Hairy the Hedgehog sat glumly on the bed, his furry face between his hands.
"What's wrong, Hairy?" Pumble asked as he smacked on his morning snack of toast and honey. He had already completed his breakfast of biscuits, honey and pollen sprinkles.
"They don't like me," Hairy sighed.
"Who doesn't like you?" Pumble asked as he spewed crumbs out of his mouth onto Hairy's fur.
"The people," Hairy said, brushing the sticky crumbs off his fur.
"What people?" Pumble looked confused.
"The boy and the girl!" Hairy yelled in exasperation.
"Well," Pumble said, looking huffy. "No need to get angry."
"Do not worry if they do not like you," Cookies lectured. "It is much better to be an individual. Be strong. Be wary. Be a lone wolf. You are above the others. They look up to you. And they should dislike you--they should fear you. They should worship you."
Hairy stared at him in horror. "Who are you?" he asked in disgust. "Did Hitler die and put you in his place?"
Cookies looked thoughtful. "No," he said, chewing on a pencil. Cookies loved chewing on pencils and often had to hide the evidence under the bed. "I think it would be an interesting social experiment however. The social repercussions of me acting as a dictator--"
As Cookies droned on, Hairy sighed and buried his face in his arm. He could feel hot tears building behind his eyes. Two fuzzy heads rubbed his sides, barking enthusiastically. He looked at the seals nuzzling him and looking up at him with large eyes, anxiously barking.
"Thank you seals," Hairy managed a watery smile. "I'm glad you think I'm the nicest one here- and the skinniest too! That's very sweet of you. And while I appreciate the fish heads, I think I'll have to pass. They disagree with my stomach."
Pumble sniffed and shoved a third piece of toast in his mouth. "Being skinny is overrated," he mumbled. "Why do you think the people don't like you?"
Hairy placed one arm on each of the seals, whose tails exploded in delighted wiggling at the touch. "Because no one sleeps with me! You're cradled by the girl every night, and the boy likes to use Cookies as a pillow and arm rest. I'm simply shoved to the end of the bed and end up on the floor with the seals every night."
At the seal's wounded expressions and distressed tail wagging, he quickly added, "Not that I don't like it down there." The enthusiastic wiggling started up again. "I just wish that we could all sleep on the bed. We're all important. I just want to feel loved. I just want to feel like someone likes me best, and turns to me for comfort every night." The seals wiggled harder.
Pumble sat thoughtfully, chewing. Cookies, who had long ago realized no one was listening to him, perked up. "What if we gave you an office, a position?"
"An office?" Hairy asked cautiously. "I don't understand."
"What if we elect you something?" Pumble asked enthusiastically. "What if we elect you king or president of the Land of the Flowered Bed?"
"Thank you, but I couldn't be king," Hairy said modestly. "That wouldn't be fair, we're all equals."
"I beg to differ," Cookies said under his breath.
"President than!" Pumble dictated, wiping off his hands.
"Actually, I think I would prefer to be a mayor, or a governor of some sort," Hairy said, a feeling of excitement beginning to swirl in his tummy. "That would be much more comfortable."
"It's settled than!"Cookies said, banging a brush on the dresser like a gavel. "All who vote for Hairy as Mayor of the Land of the Flowered Bed, say aye!"
"Aye!" Pumbles and Cookies yelled. The seals barked and leaped into the air.
"I'm taking that as an aye," Cookies said, smiling at the seals. "It's unanimous! Hairy is now the official mayor of the Land of the Flowered Bed!"
"Hooray!" everyone yelled. The seals clapped their tails and barked in excitement.
That evening, as the people went to bed, Cookies was tucked under the boys arm and Pumble was tucked under the girls. As Hairy began to fight feelings of disappointment, he gasped as he was picked up and tucked in the middle. And that evening, he slept tucked in between the girl and the boy, next to the seals. The seals looked up and giggled to themselves quietly. They could have sworn that Hairy, the new mayor of the Land of the Flowered Bed, was lighting up the dark with his smile.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Ladybug
Friday afternoon, I left my Pond to venture out of my bubble into the world around me for an interview. Normally at work, I prefer to do phone interviews. The office where I work is way out of the way for a lot of things, and I tend to get lost easily. Besides, phone interviews are much faster to do and I can get more stories written. Moving on.
I drove down to the interview and discovered no one was in the office. I was early, so I took a seat on the porch and waited. As I sat in the sunshine, I heard a tiny smack on my briefcase. I looked down and saw a ladybug crawling around. Using my finger, I gently scraped her off and she crawled about in the crevices of my hand.
As she inched up my arm, I felt her tiny feet racing up my arm. When she reached the crease of my elbow, she stopped.
"What are you, Giant?" she asked.
"I'm a girl," I answered back. "A person."
I heard a tiny sigh, no more audible than a single raindrop splashing against the ground.
"I didn't ask what your gender was or what kind of creature you were," the ladybug chided me. "I asked what you are."
"Oh," I said, throughly confused. "Well, I suppose I'm a writer. A storyteller."
"Wonderful," the ladybug said, inching her way up to my shoulder. "Tell me a story."
"What would you like the story to be about?" I asked.
"You're the storyteller," she said. "You're supposed to be telling the story to me."
So, I told her about the butterflies, and how they flew in giant clouds, swirling and dancing through the air gracefully, no heavier than a falling leaf.
"That was lovely," the ladybug sighed. "Do you tell all animals such wonderful stories?"
"No," I answered. "Usually, they want to tell me a story."
"Would you tell me another story?" the ladybug asked.
"Of course," I said.
"Not now, of course," the ladybug said. "I must go. But when I return, I'll hear another story."
"When are you coming back?" I asked.
"You'll see," the ladybug said. "You'll see."
And with that, her tiny little wings began beating rapidly and she flew away. As I sat on the porch, I watched her fly into the blue afternoon sky. Somehow, I knew she would be back soon.
I drove down to the interview and discovered no one was in the office. I was early, so I took a seat on the porch and waited. As I sat in the sunshine, I heard a tiny smack on my briefcase. I looked down and saw a ladybug crawling around. Using my finger, I gently scraped her off and she crawled about in the crevices of my hand.
As she inched up my arm, I felt her tiny feet racing up my arm. When she reached the crease of my elbow, she stopped.
"What are you, Giant?" she asked.
"I'm a girl," I answered back. "A person."
I heard a tiny sigh, no more audible than a single raindrop splashing against the ground.
"I didn't ask what your gender was or what kind of creature you were," the ladybug chided me. "I asked what you are."
"Oh," I said, throughly confused. "Well, I suppose I'm a writer. A storyteller."
"Wonderful," the ladybug said, inching her way up to my shoulder. "Tell me a story."
"What would you like the story to be about?" I asked.
"You're the storyteller," she said. "You're supposed to be telling the story to me."
So, I told her about the butterflies, and how they flew in giant clouds, swirling and dancing through the air gracefully, no heavier than a falling leaf.
"That was lovely," the ladybug sighed. "Do you tell all animals such wonderful stories?"
"No," I answered. "Usually, they want to tell me a story."
"Would you tell me another story?" the ladybug asked.
"Of course," I said.
"Not now, of course," the ladybug said. "I must go. But when I return, I'll hear another story."
"When are you coming back?" I asked.
"You'll see," the ladybug said. "You'll see."
And with that, her tiny little wings began beating rapidly and she flew away. As I sat on the porch, I watched her fly into the blue afternoon sky. Somehow, I knew she would be back soon.
The Blonde Duck goes to a Gun Show
Most people have very strong opinions on guns. They either feel as though you should be able to strap them to your side every moment of every day in every possible location, or that only law-enforcement officers should be able to carry them. Even then, those people feel that guns should only be used by law enforcement in the most dire of circumstances. I suppose that they think sunshine and bubbles would work just as well.
Amazingly, I'm in the middle. Guns don't bother me, I see no problem with them and I feel they are a wonderful asset to protect yourself. Now, I think many people have no business messing with guns because they don't understand them or how to use them, and I think all responsible homeowners should have guns unloaded, safety on and put away in their home. That's about as far as my opinions get on guns.
However, after visiting a gun show yesterday with Ben and our friend Bryan, I got a whole new perspective on guns.
As we strolled in to a old convention center, my jaw dropped. There were enough guns, knives and rifles spread on tables to start our own war. There were hand guns and old military guns and Confederate antiques. Until I saw the swastika flags hanging in the corner, I hadn't been that alarmed.
Clutching my purse tightly, I dutifully followed the drooling boys around while we looked at lots of guns. Many traders even had thick blankets they placed over their guns between viewings, so customers wouldn't drool on the gun and ruin the exterior. Surprisingly, several women were selling guns. At first I just thought they were there to give the show a feminine edge. I was wrong. One large woman changed out a cartridge in a gun so fast it had an 18-year-old kid's head spinning. She then explained every nook and cranny of the gun to him and why it would fit perfectly in his hand. I decided she would not be the type of woman I'd like to meet in a dark ally.
When all the guns began to blend together in a black and brown blob, I looked for other things to amuse myself. There it was: the gun traders.
The gun traders were good-ol-boys or shop owners who stared at you as if you were a Democrat from New York ("them folks ain't welcome here" one informed me.) Chewing quietly, they would eyeball you with their arms folded while you looked at their wares. If you struck up a conversation, they would answer back in short, gruff sentences. They weren't exactly friendly folks.
After an hour of smelling homemade salsa (way too many onions), looking at costume jewelry (I don't want to know what truck it fell off of), and examining the selection of literature (Homicide in Texas made me curious, but wary), I was ready to head on back. The boys pulled their tongues back in their heads and discussed plans of shooting this morning, full of excitement. By this point, I was more than happy to enter onto my new adventure: going to the grocery store on a Saturday night. This was an adventure in itself.
So, after listening to discussions of cars for hours and hours and an additional several hours of talking about guns, I think I'm rather burned out. Which is why I plan to spend this Sunday writing and watching Devil Wears Prada. I'm sure there's no guns, cars or swastika flags in there.
Amazingly, I'm in the middle. Guns don't bother me, I see no problem with them and I feel they are a wonderful asset to protect yourself. Now, I think many people have no business messing with guns because they don't understand them or how to use them, and I think all responsible homeowners should have guns unloaded, safety on and put away in their home. That's about as far as my opinions get on guns.
However, after visiting a gun show yesterday with Ben and our friend Bryan, I got a whole new perspective on guns.
As we strolled in to a old convention center, my jaw dropped. There were enough guns, knives and rifles spread on tables to start our own war. There were hand guns and old military guns and Confederate antiques. Until I saw the swastika flags hanging in the corner, I hadn't been that alarmed.
Clutching my purse tightly, I dutifully followed the drooling boys around while we looked at lots of guns. Many traders even had thick blankets they placed over their guns between viewings, so customers wouldn't drool on the gun and ruin the exterior. Surprisingly, several women were selling guns. At first I just thought they were there to give the show a feminine edge. I was wrong. One large woman changed out a cartridge in a gun so fast it had an 18-year-old kid's head spinning. She then explained every nook and cranny of the gun to him and why it would fit perfectly in his hand. I decided she would not be the type of woman I'd like to meet in a dark ally.
When all the guns began to blend together in a black and brown blob, I looked for other things to amuse myself. There it was: the gun traders.
The gun traders were good-ol-boys or shop owners who stared at you as if you were a Democrat from New York ("them folks ain't welcome here" one informed me.) Chewing quietly, they would eyeball you with their arms folded while you looked at their wares. If you struck up a conversation, they would answer back in short, gruff sentences. They weren't exactly friendly folks.
After an hour of smelling homemade salsa (way too many onions), looking at costume jewelry (I don't want to know what truck it fell off of), and examining the selection of literature (Homicide in Texas made me curious, but wary), I was ready to head on back. The boys pulled their tongues back in their heads and discussed plans of shooting this morning, full of excitement. By this point, I was more than happy to enter onto my new adventure: going to the grocery store on a Saturday night. This was an adventure in itself.
So, after listening to discussions of cars for hours and hours and an additional several hours of talking about guns, I think I'm rather burned out. Which is why I plan to spend this Sunday writing and watching Devil Wears Prada. I'm sure there's no guns, cars or swastika flags in there.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Party all night long
When the morning sun peeked through the blinds, the chaos around the room seemed to multiply with each new strand of light. Clothes were strewn on the floor, shoes thrown with abandon near walls and empty glasses littering the nightstand and dresser. A blanket hung halfway to the floor, and pillows were sprinkled liberally about the carpet. Bras decorated door handles.
The seals were passed out on the floor, near the pillows. They hadn't had the energy to crawl over and lay their heads on the fluffy squares, and had collapsed where they had jumped. Cookies the Owl was snoring loudly, entangled in the middle of the hanging blanket. Hairy the Hedgehog was barely peeking over the swirl of covers, and only Pumble's legs emerged from the creases of a pillow.
The critters of the Land of the Flowered Bed had a party. The night had flown by as they danced around to old 90's rock songs and painted each other's faces. Pumble and Hairy had watched movies while Cookies baked (what else?) cookies and popped a bag of popcorn. The seals had a fencing lesson on top of The Blonde Duck as she slept, using her snores to count the rhythm.
"You have to move your hips!" Pumble shouted, as he munched on honey and crackers. He tapped a hanger along to the beat as the seals tried to mambo on their tails. "And one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four...."
"How do you suppose this works?" Hairy asked confused, as he punched the remote. "The buttons were working, but now we're stuck on this movie channel. I prefer not to watch Lifetime movies. Where did Animal Planet go?"
"Now listen, you ruffians, I've baked you some cookies and you better eat them!" Cookies the Owl glared. "I even made fish taco appetizers for you flopping mammals like you requested. That took a long time, so I want you to savor--" he broke off as the seals happily scooped the tacos in their mouths and swallowed them, barking enthusiastically. "Why do I even bother?" he sighed dramatically as he swooped off the the kitchen to make more.
There was a brief intermission as the Blonde Duck went to work and then Ben came home to slept. Then it roared into action again.
"This is the best party ever!" Pumble yelled over the roar of the white-noise machine and music. Hairy had burned a new mix CD.
"It's great!" Hairy yelled back.
"Who wants more cookies?" Cookies yelled, presenting the group with peanut butter and honey cookies. The seals barked in excitement and bounced toward the plate, sweeping the cookies off with their tails. "Share, you feisty mammals," Cookies scolded. The one thing that put Cookies in a good mood was baking, and it only made the party that much better.
Suddenly, an alarm sounded and Ben began to stir. The animals quickly scarfed down their cookies and returned to their proper places. Pumble was pounding his chest to stop the indigestion when the Blonde Duck walked through the door.
Ben sat up sleepily and surveyed the disaster around him.
"This room is a wreck!" he said, narrowing his eyes.
"Well, you must have trashed," clucked the Blonde Duck. "Did you have a party with the animals?"
"Oh yea," Ben said sarcastically. "We partied all night long."
When the door shut, Hairy poked up his head mischievously from the covers. "I know we did!"
The animals giggled and the seals flipped and clapped their fins. When Ben jerked the door open to see what the noise was, Pumble was laying in a pile of pillows and Hairy was entangled in the covers. Cookies was caught between the blanket and bed, and the seals were on the floor.
Ben shrugged and shut the door, barely hearing the faint sound of giggles behind him. After all, it was a lovely party.
The seals were passed out on the floor, near the pillows. They hadn't had the energy to crawl over and lay their heads on the fluffy squares, and had collapsed where they had jumped. Cookies the Owl was snoring loudly, entangled in the middle of the hanging blanket. Hairy the Hedgehog was barely peeking over the swirl of covers, and only Pumble's legs emerged from the creases of a pillow.
The critters of the Land of the Flowered Bed had a party. The night had flown by as they danced around to old 90's rock songs and painted each other's faces. Pumble and Hairy had watched movies while Cookies baked (what else?) cookies and popped a bag of popcorn. The seals had a fencing lesson on top of The Blonde Duck as she slept, using her snores to count the rhythm.
"You have to move your hips!" Pumble shouted, as he munched on honey and crackers. He tapped a hanger along to the beat as the seals tried to mambo on their tails. "And one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four...."
"How do you suppose this works?" Hairy asked confused, as he punched the remote. "The buttons were working, but now we're stuck on this movie channel. I prefer not to watch Lifetime movies. Where did Animal Planet go?"
"Now listen, you ruffians, I've baked you some cookies and you better eat them!" Cookies the Owl glared. "I even made fish taco appetizers for you flopping mammals like you requested. That took a long time, so I want you to savor--" he broke off as the seals happily scooped the tacos in their mouths and swallowed them, barking enthusiastically. "Why do I even bother?" he sighed dramatically as he swooped off the the kitchen to make more.
There was a brief intermission as the Blonde Duck went to work and then Ben came home to slept. Then it roared into action again.
"This is the best party ever!" Pumble yelled over the roar of the white-noise machine and music. Hairy had burned a new mix CD.
"It's great!" Hairy yelled back.
"Who wants more cookies?" Cookies yelled, presenting the group with peanut butter and honey cookies. The seals barked in excitement and bounced toward the plate, sweeping the cookies off with their tails. "Share, you feisty mammals," Cookies scolded. The one thing that put Cookies in a good mood was baking, and it only made the party that much better.
Suddenly, an alarm sounded and Ben began to stir. The animals quickly scarfed down their cookies and returned to their proper places. Pumble was pounding his chest to stop the indigestion when the Blonde Duck walked through the door.
Ben sat up sleepily and surveyed the disaster around him.
"This room is a wreck!" he said, narrowing his eyes.
"Well, you must have trashed," clucked the Blonde Duck. "Did you have a party with the animals?"
"Oh yea," Ben said sarcastically. "We partied all night long."
When the door shut, Hairy poked up his head mischievously from the covers. "I know we did!"
The animals giggled and the seals flipped and clapped their fins. When Ben jerked the door open to see what the noise was, Pumble was laying in a pile of pillows and Hairy was entangled in the covers. Cookies was caught between the blanket and bed, and the seals were on the floor.
Ben shrugged and shut the door, barely hearing the faint sound of giggles behind him. After all, it was a lovely party.
Monday, January 01, 2007
New Years at The Pond
Dear Invisible Friends,
Normally, I never make New Year's Resolutions. However, many of our friends at The Pond, including Henry the Lizard and other favorites, have demanded that I post their resolutions, in hopes they will actually follow them. So while you're eating black eyed peas and watching over-played footage of news and entertainment events (too much Britney Spears) over the past year, I hope you enjoy reading. Happy New Years, and here's looking forward to many more adventures in The Pond!
Yours Always,
The Blonde Duck
*** For New Invisible Friends, see previous entries to meet The Pond. Not like there are any new Invisible Friends, but I can pretend. It is after all, a world of puppy dogs and sunshine.
The Blonde Duck
"I want to get my book published and turn into a marketing frenzy!"
Ben
"Carcarcarcarcarcarfastcarfastcarfastcar..."
Pumble the Bee
"Find a way to write wheat crackers on the grocery store list. Do you know how much effort it is to climb up on that cabinet? It's like four feet off the ground? Fly up there you say? Do you know how much energy that would require? I need a nap just thinking about it."
Cookies the Owl
"Go away!"
Hairy the Hedgehog
"I would like to find a nice wooden bristle hair brush. You see, it's quite hard to pick burs and tangles from such thick fur as mine. It takes me an hour and a half to get ready in the morning!"
The Water Cooler Ants
"We would like to find a way to refine mind control techniques so the salespeople would bring more donuts and drop a few, instead of buying tacos from the sketchy taco truck that comes to the office. We like donuts."
The Argumentative Birds
"We would like to quit eating McDonald French Fries and grow fangs. If we had fangs, we could be really intimidating. Have you ever seen a bird with fangs? It's seriously scary. No, I'm not eating a French fry. I'm eating a tater tot. It's scarier, really."
The Butterflies
"We would like the nice pink bush on the patio to come back. It was quite tasty."
The Menopausal Ghost that haunts my office
"For God's sake, some one please buy me an air conditioner. It's STIFLING in here!"
The Noisy Cricket
"I'd love it if everyone left me the hell alone. Bite me!"
The Flying Pigs
"May we sample your lush green grass? It looks ever so tasty. Thanks so much."
Ace the Chihuahua
"To continue my domination of the Koerner household."
Arthur the ????
"I think I'll lay here awhile, thanks. The nice man with treats is coming soon."
Henry the Lizard
"Good God, that giant has come back! She's interrupted my winter slumber to coo and bellow things at me in some kind of weird language! At least I'm in the cement forest now. Thank God she's gone--all that shouting has given me a terrible headache."
Normally, I never make New Year's Resolutions. However, many of our friends at The Pond, including Henry the Lizard and other favorites, have demanded that I post their resolutions, in hopes they will actually follow them. So while you're eating black eyed peas and watching over-played footage of news and entertainment events (too much Britney Spears) over the past year, I hope you enjoy reading. Happy New Years, and here's looking forward to many more adventures in The Pond!
Yours Always,
The Blonde Duck
*** For New Invisible Friends, see previous entries to meet The Pond. Not like there are any new Invisible Friends, but I can pretend. It is after all, a world of puppy dogs and sunshine.
The Blonde Duck
"I want to get my book published and turn into a marketing frenzy!"
Ben
"Carcarcarcarcarcarfastcarfastcarfastcar..."
Pumble the Bee
"Find a way to write wheat crackers on the grocery store list. Do you know how much effort it is to climb up on that cabinet? It's like four feet off the ground? Fly up there you say? Do you know how much energy that would require? I need a nap just thinking about it."
Cookies the Owl
"Go away!"
Hairy the Hedgehog
"I would like to find a nice wooden bristle hair brush. You see, it's quite hard to pick burs and tangles from such thick fur as mine. It takes me an hour and a half to get ready in the morning!"
The Water Cooler Ants
"We would like to find a way to refine mind control techniques so the salespeople would bring more donuts and drop a few, instead of buying tacos from the sketchy taco truck that comes to the office. We like donuts."
The Argumentative Birds
"We would like to quit eating McDonald French Fries and grow fangs. If we had fangs, we could be really intimidating. Have you ever seen a bird with fangs? It's seriously scary. No, I'm not eating a French fry. I'm eating a tater tot. It's scarier, really."
The Butterflies
"We would like the nice pink bush on the patio to come back. It was quite tasty."
The Menopausal Ghost that haunts my office
"For God's sake, some one please buy me an air conditioner. It's STIFLING in here!"
The Noisy Cricket
"I'd love it if everyone left me the hell alone. Bite me!"
The Flying Pigs
"May we sample your lush green grass? It looks ever so tasty. Thanks so much."
Ace the Chihuahua
"To continue my domination of the Koerner household."
Arthur the ????
"I think I'll lay here awhile, thanks. The nice man with treats is coming soon."
Henry the Lizard
"Good God, that giant has come back! She's interrupted my winter slumber to coo and bellow things at me in some kind of weird language! At least I'm in the cement forest now. Thank God she's gone--all that shouting has given me a terrible headache."
Sunday, December 31, 2006
The Land of the Flowered Bed
Hairy the Hedgehog was not quite sure what to think of the enormously fat bee that sat before him. He was used to his plump friend, Cookies the Owl, but he had never quite seen a bee this fat before.
"He's gigantic!" he whispered to Cookies. "He's so fat, he might implode on himself any minute!"
"The poor insect looks as though he is worse for wear," Cookies whispered back. "He looks like he needs a good washing and tumbling about in the drier."
"Excuse me!" Pumble the bee whined in a high voice. "I can hear what you're saying, and it's quite rude! I'm not fat, I'm pleasantly plump! And my fluffy exterior may be a bit worn because I've been cradled in a girl's arms for the past year and a half. Do you have anyone that snuggles to sleep with you? Well, do you?"
Cookies and Hairy looked down, ashamed. "No," they muttered reluctantly.
"Well then!" Pumble's voice shrilled. "I believe you ought to keep your mouth shut then!"
The seals, also frequenters of the Flowered Bed, barked and clapped their paws together, in the way seals do.
"Oh, get a life," Cookies snapped. Cookies always turned cranky when he felt humiliated. He was quite an arrogant owl, and loved to stare down his black pointy beak at the rest of the animals. "Why don't you balance a pink ball on your nose? Geez!"
The seals looked at each other in glee and dove into the pillows to look for a pink ball. They barked and called excitedly to each other as they swam between the covers.
Cookies rolled his eyes and sulked, burying his face in his wing.
"You need a nap!" Pumble the Bee pointed a sticky arm at him, munching on his favorite treat of honey and crackers. "You're a cranky owl! And you're not exactly tiny yourself. "
"And you're a fat bee!" Cookies snapped back. "I don't see me telling you to get some exercise. Though I'm sure it would take a forklift to lift you off the ground. I don't believe your tiny wings could support a ton of weight. A literal ton of weight."
Before Pumble could retort, Hairy, who had been watching Pumble with fascination, asked him, "Should you be eating on the covers? Shouldn't you eat in the kitchen?"
"They'll never know," Pumble dismissed with a wave of his arm. "I eat here all the time. They never find the crumbs, because the seals usually sweep them under the bed for me with their tails. And she never vacuums under the bed."
Hairy remembered the vacuum and shuddered in fear. "I dislike the vacuum," he said quietly, shivering to himself.
"You're scared of puppy dogs and sunshine," Cookies snapped.
"And you only like grey days and self-righteous mice!" Pumble shot back.
"That's true," Cookies said thoughtfully. "For some reason, there are no mice around these parts. How distressing. I once had a wonderful friend, a mouse, did I tell you about him?"
"Oh no, not this story again," Hairy said, burying his fuzzy face in his hands.
"He was such a clever mouse, schooled of Harvard of all places. Then, unfortunately, he ran into the school cat, such a dreadful cat, a cat hated by all, whether insect, fowl or foe--"
"The mouse DIED!" Hairy exploded. "We've all heard this a dozen times, there's no need to depress us all again."
Suddenly, the seals emerged from the pillows barking excitedly and pointing at the door. The animals froze as they heard the garage open.
"They're home!" Pumble shoved the rest of the crackers into his mouth in a hurry, honey dripping down his chin. The seals used their tails to brush the crumbs onto the floor and under the bed. Then, all the animals carefully arranged themselves into their order. As the key turned in the lock, Pumble licked the rest of the honey from his lips and chin and wiped it on his arm. The door opened, and the animals froze.
The woman walked into the room and changed into her lounge clothes, laying her dressy pants on the bed for hanging up. She looked at the animals and smiled. "Hello babies!" she greeted them. "How are you?" She picked up Pumble, who had tilted over a bit and looked at her hand. "Pumble, you're a bit sticky!" she exclaimed. "Ben must have drooled on you last night!"
"Crud," Pumble thought to himself as she carried him off to the kitchen to clean him up. Behind her, the other animals smiled.
"He's gigantic!" he whispered to Cookies. "He's so fat, he might implode on himself any minute!"
"The poor insect looks as though he is worse for wear," Cookies whispered back. "He looks like he needs a good washing and tumbling about in the drier."
"Excuse me!" Pumble the bee whined in a high voice. "I can hear what you're saying, and it's quite rude! I'm not fat, I'm pleasantly plump! And my fluffy exterior may be a bit worn because I've been cradled in a girl's arms for the past year and a half. Do you have anyone that snuggles to sleep with you? Well, do you?"
Cookies and Hairy looked down, ashamed. "No," they muttered reluctantly.
"Well then!" Pumble's voice shrilled. "I believe you ought to keep your mouth shut then!"
The seals, also frequenters of the Flowered Bed, barked and clapped their paws together, in the way seals do.
"Oh, get a life," Cookies snapped. Cookies always turned cranky when he felt humiliated. He was quite an arrogant owl, and loved to stare down his black pointy beak at the rest of the animals. "Why don't you balance a pink ball on your nose? Geez!"
The seals looked at each other in glee and dove into the pillows to look for a pink ball. They barked and called excitedly to each other as they swam between the covers.
Cookies rolled his eyes and sulked, burying his face in his wing.
"You need a nap!" Pumble the Bee pointed a sticky arm at him, munching on his favorite treat of honey and crackers. "You're a cranky owl! And you're not exactly tiny yourself. "
"And you're a fat bee!" Cookies snapped back. "I don't see me telling you to get some exercise. Though I'm sure it would take a forklift to lift you off the ground. I don't believe your tiny wings could support a ton of weight. A literal ton of weight."
Before Pumble could retort, Hairy, who had been watching Pumble with fascination, asked him, "Should you be eating on the covers? Shouldn't you eat in the kitchen?"
"They'll never know," Pumble dismissed with a wave of his arm. "I eat here all the time. They never find the crumbs, because the seals usually sweep them under the bed for me with their tails. And she never vacuums under the bed."
Hairy remembered the vacuum and shuddered in fear. "I dislike the vacuum," he said quietly, shivering to himself.
"You're scared of puppy dogs and sunshine," Cookies snapped.
"And you only like grey days and self-righteous mice!" Pumble shot back.
"That's true," Cookies said thoughtfully. "For some reason, there are no mice around these parts. How distressing. I once had a wonderful friend, a mouse, did I tell you about him?"
"Oh no, not this story again," Hairy said, burying his fuzzy face in his hands.
"He was such a clever mouse, schooled of Harvard of all places. Then, unfortunately, he ran into the school cat, such a dreadful cat, a cat hated by all, whether insect, fowl or foe--"
"The mouse DIED!" Hairy exploded. "We've all heard this a dozen times, there's no need to depress us all again."
Suddenly, the seals emerged from the pillows barking excitedly and pointing at the door. The animals froze as they heard the garage open.
"They're home!" Pumble shoved the rest of the crackers into his mouth in a hurry, honey dripping down his chin. The seals used their tails to brush the crumbs onto the floor and under the bed. Then, all the animals carefully arranged themselves into their order. As the key turned in the lock, Pumble licked the rest of the honey from his lips and chin and wiped it on his arm. The door opened, and the animals froze.
The woman walked into the room and changed into her lounge clothes, laying her dressy pants on the bed for hanging up. She looked at the animals and smiled. "Hello babies!" she greeted them. "How are you?" She picked up Pumble, who had tilted over a bit and looked at her hand. "Pumble, you're a bit sticky!" she exclaimed. "Ben must have drooled on you last night!"
"Crud," Pumble thought to himself as she carried him off to the kitchen to clean him up. Behind her, the other animals smiled.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Part 2: Visions of Rawhide
Dear Invisible Friends,
I know I beseech you for comments on a daily basis, but I need comments. Let me know what you think! My fragile ego is crumbling in tears at the silence!
Pathetically yours,
The Blonde Duck
Unfortunately, the damage was done. The younger children stared up at their mother and father tearfully.
“You fill the stockings?” on little boy whispered. “Santa doesn’t come after all? So I’ve been good for no reason! This is horrible. This Christmas is the worst Christmas ever! Mom, you ruined Christmas!”
The other children agreed and threw down their stockings, most bursting into tears.
The mother, now even more angry, brandished the bone at her crying children and shouted, “I didn’t ruin Christmas! Rex ruined Christmas! Your father ruined Christmas because he bought this stupid bone because he’s never been totally committed to the vegan lifestyle. Richard, this is all your fault!”
“No it’s not,” the boy argued. “You took Rex’s bone away and caused this trouble. Now Santa will never come back. Oh that’s right, you’re Santa. So Christmas doesn’t mean anything after all!”
“Shut up!” Mrs. Sandson screamed, completely out of control now. “Richard, this is your fault!”
“This isn’t positive energy!” one child shrieked. “Bad Christmas karma!”
Soon, the entire family was screaming, crying and shouting all at once. Rex, utterly distressed his bone was now in the trash, went to retrieve it quietly. Just as he was pulling it out of the trashcan, Mrs. Sandson saw him.
“You!” she shouted. “You ruined everything with your stupid bone! Bad dog!” Taking him by the corner, she dragged him out of the house by the collar and pushed him outside, locking the door behind her. Rex could hear her dropping the bone in the trash can. When he heard the plastic crinkle, his heart sank even further.
Depressed and almost sick over the loss of his bone, Rex sank into the grass and laid his head down on the ground. After a few minutes of feeling sorry for himself, he raised his head and stood up on his feet.
“I’m done with these vegetarians,” Rex said to himself as he shook the grass off his coat. “I’m going to find a newer, nicer family. I’m going to find a family that will feed me steak everynight, brush my coat, and give me bones the size of small dinosaurs!”
“It’s still Christmas after all,” Rex said excitedly to himself, as he trotted down the street. “I’m sure there’s someone who wants a Christmas present of a dog!”
Cheered and drooling over the anticipation of another bone, Rex walked for hours. He stopped to snack on some left over hamburgers in a dumpster, which just made him even hungrier for juicy bone. He walked until after dusk had fallen, and he walked until his paws would walk no more. Exhausted, he dropped down on a long wooden porch. He was in the country now, way outside of town, and this was the first house he had seen in a few hours. Rex planned to sleep for the night, then to keep walking the next morning.
Right as he was about to doze off, a robust older woman banged out the screen door. Rex jumped and flew down the steps, afraid she would yell at him for being on her porch.
All the woman saw was the movement of a shadow. “Who’s there?” she yelled. “I can’t see without my glasses.” She pulled her glasses from her hair and put them on. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw Rex hiding behind a truck in her front yard. “Come here, buddy,” she called, slapping her thigh and clicking her tounge. “Come here so I can see you doggy.”
Rex crept forward slowly, and stared suspiciously at the woman in the front yard. This woman looked a little batty to him.
“Well hi there!” the woman called cheerfully. “Aren’t you a beautiful puppy? Merry Christmas to you!”
Rex barked back in reply.
“I bet you’re just starving. Are you lost from your family?”
Rex growled in response.
“No family then? Well, if you’re just passing through, you’re welcome to stay with me for awhile. I just have a small lap dog, and I’d dearly love to have some more company. It’s just the two of us rattling around in this old house.”
Rex took a few steps forward.
“Why don’t I fix you a plate of leftover steak? I had steak for supper tonight, and my family has all come and went already. The next crowd’s coming in the morning. I sure don’t want to throw good steak out.”
Rex had already barreled through the door and was trotting into the kitchen. A small white dog came running up to him.
“HIHHIHIHI! My name is Spaz and I’m a dog that got dumped out here by my owners! They said I was too hyper but Granny says I’m just happy! Are you my new friend? Did you get dumped? Do you want some steak? It’s good! Are you going to be my friend? We can cuddle and snuggle and chew on shoes! The steak is good, have a bite! What’s your name?”
“Rex,” Rex mumbled as he wolfed down a T-bone steak.
“My name is Spaz and I got dumped out here by my owners! They said I was too hyper but Granny says I’m just happy? How long are you staying---oof!” Spaz was scooped up, still chattering wildly by Granny, who sat down a bowl of water next to Rex.
“Now Spaz, let him eat,” Granny chided him gently. “He’s a tired and hungry boy, aren’t you?”
Rex nodded as he chewed happily. After his belly was full of leftover steak and a full T-bone, he laid next to Granny as she brushed his long hair. Spaz jumped from the chair to the couch to the table and back again, chattering the whole time about all the things they were going to do together.
“I think Spaz is glad to have a friend,” Granny said, “And I am too? Think you might want to stay awhile?”
Rex barked in agreement and nuzzled Granny’s arm. “This is almost as good as a big bone,” he thought sleepily as Granny rubbed his protruding belly.
Granny made him a nice bed of soft towels and old pillows and Rex went to sleep for the night next to Spaz. In the early morning, he woke up to a bright light coming through the window. Lazily, he stretched and walked to the window and looked outside.
On the porch was a bone the size of a small door. An artic wolf was standing in the front lawn, his piercing blue eyes meeting Rex’s. Rex bounded out the doggie door and ran out on the porch before the wolf could run away.
“Wait!” Rex yelped, as he danced happily around his big bone. “Who are you? How’d you get this to me?”
The dog simply grinned and winked in reply. Then he ran into the early dawn, the morning mist swirling around him. As Rex gazed up into the dark stars, he heard the faint jingle of bells and a deep belly laugh. “Ho ho ho!” he heard in the distance. “Ho ho ho!”
Rex stared at his large bone in utter delight and joy. He was so happy, he could cry. The door squeaked behind him, and he turned around quickly. Please let me keep my bone, he thought. Please, oh please, let me keep my bone.
Granny stood behind him, peering around Rex. When she saw the enourmous bone on the porch, she started laughing. “Santa bring you a late present?” she asked, laughing. “Well, best get it inside before the coyotes get it.” She laughed as Rex proudly trotted his gigantic bone into the house, laughing even harder as he had to drag it in sideways since it wouldn’t fit through the door.
As Granny’s family came in for New Years, Rex sat contendtly chewing on his bone. He was the luckiest dog in the world. Granny brushed his coat and fed him beef every night, since she owned a cattle ranch and there was a lot of it around. Every night, Rex fell asleep with a full belly, a brushed coat and a hyper little buddy named Spaz, who turned out to be a loyal friend. Now instead of dreaming of visions of rawhide bones, he dreamed of spending evenings on the porch with Granny and Spaz, chewing on his big bone.
Thank you Santa, he thought as he chewed on his bone, thank you so much. In the distance, he heard a wolf howl in reply.
“Merry Christmas!”
I know I beseech you for comments on a daily basis, but I need comments. Let me know what you think! My fragile ego is crumbling in tears at the silence!
Pathetically yours,
The Blonde Duck
Continued from Part 1
Unfortunately, the damage was done. The younger children stared up at their mother and father tearfully.
“You fill the stockings?” on little boy whispered. “Santa doesn’t come after all? So I’ve been good for no reason! This is horrible. This Christmas is the worst Christmas ever! Mom, you ruined Christmas!”
The other children agreed and threw down their stockings, most bursting into tears.
The mother, now even more angry, brandished the bone at her crying children and shouted, “I didn’t ruin Christmas! Rex ruined Christmas! Your father ruined Christmas because he bought this stupid bone because he’s never been totally committed to the vegan lifestyle. Richard, this is all your fault!”
“No it’s not,” the boy argued. “You took Rex’s bone away and caused this trouble. Now Santa will never come back. Oh that’s right, you’re Santa. So Christmas doesn’t mean anything after all!”
“Shut up!” Mrs. Sandson screamed, completely out of control now. “Richard, this is your fault!”
“This isn’t positive energy!” one child shrieked. “Bad Christmas karma!”
Soon, the entire family was screaming, crying and shouting all at once. Rex, utterly distressed his bone was now in the trash, went to retrieve it quietly. Just as he was pulling it out of the trashcan, Mrs. Sandson saw him.
“You!” she shouted. “You ruined everything with your stupid bone! Bad dog!” Taking him by the corner, she dragged him out of the house by the collar and pushed him outside, locking the door behind her. Rex could hear her dropping the bone in the trash can. When he heard the plastic crinkle, his heart sank even further.
Depressed and almost sick over the loss of his bone, Rex sank into the grass and laid his head down on the ground. After a few minutes of feeling sorry for himself, he raised his head and stood up on his feet.
“I’m done with these vegetarians,” Rex said to himself as he shook the grass off his coat. “I’m going to find a newer, nicer family. I’m going to find a family that will feed me steak everynight, brush my coat, and give me bones the size of small dinosaurs!”
“It’s still Christmas after all,” Rex said excitedly to himself, as he trotted down the street. “I’m sure there’s someone who wants a Christmas present of a dog!”
Cheered and drooling over the anticipation of another bone, Rex walked for hours. He stopped to snack on some left over hamburgers in a dumpster, which just made him even hungrier for juicy bone. He walked until after dusk had fallen, and he walked until his paws would walk no more. Exhausted, he dropped down on a long wooden porch. He was in the country now, way outside of town, and this was the first house he had seen in a few hours. Rex planned to sleep for the night, then to keep walking the next morning.
Right as he was about to doze off, a robust older woman banged out the screen door. Rex jumped and flew down the steps, afraid she would yell at him for being on her porch.
All the woman saw was the movement of a shadow. “Who’s there?” she yelled. “I can’t see without my glasses.” She pulled her glasses from her hair and put them on. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw Rex hiding behind a truck in her front yard. “Come here, buddy,” she called, slapping her thigh and clicking her tounge. “Come here so I can see you doggy.”
Rex crept forward slowly, and stared suspiciously at the woman in the front yard. This woman looked a little batty to him.
“Well hi there!” the woman called cheerfully. “Aren’t you a beautiful puppy? Merry Christmas to you!”
Rex barked back in reply.
“I bet you’re just starving. Are you lost from your family?”
Rex growled in response.
“No family then? Well, if you’re just passing through, you’re welcome to stay with me for awhile. I just have a small lap dog, and I’d dearly love to have some more company. It’s just the two of us rattling around in this old house.”
Rex took a few steps forward.
“Why don’t I fix you a plate of leftover steak? I had steak for supper tonight, and my family has all come and went already. The next crowd’s coming in the morning. I sure don’t want to throw good steak out.”
Rex had already barreled through the door and was trotting into the kitchen. A small white dog came running up to him.
“HIHHIHIHI! My name is Spaz and I’m a dog that got dumped out here by my owners! They said I was too hyper but Granny says I’m just happy! Are you my new friend? Did you get dumped? Do you want some steak? It’s good! Are you going to be my friend? We can cuddle and snuggle and chew on shoes! The steak is good, have a bite! What’s your name?”
“Rex,” Rex mumbled as he wolfed down a T-bone steak.
“My name is Spaz and I got dumped out here by my owners! They said I was too hyper but Granny says I’m just happy? How long are you staying---oof!” Spaz was scooped up, still chattering wildly by Granny, who sat down a bowl of water next to Rex.
“Now Spaz, let him eat,” Granny chided him gently. “He’s a tired and hungry boy, aren’t you?”
Rex nodded as he chewed happily. After his belly was full of leftover steak and a full T-bone, he laid next to Granny as she brushed his long hair. Spaz jumped from the chair to the couch to the table and back again, chattering the whole time about all the things they were going to do together.
“I think Spaz is glad to have a friend,” Granny said, “And I am too? Think you might want to stay awhile?”
Rex barked in agreement and nuzzled Granny’s arm. “This is almost as good as a big bone,” he thought sleepily as Granny rubbed his protruding belly.
Granny made him a nice bed of soft towels and old pillows and Rex went to sleep for the night next to Spaz. In the early morning, he woke up to a bright light coming through the window. Lazily, he stretched and walked to the window and looked outside.
On the porch was a bone the size of a small door. An artic wolf was standing in the front lawn, his piercing blue eyes meeting Rex’s. Rex bounded out the doggie door and ran out on the porch before the wolf could run away.
“Wait!” Rex yelped, as he danced happily around his big bone. “Who are you? How’d you get this to me?”
The dog simply grinned and winked in reply. Then he ran into the early dawn, the morning mist swirling around him. As Rex gazed up into the dark stars, he heard the faint jingle of bells and a deep belly laugh. “Ho ho ho!” he heard in the distance. “Ho ho ho!”
Rex stared at his large bone in utter delight and joy. He was so happy, he could cry. The door squeaked behind him, and he turned around quickly. Please let me keep my bone, he thought. Please, oh please, let me keep my bone.
Granny stood behind him, peering around Rex. When she saw the enourmous bone on the porch, she started laughing. “Santa bring you a late present?” she asked, laughing. “Well, best get it inside before the coyotes get it.” She laughed as Rex proudly trotted his gigantic bone into the house, laughing even harder as he had to drag it in sideways since it wouldn’t fit through the door.
As Granny’s family came in for New Years, Rex sat contendtly chewing on his bone. He was the luckiest dog in the world. Granny brushed his coat and fed him beef every night, since she owned a cattle ranch and there was a lot of it around. Every night, Rex fell asleep with a full belly, a brushed coat and a hyper little buddy named Spaz, who turned out to be a loyal friend. Now instead of dreaming of visions of rawhide bones, he dreamed of spending evenings on the porch with Granny and Spaz, chewing on his big bone.
Thank you Santa, he thought as he chewed on his bone, thank you so much. In the distance, he heard a wolf howl in reply.
“Merry Christmas!”
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Visions of Rawhide
I know it's after Christmas, but this story takes place during and after Christmas, so I thought it was appropriate. Let me know what you think!
Instead of dreaming about sugarplums and snowflakes, visions of a rawhide bones danced in his head. His leg twitched, his eye shed a tear and drool pooled under his mouth. All he wanted for Christmas was a nice, juicy bone. It didn’t have to be a big bone, one the size of a small deer would do. Just something he could really sink his teeth into, really chew on. Unfortunately, he was as likely to get it as it was to snow in South Texas. Much to his dismay, Rex the dog lived with a family of the worst of all types of humans—vegetarians.
They weren’t bad people, necessarily. The Sandsons were always very kind to him, and they fed him all organic soy dog food which kept his belly full. It tasted like cardboard, but it got the job done. They had even bought him a organic cotton cushion to sleep on and a few natural fiber toys. While they were nice enough people, they simply weren’t Rex’s kind of people. Rex needed to live with a trucker who ate chili and greasy hamburgers every night and gave him the left overs. The Sandsons spent their nights doing yoga and mediation.
One night, Rex laid on the floor chewing on a hemp rug. “If it doesn’t taste like cardboard, it tastes like paste,” he thought to himself. “I do wish one of these teenagers would rebel and eat a cheeseburger or something. I could even deal with some chicken nuggets or French fries.” He sighed as he continued to eat the rug. The Sandson children came running in. Since the parents didn’t believe in birth control (it wasn’t natural), there were children from 16 years old to 3 years old. Waving white sheets of paper, the children shoved the paper into hemp stockings.
“I wrote my letter to Santa!” one of the children shrieked. “I bet I’ll get exactly what I want—a tofu making machine!” an older boy squealed. “Now, now,” Mrs. Sandson chastised. “Santa does his best to get you what you want, but sometimes Santa has to do what’s best for you.”
“No, he doesn’t,” one of the children argued. “He brings you exactly what you want if you’re nice. That’s why he makes his list and checks it twice.”
“He brings you exactly what you want?” Rex thought to himself. “That’s it! I’ll ask Santa for a bone!” Pleased with himself, he trotted to his bowl to lap up some distilled water. Then, he stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute,” he thought aloud. “How do dogs write letters to Santa? Where do we send them to?” In a panic, he ran to look at the living room mantle. “I don’t have a stocking!” he panted, his warm brown eyes looking alarmed. “How am I going to send the letter?” In a sheer frenzy, he ran out the doggie door and down the street. Felix will know, he thought as he ran down the sidewalk. Felix has to know.
When he got to Felix’s yard, Felix was laying in the sun spread-eagle and half asleep. He lazily raised his head as Rex trotted up and gave him a lazy head nod. After a few seconds, he sat up and yawned.
. “So tell me what you need,” Felix said. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I need to write a letter to Santa Claus,” Rex said, looking at Felix gravely. Instead of laughing, Felix simply raised an eyebrow. “Why?” he asked.
“Because I need to ask him to bring me a bone for Christmas,” Rex said. Felix raised the other eyebrow. “Why do you need to ask Santa for that? Why can’t you just---oh, that’s right,” he said, finishing his thought before Rex could answer. “You live with vegetarians. They won’t buy you a bone.”
“Not unless it’s made out of soy or tofu or some crap like that,” Rex sighed. “It’s utterly dreadful. It’s torture, really.”
Felix stretched out his front legs and sat down, tail wagging. “Here’s what you need to do,” he said. “You need to find an old stick and chew a message. Then put the stick on the top of your doghouse. By morning, it’ll have been picked up and you’ll have your answer.”
“How do you chew a message?” Rex asked. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“You know when you’re chewing on something and another dog walks up and you growl for him to go away?” Felix asked. “Well, when you growl, it leaves tiny impressions in the wood. So when another dog puts the stick in his mouth, he can feel all those impressions. If he knows how to read a message, he knows exactly what the other dog said.”
“Wow!” Rex said. “How do you know about it?”
“I know everything,” said Felix loftily, examining his front paw nonchalantly.
“How’s Santa going to read that?” Rex asked, looking confused. “He’s not going to stick a piece of chewed wood in his mouth. And I’m sure the reindeer or elves couldn’t figure it out.”
Felix sighed. “Santa has a whole staff of animals that takes care of other animals needs at Christmas,” he said. “You didn’t think humans just celebrated it did you?”
“Well, yea, that’s what I thought,” said Rex bashfully. Felix shook his head and sighed heavily, muttering, “You’ve been living with those vegetarians for too long.”
“Anyway,” he continued. “Cats have a head cat, fish have a head fish and dogs have a head dog. So whenever a dog writes to Santa, his head dog reads the sticks and tells Santa what each dog once. Then while Santa is at their people’s house, he drops off the present for the pets as well.”
“What about wild animals who don’t have people?” Rex asked. “What do they do?”
“Father Christmas takes care of them,” Felix said. “He takes care of the wild animals, Santa takes care of the city creatures.”
“Santa isn’t Father Christmas?” Rex asked, completely confused.
“No,” Felix said. “Santa is a saint, while Father Christmas is a spirit from nature. Two different people. Anyway, just write a message in a stick. I have a new one behind my house you can use.”
Rex was elated. “Wow!” he shouted, spinning circles. “This makes me so happy! Thank you so much Felix! I know I’ll get a bone now!”
Felix smiled and laid back into the grass. “Anytime,” he said, leaning back in the warm grass. Rex took that as his sign to leave and picked up his stick and left.
When he got back to his doghouse, Rex happily chewed and growled his message to Santa on his stick. That night, he placed the stick on top of his doghouse and went to sleep. In the morning, he bounded out excitedly. The stick was gone! It was gone! Now all he had to do was wait a few days until Christmas.
When Christmas morning finally came, Rex bounded excitedly into the house through his doggie door. He turned circles in front of the tree and waited impatiently for the children to barrel down the stairs. The seven children flew down the banister and immediately started ripping their cloth wrappings off their presents. The cloth would later be used to make quilts and gloves, and the mother began picking it up and putting it in a straw basket. Impatiently, Rex thumped his tail against the ground until it was time for stockings. His stocking was hanging like a beacon of glory from the wooden mantle. One of the children brought it down and opened it.
“Oh look Rex!” he exclaimed joyfully. “Santa brought you a bone!”
The bone was the size of a small deer leg and rawhide. It was the most beautiful thing Rex had ever seen in his life. Tears sprung to his eyes. He could almost feel his teeth around it, the bone and sinew crunching inside his mouth. He was so happy he thought he would burst, his tail wiggling so quickly it might fly off.
As the child unwrapped the bone and handed it to Rex, no sooner had he put his jaws around the enormous bone then did Mrs. Sandson swoop it up. Rex growled and clung to the bone, but she jerked it out of his mouth.
“Richard,” she chided in an icy tone, “Did you buy this for Rex?”
“No, honey, Santa brought it, remember?” Richard said, trying to keep his tone light in front of the children. “Santa brought Rex a bone! How nice!”
“Richard, this is not vegan friendly,” the mother snapped. “This does not fit into our lifestyle. We can’t have it in the house. Where’s the soy dog treats I asked you to put in his stocking?”
Richard cleared his throat and smiled unconvincingly at his children. “Honey, I didn’t buy the bone,” he said in careful, measured words. “Santa brought the bone for Rex when he came last night.”
Unfortunately, the damage was done. The younger children stared up at their mother and father tearfully.
To be continued.....
Instead of dreaming about sugarplums and snowflakes, visions of a rawhide bones danced in his head. His leg twitched, his eye shed a tear and drool pooled under his mouth. All he wanted for Christmas was a nice, juicy bone. It didn’t have to be a big bone, one the size of a small deer would do. Just something he could really sink his teeth into, really chew on. Unfortunately, he was as likely to get it as it was to snow in South Texas. Much to his dismay, Rex the dog lived with a family of the worst of all types of humans—vegetarians.
They weren’t bad people, necessarily. The Sandsons were always very kind to him, and they fed him all organic soy dog food which kept his belly full. It tasted like cardboard, but it got the job done. They had even bought him a organic cotton cushion to sleep on and a few natural fiber toys. While they were nice enough people, they simply weren’t Rex’s kind of people. Rex needed to live with a trucker who ate chili and greasy hamburgers every night and gave him the left overs. The Sandsons spent their nights doing yoga and mediation.
One night, Rex laid on the floor chewing on a hemp rug. “If it doesn’t taste like cardboard, it tastes like paste,” he thought to himself. “I do wish one of these teenagers would rebel and eat a cheeseburger or something. I could even deal with some chicken nuggets or French fries.” He sighed as he continued to eat the rug. The Sandson children came running in. Since the parents didn’t believe in birth control (it wasn’t natural), there were children from 16 years old to 3 years old. Waving white sheets of paper, the children shoved the paper into hemp stockings.
“I wrote my letter to Santa!” one of the children shrieked. “I bet I’ll get exactly what I want—a tofu making machine!” an older boy squealed. “Now, now,” Mrs. Sandson chastised. “Santa does his best to get you what you want, but sometimes Santa has to do what’s best for you.”
“No, he doesn’t,” one of the children argued. “He brings you exactly what you want if you’re nice. That’s why he makes his list and checks it twice.”
“He brings you exactly what you want?” Rex thought to himself. “That’s it! I’ll ask Santa for a bone!” Pleased with himself, he trotted to his bowl to lap up some distilled water. Then, he stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute,” he thought aloud. “How do dogs write letters to Santa? Where do we send them to?” In a panic, he ran to look at the living room mantle. “I don’t have a stocking!” he panted, his warm brown eyes looking alarmed. “How am I going to send the letter?” In a sheer frenzy, he ran out the doggie door and down the street. Felix will know, he thought as he ran down the sidewalk. Felix has to know.
When he got to Felix’s yard, Felix was laying in the sun spread-eagle and half asleep. He lazily raised his head as Rex trotted up and gave him a lazy head nod. After a few seconds, he sat up and yawned.
. “So tell me what you need,” Felix said. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I need to write a letter to Santa Claus,” Rex said, looking at Felix gravely. Instead of laughing, Felix simply raised an eyebrow. “Why?” he asked.
“Because I need to ask him to bring me a bone for Christmas,” Rex said. Felix raised the other eyebrow. “Why do you need to ask Santa for that? Why can’t you just---oh, that’s right,” he said, finishing his thought before Rex could answer. “You live with vegetarians. They won’t buy you a bone.”
“Not unless it’s made out of soy or tofu or some crap like that,” Rex sighed. “It’s utterly dreadful. It’s torture, really.”
Felix stretched out his front legs and sat down, tail wagging. “Here’s what you need to do,” he said. “You need to find an old stick and chew a message. Then put the stick on the top of your doghouse. By morning, it’ll have been picked up and you’ll have your answer.”
“How do you chew a message?” Rex asked. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“You know when you’re chewing on something and another dog walks up and you growl for him to go away?” Felix asked. “Well, when you growl, it leaves tiny impressions in the wood. So when another dog puts the stick in his mouth, he can feel all those impressions. If he knows how to read a message, he knows exactly what the other dog said.”
“Wow!” Rex said. “How do you know about it?”
“I know everything,” said Felix loftily, examining his front paw nonchalantly.
“How’s Santa going to read that?” Rex asked, looking confused. “He’s not going to stick a piece of chewed wood in his mouth. And I’m sure the reindeer or elves couldn’t figure it out.”
Felix sighed. “Santa has a whole staff of animals that takes care of other animals needs at Christmas,” he said. “You didn’t think humans just celebrated it did you?”
“Well, yea, that’s what I thought,” said Rex bashfully. Felix shook his head and sighed heavily, muttering, “You’ve been living with those vegetarians for too long.”
“Anyway,” he continued. “Cats have a head cat, fish have a head fish and dogs have a head dog. So whenever a dog writes to Santa, his head dog reads the sticks and tells Santa what each dog once. Then while Santa is at their people’s house, he drops off the present for the pets as well.”
“What about wild animals who don’t have people?” Rex asked. “What do they do?”
“Father Christmas takes care of them,” Felix said. “He takes care of the wild animals, Santa takes care of the city creatures.”
“Santa isn’t Father Christmas?” Rex asked, completely confused.
“No,” Felix said. “Santa is a saint, while Father Christmas is a spirit from nature. Two different people. Anyway, just write a message in a stick. I have a new one behind my house you can use.”
Rex was elated. “Wow!” he shouted, spinning circles. “This makes me so happy! Thank you so much Felix! I know I’ll get a bone now!”
Felix smiled and laid back into the grass. “Anytime,” he said, leaning back in the warm grass. Rex took that as his sign to leave and picked up his stick and left.
When he got back to his doghouse, Rex happily chewed and growled his message to Santa on his stick. That night, he placed the stick on top of his doghouse and went to sleep. In the morning, he bounded out excitedly. The stick was gone! It was gone! Now all he had to do was wait a few days until Christmas.
When Christmas morning finally came, Rex bounded excitedly into the house through his doggie door. He turned circles in front of the tree and waited impatiently for the children to barrel down the stairs. The seven children flew down the banister and immediately started ripping their cloth wrappings off their presents. The cloth would later be used to make quilts and gloves, and the mother began picking it up and putting it in a straw basket. Impatiently, Rex thumped his tail against the ground until it was time for stockings. His stocking was hanging like a beacon of glory from the wooden mantle. One of the children brought it down and opened it.
“Oh look Rex!” he exclaimed joyfully. “Santa brought you a bone!”
The bone was the size of a small deer leg and rawhide. It was the most beautiful thing Rex had ever seen in his life. Tears sprung to his eyes. He could almost feel his teeth around it, the bone and sinew crunching inside his mouth. He was so happy he thought he would burst, his tail wiggling so quickly it might fly off.
As the child unwrapped the bone and handed it to Rex, no sooner had he put his jaws around the enormous bone then did Mrs. Sandson swoop it up. Rex growled and clung to the bone, but she jerked it out of his mouth.
“Richard,” she chided in an icy tone, “Did you buy this for Rex?”
“No, honey, Santa brought it, remember?” Richard said, trying to keep his tone light in front of the children. “Santa brought Rex a bone! How nice!”
“Richard, this is not vegan friendly,” the mother snapped. “This does not fit into our lifestyle. We can’t have it in the house. Where’s the soy dog treats I asked you to put in his stocking?”
Richard cleared his throat and smiled unconvincingly at his children. “Honey, I didn’t buy the bone,” he said in careful, measured words. “Santa brought the bone for Rex when he came last night.”
Unfortunately, the damage was done. The younger children stared up at their mother and father tearfully.
To be continued.....
Friday, December 22, 2006
Ode to Brown Sugar Frosted Mini Wheats and Why I Love Thee
Ode to Brown Sugar Frosted Mini Wheats and Why I love Thee
Ode to brown sugar frosted mini wheats and why I love thee
Your sweet sugary taste is one like no other,
After I eat one bowl, I desperately want another.
Every night I fight the cravings.
The sweet taste is one of perfection,
It is not sugary sweet,
but is an explosion of maple sugar,
Causing my tongue to faint in utter anticipation.
The perfect bowl of frosted cereal,
is complemented by a half peanut butter sandwich.
The sweet lure of the cereal, is then topped off with the rich buttery flavor.
I can't stop eating it,
no matter how I try.
The bowl magically refills itself and the spoon is ready and waiting,
Stopping is an impossible choice- and I'm not quite sure why.
The cool milk lulls me to sleep,
Filling up my belly and making the night complete.
While some might find this to be an over the top endorsement,
Let me just say: It's soooo worth it!
I scour the grocery stores looking for boxes,
going through cartons and crates.
When I find a hidden supply,
I happily replenish my stock.
When guests come to stay the night,
the boxes are hidden away,
deep within crevices and cabinets,
and far out of sight.
Possessive over my cereal I may be,
Even a tad obsessive perhaps,
but whatever noun you may choose to use,
that just means there's more cereal for me!
So while I am slumped over in a sugar coma,
don't even think about stealing my precious cereal.
For even if I'm hooked up to an I.V. and barely breathing,
one thing is for sure:
I can always eat!
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
The Christmas Tree part 2
Here's the second part...... please leave comments, dear Invisible Friends! I really want to know if you like it or not!
Over the next few weeks, Joe and Jadie spent a lot of time together. He took her sledding in a fake snow park, since they were too far south for real snow. They walked in the country and decorated some real trees, placing stars at their top and giggling when birds tried to fly away with them. They volunteered at the animal shelter, helping convince people to adopt Christmas puppies and walking dozens of dogs. The last night before Jadie was to return home, Joe took her on a carriage ride downtown and bought her a cup of hot chocolate. She was so happy, she felt her toes lift off the sidewalk and float down the street.
Christmas had suddenly become very important to her. In a whirlwind, she decorated her dorm room, much to the amazement of her roommate, Maureen.
“But you’re leaving tomorrow,” Maureen sputtered. “What’s the point?”
“The point is Christmas!” Jadie had said, spinning around happily. “Isn’t this just the most wonderful time of the year?” Maureen had just laughed and called in some other girls to see how cheerful Jadie was.
Later that night, Jadie bundled up and went out on a walk through campus. The air had chilled considerably, and she walked with a spring in her step. Everywhere she looked she saw signs of Christmas, and it filled her heart with joy. She couldn’t wait to thank Joe for helping her see how wonderful Christmas could be again.
She walked to the enormous tree, and waited under it’s sweeping branches. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned around with a huge smile on her face, then stopped.
A boy she didn’t know was walking toward her, holding a white envelope. “Are you Jadie?” he asked. “Yes,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is for you,” he said, holding it out to her. “Where’s Joe?” she asked as she took the envelope. “I don’t know who Joe is,” the boy said. “I work at the front desk of the dorms, and there was a note to take this to a girl named Jadie. So, here you go.” The boy walked away.
Jadie walked to a bench under a street light and opened the envelope. She opened up an envelope that had been written in thick black ink.
“Dear Jadie,” the letter began. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you before you go home for Christmas. I know that you must be disappointed. However, I want you to remember the joy of Christmas. I want you to remember the look on that little girl’s face when you gave her a teddy bear. I want you to remember the laughter of your friends when you decorated your dorm. When you’re feeling down, I want you to think of our carriage ride through the city, and how your cheeks glowed when you drank the hot chocolate. When you think of Christmas, remember the joy you felt as you looked at our tree.” Jadie stopped to wipe tears from her eyes, sniffled, and kept reading.
“Under the tree, there’s a gift for you,” the letter continued. “Have a Merry Christmas. Love, Joe.”
Jadie wiped her eyes on her gloves and reached under the tree. She pulled out a thin silver box that was tied with a thin white ribbon. She opened it and slid off the box top. “Oh,” she breathed. She pulled out a delicate silver necklace with a snowflake charm hanging off the thin chain. Clutching the necklace in her hand, she looked up the tree with tears in her eyes. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered. Then, holding her necklace carefully, she walked back to her dorm slowly.
The next day, Jadie drove to her parents home a few hours away. As soon as she walked in the door, she was swept into a whirlwind of hugs, kisses, presents and sit down dinners. Throughout the holiday, she touched her necklace several times. She couldn’t get Joe out of her mind.
On Christmas Eve, after all the younger children had been put to bed so her parents could play Santa, Jadie walked outside. She walked to the main street of her small town, to the main plaza where a tall tree stood in front of the courthouse. Staring at the tree, she sat on a bench and fingered her necklace. Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her and whirled around.
Joe stood behind her in the light of a street lamp. “Joe!”she exclaimed, running over to him. “How did you know I was here? How did you know where I lived? How did you find me? Why weren’t you there the last day of school?”
“You’re wearing the necklace,” Joe grinned broadly. Jadie looked down. “Oh yes,” she breathed, “It’s lovely. Thank you so much! But where were you? You just left me there!”
Joe laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was unavoidable. Tell me, how are you enjoying Christmas?”
“I love it!” she gushed. “It seems so much more real. Everywhere I go, I’m beginning to see signs. I’m beginning to see tiny gestures—a grandmother knitting a present for her grandchild, people caroling in the streets, shopkeepers giving treats to children. Everything seems so much brighter, so much kinder.”
“I’m glad,” Joe said, smiling softly. “I’m glad for you. I’m glad you believe in Christmas again.”
“But you’re not answering any of my questions!” she exclaimed. “How did you find me?”
Joe looked down and when his eyes rose, they looked sad. “I have something to tell you,” Joe said, looking in Jadie’s eyes. “I won’t be back next semester.”
“Why?” Jadie asked. “Did you flunk out?”
“No, nothing like that,” Joe said. “I’m not exactly a student.”
“So you lied?” Jadie said in disbelief. “You’re just pretending to take classes? For fun? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not exactly a person,” Joe said, smiling slightly at her. At her look of shock, he explained, “I’m a ghost.”
“But I can see you,” Jadie said. “I can touch you. You drank hot chocolate.”
“Kind of,” Joe said. “A lot of that was illusions, for your benefit. You see Jadie, I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present.”
Jadie felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. Not only had this guy stood her up, but he was lying to her. And a really stupid lie too.
“Oh God,” she said. “Couldn’t you have come up with something better than that? You have a girlfriend don’t you? Or you’re really old. You’re like 25, and a townie that hits on desperate college kids. That’s pathetic. That’s really pathetic.” Tears coming to her eyes, she began to walk away.
“My job is to make sure that people don’t lose their Christmas spirit,” Joe said, hurrying up next to her. “You were dangerously low on Christmas spirit. You needed my help. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Yea, whatever,” Jadie dismissed him. She began to walk quicker, the could stinging her cheeks.
“I can prove it,” Joe said, running up next to her. He held out his hand, and looked at her pleadingly. “Touch my hand.”
“No,” she said, walking quicker. “Go away. Just get away from me.” Joe sighed and walked up to her quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and whirling her around. Before she could say a word, he grabbed her cheeks. She gasped.
In an instant, she saw hundreds of families celebrating Christmas. She saw lonely women crying, and an old man staring wistfully into the fire. She saw children throwing temper tantrums over not getting enough presents, and one child receiving a battered bear as a gift and clutching it tightly to their chest. When he released her, she stared at him in shock.
“Why me?” she asked. “I’m just some bratty girl at college. Why not the old women, the sad old man, or that poor child with the teddy bear? Why not help them?”
“You needed it,” he said simply. “And now that you know, you can spread the cheer for others. You already have in some ways.” He smiled at her, and reached towards her snowflake.
“Remember all the fun we had,” he said, as he began to fade into the glow of the streetlight. “Remember our tree. And Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” Jadie said softly. She turned and walked back slowly to her house, thinking about what she had seen. When she reached the front door, she stopped and lifted her necklace to look at it. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered. “And a happy New Year.” As she stepped through the door, a single snowflake fell and touched her hair with a whisper.
Over the next few weeks, Joe and Jadie spent a lot of time together. He took her sledding in a fake snow park, since they were too far south for real snow. They walked in the country and decorated some real trees, placing stars at their top and giggling when birds tried to fly away with them. They volunteered at the animal shelter, helping convince people to adopt Christmas puppies and walking dozens of dogs. The last night before Jadie was to return home, Joe took her on a carriage ride downtown and bought her a cup of hot chocolate. She was so happy, she felt her toes lift off the sidewalk and float down the street.
Christmas had suddenly become very important to her. In a whirlwind, she decorated her dorm room, much to the amazement of her roommate, Maureen.
“But you’re leaving tomorrow,” Maureen sputtered. “What’s the point?”
“The point is Christmas!” Jadie had said, spinning around happily. “Isn’t this just the most wonderful time of the year?” Maureen had just laughed and called in some other girls to see how cheerful Jadie was.
Later that night, Jadie bundled up and went out on a walk through campus. The air had chilled considerably, and she walked with a spring in her step. Everywhere she looked she saw signs of Christmas, and it filled her heart with joy. She couldn’t wait to thank Joe for helping her see how wonderful Christmas could be again.
She walked to the enormous tree, and waited under it’s sweeping branches. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned around with a huge smile on her face, then stopped.
A boy she didn’t know was walking toward her, holding a white envelope. “Are you Jadie?” he asked. “Yes,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is for you,” he said, holding it out to her. “Where’s Joe?” she asked as she took the envelope. “I don’t know who Joe is,” the boy said. “I work at the front desk of the dorms, and there was a note to take this to a girl named Jadie. So, here you go.” The boy walked away.
Jadie walked to a bench under a street light and opened the envelope. She opened up an envelope that had been written in thick black ink.
“Dear Jadie,” the letter began. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you before you go home for Christmas. I know that you must be disappointed. However, I want you to remember the joy of Christmas. I want you to remember the look on that little girl’s face when you gave her a teddy bear. I want you to remember the laughter of your friends when you decorated your dorm. When you’re feeling down, I want you to think of our carriage ride through the city, and how your cheeks glowed when you drank the hot chocolate. When you think of Christmas, remember the joy you felt as you looked at our tree.” Jadie stopped to wipe tears from her eyes, sniffled, and kept reading.
“Under the tree, there’s a gift for you,” the letter continued. “Have a Merry Christmas. Love, Joe.”
Jadie wiped her eyes on her gloves and reached under the tree. She pulled out a thin silver box that was tied with a thin white ribbon. She opened it and slid off the box top. “Oh,” she breathed. She pulled out a delicate silver necklace with a snowflake charm hanging off the thin chain. Clutching the necklace in her hand, she looked up the tree with tears in her eyes. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered. Then, holding her necklace carefully, she walked back to her dorm slowly.
The next day, Jadie drove to her parents home a few hours away. As soon as she walked in the door, she was swept into a whirlwind of hugs, kisses, presents and sit down dinners. Throughout the holiday, she touched her necklace several times. She couldn’t get Joe out of her mind.
On Christmas Eve, after all the younger children had been put to bed so her parents could play Santa, Jadie walked outside. She walked to the main street of her small town, to the main plaza where a tall tree stood in front of the courthouse. Staring at the tree, she sat on a bench and fingered her necklace. Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her and whirled around.
Joe stood behind her in the light of a street lamp. “Joe!”she exclaimed, running over to him. “How did you know I was here? How did you know where I lived? How did you find me? Why weren’t you there the last day of school?”
“You’re wearing the necklace,” Joe grinned broadly. Jadie looked down. “Oh yes,” she breathed, “It’s lovely. Thank you so much! But where were you? You just left me there!”
Joe laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was unavoidable. Tell me, how are you enjoying Christmas?”
“I love it!” she gushed. “It seems so much more real. Everywhere I go, I’m beginning to see signs. I’m beginning to see tiny gestures—a grandmother knitting a present for her grandchild, people caroling in the streets, shopkeepers giving treats to children. Everything seems so much brighter, so much kinder.”
“I’m glad,” Joe said, smiling softly. “I’m glad for you. I’m glad you believe in Christmas again.”
“But you’re not answering any of my questions!” she exclaimed. “How did you find me?”
Joe looked down and when his eyes rose, they looked sad. “I have something to tell you,” Joe said, looking in Jadie’s eyes. “I won’t be back next semester.”
“Why?” Jadie asked. “Did you flunk out?”
“No, nothing like that,” Joe said. “I’m not exactly a student.”
“So you lied?” Jadie said in disbelief. “You’re just pretending to take classes? For fun? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not exactly a person,” Joe said, smiling slightly at her. At her look of shock, he explained, “I’m a ghost.”
“But I can see you,” Jadie said. “I can touch you. You drank hot chocolate.”
“Kind of,” Joe said. “A lot of that was illusions, for your benefit. You see Jadie, I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present.”
Jadie felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. Not only had this guy stood her up, but he was lying to her. And a really stupid lie too.
“Oh God,” she said. “Couldn’t you have come up with something better than that? You have a girlfriend don’t you? Or you’re really old. You’re like 25, and a townie that hits on desperate college kids. That’s pathetic. That’s really pathetic.” Tears coming to her eyes, she began to walk away.
“My job is to make sure that people don’t lose their Christmas spirit,” Joe said, hurrying up next to her. “You were dangerously low on Christmas spirit. You needed my help. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Yea, whatever,” Jadie dismissed him. She began to walk quicker, the could stinging her cheeks.
“I can prove it,” Joe said, running up next to her. He held out his hand, and looked at her pleadingly. “Touch my hand.”
“No,” she said, walking quicker. “Go away. Just get away from me.” Joe sighed and walked up to her quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and whirling her around. Before she could say a word, he grabbed her cheeks. She gasped.
In an instant, she saw hundreds of families celebrating Christmas. She saw lonely women crying, and an old man staring wistfully into the fire. She saw children throwing temper tantrums over not getting enough presents, and one child receiving a battered bear as a gift and clutching it tightly to their chest. When he released her, she stared at him in shock.
“Why me?” she asked. “I’m just some bratty girl at college. Why not the old women, the sad old man, or that poor child with the teddy bear? Why not help them?”
“You needed it,” he said simply. “And now that you know, you can spread the cheer for others. You already have in some ways.” He smiled at her, and reached towards her snowflake.
“Remember all the fun we had,” he said, as he began to fade into the glow of the streetlight. “Remember our tree. And Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” Jadie said softly. She turned and walked back slowly to her house, thinking about what she had seen. When she reached the front door, she stopped and lifted her necklace to look at it. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered. “And a happy New Year.” As she stepped through the door, a single snowflake fell and touched her hair with a whisper.
Monday, December 18, 2006
The Christmas Tree
Here's the second in a series of Christmas stories I wrote... let me know what you think.... I'm curious! I need comments!
Jadie didn’t know what to think. She sat in her empty dormroom, staring out the window at her dorm mates going nuts on the sunroof. They were shouting and laughing as they threw snowballs at each other, tackling each other and squealing as they ducked behind lawn chairs. It didn’t snow often in Texas, so when it did it was a real treat. It was even a bigger treat when it meant blowing off studying for finals to throw a few snowballs.
She sighed and looked down at her textbook. The last thing Jadie wanted to do was study environmental science. She longed to go run and laugh with the other girls, but she didn’t feel welcome. They had invited her of course, but she had declined. Rather, she scowled at them and had said snippily, “I have to study. One of us has to get good grades around here.” As the girls rolled their eyes, she had stared at her roommate and asked, “Don’t you have a scholarship to maintain, Maureen?” Maureen had avoided her eyes and mumbled something about needing a break, slipping out the door with the other girls.
Now Jadie was alone, feeling like Scrooge. Nothing felt right this year. College didn’t feel right, home didn’t feel right, and Christmas didn’t feel right. She hadn’t bothered to decorate her dorm room since she was going home for Christmas. What was the point? Even if it was only a few weeks until Christmas, it felt so far away. For some reason, Jadie couldn’t gather any Christmas spirit. Jadie had always loved Christmas. When she was younger she would start shopping for presents in July, and playing Christmas music right after July. But now, it just seemed empty. It felt like Christmas was missing this year.
Everywhere Jadie looked, all she saw was commercialism. Ads screaming about pre-lit plastic trees, fake wreaths and tons of decorations that you needed for a true Christmas haunted her dreams. She cringed at the sight of sales and shop displays advertising new fun gifts. Her shopping had been done in October on the Internet to avoid the holiday crowds and bad Christmas music. The whole affair simply left her feeling empty. Was Christmas just turning into an excuse to buy things and eat a lot of food? All her suitemates were stressed, her parents were stressed and everyone walked around with a scowl on their face. How could that be Christmas?
Grabbing her coat, Jadie went for a walk. If everyone else could goof off, so could she, she thought bitterly. She clomped downstairs and walked to the center of campus. Soon, she forgot about her troubles and her unhappiness. She was too busy looking at the decorations, and the enormous Christmas tree in the middle of campus. The single tree standing regally in the middle of the square, elegantly decorated, made her feel peaceful. It made her feel at home.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jadie jumped, clutching her hands to her chest. A cute boy stood staring at her grinning. He was one of those guys that looked like a football player, and meant trouble. Jadie scowled at him. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” the boy said, smiling. “But it’s beautiful isn’t it?”
“Yea,” Jadie looked up, the moonlight lighting her face. “It’s peaceful.”
“I think it’s more truthful,” the boy said thoughtfully. “It’s real. It means something. It really makes you feel like Christmas.”
Jadie looked at him strangely. “That’s strange. I thought the same thing.” The boy grinned at her. “Maybe we just both understand Christmas.”
“Maybe,” Jadie said, looking at the tree. Even with the decorations, the tree seemed simple, real and true. It stood regally, the ornaments reflecting silently in the moonlight.
“What brought you out here?” she asked the strange boy. “It’s late, you know.”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said easily, fingering an ornament. “Girls don’t usually come to look at trees this time of night.”
“I just—I just needed a break,” she sighed. The tightness she felt in her chest felt like it would almost explode. She could feel the words wanting to flow from her lips, but she held back. She didn’t want to spill her guts to a complete stranger.
“Understandable,” he said quietly. He played with some of the ornaments and stayed thoughtfully quiet. Slowly, Jadie could feel herself relaxing like she hadn’t in a long time.
“It just feels so fake,” she said slowly. “Christmas, I mean. It just feels like it’s all about presents, big light displays and fake trees. Nothing seems real. People don’t even seem to enjoy it anymore, you know? It’s not even about getting someone a gift, it’s about getting someone the gift. If it’s not perfect and doesn’t cost hundreds of dollars, it doesn’t mean anything. And that’s just so—“
“Wrong?” the boy finished, nodding slightly.
“Yes!” Jadie exclaimed, feeling all the emotion explode from her chest. She immediately felt lighter, almost as if her toes could lift off the ground. “I feel so much better,” she admitted. “I’ve been wanting to talk to someone about that for a long time.”
“I’m glad you could talk,” the boy smiled. “I hope you feel better.”
“I do,” she said, smiling. When the boy remained quiet for a few moments, she felt anxious. “What do you like about Christmas?” she asked awkwardly.
“Everything,” he said simply. Jadie looked at him funny. “How can you like everything?” she asked. “I thought you just agreed there’s too much commercialism.”
“There is,” he said easily. “Nothing is perfect. Every holiday, person, animal and plant isn’t perfect. They all have the good, and they all have their bad. Sure, there may be too much commercialism. Sure, people use the holidays as an excuse to one-up each other just to feel superior, or make people feel badly about themselves. Sure, there’s lonely people or people who are missing family members over the holidays. But there’s so many good things about Christmas—the love, the laughter, the sharing, the generosity and just the spirit, that it makes all that ok. If you concentrate on the bad, nothing will ever seem good. There’s no point in making the world more depressing than it already is.”
Jadie sat quietly for a few minutes. “I never thought about that,” she said, rubbing her head. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Let me help,” the boy said, smiling at her. “Let me show you Christmas as I see it. That may help you get some of your Christmas spirit back.”
“I doubt it,” she said under her breath. Still, she couldn’t help smiling, really smiling, at him. “Let’s give it a shot!”
“Good,” the boy said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jadie smiled and watched him walk away, when she suddenly gasped.
“Wait!” she cried, running after him. “I don’t know your name!”
“I’m Joe,” he said, turning back around to smile at her. “And you’re Jadie.” Startled, she stared at him. “I never told you my name,” she said suspiciously. “How did you know that?” “It’s a college campus,” he shot back. “Things get around.”
To be continued....
Jadie didn’t know what to think. She sat in her empty dormroom, staring out the window at her dorm mates going nuts on the sunroof. They were shouting and laughing as they threw snowballs at each other, tackling each other and squealing as they ducked behind lawn chairs. It didn’t snow often in Texas, so when it did it was a real treat. It was even a bigger treat when it meant blowing off studying for finals to throw a few snowballs.
She sighed and looked down at her textbook. The last thing Jadie wanted to do was study environmental science. She longed to go run and laugh with the other girls, but she didn’t feel welcome. They had invited her of course, but she had declined. Rather, she scowled at them and had said snippily, “I have to study. One of us has to get good grades around here.” As the girls rolled their eyes, she had stared at her roommate and asked, “Don’t you have a scholarship to maintain, Maureen?” Maureen had avoided her eyes and mumbled something about needing a break, slipping out the door with the other girls.
Now Jadie was alone, feeling like Scrooge. Nothing felt right this year. College didn’t feel right, home didn’t feel right, and Christmas didn’t feel right. She hadn’t bothered to decorate her dorm room since she was going home for Christmas. What was the point? Even if it was only a few weeks until Christmas, it felt so far away. For some reason, Jadie couldn’t gather any Christmas spirit. Jadie had always loved Christmas. When she was younger she would start shopping for presents in July, and playing Christmas music right after July. But now, it just seemed empty. It felt like Christmas was missing this year.
Everywhere Jadie looked, all she saw was commercialism. Ads screaming about pre-lit plastic trees, fake wreaths and tons of decorations that you needed for a true Christmas haunted her dreams. She cringed at the sight of sales and shop displays advertising new fun gifts. Her shopping had been done in October on the Internet to avoid the holiday crowds and bad Christmas music. The whole affair simply left her feeling empty. Was Christmas just turning into an excuse to buy things and eat a lot of food? All her suitemates were stressed, her parents were stressed and everyone walked around with a scowl on their face. How could that be Christmas?
Grabbing her coat, Jadie went for a walk. If everyone else could goof off, so could she, she thought bitterly. She clomped downstairs and walked to the center of campus. Soon, she forgot about her troubles and her unhappiness. She was too busy looking at the decorations, and the enormous Christmas tree in the middle of campus. The single tree standing regally in the middle of the square, elegantly decorated, made her feel peaceful. It made her feel at home.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jadie jumped, clutching her hands to her chest. A cute boy stood staring at her grinning. He was one of those guys that looked like a football player, and meant trouble. Jadie scowled at him. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” the boy said, smiling. “But it’s beautiful isn’t it?”
“Yea,” Jadie looked up, the moonlight lighting her face. “It’s peaceful.”
“I think it’s more truthful,” the boy said thoughtfully. “It’s real. It means something. It really makes you feel like Christmas.”
Jadie looked at him strangely. “That’s strange. I thought the same thing.” The boy grinned at her. “Maybe we just both understand Christmas.”
“Maybe,” Jadie said, looking at the tree. Even with the decorations, the tree seemed simple, real and true. It stood regally, the ornaments reflecting silently in the moonlight.
“What brought you out here?” she asked the strange boy. “It’s late, you know.”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said easily, fingering an ornament. “Girls don’t usually come to look at trees this time of night.”
“I just—I just needed a break,” she sighed. The tightness she felt in her chest felt like it would almost explode. She could feel the words wanting to flow from her lips, but she held back. She didn’t want to spill her guts to a complete stranger.
“Understandable,” he said quietly. He played with some of the ornaments and stayed thoughtfully quiet. Slowly, Jadie could feel herself relaxing like she hadn’t in a long time.
“It just feels so fake,” she said slowly. “Christmas, I mean. It just feels like it’s all about presents, big light displays and fake trees. Nothing seems real. People don’t even seem to enjoy it anymore, you know? It’s not even about getting someone a gift, it’s about getting someone the gift. If it’s not perfect and doesn’t cost hundreds of dollars, it doesn’t mean anything. And that’s just so—“
“Wrong?” the boy finished, nodding slightly.
“Yes!” Jadie exclaimed, feeling all the emotion explode from her chest. She immediately felt lighter, almost as if her toes could lift off the ground. “I feel so much better,” she admitted. “I’ve been wanting to talk to someone about that for a long time.”
“I’m glad you could talk,” the boy smiled. “I hope you feel better.”
“I do,” she said, smiling. When the boy remained quiet for a few moments, she felt anxious. “What do you like about Christmas?” she asked awkwardly.
“Everything,” he said simply. Jadie looked at him funny. “How can you like everything?” she asked. “I thought you just agreed there’s too much commercialism.”
“There is,” he said easily. “Nothing is perfect. Every holiday, person, animal and plant isn’t perfect. They all have the good, and they all have their bad. Sure, there may be too much commercialism. Sure, people use the holidays as an excuse to one-up each other just to feel superior, or make people feel badly about themselves. Sure, there’s lonely people or people who are missing family members over the holidays. But there’s so many good things about Christmas—the love, the laughter, the sharing, the generosity and just the spirit, that it makes all that ok. If you concentrate on the bad, nothing will ever seem good. There’s no point in making the world more depressing than it already is.”
Jadie sat quietly for a few minutes. “I never thought about that,” she said, rubbing her head. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Let me help,” the boy said, smiling at her. “Let me show you Christmas as I see it. That may help you get some of your Christmas spirit back.”
“I doubt it,” she said under her breath. Still, she couldn’t help smiling, really smiling, at him. “Let’s give it a shot!”
“Good,” the boy said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jadie smiled and watched him walk away, when she suddenly gasped.
“Wait!” she cried, running after him. “I don’t know your name!”
“I’m Joe,” he said, turning back around to smile at her. “And you’re Jadie.” Startled, she stared at him. “I never told you my name,” she said suspiciously. “How did you know that?” “It’s a college campus,” he shot back. “Things get around.”
To be continued....
Saturday, December 16, 2006
The Big House
"I've got to escape," the cricket said to himself. "This life isn't for me, man. I didn't do anything to deserve this. It wasn't my fault."
"You can't escape," a dying fly said weakly from the bottom of the abyss. "The gates rarely open. The poison, the poison seeps into you. It kills you man. It kills you."
"I can survive!" the cricket snapped. "This isn't my fault. It was my circumstances. I was trying to better myself."
"By breaking and entering?" the warden, a fuzzy black spider by the name of, well, Fuzzy, sneered. "You got a lot to learn boy."
"I'll be good," the cricket pleaded. "I swear. I'll make a difference. I'll live in a halfway house."
"Our halfway house got destroyed in the storm of Wednesday," Fuzzy said. "We had to switch it to a temporary pot, and it's not ready for any new inmates. There's already four spiders, a cricket and a bee living there. They're overrun."
The cricket looked out at the open sky desperately. There was a huge pile of trash just waiting for him to frolic in. There was tons of dust to kick his heels up and twirl about. And oh, the best thing of all. The thing that had him salivating at the screen that prevented his escape into the world: there was a tree. A tall, glorious tree that did not attract birds. That tree would be his.
But how should he escape? He had no teeth to chew, and he had sung all night to no avail. His tiny feet clung desperately to the screen as the wind blew. Perhaps fortune would smile on him and the screen would shake lose.
"All is lost," the fly down below intoned, twitching on the metal door frame. "The darkness is coming. All is lostttt."
"You're really depressing, you know that?" the cricket snapped.
"Sorry!" the fly sighed. "Where's a toad to put me out of my misery? Where's the toad that lives by the air conditioning?"
"He's working today," Fuzzy the spider said.
After what seemed an eternity of torture, the cricket's miracle had arrived. The screen door was opened, and now the entire world was open to him. The trash was available to roll around in. The dust was swirling about, just waiting to be twirled in. And the tree, the big bird-free tree, was waiting with open branches.
And the cricket couldn't move. He just clung to the door.
"What are you waiting for?" Fuzzy said.
"I don't know," the cricket said. "I believe I'm stuck."
"Well, just let go," Fuzzy said.
"I'm not ready yet," the cricket said through gritted teeth.
A few minutes later, Fuzzy asked again. "Ready now?"
"Nope," the cricket said.
An hour or so passed. "Ready now?" the fly asked.
"Nope," the cricket said.
The afternoon began to turn dark with the beginnings of dusk. "Ready now?" Fuzzy said.
"Getting there," the cricket said, still clutching on to the screen for dear life.
After the sun had set, the fly had gone to bed for the night and Fuzzy had gone home to his 80 children. Finally, the cricket said to no one in particular, "I'm ready."
And with that, he flew into the night into his big friendly tree, and settled in for his first night as a free bug.
"You can't escape," a dying fly said weakly from the bottom of the abyss. "The gates rarely open. The poison, the poison seeps into you. It kills you man. It kills you."
"I can survive!" the cricket snapped. "This isn't my fault. It was my circumstances. I was trying to better myself."
"By breaking and entering?" the warden, a fuzzy black spider by the name of, well, Fuzzy, sneered. "You got a lot to learn boy."
"I'll be good," the cricket pleaded. "I swear. I'll make a difference. I'll live in a halfway house."
"Our halfway house got destroyed in the storm of Wednesday," Fuzzy said. "We had to switch it to a temporary pot, and it's not ready for any new inmates. There's already four spiders, a cricket and a bee living there. They're overrun."
The cricket looked out at the open sky desperately. There was a huge pile of trash just waiting for him to frolic in. There was tons of dust to kick his heels up and twirl about. And oh, the best thing of all. The thing that had him salivating at the screen that prevented his escape into the world: there was a tree. A tall, glorious tree that did not attract birds. That tree would be his.
But how should he escape? He had no teeth to chew, and he had sung all night to no avail. His tiny feet clung desperately to the screen as the wind blew. Perhaps fortune would smile on him and the screen would shake lose.
"All is lost," the fly down below intoned, twitching on the metal door frame. "The darkness is coming. All is lostttt."
"You're really depressing, you know that?" the cricket snapped.
"Sorry!" the fly sighed. "Where's a toad to put me out of my misery? Where's the toad that lives by the air conditioning?"
"He's working today," Fuzzy the spider said.
After what seemed an eternity of torture, the cricket's miracle had arrived. The screen door was opened, and now the entire world was open to him. The trash was available to roll around in. The dust was swirling about, just waiting to be twirled in. And the tree, the big bird-free tree, was waiting with open branches.
And the cricket couldn't move. He just clung to the door.
"What are you waiting for?" Fuzzy said.
"I don't know," the cricket said. "I believe I'm stuck."
"Well, just let go," Fuzzy said.
"I'm not ready yet," the cricket said through gritted teeth.
A few minutes later, Fuzzy asked again. "Ready now?"
"Nope," the cricket said.
An hour or so passed. "Ready now?" the fly asked.
"Nope," the cricket said.
The afternoon began to turn dark with the beginnings of dusk. "Ready now?" Fuzzy said.
"Getting there," the cricket said, still clutching on to the screen for dear life.
After the sun had set, the fly had gone to bed for the night and Fuzzy had gone home to his 80 children. Finally, the cricket said to no one in particular, "I'm ready."
And with that, he flew into the night into his big friendly tree, and settled in for his first night as a free bug.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Bird Brains
Arguing with birds is worse than arguing with a pig. Not only do the birds not enjoy it, they do not understand what you are arguing about in the first place.
On my walk today, I encountered dozens of birds lurking in the trees. In a shot, they would fly off in a large black cloud and return just as suddenly, peering down at me from the sparse branches.
As they cocked their heads at me, I stared back. Challenged, one of the birds stuck his neck out at me. I raised an eyebrow. He protruded his beak. I glared.
"You can't glare at me!" he said indignantly.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I have to glare at you."
"Why?" I asked.
"I'm intimidating," he said. "We all are. See how intimidating we look? Aren't you scared we'll peck out your eyes?" They all peered down at me menacing, acting as one giant black bird.
"No," I said bluntly. "How can I be scared at something that steals McDonald's french fries?"
The bird gasped and looked around. "Which one of you did it?" he asked sharply. "You know how bad that hurts our reputation. How can we be terrifying with a french fry hanging out of our beak?"
"Especially a french fry that is half-nibbled and has fallen from a toddler's grasp," I said, laughing. "That's so tough I'm just shaking."
"This is humiliating," the bird said, shaking his head as his companions squawked their defenses.
"It was tasty!" they shouted. "There haven't been bugs for weeks!"
"Then starve!" the bird shouted. "I can not be a part of this batch of bird brains anymore." He dramatically flew off into the grey sky, which immediately darkened. The birds followed him, flapping behind him in a panic.
"Wait up!" "Wait for me!" "Don't leave us!" "Oh, another french fry." "Don't eat it." "Score ten points for the windshield!"
As I walked back, I couldn't help but laugh. Arguing with a pig may be like wrestling in the mud, but arguing with a bird is far more interesting.
On my walk today, I encountered dozens of birds lurking in the trees. In a shot, they would fly off in a large black cloud and return just as suddenly, peering down at me from the sparse branches.
As they cocked their heads at me, I stared back. Challenged, one of the birds stuck his neck out at me. I raised an eyebrow. He protruded his beak. I glared.
"You can't glare at me!" he said indignantly.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I have to glare at you."
"Why?" I asked.
"I'm intimidating," he said. "We all are. See how intimidating we look? Aren't you scared we'll peck out your eyes?" They all peered down at me menacing, acting as one giant black bird.
"No," I said bluntly. "How can I be scared at something that steals McDonald's french fries?"
The bird gasped and looked around. "Which one of you did it?" he asked sharply. "You know how bad that hurts our reputation. How can we be terrifying with a french fry hanging out of our beak?"
"Especially a french fry that is half-nibbled and has fallen from a toddler's grasp," I said, laughing. "That's so tough I'm just shaking."
"This is humiliating," the bird said, shaking his head as his companions squawked their defenses.
"It was tasty!" they shouted. "There haven't been bugs for weeks!"
"Then starve!" the bird shouted. "I can not be a part of this batch of bird brains anymore." He dramatically flew off into the grey sky, which immediately darkened. The birds followed him, flapping behind him in a panic.
"Wait up!" "Wait for me!" "Don't leave us!" "Oh, another french fry." "Don't eat it." "Score ten points for the windshield!"
As I walked back, I couldn't help but laugh. Arguing with a pig may be like wrestling in the mud, but arguing with a bird is far more interesting.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Flutter
Today, I had a mission. I was out to find an animal friend. During the summer, I had been visited by lizards, Water Cooler Ants, squirrels, birds and most of all, the butterflies. The butterflies had been a constant companion.
When the cold front hit San Antonio, the butterflies disappeared. They floated south to a warmer place, prepared to hide in cocoons and bury away from the winter weather. I knew they would return in the spring, but I still felt an empty ache where their presence had been. There were no more mystical moments, no more symphonies of whispering winds around my ears. It was eerily silent, and had been for some time.
Depressed at even the lack of squirrels prancing around our yard, my walks had become completely devoid of fuzziness. The most I had to work with was some weeds and dandelions, and even those had sharp leaves. The only fuzziness in my December was that of the blanket on my couch.
So I set off on a search for some companionship. I searched through grass, tree leaves and behind my house. My backyard offered up a few worms and several black birds, who I suspected, weren't there to simply say hello. My front yard offered dead flowers and half dead bushes, with an occasional fly or mouth. Around my work, the stray dog had quit coming and everything was covered in cement. The Water Cooler ants had moved away, and the Cricket had silenced himself. Slow slipping into madness, I considered adopting a pet rock I found on the sidewalk. Maybe he could be a creature of limestone, and offer some wisdom and knowledge.
On one of my daily walks, I was kicking about some small pebbles when a flash of yellow flew by my eye. Could it be? My head whipped around. It was!
A bright yellow butterfly fluttered around my head and landed on the dandelions on the sidewalk.
"You're back!" I cried joyfully. "I've been so depressed without you!"
"It's Christmas!" the butterfly said, raising his imaginary eyebrow at me. "How can anyone be depressed at Christmas?"
"Well, I'm not depressed about Christmas," I stuttered. "I was sad that I didn't have any animals to talk to."
"Well, it's Christmas," the butterfly said again. "Do you not think animals celebrate Christmas?"
"Do animals celebrate Christmas?" I asked curiously.
"Why shouldn't they?" the butterfly said. "Humans assign their own meanings to holidays. Sometimes, holidays are greater than humans imagine. Did you know for example, that penguins celebrate Christmas by having a feast of seaweed and salmon?"
"I did not," I said, fascinated. "How do you celebrate Christmas?"
"I flutter through the sky," the butterfly said, flying around my head and grasping the ends of my hair with his tiny feet. "I dance on the wind. Sometimes, I swing on the leaves of long grass and gorge myself on Hyacinthia honey. It's a special treat."
"Don't you always flutter?" I asked as his wings tickled my face.
"Don't you always eat?" he countered. "Just because you do something a lot doesn't mean it can't be special some of the time."
I nodded, smiling. The wide blue sky and sunshine beat down on my face, and I could barely hear the butterfly's tiny sighs.
"It is time for me to return," the butterfly said, stepping gracefully in the breeze. "I will see you again."
Instead of feeling a sense of loss, I felt rejuvenated. "Merry Christmas!" I shouted to the breeze, watching the tiny speck of yellow until it disappeared from sight.
As the wind blew by my ear, I heard his reply.
"And a happy New Year!"
When the cold front hit San Antonio, the butterflies disappeared. They floated south to a warmer place, prepared to hide in cocoons and bury away from the winter weather. I knew they would return in the spring, but I still felt an empty ache where their presence had been. There were no more mystical moments, no more symphonies of whispering winds around my ears. It was eerily silent, and had been for some time.
Depressed at even the lack of squirrels prancing around our yard, my walks had become completely devoid of fuzziness. The most I had to work with was some weeds and dandelions, and even those had sharp leaves. The only fuzziness in my December was that of the blanket on my couch.
So I set off on a search for some companionship. I searched through grass, tree leaves and behind my house. My backyard offered up a few worms and several black birds, who I suspected, weren't there to simply say hello. My front yard offered dead flowers and half dead bushes, with an occasional fly or mouth. Around my work, the stray dog had quit coming and everything was covered in cement. The Water Cooler ants had moved away, and the Cricket had silenced himself. Slow slipping into madness, I considered adopting a pet rock I found on the sidewalk. Maybe he could be a creature of limestone, and offer some wisdom and knowledge.
On one of my daily walks, I was kicking about some small pebbles when a flash of yellow flew by my eye. Could it be? My head whipped around. It was!
A bright yellow butterfly fluttered around my head and landed on the dandelions on the sidewalk.
"You're back!" I cried joyfully. "I've been so depressed without you!"
"It's Christmas!" the butterfly said, raising his imaginary eyebrow at me. "How can anyone be depressed at Christmas?"
"Well, I'm not depressed about Christmas," I stuttered. "I was sad that I didn't have any animals to talk to."
"Well, it's Christmas," the butterfly said again. "Do you not think animals celebrate Christmas?"
"Do animals celebrate Christmas?" I asked curiously.
"Why shouldn't they?" the butterfly said. "Humans assign their own meanings to holidays. Sometimes, holidays are greater than humans imagine. Did you know for example, that penguins celebrate Christmas by having a feast of seaweed and salmon?"
"I did not," I said, fascinated. "How do you celebrate Christmas?"
"I flutter through the sky," the butterfly said, flying around my head and grasping the ends of my hair with his tiny feet. "I dance on the wind. Sometimes, I swing on the leaves of long grass and gorge myself on Hyacinthia honey. It's a special treat."
"Don't you always flutter?" I asked as his wings tickled my face.
"Don't you always eat?" he countered. "Just because you do something a lot doesn't mean it can't be special some of the time."
I nodded, smiling. The wide blue sky and sunshine beat down on my face, and I could barely hear the butterfly's tiny sighs.
"It is time for me to return," the butterfly said, stepping gracefully in the breeze. "I will see you again."
Instead of feeling a sense of loss, I felt rejuvenated. "Merry Christmas!" I shouted to the breeze, watching the tiny speck of yellow until it disappeared from sight.
As the wind blew by my ear, I heard his reply.
"And a happy New Year!"
Monday, December 11, 2006
Hey, Cinderella
On a cool night, I gingerly stepped outside in my heels. With my blue satin dress swirling around me and my pretend-diamond studs at my ears, I was Cinderella going to the ball. I swirled around as I clutched my purse, imagining dancing during the night. As I swirled between our cars in the garage, my heels began to twirl on a wooden floor. The band played slow jazz as I whisked about, spinning carefully through the crowds of people. My dress began to flare as I stopped in a pose.
"Get in the car before you freeze!" the cruel voice of reality broke my thoughts. "Let's go get some num-nums!"
We drove to the restaurant and enjoyed a lovely dinner. It wasn't easy to be Cinderella during dinner because my wool coat was itching my shoulders. The coarse fibers of the fabric were raking my skin out of spite.
After parking at the company building and taking a shuttle, I realized it is hard to be Cinderella when you are clomping through a parking lot downhill. As I did reverse lunges down a cement mountain, I prayed the straps on my shoes wouldn't break. I could see a disaster coming before me.
Clutching Ben's arm as we entered the convention center, I breathed a sigh of relief. The room was warm and open, with tons of people milling around. I shed my coat at the coat rack and stuffed Ben's pockets with my camera and lip gloss. For princesses in training, it is not easy being Cinderella while lugging around a camera.
As we walked around the event, acrobats spun through the air and ballerinas tiptoed over to us on 6-foot tall stilts. Jugglers were covered in florescent lights as bands played in the background. People danced, people ate and people watched in fascination as performers dangled from high in the air.
During the event, I decided it was time to take a journey. Seeking sugary smackerals, I wound my way through the crowds while I peered at the tables. Plates full of roast beef, potatoes, breads and delicious fruit lay before me. However, I declined them all in search of my sweet morsels. Gracefully dodging the crowd, I spun through crowds of people who all stared at me. At first, I was embarrassed. As a princess should not do, I had been worried about my outfit and had worried I would be under dressed. Now however, I spun through the crowd, pirouetting on my silver heels. With grace and ease I have not had since, well, ever, I danced my way to the dessert table.
And what lay before me but enough sugar to corrupt an entire preschool! Thick slices of cake and large bars of fudge lay appetizingly on silver platters. Basking in the glow of sugar, I walked around the table like a vulture, licking my lips. Suddenly- people swarmed the table. Hands appeared out of folds of dark cloth, plucking the culinary delights off their trays. The cookies were threatened! The cookies were threatened! I must save the cookies and protect their fragile exteriors from the clutching hands of the masses! How could people who had inhaled an entire roast beef appreciate the delicacy of a cookie? It was my quest to save them! I clutched a plate and saved the ones I could, beating a hasty retreat to the safety of my table. There, we were safe from the clutches of the sweet- stealers.
Soon, the night came to a peaceful end. We said good bye to the ballerinas and the stilt performers and waved farewell to the table of sweets. I was whisked back home by a shuttle and carried off to bed in a grey Jetta, where I settled in for a long sleep next to a handsome prince.
And when I awoke, I was no longer a princess clad in billowy gowns with grace and ease. I was the Blonde Duck, slapping at a hysterical alarm clock and wondering why I could not convince myself to sleep for a little longer.
However, deep inside the camera tucked away in my purse, the princess smiles. In there, she still exists, just waiting to return one day.
"Get in the car before you freeze!" the cruel voice of reality broke my thoughts. "Let's go get some num-nums!"
We drove to the restaurant and enjoyed a lovely dinner. It wasn't easy to be Cinderella during dinner because my wool coat was itching my shoulders. The coarse fibers of the fabric were raking my skin out of spite.
After parking at the company building and taking a shuttle, I realized it is hard to be Cinderella when you are clomping through a parking lot downhill. As I did reverse lunges down a cement mountain, I prayed the straps on my shoes wouldn't break. I could see a disaster coming before me.
Clutching Ben's arm as we entered the convention center, I breathed a sigh of relief. The room was warm and open, with tons of people milling around. I shed my coat at the coat rack and stuffed Ben's pockets with my camera and lip gloss. For princesses in training, it is not easy being Cinderella while lugging around a camera.
As we walked around the event, acrobats spun through the air and ballerinas tiptoed over to us on 6-foot tall stilts. Jugglers were covered in florescent lights as bands played in the background. People danced, people ate and people watched in fascination as performers dangled from high in the air.
During the event, I decided it was time to take a journey. Seeking sugary smackerals, I wound my way through the crowds while I peered at the tables. Plates full of roast beef, potatoes, breads and delicious fruit lay before me. However, I declined them all in search of my sweet morsels. Gracefully dodging the crowd, I spun through crowds of people who all stared at me. At first, I was embarrassed. As a princess should not do, I had been worried about my outfit and had worried I would be under dressed. Now however, I spun through the crowd, pirouetting on my silver heels. With grace and ease I have not had since, well, ever, I danced my way to the dessert table.
And what lay before me but enough sugar to corrupt an entire preschool! Thick slices of cake and large bars of fudge lay appetizingly on silver platters. Basking in the glow of sugar, I walked around the table like a vulture, licking my lips. Suddenly- people swarmed the table. Hands appeared out of folds of dark cloth, plucking the culinary delights off their trays. The cookies were threatened! The cookies were threatened! I must save the cookies and protect their fragile exteriors from the clutching hands of the masses! How could people who had inhaled an entire roast beef appreciate the delicacy of a cookie? It was my quest to save them! I clutched a plate and saved the ones I could, beating a hasty retreat to the safety of my table. There, we were safe from the clutches of the sweet- stealers.
Soon, the night came to a peaceful end. We said good bye to the ballerinas and the stilt performers and waved farewell to the table of sweets. I was whisked back home by a shuttle and carried off to bed in a grey Jetta, where I settled in for a long sleep next to a handsome prince.
And when I awoke, I was no longer a princess clad in billowy gowns with grace and ease. I was the Blonde Duck, slapping at a hysterical alarm clock and wondering why I could not convince myself to sleep for a little longer.
However, deep inside the camera tucked away in my purse, the princess smiles. In there, she still exists, just waiting to return one day.
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