Daily Prompt #23: Keep It Simple

“Hey–ergh, yeah hand me that –whoa–hmmmph,” he winced. My friend was trying to build a Rube Goldberg machine the other day.

“A little to the left,” I said, sipping some coffee. “What will this thing do, anyway?”

“It’s gonna–errgg–mmm–pour— my–creamer,” he said, holding the contraption with all four limbs.

I walked over to it with a blank expression on my face. My friend grew a look of horror. I mindlessly pulled a pin at random. The contraption collapsed into a hundred pieces.

“Not cool, man. I was working on that for hours,” he said, kicking around the pieces.

“Get your coffee and quit your whining,” I said. “Besides, I don’t think anyone has ever spent more effort pouring creamer than you just did, and it didn’t even work.”

He rolled his eyes, poured coffee, and walked over to the breakfast table. “Hey,” I said, “you forgot the creamer.” He gave me a ‘matter-of-fact’ expression.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t need such things anymore. I’m simply going to enjoy my coffee as black as possible,” he said. I shuddered at this.

“You know, you don’t have to make it so difficult on yourself to pour creamer, and I would definitely reconsider boycotting it. It’s one of the many simple things to enjoy in the morning time.”

He shuddered from another sip of the bland sludge. “Oh yeah, what are other simple things you enjoy. I must know because the missus has me on this monk fruit diet. I can’t take it much longer,” he said, shuddering again.

“For one,” I said, pouring creamer into his cup, “don’t skip breakfast. I mean any part, at all, period. If you miss out on all the good stuff in the morning, the rest of your day will be complete chaos. Just think if the president missed his breakfast.”

“Global warming,” my friend said, staring blankly at the wall and taking another sip..

“No, they think that’s a myth,” I said, cracking my newspaper. “But the aliens might catch us off guard, and that’s no laughing matter.”

“Right. So, eat a good breakfast,” he said, “what else?”

“Don’t just eat a good breakfast,” I said. “Take pride in it and enjoy every last bite. Never know if you’ll get a hearty morning meal again. Apart from that I would say keep your life as simple as possible.”

“How does one accomplish such a mysterious venture when they can assume nothing matters but the bills that appear in their mail box,” he said, waving his hand about as whimsical as I thought he could have.

“Easy,” I said, “remember your responsibilities, but don’t lose that childlike imagination. It’ll give you a much needed escape from the world. It relieves stress and gets you focused when you come back to the real world.”

“So, think like a child,” he asked, holding a concentrated face.

“Yupp,” I said.



“You thought too much like a child.”

“Yupp. Probably should’ve capitalized on that house insurance, too,” he said, standing out on the sidewalk, sipping his coffee in a bathrobe.

“What we’re you doing anyway,” I asked.

“I was playing cave explorer,” he said, the blaze steadily rising as a wail of sirens drew nearer from the distance.

“Did you explore the underside of your mattress with a match?”

“Nope, took it one step further. Crawled under the house with a torch.”

“Probably best to stick with video games for now,” I said, watching the firemen break down the door.

He took another sip of his coffee, “Yupp.”



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