Ned’s 2020 Adventures
December 17-18, 2020
December 17, 2020
Whatever the reason for Ned being hung like a picture on the wall yesterday, it’s clear he was up there for awhile. He vowed to make up for that lack of movement today. How he concocts his ideas, and why so many of them are questionable, continues to mystify. After wiping his mouth clean and eating his second lunch, Ned would claim it wasn’t the centrifugal force that had expelled the contents of his stomach. He blamed it solely on the tone-death [sic] trumpet playing of the “angels” below. (I explained the term is “tone-deaf,” but Ned would hear none of it.) Alleging to have met all the “real angels,” Ned became nauseated by the audacity of those masqueraders, and even moreso by the tunes of the unangelic blowhards.
December 18, 2020
Stomach still a bit queasy, Ned decides a little extra shuteye may be just the trick he needs to remedy his situation. Ned will be the last to speak an ill word of Christmas, but even he understands the holiday’s not the most conducive to promoting sleep. Christmas tree lights shine bright. Knick-knacks light up every corner of the house. Holiday plug-ins occupy every remaining socket. All while decorative light projectors cascade beams in through the front windows. No better place to dim all that light pollution than inside a closed microwave . . . with a rotating microwave plate. Ned’s always living on the edge. He was smart to place his scarf as evidence of his whereabouts, but not smart enough to unplug the potential death box.