Six Months

The bright sun reflected of the cool white snow, the rays warming the color and feeling of all they touched. “What a yellow beginning to the day,” breathed Major Bubbles, the frigid air freezing his breath before him. He felt the cold air burn his lungs as he inhaled deeply, treasuring the sensation of cleansing that always comes with cold weather. A last long intake of both scenery and atmosphere, and then he slid into his car, started it off, drove toward school. While on his way he passed a business that proudly displayed the sign “We hire class C-Workers!”

“What a tragedy,” he thought. “The economy is so bad that an honest business is driven to seek after the employ of sub-standard employees.” With this depressing thought plaguing him, he arrived at school.

The college campus was as always a mixing pot of experiences and exposures. As he passed a philosophy class he heard words floating out “we see, then, that the sin of smiling is much greater than that of stealing, or even frowning. It is bad philosophy to smile. . .” Major couldn’t help but partake in that particular sin as he contemplated how reflective those words were of his college experience. He wondered who, if anyone, would ever really thank those who dared to smile, and pondered on the prospect of writing a short report titled “A Salute to the Brave: A Salute to those who Smile.” Or maybe he would call it “Dare to be Different: Smile.”

As he meandered on towards his class, thoughts lost in awards won and prestige gained by amazing writing, he heard a voice coming from behind him.

“Major Bubbles! Don’t you walk away from me without saying hi!

It was Pelirojo, his red-headed and beautiful eyed friend. She had always seemed to him the depiction of a character of out of some Disney love story, the type that gets hopelessly lost only to find the man of her dreams. Such was her naivety and her optimism. After the usual exchanges of what’s ups and how you doings, Pelirojo asked

“How’s your botany class?”
“It’s great!” He replied. “We just learned about how if there weren’t any botanists, we would all starve in four days time.”
“Those geeks, they’re taking over the world.”
“Yeah, all they need is to form a geek attack. Maybe that would be better than having everything run by politicians.”
“Whatever, you know you love your politics.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Everything seems too cold and calculated in the political scene. Much like my love life.”
“Oh, you poor baby. Do you need a date?”
“I’ve never begged for one, but I’m about too.”

At which point Pelirojo laughed, and began walking down the hall to her class, chanting along the way “Major Bubbles needs a date! Major Bubbles needs a date!”

“What a weird woman” he thought, walking along the way to class. This thought fresh in his mind, Major Bubbles saw his friend, the Awkward Politic, coming toward him, a smile on his face.

“Politicians really are a different kind of geeks,” He thought, seeing the lopsided, endearing smile of his friend. “I still love them, though. Maybe if the geeks attack they form a counter attack of their own. It would be the geek attack II, like some sort of horror movie.”

“Ugh, I’m so tired!” said the Awkward Politic, mirroring in words what the picture of his face said. “I’ve been exposed to so many dating eccentricities lately that I just don’t know what to do. Between keeping one relationship light and friendly and trying to make another into a more serious engagement,” (he winked on that word) “I’m exhausted!”
“I wish I could sympathize.”
“Oh, don’t give me any of that. I know you’ve been dappling in your own yellow love.”
“Red is probably a better word to describe my relationships. They all have big warning signs. That or open, bleeding wounds.”
“Give me a break, Major. Your heart gets plenty of nutrition.”
“True, but even yellows need some serious flirting every now and again.”

Excusing himself, the Awkward Politic raced off to class, and left Major Bubbles to meander into his philosophy class. A few moments later, the professor cleared his throat, a clear message that class was about to begin.

“Today we will be discussing the morality of subliminal messages.” He said, starting his slide presentation. What then followed was an interesting discussion which was unfortunately lost on Major Bubbles, who found himself engaged sending his own messages across time and space to WM-Star, who was in dire straights for amusement.

“I’m so bored today, no one’s in my office,” the message displayed itself across the screen of Major’s laptop.
“You could try entertaining yourself. Maybe you should do a one man play.”
“Okay, that was random.”
“Sure was! What’s up with your schedule today?”
“I’m going to water aerobics later.”
“Isn’t that only for old people?”
“Like you could do it.”
“You’re probably right, I couldn’t do it.”
“What are you going to do tonight?”
“Uum and I are going to Salt Lake.”
“Whatever, you never go anywhere.”
“Oh yeah? I’ll show you, WM-Star.”
“I was joking!”
"Thanks for saying so. I’d better go. My teacher is saying something about how subliminal messages cause insanity. It sounds like something that I’d better learn.”
“Okay.”

Major stopped messaging just in time to hear the professor say “and that will be the question asked on this week’s quiz. Make sure that you each of you include ‘a question answered’ in the preamble of your report.”

“I sure hope that Fwidipan was listening” thought Major, trying to catch his friend’s eye near the front row. Fwidipan was always engaged in the moment, and didn’t mind sharing with her more rambling friend the moments he missed while wandering through the vacant spaces in his brain. She was the intelligent type, quick to notice and to help. She smiled as Major approached her.

“That professor, he always talks to fast,” said Major, “I didn’t even catch the question that’s going to be asked on the quiz.”
“Were you off wandering the vacuii of your mind again?” Fwidipan said sarcastically.
“Well, you know me and my amor vacuii. I can’t stand having my mind in one place, at any time.”
“One of your more admirable traits, I’m sure.”
“It’s not my fault that my mind works faster than the professor teaches.”
Bantering back and forth, they headed toward the institute building. As was usual for that time of year, banners were hung everywhere, announcing an upcoming Christmas dance, second only to Valentine’s dance as the most awkward date in history.

“’Christmas Power’ is the theme this year? The people in charge of planning these things seriously need to work on their one liners” said Major.
“Well, why don’t you come up with one in your Christmas blog?” Fwidipan sensibly suggested. “That’d be best, and then we wouldn’t have to listen to you complain.”
“Ouch. Maybe I could say something like ‘Christmas: a true black hole filler. It fills the emptiness of your heart.’”
“Oh, shut up.”

On that pleasant note the two parted ways, Fwidipan off to one class and Major to another. As he walked down the stairs of the institute, he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of those headed to class on the other side of the street, the secular one. “The institute building is weird,” he thought. “Where else can you hear about soul suckers and Ford trucks all at the same time?”

Having descended the steps and entered his class, Major Bubbles heard his instructor talking about the various improvements that had been added to each classroom, including new projectors and screens. “Ah, newness” breathed the instructor, happy with the new toys that littered his room. The class, rowdy at the prospect of the upcoming dance, settled down to enjoy a session of spiritual delights. “Now we all know that a dance is coming up,” said the institute instructor in the usual obvious manner of all such teachers. “Just remember: dating can decide your divine potential.”

“That’s a horrible social alliteration,” said Musical G furtively to Major. “I would never use that, ever, not even in a rhymet.”
“What’s a rhymet?” asked Major.
“I’m not really sure.” Replied Musical.. It’s somewhere between a rhyme and a little girl.”
“A little girl?”
“Hence the ‘et.’”
“You are so strange.”
“What can I say? I’m a jigsaw puzzle.”

Wondering at how Musical’s last statement had anything to do with what was said before, Major turned his attention once again to his institute teacher, who was discussing the ills of smoking. “You all know it’s bad.” He said. “It’s like walking through perfumed pockets of the plague, and it will kill you. There is definite death involved.”

“What a macabre teacher,” thought Major as he left the class. “Maybe he’s just trying to get attention. Maybe he’s screaming in silence for some attention.” Being drawn up in these thoughts, and what should be done about them (do you report a need of attention to an institute instructor’s superiors?), Major didn’t notice his brother Basserpurcusionist until he was almost on top of him.

“Major!” shouted his brother as loud as he could, laughing within himself to see Major jump.
“Basserpurcusionist!” shouted Major back.
“How are you? Do you have any plans for the weekend yet?”
“You mean the dance? No, it’s going to be just another Saturday night for me.”
“Well, I’m going to start a blogathon,” said basserpurcusionist.
“You have fun with that.”
“Oh, I will. I think I’ll title the first one ‘And He’s Off!’”
“How very original.”
“Oh, be quiet you. Just because you don’t have any plans doesn’t mean that you should be bitter towards those of us that do.”
“I’m sure your date with the computer will be very rewarding.”
“Mleh on you and your family!”
“You are my family.”
“Good point. Mleh on you and your posterity!”

Chuckling to himself, Major bid his brother adieu and set off towards his car. “This world has too many slighting influences” he thought as he saw a young girl and a young guy kissing. “There seems to be a frantic dash on the part of just about everyone to conform to the normal, to the picture of what’s wanted.” The couple then separated their faces, and the guy gave the girl one white rose. That one rose was enough to result in yet another kiss.

“Now there’s an example of flower power,” thought Major. “If I were that guy I’d buy a dozen roses and give them one at a time, just to see how long I could draw out the experience.” Smiling at his private joke, Major got into his car and drove home.

At home, Major did the first thing any red-blooded American of this generation would do when he finds himself in an empty house. He turned on the computer and got on the internet to see who else was on. His elder brother Tolkien Boy was connected, and so they struck up a silent long distance conversation.

“How are you?” Major Bubbles messaged
“Pretty good. And you?”
“Oh, can’t complain. What are you up to?”
“Nothing much, I was just reading a book called ‘The Hugging Art.’” said Tolkien Boy
“Looking for suggestions?”
“Eh, who needs them?”
“Your mom needs them” said Major, in the customary brotherly bonding manner.
“Your mom is my mom,” Tolkien Boy retorted.
“It doesn’t work if you take it literal like that.”
“Oh, well then. I heard you had a late night last night.”
“I did indeed.”
“What were you up to?”
“Nothing much,” said Major. “I did lots of little things, wasting away my time on the computer. I saw a teaser for the new video ‘The Yellow Factor.’”
“Really? What did you think?”
“Only one word: Fan-fricking-tabulous”
“You only thought one word? That’s kind of depressing.”
“Quiet you. Hey, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.”
“;) Bye!”

Signing off the internet, Major Bubbles wandered over to the kitchen table on which was laying the daily newspaper. Across the paper’s front page was boldly printed “Voting: Democracy or Bureaucracy?”

“The quality of the news nowadays is pretty sad” thought Major. “They’re worse than basserpercusionist’s blogging woes.” Thinking on his brother’s amazing writing talents, Major then returned to his computer to look at the latest edition of his brother’s compositions. “Two Apologies: Two Blogs” ran the title. As Major was reading this blog, the phone rang.

“Bubbles residence.”
“Hi. Is Basserpurcutionist in?”
“I’m sorry, he’s still at school.”
“Oh, well, when he gets in, could you tell him that Annie called?”
“Oh, Annie! I didn’t recognize your voice. This is Major. What are you up to?”
“Not much, just trying to get a hold of your brother.”
“Looking for a little flirtaunting?”
“You always think things that aren’t true. I need to get an assignment from him.”
“Oh, so he’s your boss now.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s for a music class.”
“I see. Well, I’ll let him know you called.”
“Thanks Major. Bye!”
“Bye, Annie.”

After he hung up the phone, the bubbling up in his stomach along with some very unique noises alerted Major to the fact that he was in need of nourishment. As he went to the fridge in search of food, he noticed a little magnet, hung so carelessly there, that said “I’ll never see a poem as lovely as a tree.” While pulling out a frigid container of orange juice, Major thought “I wonder if poem writing is like singing in silence?” Pouring a glass of juice, he took a long, cool drink.

Major Bubbles heaved a sigh and leaned back from his computer, glad that after three days he had finally finished his anniversary blog.

“Do you have any closing remarks?” asked Tolkien Boy.
“Only this: never write a blog while under the influence of the flu."