Stoney Patterson's Miracle Hacienda

In an attempt to create order out of everything that's been placed in front of me, I have come to a realization that explains completely why I use anger and hesitation as a means of achieving a higher status when I'm alone. Elves make terrible farmers. That's why they always wander. This isn't something I'm just saying to be funny, I really feel it's true.

The Vertical Capture

I often walk in remote areas where heavy storms have recently passed through. On many occasions I'll find objects, forced from their hiding places in the earth, lying about awaiting an unlikely discovery. One time, during a rigorous excursion into the section of boreal forest known as Klemler's Bowl, I happened upon a prehistoric man entombed within a pure and ancient chunk of ice. It was getting quite warm, so I hurried to the nearest town to fetch sandwiches and a decent set of clothing for when he thawed out. When I returned to the site, the iceman was gone. This was a poignant reminder that even the most beautiful of planets, will sometimes duck behind the sun.

Bending the Boots

I was always the first in line at the Dandy Burger. This is how I mastered earth skills, and where I learned to make the clouds arrange themselves into shapes just like that Boston album cover. Later in life, I became easily manipulated by business tactics and misty eyed potato people dressed like lost journeymen involved with capitol fraud and tainted yogurt scams. Of course, my true voice is wrought from sensual brutality, a murmuring sense of reason, and free cocktails.

The Ticklish Gods

Nikos Poulos was the son and only child of a Greek prostitute. His father was thought to be a sailor, probably a Dutchman. After years of moving around, Nikos and his mother settled in Liverpool, to be near the shipping industry. As a teen, he fell in with theater people and his world opened up in new and inventive ways. Inevitably, he moved to London and took on an apprenticeship under Robert Nobles, the famed apiarist known best for his work with natural adhesives. Nikos soon branched out, and enjoyed minor celebrity of his own after claiming to posses the ability to predict the future by palpating kitten ribs. At 38, he was killed instantly when he failed to properly negotiate a zebra crossing.

I Think You Might Have My Eraser

The dark factory on the hill was the culmination of two principle desires of mankind. The want to build things, and the need to have a workforce to exploit. It was in a place like this that my grandfather spent eternity grinding metals into sparks. His production record was average, his wage never exceeded the minimum, and he broke his pinky toe on the steel leg of the vending machine at least once a month.

The Dredging of Goose Harbor

I would like the Richard Nixon of my childhood to come back. Not as the president, but as an advocate for bicycling safety. A wiser, fitter Nixon with a nice tan, who visits schools and demonstrates how to properly secure a bike using a U lock. That's the Nixon we need right now. He will be handled by the Martin Viola Agency, which will donate a percentage of their fee to a fruit growers union just outside of Yorba Linda.

The Families of Lesser Fame

This morning, I tried to affix a balloon-like temperature indicating device to the main staff of a shatterproof telemetry housing. Having forgotten to bring along the associated mounting hardware, I found myself suddenly with a loss of purpose, and no immediate means to rectify. This circumstance led me to form an argument which would compellingly justify, once and for all, the manner in which I slice sandwiches on the diagonal.