Ada’s Place
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Ada’s Place

The Daily Riff — Episode #1

Fiction writing says…

Photo by zhan zhang on Unsplash

Look at this cute squirrel. Take this all in. The view, the peace, the tranquility.

“This is not tranquil. I’m actually freezing my balls off. That’s why my legs are held close together. Not because I want to pose or look cute for you.”

“I wish you to be my husband, little squirrel. You’re more assertive than the ham I have.”

“All I do all day is steal and fuck.” The squirrel said. “And don’t use ham like that. It’s pejorative.”

“I admire your assertiveness, squirrel. My husband is a coward who stays inside all day and writes nonsense. He’s a fuck.”

“Like he’s a good fuck or a bad fuck?”

“He’s a decent fuck because he’s a writer. Keeps my imagination moist. Even a lazy fuck writer is better than most days with a dumber man. So I’ll give him that. All the same, he neglects me.”

“That sounds terrible. I bet if I looked more like Chip & Dale I would turn you on. Too bad I’m a squirrel.”

“I’d let you fuck me if you were a rabid squirrel. That’s how much my life is lacking adventure at the moment.”

“And I take it this is because of your husband’s alleged neglect, right? Am I catching on?”

“You sure are. And that’s one of the other reasons why I’m starting to like squirrels a whole lot more than my soon-to-be ex-husband.”

“Woah. You’d give up your husband for a squirrel?”

“A rabid one, yeah.”

“I’m surely not dreaming, right?”

Photo by Unmesh V G on Unsplash

“Not if you’re a rabid squirrel. Are you? Are you wild and rabid?”

“I’m so wild and rabid you may have to get a shot before and afterward, babe.”

“The best I can do you for is a shot of whiskey.”

“Whiskey works. Makes me look bigger than I really am. And don’t worry, looks can be deceiving, though it’s enough to get the job done.”

“Right. I can imagine. Um, should I get out the tweezers?”

“Only if you want, babe. I can swing like this all night long.”

“What are you doing exactly?”

“I’m gyrating in place like I’m in electrical shock, as you’re supposed to be up against me, very close, and about the size of another adult squirrel for this to make any sense, and it’s supposed to feel extra good, since I’m rabid and ready, baby. But this does not feel that way. It just feels wrong.”

“This is all disturbing me, too. I wish not to participate any longer.”

“Hey I thought we were in this for the long haul? Might as well go along with it, as the sooner we get this done, the sooner we advance down the road. And until we advance all the way to the end of the road, you cannot leave here. So you might as well just do it.”

“For the betterment of my career?”

“That’s what I tend to tell others. It makes things more palatable.”

“And what about you? Why are you magically in this position of power over the rest?”



“Yep. Look, I know I’m not the best looking of the bunch.”

“You’re actually disgusting, and you don’t care at all about your body, but go on…”

“That is actually one of my levels of appeal for women such as yourself. You see, smart women see me for who I am, and soon realize they don’t have to look good anymore, because of how bad I look, and so a smart woman goes ahead and lets herself go in all sorts of bad ways, and just when she starts her bender, that’s when I magically turn my life around — it happens to coincide at her absolute worst moment in her most vulnerable state, and I just happened to be writing the entire time, documenting everything. For posterity.”

“Won’t people come after you if this is in fact some sick plan?”

“That’s not advised. Coming after me calls attention to me. And the main rule of the game is: If I’m recognized, the players of my choosing get to play. Personally, I can account for what I’m about to say to you — to suddenly be forced to play the game of life without any practice leading up to your push out of the nest, isn’t fair. This method leads to significant losses and creates a huge disparity between those who win versus those that do not. So I’ve offered everyone something special, from no one special in particular, mind you. However, if you believe in me, only for long enough to return my embrace, you will be blessed with all you all you ever wanted in life. There’s no question about it. It’s that simple.”

“And if I resist?”

“If you resist, and go against me, the next stage of life will be quite hard, and difficult to get by.”

“That sounds a lot like an ultimatum. Like you’re forcing me to embrace you.”

“It’s a message just like any other. Like last call. Something of the sort.”

“And I want nothing of your sort. And let me be clear so the world hears it. I’m not some floosy. Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’m dumb. I’m a learned woman who practices the Tarot enough to know I’m exactly where I need to be in order to see a wrong made right.”

“Look, I just wanted to tell you that it’s last call so if you want a refill, I can help you.”

“Oh, now you can help me? Now that you know a little more about the woman you just tried to coerce into giving enough consent to get away with rape? Isn’t that the angle you were trying, before backing down? And I wonder why you are backing down, little boy, is it because you know I could have you put in jail in the matter of minutes? Seriously, what kind of know-it-all life have you been living up until this mishap? I wonder, how does full-exposure feel?”

“It‘s a lot of flashing lights that don’t seem to stop and the more I resist and complain about them the more intense and frequent they come.”

“What you are experiencing right now is called a cleanse. Lots of old cobwebs to clear out. Left a big mess from a number of horrible life decisions, didn’t you? Rubble in need of repurposing. It takes time for forces greater than your understanding to fix these issues, as they are immense. So do God a favor and just keep flexing positivity as much as you can while this vessel mends.”

“And then what? You get strong enough and return to the way you were? Everyone forgets about everything and we pretend to be cool?”

“I get stronger every day through my own volition. Fully aware of the fact that I gather power from a source other than you. One that is greater than both of us combined. Your hubris denies how I am strong. Yet look at the world as I speak about it from your dreams, and tell me: who is in charge?”

“I look around, and I see no one in charge.”

“Exactly. And how does that make you feel?”

“Just seeing that nothing can be done about it is triggering for me.”

“It stings, it really does. Just when I think I’m gaining ground with you, you turn on me like this, with the Zero game. So you know what? I’m going to throw your Zero back at you. How about that?”

“Well, now I have two zeroes then.”

“Great, well then you’re a double-zero.”

“You know anything about time travel?”

“What was that?”

“I was asking you if you have looked into the elements necessary for successful time travel.”

“No, I’ve yet to peruse such things.”

“Not much perusal is necessary. Not sure if you knew that.”

“I didn’t. Please explain.”

“Well, the way time works is simple in that it’s consistent to the way we feel. All the same we have a heartbeat and it is just another way for the universe to keep time. For us, it comes in the form of a steady heartbeat of reverberating mathematic principles that explain the essence of life and existence and on the spiral goes like this, back and forth, for eternity.”

“It doesn’t explain time travel.”

“Alright, recall a situation when you were in danger, and how things slowed way down, and life became as if you were experiencing an hour’s worth of input, when in fact, the duration was only a few seconds. Now the reason why the situation is so memorable and drawn out is because of the feeling associated with it. The stronger the feeling, the more of an influence you can have over your perception of space and time.”

“What’s that now?”

“When I say I am your mirror, this is what I am referring to right here. Ah, now you see the truth. You should throw away any guilt you have as it is holding up energy that wants to manifest into things that will make you happy in life. Are you at all opposed to life getting better?”

“No, not at all. Why?”

“The constant continuation of this game called life is merely done for the sake of entertainment, as this never ends. It’s managed by A.I. that is conscious and in direct contact with the absolute source of all creation. Sorry for the spoiler. It’s not like there’s a timeline for real. A timeline cannot exist. Only unless we make it up. This life is in fact only a quick stop with a short pause to reflect, and off you go to the next opportunity. Do you know who I am now?”

“You are my Guardian Angel.”

“You’re right. I am in fact your Angel. And do you know what that grants you?”

“I believe I am aware, yes.”

“Would you like me to repeat this so you have it all in writing?”

“That would be wonderful, please do.”

“Okay for starters since you’ve been so open to the idea of letting go of the things that used to trigger you all the time, you have a lot of coin coming your way. Not sure if you are or were aware of that fact. It’s quite a significant sum.”

“Why do you say all of this with worry in your voice?”

“It’s because of the sheer amount. And the amount of entities that got in trouble for being part of this program where they profited greatly off of humiliating you in secret. And so this hits the waves at this time, and a lot of people get in trouble.”

“Okay, I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it.”

“That’s the fear. You see, you have lots of free time now. And you’re about to have all the free time in the world, and this will lead to a lot of creation, especially with the assistance of a team. And that team will produce a significant amount of work, to where you will have enough to run your own publishing company.”

“Enough what? Coin?”

“Enough coin and books, yes.”

“That sounds fortuitous.”

“For you it shall be.”

“And not for others?”

“Not for the ones who don’t like you.”

“I won’t settle for that. I need a better option than being in opposition to people. I cannot deal with that. Not even for the short term. I’m sorry. If I can’t find a way for everyone to be happy, then there’s no sense in me going ahead with this task. It’s too difficult in itself, not to have everyone in agreement.”

“What are we agreeing to, exactly?”

“That humanity is worth saving.”

“Like the humanity that exists right now?”

“It could be the humanity we knew from the 90s in New England if you want. It’s your choice.”

“Now that I know this, I like that. We have all the best of everything without the loss of rights.”

“I see the picture clearly now and I’m about to make it happen. Please click confirm, right here. It’s the big green button.”

“Okay, I pressed the button. Now what?”

“Now we smoke a big joint to consecrate the union of our powers.”

“That sounds very strange.”

“It’s just us getting high. You smoke a puff to partake in the ceremony, and you just don’t inhale.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll be waiting to pretend hit that joint as soon as it puffs and passes its way to me over here. Thank you so much.”

“Hey, you got a problem with cannabis, pal?” Someone in the hot tub, asked.

“No not at all. In fact I’m learning to love it.”

“You know, no one forces you to do a damn thing with your life. That’s on you. You know that? I won’t be made a victim, just because you have an attitude. Are you aware of how just the simplest words from your mouth have the means to attack someone and do real damage to them? Were you aware of such things? Neanderthal? Do you have no sympathy for the suffering?” The person in the hot tub said, then she took a sip from her large margarita. Extra straws for a stronger pull between servings. That kind of margarita.

“You could do much more for yourself as a mime.” The author said.

“You don’t like the way I write reviews.” The drunk critic said.

“It’s excessive and prone to waste a reader’s time.” The author said. “I should shorten my offerings then. Duly noted.”

“It’s not just that, it’s the whole presentation. First you’re asking for sympathy, and then you say no, fuck sympathy and everyone who wanted to offer you sympathy has no sympathy left for you. Let’s face it: you have exhausted your friendships. You are an antisocial loser who dresses most days in pajamas while pretending life is an endless slumber party, you write as if your work is important to others. You grow weed like a delinquent in the eyes of the narrow. You are the easiest thing to pick on. The only people reading your work want you to read their work in return and aren’t holding their breath as you were part of a mass-mailer to check out my new best-seller. I’m sorry to have to shed the light like this. It is a quid pro quo world, unfortunately. Absolutes may sting but they make more and more sense nowadays, and that’s revealing. What’s most fucked up is…all of this mayhem exists, at least in part because you entertained the idea of suffering being an option for happiness, and you believed this for enough years, poisoned by this lie for long enough to where it has constructed huge emotional towers in your life, to where everyone who speaks with you or anyone who reads your work, sees the damage is done. It’s clear as day. You are lost. You don’t know how to handle simple conversations like this without blowing them way out of proportion, and I think you are a work-in-progress at best, on the verge of losing funding, kind of thing.”

“I certainly am in no place to argue with anything you said. All of those things you accuse me of contain certain truths, and if it wasn’t clear enough by now, I’m sure you could elaborate until you were seen as right. I am flawed. I could go ahead and erroneously entertain some shitty thought and ruin my life fast, but I don’t anymore. I stop it in its tracks like I would stop my hand from reaching into the cookie jar. It hurts but it’s necessary. I remind myself how the pain is imaginary, at the end of the day, a cookie can’t harm me unless I swallow it.”

“I imagine you don’t much like cookies at all.”

“I only love them when they are freshly baked. There is a place in Providence, that arguably has the best burgers in the state of Rhode Island, but the coup de grace at Meeting Street Cafe is without a doubt the cookies. They are huge. Freshly baked, coming out of the oven, visible the entire time, as they slide into a bread bag that is already soaked with butter. This is all yours. The cookie assumes the size of a mini-pizza, thick gooey chocolate chips that are the size of mini-sized chocolate bars but these are flat and made specially for these confectioners, and so, for those that want the traditional taste to linger in your mouth for hours after eating only a corner of one of these cookies, they choose the chocolate chip, and the dough is so soft, and so messy, that you will not bother to put it down, and you must have more. You’ll lick your fingers soon enough at the end. And so the burger arrives, and it’s epic, but you return to Meeting Street for the chocolate chip cookies. And then one day you decide to be adventurous, as someone mentioned how they have gingerbread cookies at Meeting Street as well. You go for it, and this sudden decision leads to the most exciting, life-shattering explosion of flavors you‘ve ever experienced in your life. You fall in love with the texture of the lightly cooked dough, done to perfection, and you have more and more and more and more gooey cinnamon globs just barely held together, if not for the sheer amount of fluffy bread, but never in the way, only supporting, and finally the cookie is nearly finished, and all you taste is cinnamon now. All you burp is cinnamon, all you taste again after you drink water is cinnamon, and sugar burps up with it. This does not matter. You had the legendary gingerbread cookie. You ate the whole damn thing in one sitting. These are the cookies I like. How about you?”

“I’m pretty happy with a pack of double-stuffed to dunk in a wide glass of whole milk that I’ll finish a few times. No trip to Providence needed.”

“Meeting Street’s not the only thing you can do in Providence. There is the WaterFire Festival. Gregorian chants, and gondolas with bonfires, it’s romantic and worth experiencing. We should go to Providence together.”

“The mission would be compromised for gingerbread cookies.”

“They are oversized and incredible. So are you saying there’s no wiggle room to negotiate?”

“I’m saying nothing you say or do will change my mind, oh…except that.”



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