Semi-Daily Scribbles

Coffee, hot as a volcano and thick as molasses, steamed Lionel's lenses as he walked the distance between kitchen and carport. He was going to start a new project. Lionel looked over his collection of scrap lumber and sheet metal before selecting an unfinished backboard. Lionel decided it was cut out for a greater purpose than basketball. He set the mug of stars down on his work bench.

"There is magic in everything," he reminded the orange, short-haired tomcat lapping up water out of a whipped topping container. Lionel stepped over the cat as he reached for a tackle box. It held A's, and B's, and I's. All the stencils he'd ever need if he was going to spray-paint a novel on the side of his barn. The project at hand, however, was on a much smaller scale. Lionel remembered a segment of his dream the night before, and he had to get it down on pressboard for posterity.

"What do you think, cat?" Lionel coughed and took a sip of coffee. "We galaxy gaze while the brightest light beats inside our chest." Lionel gave the animal a few moments to compose its thoughts. Mr. Tomcat stretched and sauntered off toward the alfalfa fields. "Huh. Well, I like it." Lionel felt yellow was a proper paint choice for his message. He thought the words were helpful, and making the sign might ease his fear of solid surfaces. Lionel wasn't scared of wood or granite; it was more of a trust issue. Those substances weren't really solid, and he never knew when he might lose molecular cohesion and melt into the kitchen table. He was aware, of course, his table and chairs only gave off the illusion of being sturdy, but he played along with popular opinion whenever his neighbor, Joe, came around looking for a few solid railroad ties. It was easier to just nod and smile. Since Lionel did not believe in luck, he'd let folks like Joe knock on wood all they wanted.