To start this next chapter of Jim’s life, I intended to use the phrase “he couldn’t believe his eyes.”
However, it struck me as cliche and nonsensical. Think about it. At what point in the relationship between brain and eyeballs do you lose trust? It seems less than rational to break oneself down into various entities which are apparently incapable of functioning as a whole. Just seems a bit like digression, a path down which I refuse to venture. Anyway, that is why I shan’t use the phrase.
Besides, Jim knows that he actually does believe his eyes – it’s just that, Jim expected 1 of 7 things when he opened the front door. And a love stricken mermaid who suddenly seemed very much un-mermaid-like (in that she had somehow acquired legs) standing there in front of his muffin house was not one of those 7 things.
The Seven Things I Indeed was Expecting:
1. Rico wanting to cover my muffin house with a rain tarp (rain is no good on a muffin house)
2. A flaming brown sack of dog duce left by the kids who kick cans
3. Girls scouts with shotguns
4. Jimmy Johns looking for my neighbor who lives in a biscuit
6. An escaped and hungry lion from Loony Larry’s Lion Land
7. Tim Tebow looking for a place to crash for the night
You see, then, why Jim was certainly more than a tid bit surprised to find Jeninarah (that’s the mermaids name…and don’t worry, you won’t have to remember it long)
Don’t ruin the story.
Sorry. Too late I guess. I didn’t want to write much about it anyway.
Turns out that while Jeninarah was really quite beautiful, and seemed to like Jim, and Jim seemed to like her, and they hit it off really well, and things were going great, and stuff, Jeninarah was still a mermaid and Jim a human living in a muffin. Thus we see why it just couldn’t work between them.
Well, it actually could have, but Jeninarah only stuck around long enough for Jim to take a liking to her and to allow him to convince himself to put himself out on the shaky limb of vulnerability. She then quietly, and with little-to-no explanation, abandoned ship, ne’er to return.
And that, my friends, is what happens when a man who lives in a muffin is blinded by the light of an elusive creature who deceivingly takes shape somewhere between illusion and disillusion and with whom a forlorn acquaintanceship dangles between frayed strands of hope and desperation.
So I kicked the rocks from my figurative path of progression and pressed onward.
Which brings me to the next exciting chapter of Jim’s life.
Brenton, may I?
Of course Jim.
So, shortly after Jeninarah left me in a troubled state of confusion and crushed hopes. I sat pondering my predicament when suddenly I had to sneeze. Now a normal sneeze would typically come and go without delay, but this was one that troubled me deeply. It couldn’t decide whether to escape my head or to retreat back to that part of the body where annoying and even disastrous sneezes are stored, only to be released at a most inconvenient time (while eating a crumbly cookie perhaps, or drinking highly acidic orange juice with heavy pulp).
I decided to employ my never-fail-to-execute-a-sneeze technique which can be administered as follows:
1. Memorize the chorus of the less than popular (for good reason) country song entitled “Mrs. Steven Rudy”
2. Scrunch nose and push sideways (to the right) using only the muscles in your face
3. Sing the chorus of “Mrs. Steven Rudy” until the top of your nasal cavity is tickled enough to release
I commenced, and it worked wonderfully, as always. However, upon opening my eyes post-sneeze, I found myself in Rico’s kitchen. Not just in the kitchen…I found myself scrunched up in a ball inside the oven next to a batch of Rico’s famous blueberry muffins!
You can take it from here Brenton.
Thank you Jim.
Do you understand what this means folks?! Do you understand what just happened?! If you don’t, keep reading, cause I’m about to explain.
Jim was uncomfortable with the heat of the oven, so he immediately kicked down the oven door and emerged (to Rico’s great surprise). Jim had tel-ported from one muffin to another! His never-fail sneeze technique had apparently turned mutinous with Jim’s inhabiting of a muffin house, resulting in the ability to tel-port from muffin to muffin with a simple sneeze ritual.
Rico quickly realized the potential of such a gift and soon suggested Jim place muffins at strategic locations around town in order to capitalize on this amazing new form of travel.
So I did.
A week later, Jim sneeze-muffined his way to the grocery store. However, when he arrived, he found he wasn’t at the grocery store. Jim’s pre-placed muffin had been moved. And it was a place Jim never could ever have even imagined to expect he would end up in all his days which were, and are, or would be.
Look for Chapter 3 to find out where Jim landed?!!
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