Miracle Myx Mails It In

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"I could fall in," Myx said.

"Impossible," I countered deftly. The deftly part makes me feel better even though I know Myx wouldn't agree.

"What would you do if I got accidentally mailed to some far off land?"

"Wave?"

"Sometimes I don't think you appreciate the way I cooperate with your little enterprise," Myx said.

"Little?"

"Is that how it's going to be today? I say something, and you counter with some lame one-word question?"

"Lame?"

Myx started to sound short-tempered. Maybe I should lay off.

"Let's just hurry; it's cold out here," Myx said.

"Cold?"

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Miracle Myx Says Stop

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"I always said your looks could stop traffic," I said--kinda pleased with my own wit.

"You really don't care about the looks we're getting as the cars grind to a halt while you set this up, do you?"

"Myx, my back is to those cars. Besides, they probably think something interesting or important is about to happen." I sounded more positive than I felt.

"They see you, and they think something interes--"

"Lots of people find me fascinating." Myx was making me defensive.

"Name one," Myx said.

"We have to finish this, and I don't have time for your quizzes. I have a quiz for you: tell me about the stop sign." I knew Myx couldn't resist.

"Originally black letters on white. Standardized with the octagonal shape in 1922 by the AASHO."

"AASHO?" I couldn't pass THAT up!

"American Association of State Highway Officials. Now--name one!

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Miracle Myx Looks Stumped

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"You could have picked a better one," Myx said.

"This one has character, wouldn't you say?"

"Is that what you authors are calling it these days?"

Myx rarely acknowledged that I wrote anything, even this blog--so calling me an author was either a slip (which, although possible, was improbable with Myx), or he was setting me up for something later.

"This stump stinks," Myx said.

"Alliteration?"

"No Dave, it really stinks--it's rotten with a capital ROT. Let's finish up and get me into some fresh air.

"I thought my title was clever, about the stump thing ... because you're rarely stumped by anything."

"Is that the deal: I have to admit you're clever before you'll move me?"

That hadn't occurred to me, but I found it hard to resist, so I said, "Yes!"

Myx held his breath for a long, long time.

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Miracle Myx Lights Up

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"I don't want to hear any complaints today," I said.

"When do I ever complain?"

"Myx, you--"

"I do like it here; it's new and bright--and warm."

"I thought you'd enjoy being inside. And, you get to mingle with all your buddies, the other books," I said.

"Inside is good. Why can't we do all our photos inside when the weather is cold, or snowy, or rainy, or ... get the idea?"

"Lots of interesting stuff happens outside, and you have to admit, we meet nice people interested in what we're doing," I said.

"Interested might be stretching the point," Myx said. "By the way, these other books don't like you."

"Huh?" was all I could come up with.

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Miracle Myx Is Alarmed

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"Why do you always do this?" Myx asked.

I wasn't going to give in this early to the whining and the badgering, so I intended to just ignore the question.

"Do what?" Dammit! I guess Myx's stare was insistent enough to warrant a response--however feeble.

"You always seem to want to balance me, like a ball on the end of a seal's nose--just for the added amusement."

"Not to mention the tension, the anticipation that you might fall--I mean ... I don't do this on purpose."

"You're a lyin' sacka--"

"Theses alarm boxes are hardly used any more," I interrupted. I didn't think Myx would add much along that previous line of conversation.

"Before phones were in every home, they were a necessity. Now, cell phones make them almost obsolete," Myx said.

Good. Myx was--

"You want me to fall, don't you?"

"Want may be too strong a word," I said.

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Miracle Myx Gets Plugged

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"I think I look rather good next to this," Myx said.

Hey--this was a plus for me. I usually hear a torrent of complaints when Myx and I venture forth on our photo safaris.

"Yeah--the bright red of the hydrant--"

"Plug," Myx said.

"They're called fire hydrants."

"Plugs ... in the 1600s, firefighters would bore down to the water main, break it open, and get water to fight the fire. Then they'd plug it up with a stopper. These openings became known as fire plugs."

Even though I always learned something from Myx's vast store of knowledge, it always made me want to challenge him--knock him off that throne of superiority. Unfortunately, his seninars always had me in the audience.

"That may be the plug, but--the hydrant itself--I bet you don't--"

"Birdsill Holly, in 1869!" There was that tone I hated.

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Miracle Myx Is Stoked

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Although this old stove wasn't fired up, Myx already was. We had found, what I thought was an ideal spot for a photo--but Myx had objections. He thought it was too mundane. I on the other hand, thought it was rustic and hearkened back to an older era.

"Look, I even got the old cemetery in the background," I said.

"That was an accident."

"You don't think I know what's in the background of my shot?" I put just enough disbelief in my voice.

"How many shots have we had to do over or throw out because you had some extraneous matter or person included that ruined the whole thing?"

"Errr ... you got a number," I asked--even though I knew Myx, with his synsethetic memory, would have it nailed.

"This picture is growing on me," Myx said

"Aha! You don't know how many--"

"122," Myx said.

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Miracle Myx Gets Lucky Eight

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"What do you think is interesting here, Dave?" Myx asked.

"Anywhere you are, Myx, is interesting." I knew I would hit a soft spot with that.

"Good answer."

"This is an octagon, yanno," I said.

"Eight."

"An eight-sided polygon."

"Speaking of ate, I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry, Myx."

In MIRACLE MYX, Myx Amens is constantly hungry, and other characters beware if they have something tasty available.

"I'm hungry," Myx said.

""You're a book, Myx," I said. "Hungry for what? Food for thought?


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Miracle Myx Has A Secret

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"You chickened out," Myx said.

"Did not."

"Did too."

I wasn't going to admit anything to Myx.

"We walked by and you didn't have the guts to go in and explain yourself," Myx said.

"I just think this is a much more tasteful and artful photo."

"You chickened out."

I had walked by Victoria's Secret and looked in. But I, who had braved many other odd looks and verbal inquiries about this unique pursuit of taking photos of a book--even I thought snapping a pic of Myx amidst scantily clad mannequins might be looked upon in the wrong light.

"Just look at you in the foreground, Myx--and the whole panorama of Victoria's Secret framed in the background!"

"You chickened out."

"And?..."

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Miracle Myx Bows

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"Remind me why we do this blog?"

Myx had that I'm-going-to-teach-you-something voice--that I hate.

"To showcase you so people get to see and love you, even with your imperfections!" I said this with my I-know-what-I'm-doing voice--the one that doesn't fool Myx.

"Imperfections?"

Ooops.

"Anyway, Dave, you took this shot so far away from me you had to resort to your cheesy arrow to point out I'm in the picture at all. What kind of showcasing is that?"

Myx was egocentric, and I was going to let him know it: "I thought the elegance of the total picture, the graceful bending of each tree, made for a more esthetic showing," I said.

So sue me--I wasn't going to get into the ego thing with Myx and just argue. But--I did let him have it--in my mind!

"And the curved arrow?"

"To go along with the theme of the trees: gentle arcs," I said.

"And the title of this blog entry--you were trying to be clever?"

"I don't think clever is the word. I was--"

"Bows and boughs--I get it, Dave; don't over-explain," Myx said.

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