Sometimes Mark just does the coolest things (and of course, if he got himself permalinks, we could treasure them forever, instead of being forced to quote them at length):
barbelith dream by Mark Olynciw
I was an Englander, born and lived there my entire life, with accent and all. And Tom was an obvious American, with I LOVE USA shirts and all. Now everything else went along as it does today, him and his weblog, and me with mine….only it was the year 2044.
Suprisingly Tom and I kept our winning good looks over the years, in fact- we looked very much as we did today.
But in the year 2044 they have such remarkable inventions you do know. Such as this streaming webcam that I was using to spy on my friend. I watched him during the day at work, at dinnertime eating a very healthy McDonalds meal, and at night when the parties started….until the next day in which the same thing went on for.
One day Tom and I got into this heated argument because he had promised to me that we’d go eat a picnic in Belgium. (I’m sorry, even my subconscious has no idea between the cities or countries, and where they are in Europe) But Tom cancelled. Because of his work as a ‘Network Scientist’ he was unable to fly to England for this elaborate lunch I had planned.
I was upset, got into drugs…some of that snorting kind….dropped out of high school, and eventually the IRS had to take away RIOTHERO. I became a mess, living on the streets of England. Every once and a while the Spice Girls would invite me in their home for some tea. I would ask them if it was English tea or American tea…because you KNOW how I hate Americans ever since Tom did that to me. And an hour or two later, I was back on the street hungry again.
It was raining this night, and so I knocked the windows in in this boarded up post office building. I hoisted myself up and fell unto the floor of the Post Master’s office. He wasn’t there of course, he had got home for the night… but I was busy snoopy around, looking at the latest technology in air mail, etc.
As I was walking out of the hallway to find something to devour, I kicked this large cardboard box and I look down to see my name on it! And the return address is from Waterford, CT- HEY! That’s where Tom is from! I rip off the cover, pull out all that fun poppy packaging, and look inside. It’s picnic equipment.
A tablecloth, dishes, candlesticks, spoons, and bottle of wine, a frisbee, and basically everything else anyone would need for a successful picnic. Last but not least I reach my hand into the box to pull out Tom and Katy theirselves!
They treat me to an elegant picnic on the roof of the Post Office where it’s now stopped raining. The food’s delicious, the weather is just fine (not the sweaty kind), and it’s the ‘splendidist’ picnic that’s ever been had.