shot into the air.<br /><br />"Stop fighting immediately or you'll both go to jail," Augusta yelled.<br /><br />With no where to go without backing their cars up, The two couples found themselves on two facing logs and sat down for a powwow.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-27132309724235523682007-10-02T07:16:00.000-05:002007-10-03T15:15:21.100-05:00Looking for Softy<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RwMQK3vmzSI/AAAAAAAAAoA/A8ZNGRH5jGQ/s1600-h/100207.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RwMQK3vmzSI/AAAAAAAAAoA/A8ZNGRH5jGQ/s400/100207.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116951380571376930" /></a><font size="-1"><Center>Two logs between them.</Center></font><br />Augusta had almost walked out of the door of the police station when he heard his phone ringing. It was the sheriff in a nearby town who said that Softy is there selling pillows.<br /><br />Augusta knew about the old road as well, and decided to go there with Dusty first thing in the morning. The Hummer should be able to take care of all the logs that had fallen on the road. The road was quite narrow and was just wide enough for one car, especially if that car was as wide as a hummer.<br /><br />In the morning, Augusta and Dusty put a sign on their door "sanctuary closed for religious holiday" and took off to the next town.<br /><br />They brought Dirty Hairy along. Augusta though he might be useful in identifying Softy should he be wearing a disguise. And neither of them knew when they might return to Dustland.<br /><br />About five minutes down the road they came upon their first log. The hummer had a winch so it was quite easy to attach the cable to the log and pull it aside. "Let's hope there are more of those," Augusta said, still angry as could be at a man who would desert his loved one.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-3168986476206286472007-09-30T15:50:00.000-05:002007-10-02T07:12:01.058-05:00The Old Road<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RwBpgnvmzQI/AAAAAAAAAnw/QypWsT35GEY/s1600-h/093007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RwBpgnvmzQI/AAAAAAAAAnw/QypWsT35GEY/s400/093007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116205185838271746" /></a><font size="-1"><Center>Sleeping in the Car</Center></font><br />Eliza and Softy checked out of the hotel and filled their tank with gas. They got directions for the old road and took off. <br /><br />Softy was anxious to see his wife after five years. He thought he might try to reunite with her, especially if she had cleaned up her act a little.<br /><br />Eliza, on the other hand, had no desire to let go of Softy and did not anticipate that her partner/lover still had eyes for his wife.<br /><br />They wondered what Eliza's customer was talking about when she mentioned the logs that had fallen on the old road. Then they went over one more hill and came upon quite a number of them.<br /><br />One by one they tied a rope around the logs and then backed the car up to pull the road to the side. After awhile, Eliza walked ahead with the rope and Softy followed. What was supposed to be taking two hours was taking all day and then some. The stars were starting to shine and they decided to sleep in the car and continue the next morning.<br /><br />Softy was not anxious to confront Dusty in the evening.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-23213655724005443622007-09-29T07:32:00.000-05:002007-09-30T15:16:48.380-05:00Tar and Feathers<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rv8Z1nvmzPI/AAAAAAAAAno/zZ_YaNlppFY/s1600-h/092907a.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rv8Z1nvmzPI/AAAAAAAAAno/zZ_YaNlppFY/s400/092907a.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115836110708591858" /></a><font size="-1"><Center>". . . who'd like to tar and feather him with his own pillows."</Center></font><br />Augusta went back to the office and started to work on finding Softy. He was so angry at the guy that he could barely see. Even though Softy's disappearance made it possible for Augusta to form a relationship with Dusty, Augusta was furious that Softy had left his wife destitute. <br /><br />He knew that Softy sold pillows door to door, so he started calling all the pillow manufactures. They all knew Softy, and some had seen him since his disappearance. That seemed to make a case for Dusty to divorce Softy on the grounds of cruelty and abandonment.<br /><br />But Augusta was not one to forgive and forget. No one, in his mind, should do to anyone as Softy had done to Dusty.<br /><br />The challenge was to figure out where Softy now was. He decided to call all the police stations in the state. Perhaps Softy had been busted for operating outside the limits of the law.<br /><br />As he called the stations one by one, they all knew about Softy, but none had seen him for quite some time. Softy had a way of leaving town just when his reputation started to go astray. Seemed like he would start a pyramid scheme, get paid for the samples, and then leave town. There were lots of customers waiting for their pillow. And there were lots of his "salespeople" who'd like to tar and feather Softy with his own feathers.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-42171941340447979702007-09-28T09:52:00.001-05:002007-09-29T22:28:18.835-05:00On the Road (Again)<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rv8XsHvmzNI/AAAAAAAAAnY/PcyPyLcNCpw/s1600-h/092807a.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rv8XsHvmzNI/AAAAAAAAAnY/PcyPyLcNCpw/s400/092807a.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115833748476579026" /></a><font size="-1"><Center>". . . not hard to pull aside if you have a rope."</Center></font><br />Eliza and Softy reconstituted the old pillows into new ones. Eliza delivered the pillows and her customer was satisfied. <br /><br />"My husband came home early and asked where his pillow was. I just said that I was washing it, so he didn't seem to mind. I think he'll be happier not knowing that I bought him a new pillow. If he doesn't notice that I had my hair cut and colored he certainly won't notice a new pillow."<br /><br />"Good idea. I'll suggest it to future female customers," Eliza said.<br /><br />"So are you going to stick around?"<br /><br />"No, we need to be leaving town. We have a mission in Dustland. We need to see how someone is doing."<br /><br />"Can't you just call or email?"<br /><br />"No, we can't be that direct."<br /><br />"Did you know that Dustland is just a couple of hours from here, if you go on the old road? There might be a log or two that have fallen on the road, but they are not hard to pull aside if you have a rope."<br /><br />"Yea, we have a rope. We'll give it a try."<br /><br />"Would you like to sell some pillows for us? We'll give you half of what you take in."<br /><br />"Half! Wow, those pillows must have a great mark-up!"<br /><br />"No, not really. We are paying to distribute the pillows around the US. It is our mission to give everyone a good night's sleep."<br /><br />"Ok. I'll be glad to sell some pillows. As long as it is for the good of humanity. I don't really need the money."<br /><br />"Fine. You can use your pillows as the samples, and we'll be through here is a week or so to help you fill the orders."<br /><br />"Sounds peachy to me."<br /><br />"See you soon. Write down your questions so when we talk next I can answer them."<br /><br />"Bye"<br /><br />"Bye"Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-49826583557172224562007-09-27T11:57:00.000-05:002007-09-27T22:21:31.820-05:00More on God<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvxxCnvmzLI/AAAAAAAAAnI/flngr9AKuEw/s1600-h/092707.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvxxCnvmzLI/AAAAAAAAAnI/flngr9AKuEw/s400/092707.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115087566628375730" /></a><font size="-1"><Center>". . . his alarm clock that had some wires attached to it. . . . ."</Center></font><br />"So you think that seeing is believing," Dusty said, adding, "there is no doubt that the world in wondrous and beyond our wildest imaginations. But believing that any force could create Earth is also a leap."<br /><br />"Ok, let's agree to disagree on this one. What we need to do is to get you divorce. He is dead, isn't he?"<br /><br />"Well, I think so, but his body was never found."<br /><br />"Hey, you are going too fast. What happened?"<br /><br />"Softy had a shed out back where he worked to inventing the perfect pillow substance. One day their was a giant explosion and everything was gone. Except, that is, his alarm clock that had some wires attached to it. Because there was no sign of Softy we just assumed that he was dead."<br /><br />"As a copy I've learned not to make any assumptions. How about his pension? Did you apply for the pension?"<br /><br />"I tried, but they said I'd have to wait ten years."<br /><br />"Why?"<br /><br />"Because there was no evidence that he was actually dead."<br /><br />"That's cruddy. So you starve for ten years. If I ever meet up with Softy I'll teach him a thing or two."<br /><br />"You really think he's alive."<br /><br />"It is obvious. Why else would he make a time bomb?"<br /><br />"Oh, I didn't think of that." <br /><br />"Do you think we can find him?" Dusty said with tears of joy running down her cheeks."Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-60717687097519703822007-09-26T10:58:00.000-05:002007-09-27T22:22:30.086-05:00A Different Kind of Test?<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rvs3HHvmzKI/AAAAAAAAAnA/JOqPss8Yctw/s1600-h/092607.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rvs3HHvmzKI/AAAAAAAAAnA/JOqPss8Yctw/s400/092607.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114742397286665378" /></a><font size="-1"><Center>"How about if we put 'God Saves' . . . ."</Center></font><br />Eliza had the habit of saying things that weren't true. Like she had an idea for a different kind of test for God's existence. She just knew that the tests she had heard about wouldn't do. She decided to come clean.<br /><br />"Softy, I really don't have a test, but I do think if we put our heads together we could come up with something."<br /><br />"How about if we drop paper clips on the floor and see if any words form. If God wanted to he could form any words he wanted."<br /><br />"But suppose he was on to us, and he didn't want people to believe because of physical proof, but rather believe because they had faith."<br /><br />"Do you think he'd do that?"<br /><br />"Why yes," Eliza said.<br /><br />"Maybe we've already had a sign. The fact that we are being allowed to sell the pillows without a license seems enough of a sign for me."<br /><br />"How about if we put 'God Saves' on the pillows since he did save our butts."<br /><br />"And suppose that he doesn't exist, but that we were just plain lucky."<br /><br />"Well, lots of pillows would be sold, we still wouldn't need a license, and . . ." Eliza stopped abruptly.<br /><br />"And?"<br /><br />"It is our mission to see if Dusty is alright? Perhaps we ought to just sell a couple of pillows and move on to the next town. Opportunity or not, our goal is not exactly prosperity but rather to move across the country."<br /><br />"Sounds like a plan," Softy said.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-84863685675282207672007-09-25T07:44:00.000-05:002007-09-25T20:00:31.589-05:00I Think I'm Married<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvmuWXvmzJI/AAAAAAAAAm4/AB5ZwZjq07A/s1600-h/092507.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvmuWXvmzJI/AAAAAAAAAm4/AB5ZwZjq07A/s400/092507.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114310551209954450" /></a><font size="-1"><Center>It was black or white.</Center></font><br />"I'm married, or at least I think I may be. Are you married if you don't have a husband?<br /><br />Let me start from the beginning. Well, not quite the beginning. <br /><br />Softy and I met in college. He lived in his place, and I lived in mine, and we mainly met for dates. Before we knew it, on a lark, we went to a justice of the peace and got married. We got along well, so we thought that marriage would be the next step.<br /><br />Everything was peachy until we bought this house and moved in. Actually, when we moved into this house it was clean as a whistle and devoid of any bunnies. We thought we had a marriage made in heaven until the bunnies started appearing. Then the trouble started. He couldn't understand how I could worship dirt, as he called it, and I couldn't understand how he could worship cleanliness. It was black or white. Either the bunnies would have to go or he would divorce me. Well, I had never worked and he had a good job selling pillows so I decided that I wouldn't give him a divorce. I believed in the back of my heart that he'd come around someday and realize that the bunnies were god's creatures, just like the rest of us.<br /><br />Not to digress, but that was another issue. He couldn't understand how anyone could believe in God because couldn't find him/her in a Sears catalog. And I kept explaining to him that he would just open his eyes he'd see that God was everywhere. We'd go back and forth about the bunnies, then we'd go back and forth about God and life went quickly from bad to worst."<br /><br />"How could anyone who can see not believe in G_D?" Augusta said.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-10953873981809139812007-09-24T06:27:00.001-05:002007-10-03T15:16:18.981-05:00What Now?<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rvh96XvmzII/AAAAAAAAAmw/mhaY3YGcCUg/s1600-h/092407.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Rvh96XvmzII/AAAAAAAAAmw/mhaY3YGcCUg/s400/092407.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113975818638773378" /></a><font size="-1"><Center>"Couldn't we call our pillows, 'Sleep w/G_D?'" Eliza said.</Center></font><br />Softy returned to the hotel room to find out that they didn't need a business license because their pillow business had been classified as a religious organization. Softy is very impressed with the work that Eliza did on the officers.<br /><br />The officers left the room, and Eliza and Softy went to dinner at the hotel restaurant.<br /><br />After they ordered, they talked about their future in this little hick town they were in. They liked the idea that they were missionaries, but they were not very excited they people might expect them to extol God's word. <br /><br />"Couldn't we call our pillows, 'Sleep w/G_D?'" Eliza said.<br /><br />"Are you really comfortable with that. Yesterday you told me that God did not exist."<br /><br />"Maybe he does exist, and we were put on earth to spread his word. That is why the officers changed their minds," Eliza argued.<br /><br />"Get real. You did a real number on those officers, but it wasn't to promote the word of God."<br /><br />"How do you know?"<br /><br />"We'll have to devise a test. If God really wants us to work for him, he'll give us another sign."<br /><br />"Remember that Mother Teresa only heard from God for three weeks during a fifty year period. Are we that patient?"<br /><br />"No, but I have an idea for a different kind of test," Eliza quipped.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-28393036434366011542007-09-23T07:36:00.002-05:002007-09-25T06:24:08.450-05:00Success?<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvdA9lhWaiI/AAAAAAAAAmg/3P8pP0dxNY0/s1600-h/092307.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvdA9lhWaiI/AAAAAAAAAmg/3P8pP0dxNY0/s400/092307.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113627328690678306" /></a>Dusty should have been elated that her life had turned around on a dime. She now had a boyfriend, utilities, and friends for her bunnies. But characteristic of most outcasts, she was more comfortable with being ostracized than with being embraced.<br /><br />She knew intellectually that her new life had much promise, and yet wondered what true happiness it would provide. She wondered if happiness was really the point to life, or would she get more satisfaction supporting her "cause."<br /><br />Yes, she thought, she was put on earth to make it a better place. And Augusta had been sent to her, as an angel, to help her spread the word.<br /><br />She knew that dust bunnies were more important that what they seemed. For centuries bunnies were swept out in the street, to be trampled on by packs of dogs, horses, and later cars. As Einstein refuted Newton, so had Eliza refuted all conventional wisdom. Finally these little creatures had a champion.<br /><br />Dusty's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Augusta.<br /><br />"Aren't you excited, my dear. Your life has turned around on a dime, and now your bunnies have a chance to give love and happiness to the world. Not only that, but others will start to breed the critters in their homes and businesses. It is the dawn of a new age."<br /><br />"But Augusta, we are now in the public eye. And we don't have a business license . . . or a marriage license."<br /><br />"One thing at a time, dear. What would you like to do first?"<br /><br />"That certainly is one hell of a strange proposal. Are you asking me to marry you?"<br /><br />"I am."<br /><br />"Then I must tell you a story."<br /><br />"I'm all ears."Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-61195950108744556882007-09-22T08:52:00.000-05:002007-09-24T06:26:50.611-05:00Asleep<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvXp_1hWahI/AAAAAAAAAmY/iXqDGgArfF4/s1600-h/092207.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvXp_1hWahI/AAAAAAAAAmY/iXqDGgArfF4/s400/092207.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113250234857056786" /></a>The two officers laid down on the bed, resting their heads on the new pillows. Eliza told them to close their eyes, and they swiftly fell asleep.<br /><br />Softy and Eliza didn't know what to do. They could leave the officers asleep and skip town, or they could wake them up and hope they had made their case that good pillows primarily existed to benefit humanity.<br /><br />Eliza whispered to Softy, "Suppose we switch pillows on them, giving them back the old pillows, and then skip town."<br /><br />Softy reminded Eliza, "Remember, we decided to become honest. Let's wake them up."<br /><br />"How about if we get them a cup of coffee," Eliza said.<br /><br />"I'll go get it. If we both go they will put out an all points bulletin for us."<br /><br />Softy went to the hotel restaurant for a couple of cups of coffee. Eliza sat and watched the officers snore away. "My life is certainly more interesting that it was with Alfred."<br /><br />Before long, the officers awoke. "Hey Charlie," one of them remarked, "the guy skipped out."<br /><br />"No he didn't. He went to get you a cup of coffee," Eliza said.<br /><br />"He better be back here in five minutes," the other cop, Ralph, asserted.<br /><br />"He will. Now how did you like the pillow? Both of you were sleeping like logs. Here's a picture I took of you with my digital camera."<br /><br />Eliza showed them the picture in the little screen in the back of her digital camera.<br /><br />"Hey, that wasn't nice. You shouldn't have taken that."<br /><br />"It is just a picture. And, don't worry. I won't show it to your superiors."<br /><br />"Better not."<br /><br />"Here's Softy now. I hear him walking down the hallway."<br /><br />"You can count your stars . . ." Ralph said.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-37267137587775806692007-09-21T08:03:00.000-05:002007-09-23T07:35:43.871-05:00The Powwow<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvUbFVhWafI/AAAAAAAAAmI/qh5XqBeCntY/s1600-h/092107.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvUbFVhWafI/AAAAAAAAAmI/qh5XqBeCntY/s400/092107.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113022730439387634" /></a>The officers went outside after looking at the bunnies and huddled about fifteen feet from the house in a powwow that seemed to take hours. Their dilemma was whether to uphold the letter of the law, and or to follow their inner guide. They knew on the one hand that Dusty and Augusta were doing a great public service by getting people to be mindful of the down trodden, so to speak. And then, on the other hand, they had taken an oath to uphold the law, even if they should disagree with it.<br /><br />But, they argued, what would they say to their maker, when asked why they followed the law when they knew it wasn't right. And suppose the law told them to kill their children. They certainly wouldn't do that.<br /><br />They decided not to go back to the house, but just to leave the premises and issue a report that they informed Dusty of the complaint and of the law, and that she indicated she understood the severity of her actions.<br /><br />Dusty and Augusta watched the officers leave, and smiled at each other. They certainly were on a roller coaster and this was a high point for their day.Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-61097433687379720342007-09-20T18:36:00.000-05:002007-09-22T08:50:11.709-05:00The Knockers<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvUdfFhWagI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/xKYUGbBaBnA/s1600-h/092007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvUdfFhWagI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/xKYUGbBaBnA/s400/092007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113025371844274690" /></a>Well, it seems that we have a parallel universe here. Just as Dusty and Augusta were busted, so it appears that Eliza and Softy are in deep dudu, as the expression goes.<br /><br />Two cops were at the door. It appeared that Eliza's customer's husband called the cops when he heard the story about the pillows. He was furious that his wife had shelled out $200 for pillows, took the old pillows, and hadn't even delivered any new pillows. It didn't sound legit.<br /><br />"Let us see your business license, please," one of the officer's demanded.<br /><br />"We plan on getting one tomorrow," Softy said.<br /><br />"Then you can pay the fine tomorrow, after a restful night in the slammer. We know your kind and you are not welcome in this town."<br /><br />"Now wait a second," Eliza said.<br /><br />"What is it you'd like to say, Ma'am. Do you both want to spend the night in the slammer?"<br /><br />"Officer, if we were giving out bibles door to door would you be so adamant that we have a license?" Eliza argued.<br /><br />"Well, no, but pillows ain't bibles." <br /><br />"Pillows may be better than bibles." Eliza blurted out, but then regretted what she had said.<br /><br />"Excuse me, but we respect the lord's word in these parts," the other officer said.<br /><br />"What I meant, sirs, is that if you have had a long day and you are really tired and you want to lay down your head . . . which would you use, a bible or a pillow?"<br /><br />"An interesting argument, Ma'am. I'm glad you added that or we would have thrown away the key."<br /><br />"Officers, just give us a second of your time. Would you both lay down on the bed a moment and put your head on our pillows. I think you'll experience a moment of relaxation? Do you know that your head weighs about 15 lbs? That is a lot of weight for the average pillow. Imagine the effect on your lovely town if everyone woke up with a smile on their face." Eliza couldn't believe that she was asking the officers to try out the pillows. Nor could Softy believe his partner couldn't keep her trap shut. <br /><br />"Buster, what do you think? Can it hurt any if we lay down . . . just for a moment?"Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-54636857851943981112007-09-19T11:07:00.000-05:002007-09-19T22:52:32.216-05:00The Argument<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvHuHjGGS-I/AAAAAAAAAlw/BsS1misU7_s/s1600-h/091907.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvHuHjGGS-I/AAAAAAAAAlw/BsS1misU7_s/s400/091907.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112128865489538018" /></a>Even though Dusty had second thoughts about converting her house to a public nuisance, as the officers called it, she was not going to take defeat sitting down.<br /><br />"Officers, are you men of G_D?" she asked.<br /><br />"Why yes, Ma'am, the lord is our shepherd," the tallest of the two officers responded.<br /><br />"Well you then take a closer look at one of my bunnies."<br /><br />"Ma'am, you are using one of the oldest trick in the book. Every day people use all kinds of excuses to talk us out of things. Any seasoned officer of the law has heard all the excuses and is resistant to falling for them."<br /><br />"This is not an excuse. We both walk in the shadow of the lord (here she was getting her scriptures confused) and we need to be mindful of all beings, sentient and otherwise (and now she was getting her religious mixed up)."<br /><br />"You use some impressive words, Ma'am. What would you like us to do?"<br /><br />"Well, come over here and get down on your knees."<br /><br />"You aren't going to knock us out with a stick," one of the officers joked.<br /><br />"Of course not. Just come over here and spend a few minutes with one of the bunnies."<br />Dusty said very politely as she handed each of the men a magnifying glass.<br /><br />"Now look at the bunnies and notice their luscious garb. Notice the sheen in their hairs. Notice how they tend to quiver as they look back at you (unbeknownest to the men, she blew gently on the bunny to make it quiver a little)."<br /><br />"Wow!" one of the officers exclaimed, "did you see that guy move."<br /><br />"Hold on to your gun," the other office warned.<br /><br />"No, take a look at that little critter. She is a real looker!"Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-45304097889568658612007-09-18T17:21:00.000-05:002007-09-18T22:52:09.261-05:00SCAM!<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvCc0TGGS9I/AAAAAAAAAlo/IwGlVA3jU3c/s1600-h/091807.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RvCc0TGGS9I/AAAAAAAAAlo/IwGlVA3jU3c/s400/091807.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111757999358495698" /></a>Dusty took the woman's two pillows and carried them, with two "new" pillows to their hotel room.<br /><br />As she started to go up the stairs the clerk said, "Hey Lady, what are you doing with all of our pillows."<br /><br />"Excuse me, sir, but we sell pillows and these aren't your pillows."<br /><br />"He nodded and went back to reading his magazine."<br /><br />When she got to the room Softy was stretched out on the bed fast asleep. <br /><br />"Wake up, sleepy one, I have some good news."<br /><br />"Wh...a...t is it my lov...e?"<br /><br />"I sold two pillows. Got $200 and their old pillows."<br /><br />"Not bad, for an amateur. When I was starting out I once went to a children's home and sold a case of pillows. That's one hundred, you know."<br /><br />"Shhhh... How could you do that to a bunch of poor kids?"<br /><br />"They were thrilled to have new pillows."<br /><br />"New? You mean old pillows with new covers."<br /><br />"Dusty, you need to realize that there isn't any such thing as a new feather. Feather come from chickens, and you never know where a chicken has been. A pre-owned feather actually has less particulate matter on it than newly plucked feather. The foreign debris has had a chance to fall off."<br /><br />"Be quiet and help me reconstitute these pillows. I've had enough of your stories for today."<br /><br />"Your wish is my command, Eliza."<br /><br />"Hey, who is knocking on the door."Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-59148738947664031662007-09-17T14:10:00.000-05:002007-09-17T22:34:42.655-05:00Success or Busted<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Ru9HPewzWiI/AAAAAAAAAlg/YAeYr0_GGpA/s1600-h/091707.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Ru9HPewzWiI/AAAAAAAAAlg/YAeYr0_GGpA/s400/091707.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111382433370167842" /></a>Success is a two edged sword. As Emily Dickinson wrote, "Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed." In the first place, Dusty had gotten used to her private fetish being private. Now that the lights were on, and that it was out in the open, she was not so interested in the bunnies. She had risen from being unknown to being infamous. <br /><br />She was concerned whether the public really liked the bunnies, or whether they were just laughing at her. And was Augusta in it for the money, or because he cared about her?<br /><br />Would the bunnies stick around? What is like for a bunny to be examined in the flesh with a magnifier? "Look at that funny one," someone would say.<br /><br />It was a hard moment for Dusty. She planned to have a talk with Augusta that evening. <br /><br />As some tears came down her cheeks, she saw two men from city hall come through the door. They didn't look happy.<br /><br />"We've had some complains from the neighbor, ma'am. Your house is a residence. You can't just hang up a sign and make in a darn sanctuary. You are not even supposed to have those bunnies, anyway. I thought Augusta and his crew cleaned them up. Augusta, what are you doing here? Are you a part of this?"Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-26644897071600562652007-09-16T14:36:00.000-05:002007-09-16T22:25:07.122-05:00The Customer<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Ru3zbewzWhI/AAAAAAAAAlY/ORDz6FpewLw/s1600-h/091607.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Ru3zbewzWhI/AAAAAAAAAlY/ORDz6FpewLw/s400/091607.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111008805575154194" /></a>Eliza had to restrain herself from selling a pillow to her eager customer. Sure, she could have sold one pillow. But her goal was to sell both pillows, not to leave any "new" pillows behind, to get full price for the pillows, to have the customer to sell some pillows to her friends, to get the cash in advance, and to get the customer's old pillows before delivering the new ones.<br /><br />As Eliza was learning the ropes she was also learning the true meaning of Chutzpah. In its purest form, chutzpah is unrestrained audacity. It is difficult to say no to someone with chutzpah because they take permissions for their actions with such confidence.<br /><br />Anyone can sell a good product for a low price. The opposite is more difficult. A true salesman takes pride in being able to sell anything to anyone. That is the meaning of being a professional.<br /><br />Eliza was a quick study. Her customer believed that she had a new best friend who had a mission in life to deliver unadulterated sleep to her and her husband. <br /><br />She almost gagged when her customer brought out her husband's pillow. Not only was it lumpy. Not only was it flat. Not only did it smell. It had the most disgusting stains that she ever seen.<br /><br />"Listen, Miss. If I was a salesperson, I'd tell you that was the worst pillow I had ever seen. If I was youR best friend, I'd tell you the same. I'm supposed to be an impartial researcher, but for the moment I'm going to step out of those shoes. Your husband should not be sleeping on that pillow."<br /><br />"But why? He says it is his best friend."<br /><br />"Well, you either like him or hate him. If you like him, you don't want him to die from the diseases in such an atrocity. And if you hate him, you don't want him to lose him mind from ceropity, do you?"<br /><br />"Ceropity? What is that?"<br /><br />"It is not a common disease, but we are seeing more and more breakouts now that people are keeping their pillows longer and longer. I'm going to have to take your husband's pillow. I promise I'll have a new pillow back for him before he comes home from work. And because I'm not supposed to be selling you anything, I'll give it to you at cost. In fact, I'd like to be able to bring you two pillows back for you and your husband. Now go get me your pillow."<br /><br />"But what will the pillows cost?"<br /><br />"Cost? What does a bout of ceropity cost? What does it cost to bury a husband and find a new one?"<br /><br />"I guess you are right. I'll have to go to the bank. How much will I owe you."<br /><br />"$200 for the two pillows. I'll get in trouble selling them so cheap. But I want you and your husband to be safe, starting tonight. Doing pillow research is my opportunity to make the world a better place. Now go get your pillow so I can be on my way."<br /><br />"Sure. I'll be right back."Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-77309700780700326002007-09-15T16:54:00.000-05:002007-09-15T22:21:21.570-05:00Opening Day<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RuygtuwzWfI/AAAAAAAAAlI/5nnDKPKVfWQ/s1600-h/091507.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RuygtuwzWfI/AAAAAAAAAlI/5nnDKPKVfWQ/s400/091507.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110636384665950706" /></a>The sanctuary was ready and the bunnies were dressed in some fresh dust. Augusta spent the night on the couch so he'd be able to be ready for the crowds at day break. They had forgotten to mention the hours on some of the publicity so Dusty and Augusta figured some would come at dawn.<br /><br />The Hummer was gassed up and ready for the crowds. Dirty Hairy was assigned the task of keeping people from walking up the road. Only 4 people were let into the sanctuary at a time, and no kids under 10.<br /><br />No one complained about the $5 tickets and everyone was delighted to see the bunnies under the magnifying lens. Dusty gave a little talk to each crowd which became more polished as the day progressed.<blockquote>My dear friends of the Dust Bunny Sanctuary. Some day you'll be able to tell your children and grandchildren that you were here on the first day we were open to the public. I congratulate you for your choice to spend this fine day in a sanctuary with such a divine presence.<br /><br />As you experience the bunnies, please try to feel the sensations you get from them. Notice their hairy texture and the variety of their colorations. It is not necessary to conceptualize your reaction with them. Just be with the bunnies and they will be with you. They will become your angels and will guide you through good and bad times.<br /><br />Enough said. Now enjoy my friends and when you get home, stop cleaning and enjoy your dirt for the diamond that it is.</blockquote><p>Perhaps Dusty went a little far, but the crowd loved it. It was evident that Dusty and Augusta would need to start taking reservation because the lines were going out to the highway. <br /><br />Success had come to Dustland.</P>Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-44505635373827607632007-09-14T11:05:00.000-05:002007-09-15T22:18:09.530-05:00Lots has Happened<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RutNcewzWeI/AAAAAAAAAlA/hm6ERZWyDDk/s1600-h/091407.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/RutNcewzWeI/AAAAAAAAAlA/hm6ERZWyDDk/s400/091407.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110263353871391202" /></a>Alfred called his buddy the detective to put out an all-points bulletin for Eliza. His buddy owed him because Alfred saved his life in Nam.<br /><br />In the meantime, Softy and Eliza set out in opposite directions with pillows under their arms. They had a somewhat healthy competitive spirit to see who can sell the most pillows.<br /><br />Eliza knocked on the door of her first customer. <br /><br />"Hello, I'm representing one of the largest door-to-door pillow marketing companies and we are gather marketing ideas for the development of a new line. Unfortunately we don't have any pillows to sell you, but we'd like to show you our newest model. May I come in."<br /><br />Eliza knew that everyone wants what they can't have. Lying was becoming second nature to her. <br /><br />"Sure, come in. My husband is always complaining about his pillow. And yet when I try to get him a new one he complains that it is too stiff. Doesn't anyone make a pillow that is soft right out of the box."<br /><br />"Would you bring out his pillow. I'd like you to compare it to this one that I have underneath my arm."<br /><br />"Sure. I'd love to show you the disgusting lump that he calls his best friend. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could switch it out and he wouldn't even notice it."<br /><br />"Remember, I'm not selling these pillows. I'm just looking for some marketing opinions. But maybe something can be worked out at a later date."<br /><br />"We'll, let me get his lump of a pillow. Would you like a cup of coffee?"<br /><br />"Yes, that will be nice."Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167144117334271780.post-62399519575567946542007-09-13T10:42:00.000-05:002007-09-15T15:58:39.888-05:00The Grand Opening<BR><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Run-zewzWdI/AAAAAAAAAk4/4_QDNNfoEBU/s1600-h/091307.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SuU9wTnGqfE/Run-zewzWdI/AAAAAAAAAk4/4_QDNNfoEBU/s400/091307.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109895412613077458" /></a><br />Progress went lightening fast on the commercialization of the sanctuary. The press release was written and Augusta gave it to his friend on the newspaper. His friend started to roll on the floor laughing, thinking it was a joke. <br /><br />Augusta almost lost his temper, but instead laughed with his friend a little and then admitted that the sanctuary was out of the ordinary and that is why the sanctuary should be of interest to the public.<br /><br />Well, the newspaper ran the article, and understandably it caused a lot of commotion. One prominent citizen wrote a letter to the editor:<br /><blockquote>How dare you run an article about a dust sanctuary. Do you not respect the Christian value that cleanliness is next to godliness? Do you not realize that dust bunnies are the eye sore in any home and to glorify those buggers is nothing less than sin? Get off your high horse of tolerance and grow back your moral backbone.</blockquote><P>Well, the letter and the fact that the sanctuary was now the main topic of conversation in Dustland was great PR for the opening. In fact, for opening day, Dusty and Augusta decided to limit the visits to 5 minutes so that more people could go through.<br /><br />Then Augusta painted large bunnies on the doors of the Hummer and on the side of the house. Dusty was pleased with the progress, though concerned that the bunnies were not yet arranged safely in the house and that the path for the visitors was not yet indicated on the floor.<br /><br />With the opening two days away, they decided that they'd spend the next day on these issues. Augusta came back with a thin red carpet to indicate where people should walk, and some magnifying glass for the visitors.<br /><br />He called the power company and got the electricity turned on. He worked out a payment plan with them for Dusty to pay her past bills off.<br /><br />The sun was shining brightly on Dusty's Sanctuary. It was a good day in Dustland.</P>Kim Mosleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17658600791743162004noreply@blogger.com0