Neon…Happy Hour

“Here,” she said, handing the person behind the desk a fifty dollar bill.  “I’m not sure what you charge.”

“Depends on what you’re ordering,” he said, smiling at her.  “Do you want a booth, or would you rather sit at the bar?”

“I’d just want an hour of happy, please.”

“An hour of happy?”

“I want you to make me happy for an hour.  That’s what the sign said.”

“Happy Hour is the name of the bar.  And Happy Hour means that you drink for an hour, so that you’re happy.  Or maybe it means that your just happy that you can drink for an hour.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.  The sign doesn’t say anything about drinking.  What if people don’t get happy from drinking?  You kind of  promised an hour of happy and that’s what I want.”

“What would make you happy?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t say what he was thinking.

“Do you have cake?”

“No,” he said, relieved.  “This is a bar, not a bakery.”

“Well, what do you have?”

“Whiskey sours?”

“That’s not what I want,” she sighed.  “Do you have a bunny?”

“Why would I have a bunny?  This is a BAR, not a zoo.”

“Wow.,” she said.  “I just asked, and who would ever keep a bunny in a zoo?”

“You’re giving me a headache,” he sighed.  “There are no animals in this place, except for the guy over there.  Other than that…zip.”

“So, I’m not getting a happy hour?”

“I seriously doubt it,” he said.  “No one here is really happy anyway.”

“They seem happy.”

“They’re simply distracting themselves from think about their lives, jobs, money, relationships, what they thought life was going to be like, as opposed to what it turned out to be, and dying.”

“That’s depressing,” she said, looking at the loud crowd that was laughing and drinking.

“Gets them through the night.”

“There has to be more than this.”

“Oh,” he said, “there is.  They all have it, but just don’t recognize it.  They bought into the marketing and can’t see reality any longer. They forgot what matters.”

“Maybe I’m already happy and just don’t realize it either.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

She grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him toward her.  “My name is Jenny and you just gave me a Happy Hour in a few minutes.  Thanks.  Then she kissed him, smiled, and walked away.

“Wait…” he said.  But she was already gone.

 

 

Neon…Passion

“I’ll take the tall blond, with the two day stubble, ripped jeans and white t-shirt, please.  What’s your return policy?” she asked, her spiky hair catching the light from the desk lamp.

“Excuse me?”

“Excuse you for what?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m looking to fuel my Passion.  That guy looks as if he could do it.  This is the place for that, isn’t it? I mean your sign…”

“You’re mistaken,” he said, the color starting to drain from his face.  “The sign means you need to fuel your creativity, your art, the thing that will make you want to get up each day.”

“Exactly,” she said, tapping her long, black nails on the counter.  “I would definitely get up for him.  You don’t need to wrap him and I won’t need a bag.”

“HE has nothing to do with this.  This isn’t an issue about PEOPLE, it’s about your own passion.”

“Is there someone else I can speak to?”

“No.  Even if someone else was here, nothing would change.”

“So basically it’s false advertising.”

“It’s not, you just don’t get it.”

“Are any of the other men in the room available?” she asked.

“Go away.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need to leave.”

“Why?”

“This is a bookstore and the passion is about BOOKS.”

“Really?” she said, looking around.

Yes, REALLY!”

“That’s not what the sign says.”

“Please go away.”

“Do I get a free guy with my book purchase,” she asked, the tattoos on her arms, moving ever so slightly.

“What is wrong with you?”

“I’m fine, but it’s nice of you to ask.  Now about the blond guy.”

The blond guy turned toward her and smiled.  She grinned back and ran at him, jumping into his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips.

“Were you torturing the newbie?” he asked, brushing his lips across hers.

“Just a little,” she snickered. “It’s so easy.”

“I’ll be reading in a few, so take a seat and don’t make me laugh.”

“Then don’t look at me,” she chuckled, running her hands down his arms.

“It’s hard to look at anyone BUT you, so just let me get through this, I’m begging you,” he said, starting to snicker.  “Don’t,” he pleaded.

“I’m not doing anything,” she said.  “I can wait by the front desk.”

“Great, then we can drive Jimmy to the psych ward when it’s time to close.”

“Fine, I’ll wait in the Sci-fi section, but talk loud so I can hear you.”

“Promise,” he said, turning to walk toward the podium.

“I’ll yell, if I can’t hear you,” she shouted.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried not to start laughing.  He reached the podium, turned and looked at the crowd.

“Hi,” he said.  “Thanks for coming out on a rainy night like this.  The book’s been doing great, thanks to people like you, and I’m grateful.  So, let’s get to it.  The title of the books is, HOW TO LIVE WITH A WILD WOMAN…”

 

Photo:  Jason Leung
Unsplash

 

 

 

How they met…Neon…a short story

“This is a great bookstore,” she said excitedly, throwing a few more things onto the counter.  “I absolutely LOVE it, to the Moon and Back.”

“We’re opening another shop on the moon before Christmas.”

“Interesting,” she muttered.  “And how, exactly, will the customers get there?”

“People are already living on the Moon. The government just doesn’t want anyone to know,”  he said, conspiratorially.  “Don’t tell anyone I mentioned it.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t,” she laughed, crossing her heart with her finger.  “You have a lot of unusual books.  Things I’ve never seen anywhere else.  It’s wonderful.”

“Thanks.”

“We need a lot more independents.  So many closed, but perhaps they’ll start opening again.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he said.  “It’s a tough business with on-line shopping, offering lower prices.”

She nodded.  “Makes it difficult for everyone.”

“It does.  You get price cuts from publishers, according to the number of books you order.  Who can compete with Big Box stores and Amazon?  No one, that’s who.”

“It’s not fair,” she said.

“No.  It’s not.”

‘How are you going to deal with radiation poisoning on the moon?”

“Tin foil.”

She burst out laughing.  “Great idea.”

“We think so,” he said, smiling.

“Have you read any of the books in my stack?”

He looked at the books and nodded.  “I’ve read all of them, but you won’t like this one,” he said, pulling it out of the pile.  “The blurb is great but the book is terrible.  Bad writing and weak plot.  The characters are so dull I don’t think the pages would catch if you put them into a roaring fireplace.”

She stared at him.  “Thank you.”

“This one is great, and I’d recommend buying the second book. They may be going out of print.  Once that happens, the price will skyrocket and people will be selling their copies on line.”

“I’ll do it.”

“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, this book is a five, if you like reading about the misery of others.  I don’t, but you might.”

“No,” she said, putting the book aside.  I don’t.”

“This one is fantastic.  Great writing and characters you’ll never forget.  You might even want to be one of them.”

“Perfect,” she said, smiling.  “Have you been to the moon?”

“Excuse me?”

“The moon.  Have you ever been there.  Did you go looking for a proper bookstore site?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one is allowed to know about trips to the moon.”

“Are the people there aliens or humans.”

“Those are the same two things,” he said.

“Hmmm.  I guess they are, when you think about it.”

“We’re aliens on earth.  All of us,” he said.

“You can’t be an alien, if you’re born here.”

“I think you should look at these two books,” he said, reaching for a couple of hardcovers on the shelf behind him.

“Okay.”

“Don’t you want to know what they’re about?”

“No.  I trust you.  If you think they’re great, I’m willing to read them, but only if you read two that I pick out for you.”

“Really?” he said, grinning.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing into the shop.

When she came back, she had two books in her hands.  “Read these.  No questions asked.”

“Promise,” he said, taking them from her.

“I’ll come back in two weeks and we’ll discuss the books, okay?”

“Yes.  That will be fun,” he said, putting her books into a cloth bag.

“Is the moon beautiful?”

“Not really.  It’s a man-made orb, metal and hollow inside.  It’s cold on the dark side and nothing really grows on the outside.  The government has people working inside the orb, making weapons, lots of things.  It’s a dead place and living inside is horrible, like living in a house with no windows.  Artificial light, is artificial.  Drives you crazy in no time at all and you long to be outside on earth.”

“What if I told you I was CIA and you could be disappeared for what you just said?”

“I’d ask you to kiss me, before you shot me.”

She grabbed his shirt, pulled him forward, and kissed him.  “You need to be more carful, Timmothy Larken,” she whispered.  “Please don’t make me erase you.”

“People should know,” he said softly.

“They can’t know,” she said, picking up her bag.   “I’ll see you in two weeks.  Hope you like the books I chose for you.”

 

Photo:  Dalal Nizam
Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

Neon…

“Can I see a menu, please,” he asked, standing at the counter.

She slid a plastic sheet across the counter.

“This is my first time.  Any suggestions?”

“Depends on how long you want to be gone,” she said, tapping her pen against the order form.

“An hour, I guess.”

“Then go to Madrid or Sweden.  Both are very nice and you can do a lot in an hour.”

“Is it scary?” he asked.  “Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt at all but I don’t know what scares you, so I can’t answer that question.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he agreed.  “I think I’ll take one hour in…Sweden.”

“Excellent choice,” she said, putting in the order and handing him a stack of papers to sign.”

“What’s all this?” he asked, flipping through the pages.

“Insurance things.  Things that will prohibit you from suing us.  You know, the usual stuff.”

“Why would I want to sue you?”

“That will be two thousand dollars,” she said, slowly tearing the bottom off one of the sheets, and handing it to him.  “Take this to Room 9 and give it to the person who will be working with you.  Have a nice trip. You can pick up your gift package on your way out.”

“Gift package?”

“Souvenirs, from Sweden, of course.”

“Oh.”

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“Has anyone died during their trip?”

“Just the usual amount,” she said, running her hand over the counter, as if she might be cleaning off crumbs.

“The usual amount?”

“Yes.”

“How many is the usual amount?”

“About twenty percent.”

“That’s a lot of people.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.  I do,” he said.  “How do they die?”

“Hart attacks mostly, but there have been…other causes.  Some just decide to stay where they have chosen to go.”

“Stay where they went?  You can do that?”

“Yes.”

“I could stay in Sweden for the rest of my life?”

“Yes, but that will cost extra and you won’t be able to leave there, since you’ll be more like a hologram, after awhile.”

“That sounds terrible,” he said, taking a step back from the counter.

“A lot of people die on vacations, so it’s not really that odd.”

“But this is an out of body trip, not a physical relocation.”

She shrugged.  “What can I tell you.  People get bored and want excitement.  You know how it is.  So, you better get moving, your tour guide is waiting for you.”

“I changed my mind.”

“There are no refunds.”

“But you didn’t tell me all of those things before I said I would go.”

“It was in the fine print.”

“I didn’t read all those pages.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“I’ll write a bad review,” he said.  “People should know about what you’re doing.”

“We’ll give you a free half hour trip if you don’t do that.”

He glared at her.  “I don’t want ANY trips.”

“Well, that’s up to you.”

“This is madness,” he said.

“Madness is always what you find, when you go DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE.”

 

 

 

 

Neon…connected.

People say, everything is connected, but is it?  I mean I can understand what they mean, genetic wise, and the connection between humans, food and life.  Can’t live without bees, water, air.  But I think it’s more than that, I think it’s that we can’t get off the planet.

We’re like ants, crawling over a rock, connected by our inability to get away from each other.  We get into wee little rocket ships and go into space, send robots to Mars, and we’re so proud of ourselves.   I guess we should be.  That stuff is amazing, for what we ARE. BUT when you think about it, we’re more like kindergarten kids using fat crayons and hanging our papers on the fridge.  Gold stars…in a universe that is too big and strange for us to understand.  How silly we must look to anyone watching.

We do amazing things, considering that we’re just animals. It’s just those pesky EGO’S that seem to get us into trouble.  Trouble meaning killing everything, until nothing’s left, including ourselves because while many people say that we’re connected, they don’t seem to truly UNDERSTAND that when we BREAK the connection, we are rushing to extinction.  What we say and what we do, don’t seem to CONNECT with logic or reality.

Either our brains haven’t evolved enough to control our egos, or we’re just idiots who are doomed, as we greedily march toward oblivion.  And you know what?  No one will care that we’re gone.  The other animals will throw a party and celebrate our demise.  Then they’ll spread out and enjoy life.  Things will grow again and gardens will be natural and lush, until the sun turns into a red giant and eats the planet.  But that will take a REALLY long time, so the animals will have lots of time to play and enjoy a human free planet.

This is a savage place.  But when we’re gone, at least there won’t be any weapons, wars, loss of habitat, and pollution.  That can only be a good thing.  I still remember seeing the pictures of the dolphins swimming in the CLEAR canals of Venice, when WE were locked inside. The world will be a beautiful without us.

Photo:  Daria Shevtsova
Pexels

Neon…FIRE EXIT

“Excuse me,” he said, a little too loudly.

“What already,” she hissed, coming out of the back office.

“I want to see the fire…exit.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen fire actually exist from anywhere and I want to see that.”

“The fire EXIT doesn’t have anything to do with fire exiting.  It’s a door for people to use if there’s a fire.  People are supposed to exit through the fire exit door, not fire.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said. “None at all.”

“Maybe not to you.”

“Shouldn’t it say Human Exit?”

“No, because that could be any door.  This door is only to be used in case there’s a fire.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean WHY?  THAT’S what the door is for, that’s why.”

“Can’t people go through the door any other time?  Won’t the door open unless there’s a fire?”

“Of course it will open if there isn’t a fire.”

“Then isn’t it just a regular door?”

“It’s a regular door that has been set aside to be opened only, if there’s a fire.”

“So,” he said, “no fire goes through that door, right?  People go through that door if there IS a fire.  So, what’s on the other side of the door and does fire know that the door is only for people and that it can’t go in there?”

She looked at him and said,  “Yes.  Fire knows that it’s not allowed to go through that door.  Fire knows that it’s a door only people can use.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t just say that in the beginning,” he said, shaking his head as he walked away.

 

 

 

 

Neon…

it’s impossible
to be any more
UNIQUE
than we already are
each of us
completely different
than anyone else
there’s no way
to escape
being
UNIQUE

 

Photo:  Pixabay

Neon…how they met.

“It’s true, you know,” she said.

“What’s true?”

“The time IS always now.  I mean it can’t actually BE any other time than now.”

“I bet you majored in philosophy,” he said.

“How can it possibly be the past or future?  It’s always only NOW.  And NOW, is in the past before we even realize it was here.  The future becomes the NOW, and the NOW turns into the PAST, and life is lived in moments so short, there are no words for it.  It’s as if there’s a black void behind us and in front of us, and life is a flashbulb moment that illuminates the wee second in between the two, and that’s all there IS.  There IS nothing else.”

He stared at her and said, “What do you want to eat?”

“Grilled veggie cheese sandwich and fries, crispy, please.  Lemonade and chocolate cake.”

“For here or to go?”

“Here, and what about the sign?”

He leaned on the counter.  “You’re right, of course.  There is no time but the tiny instant our awareness calls life.  Life exists from second to second.  We can’t see behind us, or in front of ourselves.  There’s nothing but things that have  already happened and possibilities that may come our way from the future,  I agree.”

“I think I love you.”

“Well,” he said, “You’d be the only one.  Everyone hates it when I talk about things like that.”

“I know what you mean,” she sighed, looking down.  “No one cares about that stuff.”

“I do.”

“Do you think that before we’re conceived, we’re floating in the future?”

“Yes.  We’re always possibility.”

“I think that as well.  If we’re energy we can always become something,” she said, nodding.

“When we die, we don’t go into the past, we go forward into the future, do you agree?”

“I do.”

“You’re food is ready,” he said.  “I get off in a half hour.”

“Join me?”

“Definitely.”

“When the universe ends,” she said, starting to walk away.  “Everything will die.  It will be blacker than black and colder than cold and nothing will survive.  The planets and suns, everything will just hang in s I think that will include energy, don’t you?  If there’s nothing, then there’s nothing.  Or, is there always something?  Can energy actually BE destroyed? Is that possible, rather than having it just change forms?  What will happen when it’s over?  I don’t think the Big Bang started by itself.  That’s insane.  Nothing can come out of nothing.  Something was here.  Was it energy? What IS the something?  What is Dark Matter?  Is it a different kind of energy or is it intelligence unbound?  We don’t know anything.  Not really.  What’s going on?  There was something before the universe was born.  Were other universes already here?  Is light more than photons and…”

“I’ll see you in fifty-two minutes,” he said excitedly.

 

Neon…

When we do regressions, we always turn things upside down when we can’t get the answers we are looking for.  So this sign made me snicker, because it’s absolutely perfect for that.

Whenever you can’t figure something out…turn it upside down and come at it from a different point of view/angle. It works.

 

Photo  Ivan Bertolazi
Pexels

 

Neon…How They Met…

“Who is the “I” and why does that person love people?” he asked.

“This is a bookstore,” she said.  “Everyone here loves people, especially people who buy books from us.”

“Oh, so you don’t actually love people, you love their money.”

“We love books and people who love books.  We love talking with them about books and hoping the books we sell them will become books they love and want to keep forever.  What part of that don’t you GET?”

“I don’t love people,” he said.

“I’m okay with that,” she said, slamming the book he was buying onto the counter.

“Do you love people?”

“Very few.”

“Why doesn’t your sign say I HEART BOOKS, instead of people?”

“I just work here.  I am not responsible for what the sign says.  And that will be twenty-six dollars and eighty cents.  Do you want a bag?”

“I love books,” he said.

“I’m happy for you. What about the bag?”

“You’re very sarcastic, and I don’t need a bag.”

“Thank you for both things,” she said.  “Here’s your book, now go away.”

“I’ll be back.”

“Hopefully, on my day off,”  she said, watching him leave.

“I’m not at all like that guy,” said the next man in line.  “So you don’t have to beat up my books, or growl at me.”

“That remains to be seen,” she sighed.  “He’s lucky I didn’t hit him with the book.”

“It must be difficult dealing with the public.”

“Sometimes.  Most people are very nice.  But some think they can bargain on the price of a book, or want things for free.  Some treat those of us who wait on them as if we are their servants, or just invisible.  They talk on their phones, then complain that we didn’t tell them something, when we actually did…they just weren’t listening.”

“Could you wrap these, please?” he asked, pushing a few books toward her.  “They’re for my niece. It’s her birthday.”

“Animal Farm, 1984, Women artists.  How old is she?”

“Six.”

“I think I love you,” she laughed.

“She’s a feminist.  I take her to demonstrations and rallies.”

“Okay.  Now I KNOW I love you.  And these are for you?” she asked, pulling a stack toward the register?”

“Yes.”

“Ack,” she said.  “You’re going to be SOOOOOO disappointed in this one.  It’s terrible. You might want to think about not getting it. You’ll love this one, and this one is…mmmm…so-so.  This one will hold a special place on your bookshelf.  This one, just forget it,” she muttered, taking it out of the pile, and the rest are..okay, if you don’t have anything else to read.”

“Do you rate all the books people buy?”

“Only for special customers who buy fabulous books for their six-year-old relatives.”

“Have you read all the books in the shop?”

“No.  Not all of them.”

“Why won’t I like this one?”

“Author changed the main character’s personality and turned him into a wimp and idiot. He was cool and tough, now he’s just pathetic. Added characters that I’d kill off instantly, just to make them disappear from the pages.  And this one,” she said, holding up a thin book,  “is so dull you would beg it to stop while you walked it to the recycling bin..”

“Wow.  What if I told you I was the author.”

“I’d tell you to change jobs.”

He laughed.

“You aren’t the author, are you?”

“No, I am not,” he said, smiling at her.  “What do you recommend?”

“Well, from the looks of what your buying, we may have similar taste in some areas.  I don’t know what you’ve read, but I can walk you through the aisles and tell you what I liked.”

“That would be great.  Maybe we could have coffee in the tiny cafe afterward.”

“Maybe we could.”

“Why do you read?”

“To escape life.  That’s why everyone reads, even if they don’t know it.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

“What’s wrong with life?” he asked.

“Can you fly?  Do magic?  Beat up the bad guys and make sure they stay down?  Can you understand animals when they talk?  Can you…fall in love forever, or never fall in love and not care, or…”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“I think so.  You want to live in a magical world, full of delight, sunshine, wonder and kindness.  Fairies and Dragons, I assume?”

“Naturally.”

“Do you think that kind of world exists somewhere, other than in books?”

“I hope so.”

“I might just be in love with you too,” he said.  “Shall we begin in the fantasy section?”

“I don’t see why not,” she said, telling the checker next to her that she was going on a long break.”

“Look as if you might be coming back,” he said, grinning at her, then looking at the guy staring at her.

“Oh, Melvin,” she said, smiling.  “You’re such a romantic.”

Melvin blushed and blew her a kiss.  “Just leave his order where it is. I’ll make sure the books aren’t re-shelved.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then grabbed a basket and handed it to the guy.  “You’ll need this,” she said, excitedly.  “Let’s go to the aisles of magic.”