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You can read The Creepy Little Mailbox Man here:
http://everydayweirdness.com/e/20090322/

The Brain Trust at Fox always shows the Treehouse of Terror episodes on the Sunday after Halloween, so I guess it should be no surprise that they did an episode in Ireland today. What was surprising was the writing on this episode. There were a lot of very un-Simpson-like gags. There was still a lot of funny stuff, but I felt uncomfortable with some of the total misses. I hope it doesn't continue.

What the hell did I do today? Nothing, I think. I did catch up on a lot of missed sleep. Over the past week I had about four nights with only two or three hours of sleep. I slept a lot today and would have slept more if it weren't for my few tiny obligations.

I'm reading flash fiction for the next Fiction Crawler as per Church's suggestion. In some cases I may talk about individual stories, in others just the flash sites themselves.

I just saw what's supposed to be the final episode of Flight of the Conchords. I'll miss the show. I wonder what they'll work on next?

Next thing I'm working on has a working title of The Italian Federation. I conceived of the idea for John Joseph Adams' Federations anthology, but I hadn't even cobbled together a decent first draft by the time the deadline hit. This is the one I said I drove off a cliff a month or two back. I've got parts of a not very good story at the moment. If I can tie some of the elements together and add something really weird that I'm still trying to work out, I think it could be a great story. Yesterday I sat and stared at the points I had to bring together and I wasn't getting anywhere. That's when I realized I had to write another draft. Even though I have no idea how it's going to come together, that's the best way forward. Things come to you during the moment when you're writing. The fun, smarter part of your brain throws stuff in there and things get better. When Tolkien got stuck during the writing of The Lord of the Rings, he would start writing the book from the beginning again. That's part of the reason it took twenty years and part of the reason it's such a well-realized work. So I'm going to rewrite and see what happens.

If you're stuck, you should as well.

My Little Hunter

The boy and I spent Thanksgiving at the wife's house. She stuffed us magnificently as usual. I got in a little golf on the Wii and dragged my score down. I'm out of practice, but at least I'm still pro.

We watched the new Futurama movie, Bender's Game. I'm sure there'll be a lot of haters out there like for the last one, but I loved it. It had a Dungeons & Dragons theme as the ads made clear, but they didn't spend as much time in the fantasy setting as I thought they would. Lots of Lord of the Rings jokes, D&D jokes and an inordinate amount of dwarf-eating. The family mostly slept through it as I laughed.

After my nap, I got up to see that my wife and her dog were gone. My dog, Cutie (I didn't name her), was whining to go out so I took her out and she struggled to run as she always does. She's a hunter and I assumed that she was on the scent of my wife, daughter and their pug, Pepper. I figured we'd catch up fast so I jogged behind her (as best I could). They weren't to be found right away, but I knew the dog was on the case.

She's the kind of dog that can take care of herself if left to her own devices. Years ago, when we would let her run loose, I'd find pieces of rabbit in the front yard. She ate well. She's almost ten, but she's got a clean bill of health from the vet and she's young at heart. I trusted her. We searched.

My wife sometimes takes rather long walks, so I wasn't put off by the lengthening journey. I kept thinking that we were about to find them around the next corner and my wife would say, "How did you find us here?" and I'd point proudly to my dog and say, "She tracked you here!" My wife would say, "No way." And I would say, "Yeah way." And then my wife would be so impressed that she'd call her sister on the other side of the state and her mother in Brooklyn and tell them about my incredible dog and they would be equally impressed.

We probably got past the mile and a half mark when I realized that Cutie had brought us around in a small loop and into a new direction I didn't think my wife would take. I checked the next street sign, walked a little farther and looked down at the dog.

"Bitch, you don't know where the fuck you're going, do you?" I said. She sniffed and tried to keep on. "No, I'm taking over now," I said and we made our way back. It was dark, it was cold (yes, it was only Florida cold, but if you live here for twenty years, it's the same as regular cold), and all I was thinking was, They're all just going to laugh at us now. My wife, my daughter, her sister, her mother, maybe even the pug. Cutie had seemed so confident!

Finally we got back. My wife said she had just walked around the corner, sans daughter, maybe two blocks away and come back, surprised we were gone.

My little hunter.

Now I walk and walk and walk, it's been part of my job for years. I can walk for miles and it doesn't bother me. But on this excursion, I moved pretty quickly, using my muscles in a running way more than a walking way, so three miles or so have messed me up. For some reason my left ankle told me to go screw. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't want to bend upwards any more, either. So I've been walking around like some sort moronic monster movie creature for the last four hours, having to lift my leg up more than normal to move my foot forward. My wife and daughter got good laughs. Not Futurama type laughs, but good just the same. Here's hoping I'll be closer to normal in the morning.