I love Christmas music, and in assembling my annual Christmas song list, I’ve come across a few songs that feature animals. Of course, Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer is the granddaddy of them all, so enjoy a few other musical Christmas critters:
“The Chipmunk Song/Christmas Don’t Be Late,” The Chipmunks, 1958
“Chrissy the Christmas Mouse,” Debbie Reynold, 1957
Snoopy vs. The Red Baron (Snoopy’s Christmas), The Royal Guardsmen, 1967
Dominick The Donkey, Lou Monte, 1960
NOTE: This is a transcript of a podcast for those with hearing difficulties, those that prefer to read, and those who would prefer to not hear the sound of my voice. đ
Click here to listen to this episode!
You are listening to ‘300 Seconds with Eduardo Soliz,’ and this is episode number one hundred and thirteen: “Twenty-twenty, the Year in Me-view” so let the 300 Seconds begin!
A quick note before I begin: It is almost nine oâclock as I record this, so you will likely hear my neighbors getting an early jump on the festivities. I was tempted to wait until tomorrow to record this, but it just didnât feel right. And now, on with the show.Â
What can I say? Itâs been a crazy year, and like all yâall, I can split up the fifteen months of 2020 into before and after the coronavirus upended life as we know it…or rather, knew it, because as the last day of this year comes to a close, we are still a long way from being back to anything even approaching normal.
When 2020 began, life was pretty good; I had just started a new job two days before Christmas, and I was back to living in my own place after staying with the family for a bit while I got my job situation worked out.
And now, hours before the year is over, I have just started a new job two weeks before Christmas and Iâm back to living with family after living on my own for a bit while I get my job situation worked out.         Â
That said, life is still pretty good.
I started off the year with a new job at a night school, and except for the weirdo night school schedule, it was a pretty nice gig. In fact, for the first time in my career, I had an actual office with a door and everything, which was pretty doggone sweet. The end of February bought with it Furry Fiesta which, as always, was a load of fun, and indeed, would be the last big fun thing I would do before the pandemic hit.
Of course, March bought with it the big shut down. I did the work from home thing for a while until the Powers That Be figured out that, one: there were too many remote techs for the small amount of work to do, and two, things werenât going back to normal anytime soon. Thus, I was laid off from my job at the end of April and suddenly found myself with way too much time on my hands, as the old song goes.
In an effort to stave off cabin fever by giving myself something to do, I started reading one of Aesopâs fables every day from a book that I had back in May.  I have managed to do a pretty good job of keeping up with it and Iâll be finished with the book sometime in mid-February. In June, I had another one of those doctor visits. Those of you who are a bit on the heavier side will know what I mean when I say that. I had made some progress with my weight loss; I was down a bit from my heaviest weight, which was good, but I still had work to do, so in July, I decided to finally get serious about losing weight.Â
Thinking back, starting a weight loss plan at that point in time was perfect: I couldnât go out to eat as often and, being out of work, I had lots of extra time to develop good habits like keeping track of my eating, measuring out portions, and of course, exercising. When itâs all said and done, I should be down more or less about thirty pounds on the year, partially depending on how much awful eating I do at home today. I have my next checkup in January, and Iâm actually looking forward to it.
Speaking of home, I had a decision to make as the end of my apartment lease at the end of September came closer and closer. I had been searching, but job prospects were pretty dismal.  Since being laid off in April, I had only been called for two virtual job interviews. Thus, I decided to move back in with family, just like I had done in 2019.Â
I did land a two-month contract job in September which turned into a longer contract. Godwilling, will take me beyond the end of this coronavirus mess. Until then, I have a job, a roof over my head, family, and faith that things will get better in the new year, and you know what? Thatâs pretty good.
This has been 300 Seconds, the next episode will be posted after I burn my calendar. I am Eduardo Soliz, if you’d like to hear more wonderfully witty words that Iâve written, subscribe via your favorite podcast app and visit Eduardo Soliz dot com for more. Thank you for listening. Be Good, Take Care, God Bless and hereâs to a better 2021!
NOTE: This is a transcript of a podcast for those with hearing difficulties, those that prefer to read, and those who would prefer to not hear the sound of my voice. đ
Click here to listen to this episode!
You are listening to ‘300 Seconds with Eduardo Soliz,’ and this is episode number one hundred and 112, âA Furry Thing Happened on the Way to the Convention,â so let the 300 Seconds begin!
For the last eight years and change, I have been a member of the furry community. I have gone to furry conventions, written furry stories, published furry story collections, given furry presentations, taken lots of pictures of fursuiters, and made many new furry friends. While my furry experience has been wonderful so far, like so many things in my life, it sometimes gets a little weird. Okay, make that weirdER…
While not my first furry convention; Furry Fiesta 2013 was significant for me, because unlike the previous year, which was my first furcon, I now had a number of friends that were also going also to be there. Just like everything else in life, having friends around makes conventions a lot more fun.
One evening during the convention, I went with some friends to eat at a restaurant. The food was good, the company was pleasant, and we all enjoyed a nice meal. While waiting to receive our checks, the manager approached our table and asked us how everything was. We let her know that we were happy with the food and service. She noticed that some of us were wearing our convention badges, so she asked if we were in town for a convention. We answered that yes, we were, but nobody had an answer for the obvious follow-up question:
“What kind of convention is it?”
Everybody at the table, including myself, instantly froze up. I have never before, in my entire life, seen seven grown adults go totally deer-in-headlights. Everybody looked back and forth at each other, expecting somebody else to say something. Finally, after about ten seconds of awkward silence, somebody said: “It’s an ART convention!”  That answer immediately snapped everybody out of their daze and the rest of the evening went on as expected.
For what itâs worth, I came up with a five-word explanation of furry that tends to satisfy most folkâs curiosity, and those five words are: âNerds who like cartoon animals.â
For the last few years, I have presented educational panels at various conventions in Texas including RealmsCon, Comicpalooza, Fiesta Equestria, and San Japan. I’ve talked about publishing e-books, recording audio, and of course, furries, in a panel called Furry 101. The point of Furry 101 is to give outsiders the low-down on what furries are all about. In the interest of full disclosure, I do also include some of the weird stuff, but since the panel is for an all-ages audience, I canât go too far.
A few years ago at San Japan, I was presenting Furry 101 to an audience of about two hundred people, my largest audience ever. As I’m doing so, I’m looking over my audience, making sure that I have their attention and looking to see that I donât have too many people walking out. One person that stuck out was a gentleman that looked to be a bit older. Not super-old, mind you, but in an anime convention, if youâre over 40, youâre going to stick out a little bit.  I figured he was there with his child. Much to my delight, he looked to be engaged in the presentation, but the expression on his face became, shall we say, less happy once I got to the weird stuff. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t that weird, but the presentation slide that mentions adult art certainly got his attention. I felt terrible after the fact, thinking: âOh my God. I have totally ruined furry for his kid. Theyâre going to be locked away in their home forever and never be allowed to associate with those ‘animal people weirdos’ ever again.â
Fast forward a few months. Come to my surprise, I bumped into the gentleman and his child at Furry Fiesta. If I remember correctly, his name was Kevin.  He thanked me for the presentation, much to my relief. I’ve spoken with a few more parents after Furry 101 since then and have even come across a few folks that have joined the fandom after attending my panel. Granted, the panel is not supposed to be a recruiting tool, but if folks want to join the club after the fact, who am I to argue?
This has been 300 Seconds, the next episode will be posted after I insert more subliminal messages into my Furry 101 panel slides. I am Eduardo Soliz, if you’d like to hear more 300 seconds subscribe via your favorite podcast app and check out my website at Eduardo Soliz dot com. Thank you for listening! Be good, take care, and God bless.
Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, Dear Listeners! I am Eduardo Soliz, the author and narrator of the splendidly short story that you are about to hear.
My unhappiness towards my nine-to-five (and my willingness to share it) has gotten to the point where it has become a character trait over the years. But I’m not here to tell how you about much I hate my job. Instead, let me tell you a story about a guy that does enjoy his work. This work-related writing is called: âThe Best Job In The Worldâ
A middle-aged man wearing black slacks and a white button-down shirt stood in front of a row of vending machines. He wore an identification card that bore the logo of the Prehistoric World theme park and âBernard Olson, Accountingâ in bold letters underneath that. Bernard idly jingled some change in his right hand while he looked from one machine to the next, carefully considering his options.
âHey buddy, could you give me a hand, here?â A manâs voice said to his right. Bernard turned to answer and quickly jumped back upon seeing a six and a half foot tall mountain lion standing next to him. His shock quickly turned to relief when he realized that it was a person wearing a costume.
âOh! You frightened me. â Bernard said. Bernard hummed to himself as he looked for an identification card on his costumed coworker, who wore a T-shirt with the name âPappy Pumaâ on it. Bernard was fairly certain that wasnât his real name.
After a moment, the mountain lion noticed his confusion and said: âOh! Sorry about that. Iâm Jay.â
âMy name is Bernard,â Bernard said quietly. He gingerly shook the large paw that Jay offered.
Jay continued: “If you could help me out, that would be awesome, Bernard. My usual helper is in the infirmary. She’s new to the area and hasn’t gotten used to our wonderful Texas summers yet.”Â
Bernard nervously looked around to see if there was anyone else nearby that could help in his place.
“Come on, man. I ain’t gonna bite you.” Jay pleaded.
Bernard sighed. “Okay. What do you need me to do?” He asked.
“Help me get this head off. Go around me and unzip the zipper that’s at the back of my neck.”  Jay said. He dropped to one knee so that Bernard could more easily reach it.
âOkay.â Bernard said. He walked over behind Jay, and looked at the back of his head. He saw a seam running down the back and followed it to its end, where he saw a zipperâs metal tab sticking out. He grabbed the zipper and slowly pulled it up. Before Bernard had the zipper opened completely, Jay reached up and pulled the mask forward to remove it.Â
âWhew. Thatâs better.â Jay said, relieved. Bernard walked around to face him and stared for a moment. Jay was wearing a tight-fitting hood on his head made out of some synthetic material. Only his face, which was red from the heat, was exposed. Jay took the head off and carefully placed it on the floor next to his gym bag.
âWhatâs that thing on your head?â Bernard asked, motioning at his head with his hands.
Jay looked at him for a moment before realizing what he was referring to. âOh, the hood? Itâs to keep sweat from getting into my eyes and stuff. Iâm wearing underclothes made out of the same material, but it can only do so much, you know?â
Bernard nodded in acknowledgement.
âCould you help me get one of these paws off?â Jay asked. âTheyâre held on by some snaps that are underneath the seam. I could use my teeth, but the folks in the costume department wouldnât appreciate that.â He extended his right arm towards Bernard, who removed the paw and examined it. Meanwhile, Jay used his now-free hand to remove the other paw and set it on top of his costumeâs head.
Bernard peered inside of the paw and quickly drew his face back when he noticed the moisture and the smell coming from it. âGoodness, thatâs a lot of sweat.â He observed.
âYup.  Such is the price of fame.â Jay quipped. He was hunched over his gym bag searching inside for something.
âIt looks like you have a difficult job, having to wear this all day.â Bernard pondered. âI donât think that I could do it.â He bent over and carefully placed the costume hand atop of the other one.
âThe positives ultimately outweigh the negatives, my friend.â Jay said. He pulled a wallet out of the gym bag, opened it, took out a few bills, then dropped it back into the bag. He stood up, walked over to one of the vending machines and bought a sports drink.
âWhat positives?â  Bernard asked. âYou walk around outside in that heavy suit all day, get pushed, kicked and well, abused by children, and I canât imagine that you get paid very well. No offense intended.â
âNone taken.â Jay replied before taking a swig of his drink. âAnd yeah, all of what you said is true. Those are the negatives. So let me give you some positives: Itâs fun to interact with the kids. As far as theyâre concerned, I really am a big cat. I get to snarl and meow and purr and be silly and goofy. Sure, some of them will push and kick and shove and cry, but they always walk away happy, and that makes me happy, too.
You know what most people make at their jobs, Bernard? Money. Thatâs it. Nothing else. Do we need it? Of course we do, thatâs the world we live in. But thereâs nothing really unique about money. A smart man once sang that âmoney talks, but it donât sing and dance and it donât walk.â Money isnât special. Itâs as common as the dirt on the ground. Just because other folks  have more doesnât make it any less true.
But the smile on a childâs face, the laughter of parents and grandparents as they take a picture, even the dumb giggling coming out of a bunch of nutty college kids. Those things are special. Those are the things that people remember. Sure, lots of other people might make more money than I do, but I make memories. I have the best job in the world because my job is to make people happy.â
âWow. I never thought of it like that.â Bernard said, surprised. His tone became sad as he continued: âIt certainly sounds more enjoyable than my job. I just sit at a desk all day and crunch numbers.â
âYeah, but your job is important, too, Bernard. If you donât crunch all those numbers, we donât get paid, right?â Jay said with a smile. âSorry for rambling  like that, Bernard. I guess Iâll head over to the locker room and get out of this suit.â
âOh, so your day is over?â Bernard asked.
âWithout a handler, it is.â Jay explained. âThe costume head severely limits my vision, so I have to have a handler nearby to help me get around, keep an eye out for kids and to make sure that we donât stay outside for too long, but unless Angela gets out of the infirmary soon, Iâm done for the day.â
âNow thatâs unfortunate.â Bernard said. He checked his watch. âThere are still several hours until the park closes.â
âWell, themâs the breaks.â Jay mused. He started to gather his things together. âItâs been good talking to you, man. Thanks for the assist.â
âWait a second. What if I was your handler?â Bernard asked.
âHuh. Iâd appreciate the assist, but wonât you get in trouble?â asked Jay.
âItâll be okay. Besides, I can always make more money tomorrow.â Bernard said.
âThatâs the spirit! Come on, Bernie, letâs go make some memories!â Jay exclaimed. With smiles on their faces and springs in their steps, the pair headed off to âwork.â
THE END.
It may be cliche to say that “money isnât everything,â Dear Listeners, but that doesn’t make it any less true for some folks. Personally, I would love to have a job where I make something besides money, but for now, money will have to do. This has been Super-Short Storytime! If youâd like me to tell your story, send an email to edsoliz@gmail.com
Thank you for listening! Be Good, Take Care, and God Bless.
Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, fellow fans of flash fiction! I am Eduardo Soliz, the writer and narrator of the splendidly short story that you are about to hear.
Something that one quickly discovers upon purchasing a home is that keeping it up can be a lot of work. Like many of you, I found any work involving its exterior particularly tiring and time-consuming, with mowing the lawn being the most unpleasant. Fortunately, in addition to exercise, a nice looking lawn, and a few wasp stings, all of those hours spent behind the lawn mower resulted in this tiny tale of toil that I call: âLawn Care.â
It was another fine Saturday morning, and once again, I was spending it mowing the grass in my backyard. As was usually the case, I had waited too long, so after a half hour, both my lawn mower and I were huffing and puffing under the strain of foot-tall weeds. I stopped to catch my breath for a moment, when I thought heard a voice. I turned around. Nobody was there. Huh. I stood still and listened for the voice, and again it came.
âHello?â A soft voice said, but it was coming fromâŚbelow me? I looked down and saw a rabbit sitting on the grass staring back at me. I looked over it for some sign that it was a toy; a seam, glass eyes, or weird colors. Nothing. As far as I could tell, this was a real live rabbit, just one that could talk.
âHello?â I replied. I slowly raised a hand and waved my fingers at the bunny, not wanting to frighten it. To be honest, I was feeling a little frightened myself!
The bunny gasped. âYou can talk.â She said, her mouth and eyes opening wide in astonishment.
âYou can talk?â I replied. Okay, this is weird.
The bunny blinked, shook her head slightly, and regained her composure. âOh! We wanted to ask: Why do you kill the grass?â She asked.
âKill the grass?â I asked back.
âYes. You kill the grass. What you are doing right now.â The bunny nodded her head towards the freshly-mowed area I had just finished.
I thought about my words for a moment, doing my best to simplify the concept: âI cut the grass to make it short.â I put a hand on my chest to emphasize my next point.  âWe also donât like some kinds of grass, like the skinny ones with the yellow flowers on top.â
The bunny recoiled in shock, her ears folding back. âBut those are yummy!â She insisted. âWe like the tall grass because we can hide there and be safe. Short grass is…â She closed her eyes tightly and shuddered. âscary.â
I waved a hand out over the portion of the yard that had been cut and said: âWell, people like me think it looks prettier when the grass is short.â
The rabbit gazed back at me with wide eyes and asked: Â âBut arenât we pretty, too?â
I donât mow the lawn anymore. You know, I havenât seen any dandelions around, either.
THE END.
I live alone, Dear Listener, so I donât know if âbecause of the bunniesâ would work as a good excuse for not cutting your grass. That said, you are more than welcome to try. This has been Super-Short Storytime! Visit eduardo soliz dot com for more stories and podcasts and remember:  Talking bunnies are people, too!
Another year means another Furry Fiesta! This year I took the Amtrak up from San Antonio and had a fursuit for the first time!
#12. Oops
29. SO KYOOT!
5. Scientist Bear!
52. Those are ROLLS
Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, lovers of literature and fans of fiction! I am Eduardo Soliz, the composer and narrator of the supremely silly tale that you are about to hear.
If there is one thing that steampunks and furries have in common, itâs that members of both groups love to parade about in their finest fictional fashion. A pair of fur-bearing blue-bloods try to handle a real crisis in this steam-powered story that I call: âEmergencyâ
âBrace yourself, my dear!â The gentlewolf yelled to his mistress as the airship began to slowly list to one side. In response, Muffy reached to grab onto a large pipe that was near to her, but the arctic fox woman immediately released it due to its extreme heat.
âAh! Monty, itâs too hot!â Muffy exclaimed, backing away from the pipe. She shook her singed white paws in the air and blew on them before making her way over to Monty.
Lord Montague adjusted his monocle before looking over the many needles, indicators, numbers and controls at his disposal. The more he looked at them, the less sense they made. The room began to shake as the airshipâs engines struggled to keep it aloft.
Montyâs voice took on an air of desperation: âI have tried everything, my dear Muffy, but nothing appears to be working! Perhaps this one? Or maybe this one?â He said, randomly pressing buttons, pulling levers and turning knobs in vain. A whistle sounded as the intensity of the shaking increased. Having reached Monty, Muffy pulled him away from the engine controls.
âOh, Monty, my love! It is a shame that our young lives must come to an end like this! Let us share one last kiss as we hurtle to our doom!â Muffy cried. She held onto Monty tightly, tears welling in her eyes.
âYes, my love! We shall take our forbidden love to the world that lies beyond this one!â Monty replied. He and Muffy embraced deeply as warning bells and whistles sounded in protest around them.
A door then suddenly burst open and a short female dog ran into the control room. She had light brown fur, floppy ears and wore denim overalls that were soiled with oil and grease. She growled upon catching sight of the amorous aristocrats, who ignored her as they kissed.
âI swear, I canât eat dinner or take a nap without you blasted bluebloods coming down here and tamperinâ with MY engines!!â the young engineer exclaimed as she walked over to the engine controls. After looking over a row of gauges, the engineer began to quickly adjust the controls, her paws expertly flipping switches, turning dials and pressing buttons with the grace of a concert pianist. The whistles and bells went silent and the shipâs shaking and listing gradually ceased. Satisfied that all was well, the engineer turned to the young couple, whom had broken their embrace, but were still in each otherâs arms.
âWhat in the Sam Hill were yâall thinkinâ?â She angrily yelled at them. âThis here engine is a delly-cate machine that should only be operated on by experts like me! The next passenger that I catch sneaking around in here is a-goinâ to get hogtied and thrown into the cargo hold! NOW GIT!!â she told them as she pointed to an exit.
âYou mean to tell me you are not an engineer, Monty?â Muffy asked with a disgusted look on her face as she removed herself from Montyâs arms and started to walk towards the exit.
âWellâŚuh…no?â   Monty replied half-heartedly. âMuffy! Come back!â he cried as he chased his now-former mistress.
The exasperated engineer wiped her forehead and hands with a handkerchief and sighed with relief as the outer door closed behind Monty. She then said, to no one in particular:
âHow about that Mister Fancypants thinking heâs a steam engineer!  What kind of engineer dresses up in their Sunday best to go to work?â
THE END
While clothes might make the man, listeners, they donât necessarily make him a smart one. This been Super-Short Storytime, For more tiny tales, visit eduardo soliz dot com, and remember listeners, the past just isnât what it used to be!
Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, lovers of literature and fans of fiction! I am Eduardo Soliz, the composer and narrator of the wonderfully weird words that you are about to hear:
Some people like to enjoy things that the majority of folks just donât understand. This selection from my free e-book âten tiny tales’ is an oration about one unfortunately ostracized oddball. I call it: âFreako.â
Alan walked into the office with a spring in his step and a big smile on his face. It was Friday, it was payday, and he would only be hanging around the office long enough to submit his time report for the week. He couldnât wait to start his long weekend.
As he briskly walked through the office, a woman recognized him, âHey, Al, I thought you werenât coming in today, did something change?â
Alan stopped to chat, beaming as he answered: âNope, Iâm just here to put in my timesheet and then the fun begins!â
âOh, thatâs right.”  The woman replied with a look of scorn on her face. “Youâre going to that thing to hang out with all those freakos, huh?â
âWell, I wouldnât call them weirdos, Janet, I mean, lots of people are going to be there, and…â Alan started to explain before Janet raised her hand to interrupt him.
âThatâs okay Al, I donât need to hear about what you all do there, dressed up in those weird outfits and all.â Janet quickly said.
âhhmâŚokay. Sorry, Janet.â Alan sheepishly said before continuing on his way. Arriving at his cubicle, he sat down and turned on his computer. While he waited for it to start, another coworker peeked his head in.
âWhatâs up, Al!â asked Jon as Alan turned to face him.
âNot much, Jon, I forgot to put in my time, and I want to get paid next week, so here I am.â Alan answered. âHey, do you wanna join me atâŚâ
âNo way, man!â  Jon exclaimed, his face grimacing at the thought. âI wouldnât be caught dead at that sausage-fest! You have fun, though!â Jon said before ducking out of the cubicle.
Alan entered his time and then shut down the computer. Dejected, he sighed, and began to walk away from his desk to start his weekend. The smile on his face and the spring in his step were now gone.
â*sigh* Everybody makes fun of me just because I like something different.â Alan thought to himself as he left the building and slowly walked to his car. âI wish my coworkers would stop giving me crap for being a football fan!!â
THE END.
Itâs never easy being the odd man out, Listeners, so try to be nice. If you’d like to hear or read more super-short stories scribed and said by yours truly, visit eduardosoliz.com This has been Super-Short Story time. Remember, listeners, we’re all weirdos to somebody!
Eduardo Soliz 