Below is my response to prompts from CHPercolator’s prompts for today. I subtitled it: Hickory Dickory Dock, Esther Runs Down the Clock, because I had a piece last week or so where I ran up the clock to the same well known tune!

If the world were flat, we’d have big walls like what they are building down thar in Mexico, with the exception of stopping around some wealthy guy’s house. If I had a wisp of hair for every lie a politician told, I’d be a gorilla on display, in demand at every zoo. If I were a Chinchilla, I’d drop every wisp of hair and act like a rat, because of late, nothing seems nice, or some people seem downright mean.

And, if a frog had wings, he’d fly, and if pigs could talk, would it just be about food and mud, and if a hippopotamus was an ignoramus would he go to Glen Ivy Hot Springs which I am a hankering for since I met So and So and we sat side by side on an Orange Velvet couch and talk of slathering mud all over ourselves?

If I were God, I’d have nuked us long ago and thank goodness for Cosmic Patience. Lordy knows we need it. If I were Miss Habersham of Great Expectation Days, I’d have eaten the cake, made the wedding gown into pillows and tromped around the moors looking for comely men! If I were Napoleon, I’d have worn lifts and praised Josephine for being such a devotee of Pugs, and not cheated on her.

I’d have taken a course in the gratification of ego, and noted, if Hitler had children, he would possibly have taken out his anger on them and note everyone else, but then he had an aunt who was cuckoo and that might have influenced him more, that and his father’s beatings.

If I were younger, and let’s say flashed back to junior high/middle school for all you younguns, I’d not have stabbed my geometry pointer into my hand, nor put my head on the desk and experienced waves of thoughts of suicide washing over my young despairing junior high body. Nope I’d have learned it good and clear so I could understand living geometry, and symmetries of good and evil, and how to get rid of scars from geometry compasses, and thank goodness I didn’t do my face or eyeballs.

If I had married at 19, because I had the wedding dress, the hotel, and a groom named Pudgie whose last name I hated, and who I was growing taller than, I wouldn’t be in a writing group pondering the what ifs of life.

But if I had different prompts today, I wouldn’t be sitting here in my utilitarian nightgown, thatch headed, my fingers clopping over the keys like an old French poodle, lagging across a linoleum floor, and I wouldn’t be sitting next to Bill, my husband, who is taking the world quite seriously today, and we wouldn’t be going out to lunch with So and So, and that reminds me to call What’s His Name, our Prompter of the Week and find time to howl and hoot together, the three of us, at some restaurant where breakfast is big, the waitresses are real, and the conversation is muted.

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