Couch Hippo Sci-Fi

The other day I was contacted by someone whom I thought to be a fan of my six sci-fi thrillers (all right, I know, I'm Michael Casher's alter-ass ego, but it's the same dumb-ass difference). Boy was I wrong. His message was enough to make me cry in my think-A-hol.

This guy kept using the words sci-fi and movies in the same sentence. Then he wanted to know when I was going to write my next blockbuster movie. Little did he know that I'd never written a single sci-fi screenplay. I've never written any teleplays, either. What I have written is six sci-fi novels. Which he never even mentioned.

I had a dream that night about our American culture in the new millennium. No one read books anymore and everyone got their entertainment from sitting in a chair and staring straight ahead at images on a screen of some kind.

In my dream, everybody looked like this.

Overdone

I think I've been over-tipping Angus, the big-ass head bartender at Think-A-Holic Lounge, for way too many years. It's my considered opinion that any bartender who has a limo dropping him off at work and then picking him up again is either padding his expense account, stealing from the boss, or getting too much in tips.

Since I'm the most frequent regular at the Lounge and a heavy tipper, I attribute Angus' ability to afford a limousine to my over-tipping oversight.

Anyway, this is what our head bartender's new "limo" looks like. I'm told that the pilot is included in the lease agreement.

Through the Looking Glass

I was burning the midnight oil the other night, still trying to whip my latest 8½ x 11 manuscript into a 6 x 9 paperback for POD publishing sometime this month. I was dog tired but kept thinking about how a nice double-shot of think-a-hol would really help me sleep. So, I moseyed into my bedroom to throw on some street clothes and accidentally walked right through the full-length mirror on the closet door. This is what greeted me on the other side.

Before I found myself talking to a big white rabbit sitting behind the wheel of an interplanetary starship and late for a very important date, I high-tailed it back through the mirror.

Then, instead of traipsing off to Think-A-Holic Lounge for last call, I drank a glass of milk like a good boy and went to bed.