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(Recap: a boxer has a girlfriend whose magic thread, sewn into his gloves, gave him stamina and helped him win his fights. She unstitched it at his request and he won matches without magical help. She grew jealous of his female fans and restitched the gloves to wilt him, both in the ring and on his shorts. He confronted her and she again undid the stitching and committed to doing whatever he asked, provided he won his next bout.)

F.R. was outweighed by 7 pounds at the weigh-in

And was glad

He felt lean and slippery quick

And at the bell he was silent and tentative at first

They traded inconsequential jabs

F. got clipped with a glancing roundhouse to the brow

Then danced back from a left of murderous power

Then he weaved in under his foe’s punches and said You are getting one in the ribs just as he delivered a non-dominant-hand uppercut below his opponent’s guard

And just as the round was ending F. said I hope you like snowstorms

.

In round two F poured it on

He attacked like George Patton and he trash-talked like Larry Bird with a snowstorm of punches in flurries that built to a blizzard

Heedless of defending his face he did get a convincing punch in the nose that brightened the inside of his head and gave him blood to taste in the back of his mouth

But he barked a laugh and said Share and share alike and delivered an amazingly accurate payback punch to his foe’s nose

Then threw body shots that landed faster than jumprope smacking hardwood

And then the enemy was down

.

Wobbly after the eight-count F.’s opponent proved vulnerable to combinations to the swollen-eyed side of his head

And early in the fourth round F. knocked the guy out

.

How shall we celebrate? Cecilia asked him, eyes shining.

We’ll have to wait till tomorrow, F. told her. I have some unfinished business. He gave her a quick kiss and said See you in the morning and left her.

.

Where did you go? Cecilia demanded, regarding her man carrying an assortment of thin packages under his arm.

First your grandmother’s. Then Macy’s, where I bought these, and he slightly hefted the arm-bundle, then your grandmother’s again, where I spent the night.

He lifted his arm over their dining-room table. The packages, which contained bras, scattered on the lace tablecloth. You’re a 34B, right?

What the hell…?

These are Maidenform bras. Some of them have the “M” logo charm on them, some don’t. But what I did, I had your grandmother, who is even more witchy than you are, sew different variations of “Maidenform” on each one of them. If you put one of them on, it will change you, just like what you sewed on my gloves changed me.

Her eyes widened.

He picked one of them up. This one is “Maldenform.” It will, honest to God, change your nipples into replicas of Karl Malden’s nose.

She gasped.

He picked up another. And this one is “Maidenfarm.” Ever wonder what it would be like to have udders instead of breasts?

She shuddered.

Hey, you shuddered. Fun fact: You can’t spell “shuddered” without Udder.

She rolled her eyes and then looked aghast.

But I will only ask you to wear this one. And last week you told me you would do whatever I asked. He handed her the bra.

She looked at her grandmother’s stitching and it said, in elegant cursive, “MaidenfOMFG.”

WHAT WILL HAPPEN?? she wailed.

He grinned. Trust me. Like you said you would.

She looked at him balefully, then stood up and slowly unbuttoned her blouse, then wrestled herself out of her sports bra. She looked down at her perfectly normal, slightly slouchy breasts, then slipped her arms though the straps of her new bra. Before she fastened the clasp in the front she looked him in the eye, trying to get a clue from his expression, which was inscrutable.

Immediately after she fastened the bra, a humming noise came from the cups. She felt her breasts grow warm, then almost hot. The voice of Hank Williams came from the clasp, singing

Hey,

Good Lookin

What

Ya got cookin’?

How about cookin’ something up with

Me?

Abruptly the singing stopped. The humming stopped. The heat from the cups subsided.

Her hands flew to the clasp and she pulled the bra open, then looked down with astonishment.

Her breasts were unchanged.

She looked a question at him.

He grinned. Guess they were OMFG all along.

And he explained that he hadn’t wanted revenge

He had just wanted her to go through something like he had gone through

And he did like her breasts just fine but she was no more her breasts than he was his fists

And he loved her, jealousy and all, and wanted to be with her forever, if she could stand it that he enjoyed the admiration of other females at a distance

And she inhaled and held her breath for three seconds and said Okay and I love you too and

She suddenly laughed and said You wear Jockey shorts, right?

Yeah…?

Any problem with me sewing Hung like a Jockey’s Horse on them?

He laughed and said Go ahead. I doubt if you will notice the difference.

She rolled her eyes and said You are SO full of..

He kissed her.

The End

(Recap: The witchy girlfriend of an aspiring boxer has used magic thread to reinforce the “Last” part of his Everlast gloves. After winning bouts by going the distance, the boxer told his girlfriend that he wanted to win without magical help. She bought him new gloves and he started winning by not going the distance, winning by knockout or TKO instead. His growing fame led to a surge of e-mails and snail-mail from his female fans (among others) and his girlfriend got jealous. In spite she sewed a tiny N to the left of the EVERLAST on his gloves, and now the boxer finds himself totally useless, both in the ring and the bedroom.)

[N]Everlast, part 2

Bereft of manhood

Both in his hapless fists and in his boxing trunks

F.R. the boxer wept

And worried

With an important fight coming up in mere days

.

He went to his jealous lover Cecilia

Accused her of sabotaging him

And she pulled the shoebox of letters out from under the bed

And asked him who was sabotaging who

.

You know what? F. said chuckling

I totally love those letters

And I’m sorry you saw them

Because I knew you would go ballistic

She started to answer but held up a hand

I like that women want me

But it’s just lust for the big sweaty boxer

Just craziness

Now undo whatever you have done ASAP

You don’t want a man who can’t be a man, right?

.

She saw his honest earnest face and apologized

She showed him the little Ns and got out her forked unstitching tool

And unN’d the gloves

He pulled his trunks by the waistband to check his junk

Smiled and said Little F is waking up

She beckoned to the bedroom but he shook his head

Sorry Doll

I got to save my juice for the big fight

And if I win I will want some payback

He looked at her lovingly but repeovingly

I mean–you invaded my privacy and then got me clobbered

She blushed and nodded

He asked her Do you trust me?

She said Yes I do

If you trust me, and love me, will you do whatever I ask you to do after the fight?

She nodded and said Yes I will.

(To be concluded)

the engineer does not think of her coffee/as “hot”/but rather “cooling”/and not as “coffee”/but as a mixture of water/and ground bean byproduct/and 3ml of dairy extract somewhat denser than whole milk/and an unmeasured squirt of blue agave syrup/with a specific gravity greater than the rest of the mix/that has a certain insolubility such/that her drink will become sweeter with successive swallows/which is exquisite

her bed partner/lacking the background that includes terms like “threshold limits”/and “asymptotic approach”/and “under the metallurgical dome”/and “thevenin equivalent circuit”/and “chi-squared smoothing function”/enjoys HER hot coffee in a different way

hers is a magic vitalizing elixir/an alignment of planets and constellations/yum

the partners are good together/in a way not easily described in words

harmony rules

opening the suitcase revealed encased treasure/in the form of clean near-new clothing/packed for a trip/i had taken early this year

i had gotten home and not unpacked/and after that had used the suitcase/as a stand for my work clothing

here was a collarless shirt I had thought lost/and a hawaiian shirt i had forgotten existed/and underwear made of genuine cloth and not/the stretchy plastic schlock they hawk nowadays

it was delightfully like a time capsule/so when i got home after this trip/i on purpose didn’t unpack it again

cache me if you can

2021 0310 bobbi wells

My latest Bad Pun Brain Teaser Contest was won by Bobbi Wells, a fellow member of the Facebook poet’s group Poets All Call. I had the unique pleasure of meeting Bobbi in person WAY back in the day, when she happened to be in Sedona at the same time that I and my then-sweetheart Denise were also there, and we rendezvoused at the Wildflower Bread Company. She was and is full of bubbly cheer and life, and a bit of magicky mischief. Remembering that visit, I crafted her promised acrostic-portrait prize with a reference to her Eons username anyafairlight, which is so Her that I often still call her Anya.

Bobbi Wells

Bucketize some morning dew
Overpay what’s overdue
Burst the seams of Laughter’s shawl
Bingoize that coverall
In a place where Why-Not dwells
It’s our Anya casting spells

Here in Phoenix, Arizona, snow is exceedingly rare. Today we saw that rarity.

20210125_143200

For the first time in a long lifetime, mostly in the Valley of the Sun, I was able to make a snowball with Phoenix snow. I put this one in my freezer.

20210125_143607

I posted it on Facebook, and a friend asked me if I could make a Snow Angel. I told him I could make a tiny one with my fingers, Then I did this.

20210125_145740

Conclusion: Magic is a rarity, and vice versa.

2019 1007 enchanted

With a prompt like “Enchanted,” the mind enters the Magical Realm of Once Upon a Time. Here’s a true story that seems magical to me. Once upon a time there was a man who lived with two women, and loved them both. But he found that there was truth in the Chinese symbol for “Trouble,” which draws a simplified picture of two women under one roof. He became agitated by some of this “trouble,” and it gave him an idea. Don’t people who lie have physical changes that a machine might be able to detect? And so the Lie Detector was invented. And later, the same man noticed, with the help of one of the women he loved, that comic books only had men as superheroes, so he told a comic-book-maker that they needed a woman hero. The comic-book-maker agreed, and asked for help, so this man created Wonder Woman with the help of an artist. And he created Wonder Woman with a Lie Detector of her own, a magic lasso which when encircling someone would make that someone tell the truth. And though there is no “happily ever after” to this story, the empowerment of women that can be directly traced to this man has made the world a better place. The end.

I have futurist David Rose to thank for this true story in the form I have written. It was part of his discussion of his book Enchanted Objects: Design, Human Desire, and the Internet of Things. He gave that discussion five years ago, and since then Siri and Alexa, two well-written forms of artificial intelligence, have managed to insinuate “themselves” into our lives, working their often creepy enchantment. (In his discussion Rose speaks of “The Uncanny Valley,” wherein things designed to be more humanlike do so just enough to give us the willies.) (And the Bad Punster strikes again: If they made social robots of Willie Mays and Willie Nelson, it would REALLY give us the Willies.) (Sorry not sorry.)

So my page this time has no acrostic poetry, though I became tempted, when listing various Enchanted things, to list them as Swords, Evenings, Castles, Rings, Encounters, and This Guy’s Brain–put them all together and they spell “Secret.”

I have provided the link to David Rose’s discussion to my Facebook readership, and the link is on my Magic Clipboard now, but I will cost you a few seconds and NOT paste it here, instead inviting you to work a little Enchantment of your own via Internet search, by way of demonstrating, as Arthur C. Clarke once observed, “Any sufficiently developed technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

Let’s end with a punchline. There are many people I know via social media that I have never met in person. YOU may well be one of them, and one of the reasons I want to spend my retirement on a World Tour of meeting lovely people that I have and have not met yet. From this day forward, at that magic moment when I am physically WITH someone (as I say, pehaps YOU) whom I previously have only known online, I intend to use that magic word that the French employ when they meet someone for the first time–“Enchanté.”

Image

For a long time a friend of mine was following “A Course In Miracles.” Their definition of Miracle: “A change in perception.”

The pH of seawater happens to be identical to that of human blood. Coincidence?

I do not consider myself a Christian but I am a big fan of some of the things Jesus was said to have said and done; and on occasion I have cheerfully invoked the thanksgiving prayer “Rub a dub dub–thanks for the grub–Yaaaaaaaay, JESUS!”

I am also a big fan of s. harris and his many intelligent and yet belly-laugh-demanding cartoons. Check him out sometime, if you haven’t–he’s Miraculous!

Here are the words to the double-letter-adjacent quadruple quadrimetric acrostic:

Twixt pad of toad & eye of newt
Raw Magic warps the eye & ear
Eternal Music plucks the lute
Aeolian susurrant sea
Dry eyes may mist from things half heard where Miracles are not absurd