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“You’re still in here? Don’t forget we have a hiking date at 10:00.”

Script:

“Alexa, Play . . .”

A family room, furniture pushed up against the walls.

A couple in their 60’s enter, woman first, feeling her way into the room, taking baby steps. Her husband behind her, covering her eyes with his hands. Both giggling.

Stopping in center of room.

John: “Alexa, play ‘Time in a Bottle’” by Jim Croche.

They hug and dance. Lip syncing. <to the song that isn’t playing, because this author can’t afford royalty, copyright infringement fees.>

Amy: “When did you get her?”

John: “This morning while you girls were shopping.”

Amy: “Craig’s going to love it.”


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Zeus, Lucy and Jamie. Three towels in the wind, three dogs at the door. author’s file.


Seven of my last ten stories on Medium are satirical take downs of the current Lame Duck POTUS, on his way to becoming a Jail Bird. Hopefully, he keeps on tweeting in the Rose Garden Cemetery while climbing a tree to catch a fish. Don’t panic, Hannity Bear. Say night-night, Yose-might is just a dream you dream on your prison cot.

It’s been a long time since I gave Lucy — the yellow pup in my profile pic —a chance to tell a story.

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Jamie teaching Lucy to swim at Lake Tahoe, NV


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Photo by mana5280 on Unsplash

. . . Covid-19 at the Rose Garden cemetery {sic} ceremony. Two new ones were up the day after it was announced that Trümp had paid only $750 in federal income tax during the first two years of his presidency. Three more yesterday, all in a row, in the yards of lower-middle income home owners with Golden Retrievers. How do they explain that to their dogs?

I’d love to train my dogs to poop on their front porches. But I digress.

Just saw on Fox News the video of President Trümp’s triumphant return to the White House. This is what…


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Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Don’t panic. I’m not your niece, Mary. I’m not really sure if we are related. Recently, a die-hard Republican I know told me he is distantly related to seven U.S. Presidents, including George Washington and Barack Obama.

I joked with him that I’m probably related to you, Mr. President, but then it dawned on me — My mother’s family is German and Swedish. My father’s is Scottish and Irish, so . . .

. . . can you send me more allowance? I spent the first $1200 on essentials, a small donation to Mr. …

Ann James

Her writing muse lurks in the volcanic hills amidst mustangs, marmots and jackalopes. While hiking with her dogs, Ann stumbles upon stories of dark humor.

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