Happy Leap Day!

Feb 29, 2008

February 29th should be a national holiday. Seriously.

Did any one else really not want to work today?

Donald Hefeweizen Saves The World (pt.6)

Feb 26, 2008

“Good Lord, Donald, could you have found an uglier car? It’s your fault, you know. Stevens’ll sue you for sure for this one.”

“I had a great day, Mr. Buttons. Thanks for asking.” Donald turned toward the front door of his mustard-yellow 1970’s ranch-style house. He had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a wet-bar in the living room. He was proud of his home.

His neighbors thought it was a boil on the face of their restored, gentrified neighborhood. Which is to say - they’d all repainted and installed hardwood floors and central air, while Donald had held the line on modernization. His house still had window units. And shag carpeting. Original.

Mr. Buttons, the faux-feline, scampered ahead of the man, with an impatient twitch of its tail. Glaring over is left shoulder, it mewed, “I hate it when you call me Mr. Buttons. Hate it!”

“Well, what else should I call you?”

“Doug. You should call me Doug.”

“You keep saying that. Is Mom home?” Donald shared his ranch-style house with his mother, whom he resembled in all but personality.

“She’s out with her girlfriends. Playing Bingo. But, they’ll probably go to La Bare afterward. I hope I’m that much fun when I’m her age.”

“You are her age.”

“Hmph.” With that, Mr. Buttons, aka Doug, flopped onto his side and began grooming his backside. With feeling. While staring at Hefeweizen.

Donald mumbled something sounding vaguely like “stupid cat” and proceeded down the hall into his living room. Setting down his briefcase, he tugged his tie loose, and headed for the wet-bar.

“I’m not a cat, you know.”

“You keep telling me that. Contrary to all appearances.”

“Oh, come one. You know I’m not really a cat. The same way you know that woman you promoted is not really a human.”

“How did you know about Jessica?” Donald stammered and nearly dropped his Old Fashioned. (Easy on the vermouth, extra cherries.)

“I know a lot of things Donald Hefeweizen. You should probably sit down for this one.” The faux-cat paused and took a deep breath. “Jessica Michaellson is the anti-Christ.”

. . . to be continued.

(c) copyright 2008 Jennifer J. Knighton

Donald Hefeweizen Saves The World (pt.5)

Feb 23, 2008

Donald Hefeweizen strode from the building feeling accomplished and successful. He had saved the job of a fascinating young woman. At least, he assumed she was fascinating. She looked fascinating.

And he got to fire that obnoxious twit from software who actually refused to sign the Non Compete Agreement. Donald knew that was going to come back to bite him in the ass, but he’d worry about it when it happened. If it happened. God, he hoped it didn’t happen.

Nonetheless, he was mostly please with his day. He took a deep breath of steaming Dallas air, and admired a black Mercedes pulling away from the building. It’s license plate read DIAVOLO.

He shook his head. The things people would put on their cars. Perhaps the driver didn’t know it made their cars easier to recognize to criminals. And to cops. Ah well.

Hefeweizen crossed the street with a crowd and entered the parking garage on the corner, searching for his brand new, lemon yellow Smart Fortwo Pure ultra-compact. He found it where he left it, barely contained within a stall marked COMPACT.

The stall was the reason he bought the car. And the gas mileage.

Otherwise, the car was as disappointing to look at as was its owner. In exactly the opposite ways. Where the vehicle was small, Donald was large. Where it was precisely organized, Donald was disheveled. Strangely, the two belonged together.

They certainly got a lot of stares traversing the toll-roads and expressways. What neither realized was that together they had caused seven collisions. This week. And one distracted driver actually drove into his lowered garage door.

“Evening Harold!” Donald Hefeweizen called to his neighbor, “did your brakes fail?”

Harold Stevens climbed from his car, scratched his head, and glared back at Donald. “I don’t know which insurance agent to call for this one. That’s some car you’ve got there.” He continued to mumble something about damn nuisances and slammed his front door behind him.

“Nice work, D,” chuckled a high-pitched voice.

Donald looked down to find a flat-faced, solid white Persian cat sitting in what was left of a flower bed. The cat, which is what Donald insisted on calling the creature though he knew it had once been human, had muddy paws, a leaf stuck in its fur, and an attitude.

. . . to be continued.

(c) copyright 2008 Jennifer J. Knighton

Donald Hefeweizen Saves The World (pt.4)

Feb 20, 2008

Jefferson Dunleavy couldn’t figure out why he was being escorted from the building. He had worked for Metroplex Brokerage for the past five years, and in all that time, he had never done anything wrong. Well, nothing anyone knew about anyway.

So, he had refused to sign the Non Compete Agreement that was pressed upon him by some toad in Human Resources.

“Hmph! Human Resources. Should’ve called them Hell’s Rejects. It’s closer to the truth,” he thought.

He wasn’t wrong.

Not even Hell would accept Donald Hefeweizen. At that exact moment, THE DEVIL, himself, was plotting the demise of the abominable HR Director.

Jefferson Dunleavy was still standing on the cement steps in front of his former employer, a goldfish bowl under his left arm (complete with water and a fish named Frank), a twelve-pound backpack attached to his right shoulder, and the personal contents of his cubicle in a cardboard box at his feet.

And he had now idea how he was going to fit everything on his bicycle for the ride home.

That’s when a black town-car pulled up in front of him. And stopped.

A thin, blonde woman in a red leather catsuit slinked out of the driver’s side door and prowled around to stare at Jefferson. Only she didn’t really stare. It was more the way a wild animal might consider its next meal. She licked her lips.

Jefferson shuddered. And nearly dropped Frank.

The tinted rear window slowly rolled down as a low voice called from the back seat, “Bathsheba, don’t scare the poor boy. Invite him for a ride home.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred. “Mr. Dunleavy, my employer wishes to have a word with you. And since you seem to be in need of some assistance, we’ll be happy to escort you and your belongings home. I’ll have someone see to your. . .” She sneered at his shiny blue 10-speed. “. . . conveyance. It’ll be there when we arrive.”

With that, she turned on her heel, opened the rear door and held the goldfish bowl as our supremely ignorant software programmer climbed in.

“Jefferson Dunleavy. I have a proposition for you.”

. . . to be continued.

(c) copyright 2008 Jennifer J. Knighton

My Advice To You

Do not attempt air travel while nauseated.

Do not drive. Do not walk. Do not take the elevator or the escalator. Do not move. At all.

Instead, lay motionless on the cool bathroom tiles and pray.

At Least I Was Wearing A Ponytail

Feb 19, 2008

I woke up this morning extremely nauseated, and with a full schedule of meetings and presentations.

So, like any self-respecting salesperson, I showered and prepped for the day like I might actually make it. Like that first purge of the day was all it would take for my world to be right.

I picked up some Pepto on the way over to my 8:30 AM Mac 101 class for twenty-two teachers at a Catholic school. Twice during my presentation, I threw back a Pepto shot. The nausea persisted.

After three hours, I lost my personal battle. To be precise, my stomach gave up its valiant attempts to restrain its contents.

I screamed, "Please excuse me!" as I raced down the hall to the faculty lavatory, tore off my glasses and suit jacket, and got well acquainted with their porcelain.

And, yea, see how the mighty saleswoman was brought low. Amen.

How was your day?

Leah Has Lots of Kids

Feb 12, 2008

My sister has five children! This is one of the many things I adore about her - she celebrates life. Her home is full of laughter and joy, as well as the usual complaints, whines, and tears, that follow children everywhere they go. But she has such blessings times five!

I love visiting her home and spending time amongst my nieces and nephews. They are a delight and pleasure to me, as well as to their parents. There are few other children around whose presence I wish to spend significant amounts of my time. These five beings have the time, attention, and unconditional love of parents who have committed their lives to raising up future leaders. And my sister and brother-in-law are doing a commendable job. As anyone who knows these kids would attest.

Handsome and I are often compared to them, for obvious reasons. We have no children, though we are several years older. We love children and enjoy spending time with them. We are blessed both spiritually and financially. We have the means to provide for several children. But we have none.

Whereas Leah is often posed the question why she has so many children, we are often asked why we don't. To be honest, it wears me down. We don't - because we don't. For lots of reasons. And just like it's rude to criticize one family for having lots of kids, it's rude to criticize another for having none. Unlike many "concerned" friends and family, Leah and her husband have never criticized or judged us. They just love us. And they love us even more because we love their family.

The bottom line truth is that my sister is doing the right thing. In every way.

It bothers me, personally, that other people criticize her family, her lifestyle, her choice. It's the hypocrisy that gets to me. And, I'm a little (ok, a lot) protective of my baby sister.

So sue me.

Donald Hefeweizen Saves The World (pt.3)

Feb 10, 2008

That's when THE UNIVERSE paused and took a deep breath.

For the first time in his life, Donald didn't see a huge part of THE OTHERWORLD, even though she was sitting in a leather guest chair on the opposite side of his carved cherry-wood desk. Instead, he only saw a pair of long legs peaking from beneath a short black skirt. And red lips, perfect for kissing.

Provided the brown eyes above those lips could overlook the growing blemish on his chin.

Donald reminded Jessica of her father. Except without the glowing red eyes and cloven hooves. And the horns. Mr. Hefeweizen definitely didn't have horns, though the pimple was making a run for it.

She couldn't quite figure out where to look. Lazy righty eye? Left eye? So, she settled on the pimple.

Really, was there anywhere else one could be forced to look? It was like a train wreck - she didn't want to stare. She couldn't help herself.

"Promoted?! Why? I thought you were going to fire me!"

"Oho, no! Not you, dear. We're going to fire the software programmers. Seems today's dramatic losses can be attributed to a virus . . . er . . . a glitch . . . a bug . . . something. Anyway, we fired him."

"Wow!" Jessica exclaimed. She had heard a lie. she never realized how easy it was to pick up on a fallacy. It smelled like licorice. And it made her happy.

That had never happened to her before. Her father had always said he could smell a lie. Why didn't he just say they smelled like licorice? Would have make much more sense.

". . . the corner office on the third floor. It should be ready for you by Friday." Donald Hefeweizen was talking about something important.

Jessica was too busy smelling his words to hear anything he was saying.

. . . to be continued.

(c) copyright 2008 Jennifer J. Knighton

Donald Hefeweizen Saves The World (pt.2)

Feb 9, 2008

Jessica wasn't actually from Dallas. Where she was from was Hell. Which, in reality, is a lot like Dallas - hot, congested, polluted, and filled with bad drivers and women with fake bleach-blonde hair, fake nails, and fake boobs.

And that's why she liked to live there. It felt a lot like home, but was far enough away that her dad couldn't drop by unannounced. Much.

No one knew who her dad was. Well . . . everyone knew who her dad was, but they liked to pretend he didn't exist. So did she.

He was the reason she moved to Dallas and became a stock broker. Only, she was the worst stock broker ever to sit in an ergonomic chair at a carved cherry-wood desk. And today, she was about to be fired.

It was turning out to be the worst Thursday of her life. That morning, she had lost some poor sap his entire life savings, a whopping seven million dollars, while simultaneously losing the company nearly as much. No one was quite sure how that had happened. They generally blamed Jessica. And the devil.

They were right.

Her father, THE DEVIL, was trying to convince his wayward daughter to move home and take over the family business. He had arranged for her to be fired from her job, foreclosed on her house, and repossessed of her car.

What he didn't know about was Donald Hefeweizen, HR Director. And he didn't know that his well laid plans were about to be quashed. By an ugly man with a lazy right eye. And a pimple on his chin.

"Ah, Ms. Michaellson. Please have a seat. I have good news! You've been promoted!"

. . . to be continued.

(c) Copyright 2008 Jennifer J. Knighton

Donald Hefeweizen Saves The World

Feb 7, 2008

Donald is not an attractive man. He's not even plain. In fact, he's downright ugly. From his pasty white thighs to his lazy right eye - everything about him is ugly.

And that makes him extraordinary. And brave.

One would have to be brave to walk around looking like that. With a nose like that.

It wasn't just his appearance that was extraordinary. Donald could see The OtherWorld.

At least, that's what he called it. The OtherWorld. Capital letters. Bold print. Understrike.


Ghosts, demons, pixies, fairies. Everything that one can imagine, and a lot that one can't. And he didn't even need to be inebriated. He could see THE OTHERWORLD when he was completely sober. THAT was the scary part.

Well, that and his amazing ugliness.

Our story starts on an ordinary Thursday - usually a happy day as it's almost the end of the work week. Our Donald was working at his ugly job. (Again, everything about this man was ugly. Everything. Including his job.)

Anyway . . . Donald was sitting in his ergonomic office chair, at his carved cherry-wood desk, behind a sign marked "DONALD HEFEWEIZEN, HR DIRECTOR." He was preparing a Non-Compete Agreement for some poor sap who was about to be fired. After they had signed the document.

That was when the most beautiful creature on the planet knocked on his office door.

He immediately decided to fire someone else.

Her name was Jessica Michaellson. She was long and lean. A "tall glass of water," as his grandmother would say. Everything perfect and beautiful in the universe.

Except her voice.

"What? Are you gonna fire me or what?" she bellowed in a nasal, squeaky voice. She might have been from Jersey. She said she was from Dallas.

. . . to be continued.

(c) Copyright 2008 Jennifer J. Knighton

Gettin' Lucky

Feb 6, 2008

If a black cat crosses your path, it's seven years bad luck. But what happens if a black bunny rabbit crosses your path. In downtown Yakima, Washington. And you stop traffic for it. And people honk. Is that like twenty-one years good luck? Maybe?

And if the bunny makes it safely across the street . . . obviously, he gets into the bunny Hell's Angels, but does he also get some good luck?

Maybe seven years of safe street-crossings. Yeah, that sounds right.

It's Groundhog Day

Feb 2, 2008

Phil Says Six More Weeks of Winter!

Phil's official forecast as read 2/2/08 at sunrise at Gobbler's Knob:

Here Ye! Here Ye! Here Ye!

On Gobbler's Knob on this fabulous Groundhog Day, February 2nd, 2008
Punxsutawney Phil, the Seer of Seers, Prognosticator of all Prognosticators,
Rose to the call of President Bill Cooper and greeted his handlers, Ben Hughes and John Griffiths.

After casting a weathered eye toward thousands of his faithful followers,
Phil consulted with President Cooper and directed him to the appropriate scroll, which proclaimed:

"As I look around me, a bright sky I see, and a shadow beside me.
Six more weeks of winter it will be!"