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Prompts By Larry Jer
"Haven’t seen you for a while, Larry," said the man behind the counter. "Got a real stickler this time, Jimmy. The prompt for the week is ‘dots.’ Jeez, what sadist dreams these up, anyway? Well, not your problem. I'm going nowhere fast with it so thought I’d come down here to borrow a cup of inspiration," I said, emptying my pockets of loose change, wallet, and keys. I unstrapped my watch and slipped out of my rings, adding them to the pile and pushing it all toward Jimmy for safekeeping. "Number five okay, Larry?" "My favorite," I said, taking the key-card. Number five, of course, resembled the other nineteen rooms at Concepts. A ten-foot by ten-foot, stark white, sound resistant cubicle, it housed only a full body-length contoured chair, engineered solely for comfort. A slim, portable command panel controlled the room’s environment. The sounds of rushing water or classical music; the effects of twilight or moonlight; the sensations and smells of spring; these were all at one’s fingertips. TVs, radios, and cell phones had no place at Concepts. Instead, the sign above the entranceway boldly stressed the escape from these societal trappings with their own version of the three R’s: reverie, reflection, and relaxation. Entering the room, I immediately dimmed the lights and put on some early Pink Floyd before oozing into the chair. A little Lamaze deep breathing and I was ready to begin. Okay, I considered the dot . . . nnnnothing. Clearly, my muse needed a kick in the butt. I got up and made a small dot on the opposite wall with newspaper ink I still had smudged on my hand. I stared at that dot until it separated and I went cross-eyed putting them back together . . . twice. I definitely am going dotty but that’s hardly worth writing about. I decided to retrace my day's steps and see if I could think of any unusual dots. Surely there must be something, anything. Let’s see, left work and abided by the red, amber, and green dots’ traffic rules; drove past the airport and saw a tiny dot, an airplane in the distance coming in for a landing; followed a ’62 Valiant with two dot-like brake lights; pulled into the driveway and parked over a spreading dot of leaked oil; my Dalmatian, complete with requisite dots, pressed his nose against the window forming a wet, black dot and he breathed through two tiny nostril dots. I turned on the TV and a picture formed from a small dot in the middle of the screen; flipped through the channels and saw Marilyn Monroe and Madonna who feature famous beauty marks... dots; Tina Louise has one, too, and she’s stuck on a dot of land in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with Gilligan who displays barely a dot of intelligence; had some Swedish meatballs for a snack-- three-dimensional dots; was tempted by a doughnut, two dots really, one of them is just missing. No, this wasn’t working. I wiped the newspaper ink dot off the wall with an elbow sleeve and shut down the command panel. I left the room and headed back down the hallway to collect my things. "Only an hour today, Larry?" asked Jimmy, making small talk while tabulating the bill. "Yeah, and no further ahead than when I came in," I replied, strapping on my watch. “Nothing important to say about dots." "Sorry we couldn’t help you out. Maybe next time. Will that be cash or charge?" "Charge." "Okay, just sign on the dotted line."
Larry can be found most days attending town meetings answering rhetorical questions. He daydreams plenty, submits cannily, publishes sparingly. He blames his diet. If you feel moved to interrupt his burdened schedule, he can be reached at Lbjer@hotmail.com.
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