Sayonara Baby!

Phineas was in a pithy mood, although he didn’t know why.  Fortunately for him, he didn’t care why, he was just enjoying it.  Perhaps today would be the day he’d finally write something, and if he did, why he might someday get it published.

Phineas was not the easiest name to bear, but he managed it good naturedly, although he wondered just what his parents might have been thinking when they’d endowed it upon him.  It wasn’t as if they’d named him after someone for whom they deeply cared, or even knew.  Apparently it had something to do with a film a long time ago, based on a book about a wager concerning travelling around the world more quickly than then seemed possible.  But then, his parents had conceived him in the sixties when decisions were sometimes made based on chemically induced spur of the moment epiphanies, quickly discarded.

It wasn’t as if he was often epigrammatic, he tended to be a bit vague and indirect, lost in phantasies; perhaps a bit like his parents had been way back when, way back in the day, so to speak.  Interesting phrase that, “so to speak”.

Anyway, perhaps Phineas had decided to turn over a new leaf, not a vegetable leaf, at least not directly, a metaphorical leaf, so “pithy” was his word of the day.  He dressed nattily, for a change.  He usually favored jeans but today, dress pants it was.  And a vest, even though it had once been his father’s.  And a tie, even though it was paisley and paisley had been out of style for a while, except, of course, among the vintage crowd (of which he was not a member in good standing).  “Hmmm, shoes” he whispered to himself.  A problem as most of his were old tennis shoes or sandals, not a loafer to be had, or an oxford.  And tennis shoes and sandals tended not to qualify as pithy in matters of haberdashery.

Of a sudden, his pithy mood did not seem quite as satisfying as it had, as though a wind had whipped the page he’d sought to turn back to where his book of life had been.  Speaking of pages, he’d need some paper if he was going to write something, or a pen, or a computer, or a tablet, or a cell phone.

“Damned shoes” he thought out loud.  “Who needs them”, although it seemed obvious that they might be a necessary accessory to anyone, who, feeling pithy, had decided to dress nattily, which at that point, no longer described Phineas.  Fortunately for him, his apartment was not large, rather small really, and cluttered with non-natty accoutrements.  And he’d not yet made his bed (almost a tradition).  So back into bed he plopped, to hopefully dream non-pithy dreams.

Sayonara baby!

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2023; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen).  Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales.  He has academic degrees in political science (the Citadel), law (St. John’s University), international legal studies (New York University) and translation and linguistic studies (the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies).  He can be contacted at and much of his writing is available through his blog at

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