Happy Psychic Father's Day!

One of my favorite Psychic Father's Day memories is Honk for Rainbows.

After a rain, we'd all climb in the car but not leave the driveway. Instead, my father would start honking the horn to call the rainbows. He would honk and honk and really lean on it.

It totally irritated the neighbors. You couldn't see a thing inside all that refracted light.

I spray miniaturize all my food before eating it.

I spray it with miniaturization spray and it becomes very small.

Tiny grapes. Tiny steak.

It fits in a spoon and then I eat it.

Tonight I saw alien saucers high in the sky over campus. They would appear for a moment, silver and concave in the setting sunlight, then suddenly disappear, only to reappear in another portion of the sky, in small groups, here and there.

Upon closer examination I realized they were merely the suckers of a massive tentacle, gently caressing the edge of our atmosphere.

"Oh, daddy! That one spins like Fort Knox!"

WHUMP another one into my catcher's mitt.

"Good job, baby. Now here's another..."

WHUMP

"That one was like Arecibo. Salty and warm."

"Excellent. Ready for another?"

"You bet!"

My father worked for the State Department. Or the CIA. Or something kind of inbetween.

WHUMP

"Mezhgorye! I can smell the mountains!"

He was in signals, and took his work home with him. When they ran into references they couldn't make sense of, he'd write them on baseballs and take them home. Then, we'd go to the park and he'd concentrate hard on each one and throw them to me. I had a catcher's mitt and shin guards and a mask and everything. He'd clear his mind and concentrate on his "querent question" and throw the ball as hard as he could.

WHUMP

"Zhitkur," I said. "So lonely."