Monday, September 6, 2010
Just a heads up
The first two stories down are both love stories I had to write for creative writing...if that (like prostitution) is not your bag, just skip over those two and you should find some better ones. Also, if you're not a softball player, skip over 31 more flavors of dialogue but for sure check out 31 flavors of dialogue. Thanks!
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Amusing Anecdote
Miranda: I left my phone in coach's car! I won't get it back until tomorrow afternoon!
Me: I should send it dirty text messages!
Miranda: Do it!
Me: "Hey Randa, I got him as he was leaving that whore's budoir. He never saw it coming. Thanks for letting me borrow the silencer for the .22, my only problem is that I still have the body and he only had 23 of the 50 g's he owes me. No doubt he overpaid that hooker for a few extra minutes in paradise. No problem, I'll take care of her after my deal with C-daddy goes down in a few hours. But hey, I need to borrow that woodcutter you used to take care of Dinunzio last week. The bastard's body won't fit in the body bag I bought from Home Depot last week. Thanks dollface."
Me: I should send it dirty text messages!
Miranda: Do it!
Me: "Hey Randa, I got him as he was leaving that whore's budoir. He never saw it coming. Thanks for letting me borrow the silencer for the .22, my only problem is that I still have the body and he only had 23 of the 50 g's he owes me. No doubt he overpaid that hooker for a few extra minutes in paradise. No problem, I'll take care of her after my deal with C-daddy goes down in a few hours. But hey, I need to borrow that woodcutter you used to take care of Dinunzio last week. The bastard's body won't fit in the body bag I bought from Home Depot last week. Thanks dollface."
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
With Everything I Have
With Everything I Have
A beautiful young woman is on a front porch, pacing back and forth. She finally decides to knock, but there is no answer. She knocks again.
Kristen: Nick! I know you're in there. I can see your car in the driveway. Please, open the door. I need to talk to you.
Silence
Kristen: Nick! Answer the door!
After another brief delay, a young, attractive man opens up the door a crack but doesn't speak.
Kristen: [suddenly unsure of herself] Hey, um, how's it going?
Nick moves to shut the door in her face.
Kristen: Wait, Nick, don't! Please, I need you. I need you with everything I have.
Nick stops in his tracks, frozen by the familiar line.
Kristen: Please, please, come talk to me.
Reluctantly, Nick comes outside and shuts the door quickly. He stands with his hands in his pockets, determined to remain stonily silent.
Kristen: You look well.
Nick: Kristen, what are you doing here?
Kristen: I, well, I...uh...Marty...
Nick: I should have known.
Kristen: It's not like that, I swear!
Nick: Marty dumped you, didn't he? Yeah, he did. And now you're here because you're lonely and pathetic and you expect me to take you back. I told you he didn't love you. I told you he would never love you, no one would ever love you, not like I did. But you didn't listen. You never listened. You were always right, nothing I ever said mattered to you. I hate you. You are without a doubt the most selfish person I have ever met. How dare you show your face here again. When you left this town you severed your only connection to any home you will ever know. Everyone here hates you, Kristen. Everyone. No one will ever forgive you for leaving us. You left everything that mattered. For some loser with a Harley. Was our life that boring to you? Don't answer that. I'm through asking what if. I'm through wondering why. I'm through with you, and this town is through with you. Go back to where you came from. Stay away from me. I'm through with you. Forever.
Nick turned around and walked back inside, slamming the door in her face. Kristen stands there awhile, then, snapping herself out of it, pulls a letter out of her pocket and leaves it on the front steps.
End scene.
Kristen is at a playground pushing a young girl on the swing.
Lou: Higher mommy, higher!
Kristen: Okay sweetheart, but not too high...
Nick enters from stage left, the letter in his hand, a shocked look on his face. Kristen stops pushing Lou and turns to face him.
Kristen: Lou, this man and I need to talk for a little while, I'll be just over there.
Lou: Okay mommy. Love you!
Kristen walks with Nick over to the benches.
Nick: That girl, on the swing, she's--
Kristen: Your daughter.
Nick: And you're certain of this?
Kristen: The paternity test was conclusive. Besides, I was two months pregnant when I met
Marty anyway.
Nick: And you knew? How could you leave me? How could you take my daughter away from me?
Kristen: Nick, we were nineteen. You hated kids. You told me that you didn't want any, and every time we sat near them at a restaurant you had the waiter move us to another table! We couldn't even go see a movie before ten in case there was a kid in the theater. I couldn't--[she breaks off, crying. Nick puts his arm around her] I couldn't tell you, because I knew you'd leave. I could take you leaving me, but I couldn't take you leaving her. She's my baby, Nick. I couldn't ever let anyone hurt her.
Nick: She's our baby, Kristen. She's our baby.
Kristen: Really?
Nick: No matter what happens between us, I'll always be there for her. She's my daughter, and I'll always be her daddy.
Kristen: Oh, Nick--
Nick: But how could you do it? How could you leave me for Marty? Did you think he'd be a better father than me?
Kristen: Oh Nick, he was older, and so mature. He had a job and he loved kids, he said he'd take care of me, marry me and raise my daughter as his own. I loved him for that. I really did. But I wasn't in love with him, and he knew it. Our relationship was falling apart, because I was still in love with you, and he knew that too. Before I left him, he told me that it was my responsibility to tell you the truth. He said that I never gave you a choice. He was right, I didn't. But I thought that you would leave us. And I couldn't take it. But he was right. It is your choice, and I'm so sorry that I didn't let you make it. I'm letting you make it now.
Nick: Kristen, I want us to be a family. I love you. I've always loved you. And I will love our daughter, heck, I already love our daughter. More than anything. We both deserve a second chance. And we're going to be a family.
Kristen: Do you really mean it?
Nick: With everything I have.
The end
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Law XIV Article VIII
Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a beautiful princess called Elizabeth. The only daughter of King Joseph and Queen Victoria, Elizabeth was beloved by both her family and her subjects. She was kind, honest, and everything else an enlightened ruler should be.
As Elizabeth was a beautiful princess from a wealthy kingdom, she had many suitors. Nations from all over the world wished to align themselves with her kingdom, Gloriana, to secure their own prosperity. To the royal family of Gloriana, this seemed a blessing, for they assumed that it would mean Elizabeth would have a large range of suitors to choose from. For King Rudolfo and Queen Electra from Culari and their youngest son Casimir, however, it meant an opportunity for power, conquering and devastation.
“And it is because Cameron of Scots overthrew the vicious Prince Leigh that we have Law XIV Article VIII, which allows commoners to marry royalty in extreme cases, if approved by the masses,” Gabriel glanced up from the textbook and was struck again by his pupil's beauty. Ever since Elle had come of age, and, though Gabriel would admit this to no one, a little before, he could not help but notice how breathtaking she was becoming.
Elizabeth, oblivious to her tutor's scrutiny, was busy staring out the window daydreaming about riding her valiant stallion, Marty, to the stream and going for a quick swim. Her sigh of pleasure at the image roused Gabriel from his reverie.
“Elle,” he said gently, “are you even listening to me?”
“What?” she asked lazily, turning to look at him. “Oh Gabriel, it's such a nice day outside. Couldn't we please just skip today's lesson and go for a ride to the stream? Marty and Shadowfax would love to cool off after being cooped up in the stables all day.”
“What would your parents say if we abandoned your lessons and went swimming? I'm certain they would not be amused. Open your book and follow along, come now, be a good little girl...”
Elizabeth's cheeks heated up. He knew how she loathed being called a little girl. “I am NOT a little girl! I came of age three months ago and I am eligible to be married to the suitor of my choosing, thank you very much.”
Gabriel's breath caught at the thought. He tried to explain the searing throb in his chest as sadness that his young pupil was growing up, and he almost convinced himself. Deep in his heart of hearts, however, he knew that he could not bear to watch her love another man.
“Besides,” Elizabeth went on, “Mama and Papa have an advisory meeting today. They won't even notice if we sneak out through the stables. And if Gwendolyn catches us, we'll just tell her that you're showing me some plants that grow only out by Hawk Creek, and that I need a proper visual in order to identify them as poisonous or not. After all, as Gwen says, a truly accomplished princess must be accountable in each and every aspect of education.”
Gabriel laughed at Elle's imitation of her strict fairy godmother. “Alright, let's go. But you have to promise to pay full attention tomorrow!”
Elle laughed and gathered her books. “Oh, of course, I promise. Nothing could possibly be more entertaining that Law XIV Article VIII.”
***
“Don't go too deep into the river, Gwendolyn will tan my hide if we return from the stream with soiled clothing,” Gabriel warned as Elle waded into the stream.
“Don't be such a baby!” she yelled back, leaning forward and whispered a command into Marty's ears.
“If you're telling that horse to splash—” Gabriel's threat was cut off by Marty's neigh and a spray of water hitting him in the chest.
Elizabeth laughed from atop of Marty, her clear blue eyes sparkling with mirth. It was that look, the look she saved only for him, that made him lose his grip on propriety. He was no longer with the heir apparent, he was with his Elle, the girl he had watched grow up, the girl he had tutored, the girl he had slowly fallen in love with. Realizing he would not have many more precious stolen moments with her, he abandoned propriety and simply let himself be a young man in love.
“Alright, you asked for it!”
Elle squealed and tipped dangerously close to the stream as she tried to avoid the spray and mud from Shadowfax's hooves.
“You got mud on my dress!” She squealed.
“Why don't you just be a big baby about it!” Gabriel taunted, turning back to the shore. “Just dip it in the creek and no one will ever know.”
“Hmm...like this?” In one swift motion she leaped from Marty's back and tackled him off of Shadowfax and they tumbled into the water, their limbs entangled.
They surfaced at the same time, gasping for air. “Spoiled brat!” Gabriel spluttered. Elle spit the water she was holding in her cheeks in his face.
“That's disgusting!” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her under with him, keeping his eyes open so he could see the way her long dark hair billowed around her pretty face.
She smiled at him underwater, then kicked away, swimming gracefully back to the shore. He stayed under, holding his breath, clinging desperately to this moment, wishing it would never end.
Unfortunately, basic human needs came into play and he was forced to come up for air. He began to swim back to shore.
“I'm exhausted!” She complained as he sprawled on the ground next to her. “Your lessons are physically strenuous.”
He smiled, knowing her flirting was unintentional. “Your lessons aren't half-over,” he reminded her. “We still have a botany lesson scheduled for this afternoon.”
“Yes, teacher,” she said, tongue in cheek. “Enlighten me with your wisdom.”
Gabriel grabbed the textbook from the satchel he'd left on the shore and opened it up to aquatic plants. He settled back down with his back against the tree. Elle, in the same way she had always done, crawled next to him and leaned against the same tree. He began to read, all the while noticing with amusement Elizabeth's eyelids getting heavier. The more he read, the more they began to close. Finally, she began breathing heavily and her head drooped onto his shoulder. He turned, knowing he should wake her, but at the same time not wanting to disturb her sleep. She looked so innocent, so full of happiness. He shifted so that his arm fell around her and she curled up against him, he could feel the outline of her gentle curves pressed against his body. He was utterly at peace. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and fell asleep with the ghost of a smile playing across his lips.
***
Elizabeth knew she would be in trouble if she got caught. Gwendolyn was forever scolding her for “not acting her age.” So what if she wanted to go for a swim every once in a while? Who would it hurt? And besides, Gabriel's lessons had been extremely dull lately, as had his attitude. He just wasn't as fun anymore. The moments she could steal with him when he would act like he used to were becoming few and far between. She missed the old him. The one that taught her to climb trees, the one who bandaged her scraped knees. The one, though she would admit it to no one, she'd always had a bit of a crush on. The new Gabriel was too formal and more than a little sad.
She wondered if it had anything to do with being lonely. She'd often questioned, with a little anxiety, if he'd ever been someone's suitor. He never answered, and she certainly hoped not. She got a sharp, unpleasant feeling in her stomach every time she imagined Gabriel with anyone else. She knew she was being unrealistic. Gabriel was so smart and gentle and handsome, but still so manly, it was only a matter of time before he found and married the most beautiful girl in the kingdom.
Elizabeth shook herself from her thoughts, knowing they would only make her melancholy. She needed to be in her best spirits, the suitor from Culari was coming tonight and according to her mama's ladies-in-waitings' gossip, he was quite a looker.
With that exciting thought, she slipped in through the formal entrance way, knowing that at this time no one would be in the foyer to catch her in her soiled clothes. Gabriel is so lucky to have his own quarters, she thought, no one would ever know or care if he came in with a muddy dress.
She crossed the hall and hurried to the stairs, hoping beyond hope that Gwendolyn wouldn't be lurking behind any corners. She made it up to the third floor landing and crossed over to the west wing where her bed chambers were. She hurried down the hall and sighed with relief as she closed the door to her room behind her.
“Where have you been?” Elizabeth sighed as she turned to the shrill voice of her godmother.
“I've been...having a nature lesson.”
“I see,” Gwendolyn sniffed. “And I suppose it was the textbook that soiled your dress?”
Elizabeth glanced down, annoyed, at her muddy hems. “Gwendolyn, it's so hot! I just wanted to cool off!”
“Be that as it may, a princess of your age should know better than to go frolicking about in the streams in the middle of the day. But we haven't time for this, the royal family of Culari will be here soon and you need to make yourself presentable. Come now, hurry to your bath while I pick out your dress. Run along!” Gwendolyn scooted Elizabeth through the door to the powder room and shut it with a snap. After making certain her godchild was satisfactorily primping herself, she hurried to her own quarters to prepare herself for the evening, unaware that her whole world was about to shatter.
***
“After spending the evening with Elizabeth, I have decided that she is suitable for me and we will be married in three days time.”
The prince of Culari's announcement was greeted with astounded silence throughout the dining hall. Casimir looked about him and smiled, catching his mother's eye. The plan would be executed perfectly.
Elizabeth's mouth dropped open. She had barely spent an hour with the boy and he already claimed to want to marry her? For her own part, she didn't think they'd had much in common.
He'd hardly spent a second of their time together talking about anything but himself. He didn't laugh or play like Gabriel did, he didn't do anything like Gabriel did. And she didn't get that feeling with him, that feeling that everything was right in the world, that nothing else mattered but the moment and who were you with. She got that feeling with Gabriel all the time.
Her father stood up. “I am sorry, Casimir,” he began, “but I believe you are a little hasty with your sentiments. Elizabeth has not met any other suitors yet, and while I respect your readiness for commitment, we would like our daughter to have a choice and to fall in love. If you would kindly...”
“Excuse me, Joseph, but I believe you and I should have a conference before you make any, erm, hasty decisions.”
Taken aback, Joseph stared at Rudolfo with his mouth open. No one had ever dared to address him like that. Nevertheless, he summoned Victoria and the two of them followed Rudolfo and Electra into the adjoining meeting room.
Elizabeth looked up at Casimir and was surprised to see the smug look on his face. She wondered what was going on, but she knew with complete certainty that her parents would not force her to marry a man that she did not love. Still, she shied away from Casimir when he sat back down next to her. Try as she might, she could not avoid the eerie feeling that consumed her whenever he looked her way.
***
After what seemed like an eternity, Elizabeth's parents returned from the conference room looking grim.
“After careful consideration,” Joseph looked at his wife who nodded sadly before going on. “We are pleased to announce the engagement of our daughter, Elizabeth Aurelia, to Casimir Allan. The wedding will be held in three days time.”
Elizabeth was shocked. She looked from Casimir to her parents with horror. What could possibly be going on? She tried to stand to talk to them, but Casimir put a restraining hand on her chest.
“Stay back, my love,” he snickered. “You belong to me now.”
She could do nothing but watch as the court emptied the entrance hall, leaving her alone with her parents and the royal family of Culari.
“Well, this about settles it,” began Electra, smiling wickedly. “Just a few minor details to dispose of...”
“What is going on here?” Elizabeth asked, terrified.
“Oh shut up!” Casimir smacked her across the face, hard. Elizabeth fell backwards, a red hand
print already visible on her face.
“Casimir, do not bruise the princess,” Rudolfo sneered. “We must have her looking presentable for the wedding.
“I would never marry you!” Elizabeth yelled, ignoring the pain.
Casimir lifted his hand again, but Electra stopped him. “Casimir, after you marry her you can hit her as much as you like for as long as you keep her around, but until then, you must restrain yourself. How would it look to the people of Gloriana if their precious queen was bruised during her wedding? Because you will marry him,” she said, looking at Elizabeth. “As we have just told your lovely parents, we have a trained killer in your bedroom right now, and others stationed around the castle. If you so much as make a mild protest, you and your entire family will be killed, leaving Gloriana defenseless against an attack from Culari. Now, Alabastor, James,” she summoned two guards who had been standing outside the doors. “Kindly lead these two,” she gestured at Joseph and Victoria, to the woods, where you can keep them until we deem it necessary to dispose of them.”
“No!” Elizabeth cried. “Take me instead! Please! Don't hurt them!”
“Hush Elizabeth!” Victoria said severely. “Do as these people say. We need you to stay strong, we need you to fight, we need you to survive, to be their for our people. We need you to carry on,” Victoria finished her plea with tears streaming down her face.
“Well, isn't that just touching,” Electra said, gesturing to the guards. They wrapped their arms around the king and queen and carried them out the back entrance. “Have as much fun with Vicky as you want,” Electra called out to them. The guards laughed viciously, shutting the doors behind them.
“Now, Casimir, take your little wifey there and show her to her new quarters. And do try to be gentle,” Rudolfo commanded.
Casimir grabbed Elizabeth's wrists and twisted them painfully behind her. He half carried, half dragged her through the doors, but instead of leading her up the stairs to the West Wing, he turned East and carried her down the stairs to the ancient dungeons.
Elizabeth, though frightened and in more pain than she had ever experienced, did not cry. She
followed him silently to the farthest cell. Casimir opened the door and threw her to the ground.
“This will be where you stay until I'm ready for you.” He walked into the cell and with one swift motion kicked her in the stomach. “Maybe that will teach you to disobey me.” He turned on his heels and stormed out of the dungeon, locking the door behind him.
Elizabeth laid on the ground, struggling to breathe. She had never been so afraid in all her life, but still she did not cry.
***
She was left in the cell for the next two days. Casimir's henchmen brought her stale bread and
tepid water twice a day. On the third day, resigned to her fate, she got up without question when the guards summoned her to her wedding. She was led upstairs to her bedroom where a plain white dress was laid out for her.
“The ceremony begins in twenty minutes,” the guard barked, stationing himself in front of her door.
“Aren't you going to leave so I can get ready?” She asked.
“Dignity is a luxury you can no longer afford,” he chuckled menacingly. “I was instructed to stand guard and make sure you don't run away, and that's exactly what I am doing. I'll observe you, alright.” He walked forward and put his sweaty hands on her.
“The royal family would have your head if you violated Casimir's wife the night he was to marry her,” she said more bravely than she felt.
The guard's face fell. “I suppose you're right. So I can't touch, but that doesn't mean I won't look.” He sat himself down in front of the door. “Now, take your dress off real slow...”
Elizabeth turned around and did her best to salvage her pride. She ignored his rude comments and instead thought of Gabriel. She hadn't heard of him or of her parents or Gwendolyn or anyone else in three days, and as worried as she was for them all, she could think of no one but Gabriel. She thought of the way he looked at her when she smiled, the way his arms felt around her when they were entangled underwater, the way her body felt curled up next to him. Lost in her memories, she barely noticed as the guard grabbed her around her waste and dragged her to the palace's private chapel. Her mind was at peace, filled only with love and her Gabriel.
***
It was a private wedding, the only people in attendance were the ignorant priest, Electra, Rudolfo, the guards, Casimir, and of course Elizabeth. Electra had planned the wedding in secret, she knew that if the townspeople or the standing army knew anything about the wedding it would be stopped. She planned to announce the marriage of her son to Elizabeth as soon as it was over, so the subjects would have no choice but to accept it. Her plan demanded secrecy, and she was certain that it would work. Nobody outside of the chapel knew of the wedding. She had seen to that. Every other person who had known of the engagement, the king and queen and their court, was dead. They had served their purpose. Elizabeth was the only one left. In a matter of moments, her son would be king of Gloriana and everything she had worked for would be realized.
“Do you, Elizabeth Aurelia, take Casimir Allan, to be your husband?” The priest asked.
“I, I...” Elizabeth stuttered, praying for a miracle.
“We don't have all day!” Rudolfo snapped, getting nervous.
“I...”
Just then, the chapel doors burst open and a large band of soldiers bearing the Gloriana emblem burst in, commanded by the most handsome man in the entire kingdom.
“Gabriel!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“What are you doing? You're ruining everything!” Electra shoved Elizabeth into Casimir. “Marry him!”
“Never!” Elizabeth yelled.
Electra looked at the pandemonium breaking out around her and realized her plan was unraveling. She grabbed the sword from the guard next to her. She lunged forward, aiming for Elizabeth's heart.
Acting on instinct alone, Elizabeth dropped to the ground and rolled at the last possible second.
The sword went over her head and plunged into Casimir's heart. Electra watched her son fall to the floor, dead at her own hands. Wild-eyed, she watched as her husband fell to one of Gloriana's soldiers. Her guards were falling as well, one by one, to the more skilled hands of the royal soldiers. She pulled the sword out of her son's chest, and, with one last look into his cold, dead eyes, plunged the sword into her own heart.
***
Elizabeth leaned into Gabriel's arms. “How did you know where to find me?”
Anger clouded Gabriel's eyes. “I heard the guard talking outside of your window.”
She looked at him, confused. He sighed. “I hadn't heard from you, and we always talk every day. I hadn't heard from your parents, or Gwendolyn, and I couldn't take not knowing. I climbed up to your window earlier today and I heard a voice I didn't recognize. I heard what he was saying to you. I almost broke in and killed him with my bare hands. But you were so brave and so strong.” His arms tightened around her. “When you left, I hurried to the army base. It turns out they were one step ahead of me. Someone found the bodies of the royal court in the woods. I'm so sorry Elle, but Gwendolyn and your parents are dead.”
For the first time, Elizabeth began to cry. Gabriel simply held her and let her tears fall.
***
“What is going to happen to Gloriana?” It was a week later, Elizabeth, dressed in mourning black, was at the head of the advisory table at the seat reserved for the king.
“It is against the law for a queen to rule Gloriana without a husband,” the royal advisor explained. “If you wish to rule Gloriana, you must be married before a fortnight. Otherwise the kingdom will fall to the rule of your distant cousin Rinaldo.”
“Elizabeth's cousin is a simple man, he does not have what it takes to rule a great kingdom, especially during this time of tragedy. We need Elizabeth. You must get married,” the count of Carlstat looked pleadingly into Elizabeth's eyes.
“Very well. I shall get married, if that is what is best for my people,” she agreed.
“But to whom?” asked the Count.
“We will take a short recess on this meeting, during which time a council will review the available princes for marriage. We will reconvene when we have suitable possibilities,” said the advisor.
Elizabeth let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. Since her parent's death she had been forced to grow up and take responsibility for her entire kingdom. She pushed her chair away from the table and left the palace. Thinking to clear her mind, she walked down to Hawk Creek.
It was a peaceful day, the sun shining, and it reminded her of the last time she had come here, two lifetimes ago. She sat down next to the edge of the creek, dangling her feet in. She wished life could be as simple now as it had been back then.
“Elle.” The statement was simple, without question, as if he knew he would find her there.
“Gabriel.” She smiled, thinking it was fate.
“I came to say goodbye.”
“What?” She asked, completely taken aback. “Why?”
“Elle, you are the most important person in my life. I love you. I've always loved you. You are the most beautiful girl, woman, I have ever met. I care more about you than I do myself. You're everything to me. You've always been everything to me. That's why I need to leave. I can't be here when you marry someone else. Not after everything that has happened. And I can't marry you. You are going to be Queen and I am nothing but a tutor. I need to leave so that I can live. I am so sorry.” He turned to leave.
“I love you too, Gabriel.” He stopped in his tracks. She walked over to him and put her arms around him. “I've always loved you. I always will. You've taught me everything and without you,
I wouldn't be alive. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“But it's impossible!” He was trying desperately not to cry.
“Gabriel,” she said gently, “are you even listening to me?”
“What?”
She smiled. “Law XIV, Article VIII.”
***
Gabriel and Elizabeth were married that very day, thanks to Cameron of Scots and the law he had helped to pass so many years ago. They ruled peacefully, had many children, and lived happily ever after.
As Elizabeth was a beautiful princess from a wealthy kingdom, she had many suitors. Nations from all over the world wished to align themselves with her kingdom, Gloriana, to secure their own prosperity. To the royal family of Gloriana, this seemed a blessing, for they assumed that it would mean Elizabeth would have a large range of suitors to choose from. For King Rudolfo and Queen Electra from Culari and their youngest son Casimir, however, it meant an opportunity for power, conquering and devastation.
“And it is because Cameron of Scots overthrew the vicious Prince Leigh that we have Law XIV Article VIII, which allows commoners to marry royalty in extreme cases, if approved by the masses,” Gabriel glanced up from the textbook and was struck again by his pupil's beauty. Ever since Elle had come of age, and, though Gabriel would admit this to no one, a little before, he could not help but notice how breathtaking she was becoming.
Elizabeth, oblivious to her tutor's scrutiny, was busy staring out the window daydreaming about riding her valiant stallion, Marty, to the stream and going for a quick swim. Her sigh of pleasure at the image roused Gabriel from his reverie.
“Elle,” he said gently, “are you even listening to me?”
“What?” she asked lazily, turning to look at him. “Oh Gabriel, it's such a nice day outside. Couldn't we please just skip today's lesson and go for a ride to the stream? Marty and Shadowfax would love to cool off after being cooped up in the stables all day.”
“What would your parents say if we abandoned your lessons and went swimming? I'm certain they would not be amused. Open your book and follow along, come now, be a good little girl...”
Elizabeth's cheeks heated up. He knew how she loathed being called a little girl. “I am NOT a little girl! I came of age three months ago and I am eligible to be married to the suitor of my choosing, thank you very much.”
Gabriel's breath caught at the thought. He tried to explain the searing throb in his chest as sadness that his young pupil was growing up, and he almost convinced himself. Deep in his heart of hearts, however, he knew that he could not bear to watch her love another man.
“Besides,” Elizabeth went on, “Mama and Papa have an advisory meeting today. They won't even notice if we sneak out through the stables. And if Gwendolyn catches us, we'll just tell her that you're showing me some plants that grow only out by Hawk Creek, and that I need a proper visual in order to identify them as poisonous or not. After all, as Gwen says, a truly accomplished princess must be accountable in each and every aspect of education.”
Gabriel laughed at Elle's imitation of her strict fairy godmother. “Alright, let's go. But you have to promise to pay full attention tomorrow!”
Elle laughed and gathered her books. “Oh, of course, I promise. Nothing could possibly be more entertaining that Law XIV Article VIII.”
***
“Don't go too deep into the river, Gwendolyn will tan my hide if we return from the stream with soiled clothing,” Gabriel warned as Elle waded into the stream.
“Don't be such a baby!” she yelled back, leaning forward and whispered a command into Marty's ears.
“If you're telling that horse to splash—” Gabriel's threat was cut off by Marty's neigh and a spray of water hitting him in the chest.
Elizabeth laughed from atop of Marty, her clear blue eyes sparkling with mirth. It was that look, the look she saved only for him, that made him lose his grip on propriety. He was no longer with the heir apparent, he was with his Elle, the girl he had watched grow up, the girl he had tutored, the girl he had slowly fallen in love with. Realizing he would not have many more precious stolen moments with her, he abandoned propriety and simply let himself be a young man in love.
“Alright, you asked for it!”
Elle squealed and tipped dangerously close to the stream as she tried to avoid the spray and mud from Shadowfax's hooves.
“You got mud on my dress!” She squealed.
“Why don't you just be a big baby about it!” Gabriel taunted, turning back to the shore. “Just dip it in the creek and no one will ever know.”
“Hmm...like this?” In one swift motion she leaped from Marty's back and tackled him off of Shadowfax and they tumbled into the water, their limbs entangled.
They surfaced at the same time, gasping for air. “Spoiled brat!” Gabriel spluttered. Elle spit the water she was holding in her cheeks in his face.
“That's disgusting!” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her under with him, keeping his eyes open so he could see the way her long dark hair billowed around her pretty face.
She smiled at him underwater, then kicked away, swimming gracefully back to the shore. He stayed under, holding his breath, clinging desperately to this moment, wishing it would never end.
Unfortunately, basic human needs came into play and he was forced to come up for air. He began to swim back to shore.
“I'm exhausted!” She complained as he sprawled on the ground next to her. “Your lessons are physically strenuous.”
He smiled, knowing her flirting was unintentional. “Your lessons aren't half-over,” he reminded her. “We still have a botany lesson scheduled for this afternoon.”
“Yes, teacher,” she said, tongue in cheek. “Enlighten me with your wisdom.”
Gabriel grabbed the textbook from the satchel he'd left on the shore and opened it up to aquatic plants. He settled back down with his back against the tree. Elle, in the same way she had always done, crawled next to him and leaned against the same tree. He began to read, all the while noticing with amusement Elizabeth's eyelids getting heavier. The more he read, the more they began to close. Finally, she began breathing heavily and her head drooped onto his shoulder. He turned, knowing he should wake her, but at the same time not wanting to disturb her sleep. She looked so innocent, so full of happiness. He shifted so that his arm fell around her and she curled up against him, he could feel the outline of her gentle curves pressed against his body. He was utterly at peace. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and fell asleep with the ghost of a smile playing across his lips.
***
Elizabeth knew she would be in trouble if she got caught. Gwendolyn was forever scolding her for “not acting her age.” So what if she wanted to go for a swim every once in a while? Who would it hurt? And besides, Gabriel's lessons had been extremely dull lately, as had his attitude. He just wasn't as fun anymore. The moments she could steal with him when he would act like he used to were becoming few and far between. She missed the old him. The one that taught her to climb trees, the one who bandaged her scraped knees. The one, though she would admit it to no one, she'd always had a bit of a crush on. The new Gabriel was too formal and more than a little sad.
She wondered if it had anything to do with being lonely. She'd often questioned, with a little anxiety, if he'd ever been someone's suitor. He never answered, and she certainly hoped not. She got a sharp, unpleasant feeling in her stomach every time she imagined Gabriel with anyone else. She knew she was being unrealistic. Gabriel was so smart and gentle and handsome, but still so manly, it was only a matter of time before he found and married the most beautiful girl in the kingdom.
Elizabeth shook herself from her thoughts, knowing they would only make her melancholy. She needed to be in her best spirits, the suitor from Culari was coming tonight and according to her mama's ladies-in-waitings' gossip, he was quite a looker.
With that exciting thought, she slipped in through the formal entrance way, knowing that at this time no one would be in the foyer to catch her in her soiled clothes. Gabriel is so lucky to have his own quarters, she thought, no one would ever know or care if he came in with a muddy dress.
She crossed the hall and hurried to the stairs, hoping beyond hope that Gwendolyn wouldn't be lurking behind any corners. She made it up to the third floor landing and crossed over to the west wing where her bed chambers were. She hurried down the hall and sighed with relief as she closed the door to her room behind her.
“Where have you been?” Elizabeth sighed as she turned to the shrill voice of her godmother.
“I've been...having a nature lesson.”
“I see,” Gwendolyn sniffed. “And I suppose it was the textbook that soiled your dress?”
Elizabeth glanced down, annoyed, at her muddy hems. “Gwendolyn, it's so hot! I just wanted to cool off!”
“Be that as it may, a princess of your age should know better than to go frolicking about in the streams in the middle of the day. But we haven't time for this, the royal family of Culari will be here soon and you need to make yourself presentable. Come now, hurry to your bath while I pick out your dress. Run along!” Gwendolyn scooted Elizabeth through the door to the powder room and shut it with a snap. After making certain her godchild was satisfactorily primping herself, she hurried to her own quarters to prepare herself for the evening, unaware that her whole world was about to shatter.
***
“After spending the evening with Elizabeth, I have decided that she is suitable for me and we will be married in three days time.”
The prince of Culari's announcement was greeted with astounded silence throughout the dining hall. Casimir looked about him and smiled, catching his mother's eye. The plan would be executed perfectly.
Elizabeth's mouth dropped open. She had barely spent an hour with the boy and he already claimed to want to marry her? For her own part, she didn't think they'd had much in common.
He'd hardly spent a second of their time together talking about anything but himself. He didn't laugh or play like Gabriel did, he didn't do anything like Gabriel did. And she didn't get that feeling with him, that feeling that everything was right in the world, that nothing else mattered but the moment and who were you with. She got that feeling with Gabriel all the time.
Her father stood up. “I am sorry, Casimir,” he began, “but I believe you are a little hasty with your sentiments. Elizabeth has not met any other suitors yet, and while I respect your readiness for commitment, we would like our daughter to have a choice and to fall in love. If you would kindly...”
“Excuse me, Joseph, but I believe you and I should have a conference before you make any, erm, hasty decisions.”
Taken aback, Joseph stared at Rudolfo with his mouth open. No one had ever dared to address him like that. Nevertheless, he summoned Victoria and the two of them followed Rudolfo and Electra into the adjoining meeting room.
Elizabeth looked up at Casimir and was surprised to see the smug look on his face. She wondered what was going on, but she knew with complete certainty that her parents would not force her to marry a man that she did not love. Still, she shied away from Casimir when he sat back down next to her. Try as she might, she could not avoid the eerie feeling that consumed her whenever he looked her way.
***
After what seemed like an eternity, Elizabeth's parents returned from the conference room looking grim.
“After careful consideration,” Joseph looked at his wife who nodded sadly before going on. “We are pleased to announce the engagement of our daughter, Elizabeth Aurelia, to Casimir Allan. The wedding will be held in three days time.”
Elizabeth was shocked. She looked from Casimir to her parents with horror. What could possibly be going on? She tried to stand to talk to them, but Casimir put a restraining hand on her chest.
“Stay back, my love,” he snickered. “You belong to me now.”
She could do nothing but watch as the court emptied the entrance hall, leaving her alone with her parents and the royal family of Culari.
“Well, this about settles it,” began Electra, smiling wickedly. “Just a few minor details to dispose of...”
“What is going on here?” Elizabeth asked, terrified.
“Oh shut up!” Casimir smacked her across the face, hard. Elizabeth fell backwards, a red hand
print already visible on her face.
“Casimir, do not bruise the princess,” Rudolfo sneered. “We must have her looking presentable for the wedding.
“I would never marry you!” Elizabeth yelled, ignoring the pain.
Casimir lifted his hand again, but Electra stopped him. “Casimir, after you marry her you can hit her as much as you like for as long as you keep her around, but until then, you must restrain yourself. How would it look to the people of Gloriana if their precious queen was bruised during her wedding? Because you will marry him,” she said, looking at Elizabeth. “As we have just told your lovely parents, we have a trained killer in your bedroom right now, and others stationed around the castle. If you so much as make a mild protest, you and your entire family will be killed, leaving Gloriana defenseless against an attack from Culari. Now, Alabastor, James,” she summoned two guards who had been standing outside the doors. “Kindly lead these two,” she gestured at Joseph and Victoria, to the woods, where you can keep them until we deem it necessary to dispose of them.”
“No!” Elizabeth cried. “Take me instead! Please! Don't hurt them!”
“Hush Elizabeth!” Victoria said severely. “Do as these people say. We need you to stay strong, we need you to fight, we need you to survive, to be their for our people. We need you to carry on,” Victoria finished her plea with tears streaming down her face.
“Well, isn't that just touching,” Electra said, gesturing to the guards. They wrapped their arms around the king and queen and carried them out the back entrance. “Have as much fun with Vicky as you want,” Electra called out to them. The guards laughed viciously, shutting the doors behind them.
“Now, Casimir, take your little wifey there and show her to her new quarters. And do try to be gentle,” Rudolfo commanded.
Casimir grabbed Elizabeth's wrists and twisted them painfully behind her. He half carried, half dragged her through the doors, but instead of leading her up the stairs to the West Wing, he turned East and carried her down the stairs to the ancient dungeons.
Elizabeth, though frightened and in more pain than she had ever experienced, did not cry. She
followed him silently to the farthest cell. Casimir opened the door and threw her to the ground.
“This will be where you stay until I'm ready for you.” He walked into the cell and with one swift motion kicked her in the stomach. “Maybe that will teach you to disobey me.” He turned on his heels and stormed out of the dungeon, locking the door behind him.
Elizabeth laid on the ground, struggling to breathe. She had never been so afraid in all her life, but still she did not cry.
***
She was left in the cell for the next two days. Casimir's henchmen brought her stale bread and
tepid water twice a day. On the third day, resigned to her fate, she got up without question when the guards summoned her to her wedding. She was led upstairs to her bedroom where a plain white dress was laid out for her.
“The ceremony begins in twenty minutes,” the guard barked, stationing himself in front of her door.
“Aren't you going to leave so I can get ready?” She asked.
“Dignity is a luxury you can no longer afford,” he chuckled menacingly. “I was instructed to stand guard and make sure you don't run away, and that's exactly what I am doing. I'll observe you, alright.” He walked forward and put his sweaty hands on her.
“The royal family would have your head if you violated Casimir's wife the night he was to marry her,” she said more bravely than she felt.
The guard's face fell. “I suppose you're right. So I can't touch, but that doesn't mean I won't look.” He sat himself down in front of the door. “Now, take your dress off real slow...”
Elizabeth turned around and did her best to salvage her pride. She ignored his rude comments and instead thought of Gabriel. She hadn't heard of him or of her parents or Gwendolyn or anyone else in three days, and as worried as she was for them all, she could think of no one but Gabriel. She thought of the way he looked at her when she smiled, the way his arms felt around her when they were entangled underwater, the way her body felt curled up next to him. Lost in her memories, she barely noticed as the guard grabbed her around her waste and dragged her to the palace's private chapel. Her mind was at peace, filled only with love and her Gabriel.
***
It was a private wedding, the only people in attendance were the ignorant priest, Electra, Rudolfo, the guards, Casimir, and of course Elizabeth. Electra had planned the wedding in secret, she knew that if the townspeople or the standing army knew anything about the wedding it would be stopped. She planned to announce the marriage of her son to Elizabeth as soon as it was over, so the subjects would have no choice but to accept it. Her plan demanded secrecy, and she was certain that it would work. Nobody outside of the chapel knew of the wedding. She had seen to that. Every other person who had known of the engagement, the king and queen and their court, was dead. They had served their purpose. Elizabeth was the only one left. In a matter of moments, her son would be king of Gloriana and everything she had worked for would be realized.
“Do you, Elizabeth Aurelia, take Casimir Allan, to be your husband?” The priest asked.
“I, I...” Elizabeth stuttered, praying for a miracle.
“We don't have all day!” Rudolfo snapped, getting nervous.
“I...”
Just then, the chapel doors burst open and a large band of soldiers bearing the Gloriana emblem burst in, commanded by the most handsome man in the entire kingdom.
“Gabriel!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“What are you doing? You're ruining everything!” Electra shoved Elizabeth into Casimir. “Marry him!”
“Never!” Elizabeth yelled.
Electra looked at the pandemonium breaking out around her and realized her plan was unraveling. She grabbed the sword from the guard next to her. She lunged forward, aiming for Elizabeth's heart.
Acting on instinct alone, Elizabeth dropped to the ground and rolled at the last possible second.
The sword went over her head and plunged into Casimir's heart. Electra watched her son fall to the floor, dead at her own hands. Wild-eyed, she watched as her husband fell to one of Gloriana's soldiers. Her guards were falling as well, one by one, to the more skilled hands of the royal soldiers. She pulled the sword out of her son's chest, and, with one last look into his cold, dead eyes, plunged the sword into her own heart.
***
Elizabeth leaned into Gabriel's arms. “How did you know where to find me?”
Anger clouded Gabriel's eyes. “I heard the guard talking outside of your window.”
She looked at him, confused. He sighed. “I hadn't heard from you, and we always talk every day. I hadn't heard from your parents, or Gwendolyn, and I couldn't take not knowing. I climbed up to your window earlier today and I heard a voice I didn't recognize. I heard what he was saying to you. I almost broke in and killed him with my bare hands. But you were so brave and so strong.” His arms tightened around her. “When you left, I hurried to the army base. It turns out they were one step ahead of me. Someone found the bodies of the royal court in the woods. I'm so sorry Elle, but Gwendolyn and your parents are dead.”
For the first time, Elizabeth began to cry. Gabriel simply held her and let her tears fall.
***
“What is going to happen to Gloriana?” It was a week later, Elizabeth, dressed in mourning black, was at the head of the advisory table at the seat reserved for the king.
“It is against the law for a queen to rule Gloriana without a husband,” the royal advisor explained. “If you wish to rule Gloriana, you must be married before a fortnight. Otherwise the kingdom will fall to the rule of your distant cousin Rinaldo.”
“Elizabeth's cousin is a simple man, he does not have what it takes to rule a great kingdom, especially during this time of tragedy. We need Elizabeth. You must get married,” the count of Carlstat looked pleadingly into Elizabeth's eyes.
“Very well. I shall get married, if that is what is best for my people,” she agreed.
“But to whom?” asked the Count.
“We will take a short recess on this meeting, during which time a council will review the available princes for marriage. We will reconvene when we have suitable possibilities,” said the advisor.
Elizabeth let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. Since her parent's death she had been forced to grow up and take responsibility for her entire kingdom. She pushed her chair away from the table and left the palace. Thinking to clear her mind, she walked down to Hawk Creek.
It was a peaceful day, the sun shining, and it reminded her of the last time she had come here, two lifetimes ago. She sat down next to the edge of the creek, dangling her feet in. She wished life could be as simple now as it had been back then.
“Elle.” The statement was simple, without question, as if he knew he would find her there.
“Gabriel.” She smiled, thinking it was fate.
“I came to say goodbye.”
“What?” She asked, completely taken aback. “Why?”
“Elle, you are the most important person in my life. I love you. I've always loved you. You are the most beautiful girl, woman, I have ever met. I care more about you than I do myself. You're everything to me. You've always been everything to me. That's why I need to leave. I can't be here when you marry someone else. Not after everything that has happened. And I can't marry you. You are going to be Queen and I am nothing but a tutor. I need to leave so that I can live. I am so sorry.” He turned to leave.
“I love you too, Gabriel.” He stopped in his tracks. She walked over to him and put her arms around him. “I've always loved you. I always will. You've taught me everything and without you,
I wouldn't be alive. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“But it's impossible!” He was trying desperately not to cry.
“Gabriel,” she said gently, “are you even listening to me?”
“What?”
She smiled. “Law XIV, Article VIII.”
***
Gabriel and Elizabeth were married that very day, thanks to Cameron of Scots and the law he had helped to pass so many years ago. They ruled peacefully, had many children, and lived happily ever after.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
31 More Flavors of Dialogue
“Hey, Skip, you'll close today, won't you?” Steffen asked as he took off his apron. “I have to meet Stacy at the country club.”
Skip gritted his teeth. Steffen had been working at Baskin Robins for three weeks and he was already getting on Skip's last nerve. “Sure, of course you'll leave early, you can do whatever you want because Grandfather owns the whole town. Spoiled little rich kid.” Skip muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” asked Steffen, with a flip of his perfectly coiffed hair. “I couldn't hear you. I was too busy thinking about what I'm going to do with Stacy in the sauna after our tennis match.”
“I said sure, no problem. I need the extra money to pay for school anyway,”
“Atta boy!” said Steffen with his natural air of condescension. “I might swing by later with Victoria, you know, after I drop Stacy off for the night. I think I'll give her a call. She doesn't get off from work until ten, Stacy should be sound asleep by then.”
Skip shook his head and said nothing. He was far too used to Steffen's indiscriminate womanizing to care anymore. Besides, he knew from his psychology class that Steffen's promiscuity probably resulted from his lack of a father figure. Skip sighed as he remembered the tabloids and press that Steffen's dad generated when he left his wife and kids for the much younger, highly seductive exotic dancer Rhondie Winowieki.
“Vix? Hey, it's Steffen. I caught you on break? Good. Listen babe, what do you say to being picked up tonight around ten thirty and being given the ride of your life? I was talking about my little green Audi, get your mind out of the gutter baby.”
Skip mentally gagged. The womanizing and promiscuity he could stand, but Steffen's corniness never failed to nauseate him.
The bell above the door rang and an elderly gentleman walked in with a beautiful, much younger woman at his side, clinging on to his arm. Steffen looked up and froze, recognition gleaming in his eyes.
“You!” He whispered, almost inaudibly.
“I'm sorry, sonny, what did you say? You gotta speak up, my hearing's not what it used to be.” The old man said amiably.
“You mean you—you don't recognize me?” Steffen asked, visibly hurt.
“Didn't you hear the old man?” The dark, exotic, beautiful woman snapped. “He can't hear you. He doesn't recognize you. He doesn't know you. He doesn't WANT you, just like he didn't want your mom. He has me now. I satisfy every need he has ever had, and he doesn't miss your mom. And he doesn't miss you. So why don't you just leave? He has everything he could ever want right here.”
“I hate you!” Steffen yelled. And with one last pitiful glance at his father, he stormed out of the store.
The old man leaned in toward Skip and said in what he clearly thought was a whisper but was really a shout, “What was that young whipper snapper going on about?”
Skip thought it best not to remind the clearly senile old man about past grievances. “He was just sad because we don't have his favorite ice cream flavor, cheery cherry, but we'll be getting it back in tomorrow. Sir,” Skip asked, a studious gleam in his eye, “by any chance, was your mother extraordinarily old when you were conceived?” Skip knew that the older a mother was when she has a child, the more likely it is that the child will develop alzheimer's later in life.
Always the ambitious student, Skip viewed every experience as a learning opportunity and did not feel at all uncomfortable asking awkward questions for the sake of knowledge.
Unfortunately, Steffen's dad no longer possessed the mental capacity to interpret questions about his past. Instead of answering, he leaned over to Rhondie and asked her what kind of ice cream she wanted.
“I think I'll have chocolate, you're so sweet, thank you for buying it for me love. I'll make it up to you later,” she said sweetly.
Skip was shocked. It didn't take a master psychologist like Freud to see that Rhondie was not the husband-stealing tramp that everyone made her out to be. It also didn't take a genius to understand that while her behavior toward Steffen was petty and rude, he probably had it coming. Steffen was, after all, a spoiled brat with so few values and morals that he couldn't even remember his best friend's birthday. What a horrible guy.
Rhondie and Steffen's dad paid for their ice cream and left holding hands.
How beautiful, Skip thought, is true love.
A few hours later (ice cream parlors are notorious for lulls), a very prim old lady with a hearing aid walked in.
“Hello sir, my name is Meredith, and I would love to sample some of this delicious ice cream. Could you possibly find the time to scoop me out a bowl?”
“Yes, of course ma'am,” Skip said, jumping to his feet.
“While you're scooping, do you mind if I ask you a question?” she asked.
“Go right ahead.”
“Now, I know it isn't polite to gossip, but I have to know, was that Rhondie Winowiecki who just walked out of here?” she asked.
“Why, yes, I believe so.”
“Doesn't Steffen Howard work here as well?”
Skip groaned. Not another of Steffen's conquests, he thought. “Yes, he just left a couple of minutes ago.”
“Well,” she leaned in conspiratorily, “I just feel so sorry for that Steffen. You know, he knew Rhondie Winowieki before she bedded his father.”
“Really?” she had his interest now. “How did he know her?”
“Steffen was Rhondie's coach!” She explained.
“Of what?” Skip couldn't see Steffen coaching anyone in much of anything, except maybe how to get the perfect, even tan.
“Pole dancing,” she said wickedly. “Steffen taught pole dancing and stripping classes at the local Stopless Topless bar, and Rhondie was one of his favorite students. It came as such a blow to his heart when he discovered her affair with his father.”
“I can imagine,” Skip said, laughing to himself. He handed her the ice cream.
“Thanks for this, dear,” Meredith said, walking away to sit in a booth.
“Watch it, lady!” she turned suddenly and slammed into a large, boisterous nun in a walker.
“Oh, I'm so terribly sorry!” Meredith appologized.
“Don't worry about it—just get out of my way so I can get some ice cream!” The nun shouted.
“Yes, oh heaven's me,” Meredith turned around and sat in the nearest booth, slowly licking her ice cream cone.
“Skip! The name's Crazy Grace. You can call me Crazy, or you can call me Grace. Frankly, I don't care. I just want some ice cream!” She hobbled up to the counter, slamming her walker down to emphasize each word.
“Sure ma'am,” Skip asked, looking at the clock. “But I need to hurry, we close in three minutes and I have a psychology class I need to study for.”
“I'll take my time and you will deal with it!” Crazy Grace yelled/slammed.
The customer is always right, Skip recalled with a sigh. I guess Wilhelm Wundt will have to wait.
“I think I'll take...cheery cherry, because it reminds me of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. You got a problem with that?” she looked menacing with her habit tilted slightly to the side.
“No, ma'am,” Skip said, turning away to get the scooper.
Just then, the bell chimed, signaling someone's entry to the store.
“I'm sorry, we're closing...” Skip started to say.
“Shut up!” Skip didn't have to turn around to recognize his coworker's voice.
“Crazy Grace, you can't hide her forever!”
“I can and I will, don't underestimate the powers of those who work for the Lord!” She yelled back at him.
“But I love her!” Steffen proclaimed, shocking everyone.
“I didn't think you were capable of saying the word,” Skip managed.
“I do! I don't care if I've only ever seen her through the glass. I love her! I'm going to marry her and there's nothing you can do about it!” Steffen was breathing heavily, as if the strength it took to declare his love was too much for him to handle.
“Shows how much you know!” Crazy Grace snapped childishly. “I arranged for her to take her vows in...” she glanced at her watch. “Twelve minutes. And there's nothing you can do!”
Skip watched, befuddled, as the nun turned on her heels and hobbled out of the store.
“Noooooo!” Steffen yelled, sinking to his knees.
“What the heck is going on here?” Skip asked.
Steffen tried to answer, but Skip couldn't understand him through his laborious sobs.
“I think I can answer that!” Meredith said, standing up. “Steffen's in love with Rhondie's older sister, Heather, but she was already in the convent. She tried to leave when she realized her love of Steffen was real, but Crazy Grace said Steffen was a womanizer and would not grant her request. Now, apparently, Crazy Grace has changed the date of her vows so she'll be taking them...in nine minutes.”
Steffen began to cry harder.
Skip looked at Steffen's pitiable form, lying prostrate on the floor and something happened that he did not expect. He began to feel sorry for him. Sorry for the man who had caused him so much strife for so many weeks. He knew what he had to do.
“Did you say that the convent was down the street?” Skip asked?
Steffen and Meredith nodded.
“Let's go!”
It took Steffen only a moment to realize what Skip was getting at. “Let's go,” he said, and bolted
out of the store.
Skip and Meredith followed, pausing for only a moment to lock the store up. They caught up to Steffen easily though, as he was rather slow, and they ended up making it to the church at the same time.
They burst into the narthex just in time to hear the bells ring. Everyone in the front of the church looked up.
“I can't let you do this Heather!” Steffen yelled. “I'm in love with you!”
“Oh Steffen, I'm so sorry,” she began to cry softly. “You're too late.”
“What?” Steffen looked like someone had shot him.
“You heard her!” Crazy Grace yelled. “She is a nun! She has cloistered herself and is now forever in the service of the Lord!”
Just then, the door of the church opened and a beautiful woman in a Northwestern Bank uniform walked in. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm supposed to tell you that Father Gregory needs the church for a baptism.”
Skip turned to Steffen, expecting to see him crumpled on the floor. To Skip's surprise, Steffen's mouth was open and he was gliding over to where the bank teller was standing.
Figures, Skip thought as Crazy Grace and Heather filed out of the church. It just figures that he would move on from Heather in about a second. I should have known he didn't really love her. He's never loved anything but himself. Narcissistic little--
“Hey, I'm Steffen, do you have a map? Because I just lost myself in your eyes.”
Skip almost threw up.
The bank teller giggled. “I'm Wendy,” she said shyly.
They continued to talk as Father Gregory and company prepared the church for a baptism. With nothing else to do, Skip meandered over to Father Gregory.
“Hey, I'm Skip, and I'm just wondering, do you think that a person's personality is controlled by genetics or is it a product of the environment they are placed in?”
“Funny you should mention that...” Father Gregory began, “I think--” He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. “Could you hold that thought, please?” He asked Skip.
“Sure.”
Father Gregory turned away, but Skip could still hear Snippets of his conversation. “What? Cancel the baptism? Why? Oh no, really? SIDS? That's a shame, cuts back my commission. It's too late for them to get a refund though, right? Well, you know what they say, every cloud has a silver lining. Alright, talk to you later.” He hung up the phone.
“Looks like we have an empty church,” he said.
“We'll take it!” Steffen and Wendy ran to the front of the church.
“We want to get married!” Wendy said breathlessly.
“But you just met her!” Skip accused.
“I don't care!” Steffen said. “I am in love.”
“Do you have any money?” Father Gregory asked.
“Plenty.”
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” and with that, Wendy Gonzalez became Wendy Howard.
Skip turned his back on the group at the front of the church and sighed. Even with three years of working in Baskin Robins, I still do not understand why people do what they do. I've had enough. I've had enough questioning and dealing with people. I can't do it anymore.
By this time, Skip had returned to the ice cream store, the source of all his problems. He unlocked the door and hung up his apron one last time.
“Good bye, ice cream. I have enough money to get me through my last year of psychology, amaybe, just maybe, then I'll be able to come back and work here. But I'm just too under-qualified. I'll never forget you.”
And with that, he turned around and walked into the sunset.
Skip gritted his teeth. Steffen had been working at Baskin Robins for three weeks and he was already getting on Skip's last nerve. “Sure, of course you'll leave early, you can do whatever you want because Grandfather owns the whole town. Spoiled little rich kid.” Skip muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” asked Steffen, with a flip of his perfectly coiffed hair. “I couldn't hear you. I was too busy thinking about what I'm going to do with Stacy in the sauna after our tennis match.”
“I said sure, no problem. I need the extra money to pay for school anyway,”
“Atta boy!” said Steffen with his natural air of condescension. “I might swing by later with Victoria, you know, after I drop Stacy off for the night. I think I'll give her a call. She doesn't get off from work until ten, Stacy should be sound asleep by then.”
Skip shook his head and said nothing. He was far too used to Steffen's indiscriminate womanizing to care anymore. Besides, he knew from his psychology class that Steffen's promiscuity probably resulted from his lack of a father figure. Skip sighed as he remembered the tabloids and press that Steffen's dad generated when he left his wife and kids for the much younger, highly seductive exotic dancer Rhondie Winowieki.
“Vix? Hey, it's Steffen. I caught you on break? Good. Listen babe, what do you say to being picked up tonight around ten thirty and being given the ride of your life? I was talking about my little green Audi, get your mind out of the gutter baby.”
Skip mentally gagged. The womanizing and promiscuity he could stand, but Steffen's corniness never failed to nauseate him.
The bell above the door rang and an elderly gentleman walked in with a beautiful, much younger woman at his side, clinging on to his arm. Steffen looked up and froze, recognition gleaming in his eyes.
“You!” He whispered, almost inaudibly.
“I'm sorry, sonny, what did you say? You gotta speak up, my hearing's not what it used to be.” The old man said amiably.
“You mean you—you don't recognize me?” Steffen asked, visibly hurt.
“Didn't you hear the old man?” The dark, exotic, beautiful woman snapped. “He can't hear you. He doesn't recognize you. He doesn't know you. He doesn't WANT you, just like he didn't want your mom. He has me now. I satisfy every need he has ever had, and he doesn't miss your mom. And he doesn't miss you. So why don't you just leave? He has everything he could ever want right here.”
“I hate you!” Steffen yelled. And with one last pitiful glance at his father, he stormed out of the store.
The old man leaned in toward Skip and said in what he clearly thought was a whisper but was really a shout, “What was that young whipper snapper going on about?”
Skip thought it best not to remind the clearly senile old man about past grievances. “He was just sad because we don't have his favorite ice cream flavor, cheery cherry, but we'll be getting it back in tomorrow. Sir,” Skip asked, a studious gleam in his eye, “by any chance, was your mother extraordinarily old when you were conceived?” Skip knew that the older a mother was when she has a child, the more likely it is that the child will develop alzheimer's later in life.
Always the ambitious student, Skip viewed every experience as a learning opportunity and did not feel at all uncomfortable asking awkward questions for the sake of knowledge.
Unfortunately, Steffen's dad no longer possessed the mental capacity to interpret questions about his past. Instead of answering, he leaned over to Rhondie and asked her what kind of ice cream she wanted.
“I think I'll have chocolate, you're so sweet, thank you for buying it for me love. I'll make it up to you later,” she said sweetly.
Skip was shocked. It didn't take a master psychologist like Freud to see that Rhondie was not the husband-stealing tramp that everyone made her out to be. It also didn't take a genius to understand that while her behavior toward Steffen was petty and rude, he probably had it coming. Steffen was, after all, a spoiled brat with so few values and morals that he couldn't even remember his best friend's birthday. What a horrible guy.
Rhondie and Steffen's dad paid for their ice cream and left holding hands.
How beautiful, Skip thought, is true love.
A few hours later (ice cream parlors are notorious for lulls), a very prim old lady with a hearing aid walked in.
“Hello sir, my name is Meredith, and I would love to sample some of this delicious ice cream. Could you possibly find the time to scoop me out a bowl?”
“Yes, of course ma'am,” Skip said, jumping to his feet.
“While you're scooping, do you mind if I ask you a question?” she asked.
“Go right ahead.”
“Now, I know it isn't polite to gossip, but I have to know, was that Rhondie Winowiecki who just walked out of here?” she asked.
“Why, yes, I believe so.”
“Doesn't Steffen Howard work here as well?”
Skip groaned. Not another of Steffen's conquests, he thought. “Yes, he just left a couple of minutes ago.”
“Well,” she leaned in conspiratorily, “I just feel so sorry for that Steffen. You know, he knew Rhondie Winowieki before she bedded his father.”
“Really?” she had his interest now. “How did he know her?”
“Steffen was Rhondie's coach!” She explained.
“Of what?” Skip couldn't see Steffen coaching anyone in much of anything, except maybe how to get the perfect, even tan.
“Pole dancing,” she said wickedly. “Steffen taught pole dancing and stripping classes at the local Stopless Topless bar, and Rhondie was one of his favorite students. It came as such a blow to his heart when he discovered her affair with his father.”
“I can imagine,” Skip said, laughing to himself. He handed her the ice cream.
“Thanks for this, dear,” Meredith said, walking away to sit in a booth.
“Watch it, lady!” she turned suddenly and slammed into a large, boisterous nun in a walker.
“Oh, I'm so terribly sorry!” Meredith appologized.
“Don't worry about it—just get out of my way so I can get some ice cream!” The nun shouted.
“Yes, oh heaven's me,” Meredith turned around and sat in the nearest booth, slowly licking her ice cream cone.
“Skip! The name's Crazy Grace. You can call me Crazy, or you can call me Grace. Frankly, I don't care. I just want some ice cream!” She hobbled up to the counter, slamming her walker down to emphasize each word.
“Sure ma'am,” Skip asked, looking at the clock. “But I need to hurry, we close in three minutes and I have a psychology class I need to study for.”
“I'll take my time and you will deal with it!” Crazy Grace yelled/slammed.
The customer is always right, Skip recalled with a sigh. I guess Wilhelm Wundt will have to wait.
“I think I'll take...cheery cherry, because it reminds me of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. You got a problem with that?” she looked menacing with her habit tilted slightly to the side.
“No, ma'am,” Skip said, turning away to get the scooper.
Just then, the bell chimed, signaling someone's entry to the store.
“I'm sorry, we're closing...” Skip started to say.
“Shut up!” Skip didn't have to turn around to recognize his coworker's voice.
“Crazy Grace, you can't hide her forever!”
“I can and I will, don't underestimate the powers of those who work for the Lord!” She yelled back at him.
“But I love her!” Steffen proclaimed, shocking everyone.
“I didn't think you were capable of saying the word,” Skip managed.
“I do! I don't care if I've only ever seen her through the glass. I love her! I'm going to marry her and there's nothing you can do about it!” Steffen was breathing heavily, as if the strength it took to declare his love was too much for him to handle.
“Shows how much you know!” Crazy Grace snapped childishly. “I arranged for her to take her vows in...” she glanced at her watch. “Twelve minutes. And there's nothing you can do!”
Skip watched, befuddled, as the nun turned on her heels and hobbled out of the store.
“Noooooo!” Steffen yelled, sinking to his knees.
“What the heck is going on here?” Skip asked.
Steffen tried to answer, but Skip couldn't understand him through his laborious sobs.
“I think I can answer that!” Meredith said, standing up. “Steffen's in love with Rhondie's older sister, Heather, but she was already in the convent. She tried to leave when she realized her love of Steffen was real, but Crazy Grace said Steffen was a womanizer and would not grant her request. Now, apparently, Crazy Grace has changed the date of her vows so she'll be taking them...in nine minutes.”
Steffen began to cry harder.
Skip looked at Steffen's pitiable form, lying prostrate on the floor and something happened that he did not expect. He began to feel sorry for him. Sorry for the man who had caused him so much strife for so many weeks. He knew what he had to do.
“Did you say that the convent was down the street?” Skip asked?
Steffen and Meredith nodded.
“Let's go!”
It took Steffen only a moment to realize what Skip was getting at. “Let's go,” he said, and bolted
out of the store.
Skip and Meredith followed, pausing for only a moment to lock the store up. They caught up to Steffen easily though, as he was rather slow, and they ended up making it to the church at the same time.
They burst into the narthex just in time to hear the bells ring. Everyone in the front of the church looked up.
“I can't let you do this Heather!” Steffen yelled. “I'm in love with you!”
“Oh Steffen, I'm so sorry,” she began to cry softly. “You're too late.”
“What?” Steffen looked like someone had shot him.
“You heard her!” Crazy Grace yelled. “She is a nun! She has cloistered herself and is now forever in the service of the Lord!”
Just then, the door of the church opened and a beautiful woman in a Northwestern Bank uniform walked in. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm supposed to tell you that Father Gregory needs the church for a baptism.”
Skip turned to Steffen, expecting to see him crumpled on the floor. To Skip's surprise, Steffen's mouth was open and he was gliding over to where the bank teller was standing.
Figures, Skip thought as Crazy Grace and Heather filed out of the church. It just figures that he would move on from Heather in about a second. I should have known he didn't really love her. He's never loved anything but himself. Narcissistic little--
“Hey, I'm Steffen, do you have a map? Because I just lost myself in your eyes.”
Skip almost threw up.
The bank teller giggled. “I'm Wendy,” she said shyly.
They continued to talk as Father Gregory and company prepared the church for a baptism. With nothing else to do, Skip meandered over to Father Gregory.
“Hey, I'm Skip, and I'm just wondering, do you think that a person's personality is controlled by genetics or is it a product of the environment they are placed in?”
“Funny you should mention that...” Father Gregory began, “I think--” He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. “Could you hold that thought, please?” He asked Skip.
“Sure.”
Father Gregory turned away, but Skip could still hear Snippets of his conversation. “What? Cancel the baptism? Why? Oh no, really? SIDS? That's a shame, cuts back my commission. It's too late for them to get a refund though, right? Well, you know what they say, every cloud has a silver lining. Alright, talk to you later.” He hung up the phone.
“Looks like we have an empty church,” he said.
“We'll take it!” Steffen and Wendy ran to the front of the church.
“We want to get married!” Wendy said breathlessly.
“But you just met her!” Skip accused.
“I don't care!” Steffen said. “I am in love.”
“Do you have any money?” Father Gregory asked.
“Plenty.”
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” and with that, Wendy Gonzalez became Wendy Howard.
Skip turned his back on the group at the front of the church and sighed. Even with three years of working in Baskin Robins, I still do not understand why people do what they do. I've had enough. I've had enough questioning and dealing with people. I can't do it anymore.
By this time, Skip had returned to the ice cream store, the source of all his problems. He unlocked the door and hung up his apron one last time.
“Good bye, ice cream. I have enough money to get me through my last year of psychology, amaybe, just maybe, then I'll be able to come back and work here. But I'm just too under-qualified. I'll never forget you.”
And with that, he turned around and walked into the sunset.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Obama wins a Grammy
OBAMA WINS A GRAMMY
WONDERLAND—The world was shocked and astounded last night when President Barack Obama won a Grammy for Best Male Pop Vocal Performance.“He's just so damn talented,” Grammy coordinator Lib Earl said, with tears in his eyes. “Nobody has a voice like his.” Obama received the award for flexing his golden pipes in campaign ads throughout the nation. “The first time I heard 'I'm Barack Obama, and I approve this message,' I knew that he would win the Grammy,” said Earl.
Almost all of Obama's fellow nominees agree. “Heck, Seal and I were just gabbing before the show about how excited we were that Obama was going to be here. He's a musical genius! I mean, John Legend did pretty well too, and I'm gonna let him finish, but Barack Obama had one of the best campaign ads of all time.” Maxwell agreed, noting that even though he was excited about his new song, 'Love You,' Obama's voice deserved the win more than his did. The fifth and final nominee, Stevie Wonder, did not echo the other musicians' sentiments. “Look man, I know Barack's a good president, but that fool ain't no singer! I'm blind and I'm playing the God Damn piano! Anyone can get on that television and approve that old message, but can they blindfold themselves and play the piano? I don't think so!” Wonder was later lead off the stage and asked to “calm himself” in the quiet room. Rumors flew that Wonder is now on trial for treason, but Obama's reps will neither confirm nor deny this statement.
Wonder is not alone in his questioning of Obama's candidacy for the Grammy. Many plumbers named Joe were seen standing outside the White House this morning with picket signs saying “My name is Joe, and I don't think Obama should have won a Grammy.”
Republicans everywhere further renounce Obama's victory. “Obama shouldn't be concerned with this music nonsense!” Republican Senator Jason Allen, of Michigan, says. “He should be one hundred percent focused on the health care issue!” Sara Palin, former governor of Alaska and harsh critic of Obama, was heard this morning from her front porch saying “Oh Barack, you're such a silly man. While you were out drinking and partying and what have you at the Grammy's, I was here protecting our country from the Russians! I can see you over there, Commie! Don't think I can't! I've got my Remington Bolt Action Rifle here if you even think for one second about crossing the Bering Strait!” Palin's rep could not be reached for comment.
The first lady, Michelle Obama, supports her husband's victory. “My husband is a very talented man. I knew that after winning the Nobel Peace Prize that a Grammy was next on the list.” Michelle leans in and whispers conspiratorially. “Don't tell anyone because we're still waiting to hear from the Intergalactic Space Association, but the word on the street is Barack is up for the prestigious award, Master and Commander of the Whole Entire Universe, so keep your fingers crossed!”
Obama's cabinet is firmly supportive of their president's award. An inside source tells us that Michelle and Barack threw an after-Grammy-rave in the oval office, a party unparalleled in its wildness since Clinton and Lewinsky “took office” back in the nineties.
Regardless of the controversy surrounding Obama's win, he clearly deserved to be recognized for his contribution to the auditory industry. After all, when God created the Grammys, he said “And the winner of the Best Male Pop Vocal Performance should be someone who can actually sing and actually has something to do with the music industry.” If Obama doesn't fall into that category, who does?
WONDERLAND—The world was shocked and astounded last night when President Barack Obama won a Grammy for Best Male Pop Vocal Performance.“He's just so damn talented,” Grammy coordinator Lib Earl said, with tears in his eyes. “Nobody has a voice like his.” Obama received the award for flexing his golden pipes in campaign ads throughout the nation. “The first time I heard 'I'm Barack Obama, and I approve this message,' I knew that he would win the Grammy,” said Earl.
Almost all of Obama's fellow nominees agree. “Heck, Seal and I were just gabbing before the show about how excited we were that Obama was going to be here. He's a musical genius! I mean, John Legend did pretty well too, and I'm gonna let him finish, but Barack Obama had one of the best campaign ads of all time.” Maxwell agreed, noting that even though he was excited about his new song, 'Love You,' Obama's voice deserved the win more than his did. The fifth and final nominee, Stevie Wonder, did not echo the other musicians' sentiments. “Look man, I know Barack's a good president, but that fool ain't no singer! I'm blind and I'm playing the God Damn piano! Anyone can get on that television and approve that old message, but can they blindfold themselves and play the piano? I don't think so!” Wonder was later lead off the stage and asked to “calm himself” in the quiet room. Rumors flew that Wonder is now on trial for treason, but Obama's reps will neither confirm nor deny this statement.
Wonder is not alone in his questioning of Obama's candidacy for the Grammy. Many plumbers named Joe were seen standing outside the White House this morning with picket signs saying “My name is Joe, and I don't think Obama should have won a Grammy.”
Republicans everywhere further renounce Obama's victory. “Obama shouldn't be concerned with this music nonsense!” Republican Senator Jason Allen, of Michigan, says. “He should be one hundred percent focused on the health care issue!” Sara Palin, former governor of Alaska and harsh critic of Obama, was heard this morning from her front porch saying “Oh Barack, you're such a silly man. While you were out drinking and partying and what have you at the Grammy's, I was here protecting our country from the Russians! I can see you over there, Commie! Don't think I can't! I've got my Remington Bolt Action Rifle here if you even think for one second about crossing the Bering Strait!” Palin's rep could not be reached for comment.
The first lady, Michelle Obama, supports her husband's victory. “My husband is a very talented man. I knew that after winning the Nobel Peace Prize that a Grammy was next on the list.” Michelle leans in and whispers conspiratorially. “Don't tell anyone because we're still waiting to hear from the Intergalactic Space Association, but the word on the street is Barack is up for the prestigious award, Master and Commander of the Whole Entire Universe, so keep your fingers crossed!”
Obama's cabinet is firmly supportive of their president's award. An inside source tells us that Michelle and Barack threw an after-Grammy-rave in the oval office, a party unparalleled in its wildness since Clinton and Lewinsky “took office” back in the nineties.
Regardless of the controversy surrounding Obama's win, he clearly deserved to be recognized for his contribution to the auditory industry. After all, when God created the Grammys, he said “And the winner of the Best Male Pop Vocal Performance should be someone who can actually sing and actually has something to do with the music industry.” If Obama doesn't fall into that category, who does?
Friday, April 9, 2010
Brothers
Brothers
Marc Brown once said “sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero,” and I know with absolute certainty that he is right. I am blessed enough to have two brothers, and they are both my favorite people in the world. I get along with my eldest brother best, and sometimes it feels like we're the same person. My other brother and I don't always see eye to eye though, and often we end up fighting and screaming at each other. Even though we're not always close, I know that no matter what, my brother will always be there for me. How can I be so certain? Could I be underestimating our familial bond? I am not. I know that he will be there for me in the future because he was there for me in the past. My brother proved beyond question that he will always rescue me late one summer with a single action: he saved my life.
Anyone who has older brothers (like Marc Brown) can relate to me when I say that my entire childhood can be summed up in two words: keeping up. I had two older brothers, one was 16 months older than me and the other was 4 and a half years older. Even though they were boys, more concerned with Hot Wheelz than Barbie, I still ached to do all the things they did. One of the best examples of this was swimming.
We'd all taken swimming lessons for about the same amount of time. Bailor, my eldest brother, had taken them longer, but as he was always the best at everything, it didn't bother me. In my mind I was just as good of a swimmer as either of my brothers. Sadly, as children often do, I did not consider the fact that my brothers were much stronger than me, a miscalculation that would almost lead to my demise.
Bailor met Garrett when he was five years old, and soon they became best friends. Garrett, lucky boy that he was, lived on Spider Lake, an inland lake not far from our house. Bailor spent most of his summers frolicking in the lake with his friend Garrett, preparing to become the next Michael Phelps (he just didn't know it yet). My other brother, Blair, spent his summers at the state park with our neighbor, preparing to be the next Pamela Anderson from Baywatch (without the personal flotation devices, of course). I, however, spent my summers playing Barbies with my friend Lauren, preparing to be the next...average girl who played with Barbies as a child. Mistake number one. So, even though my brothers and I had the same experience with swimming lessons, my brothers had a lot more practice applying their skills.
Late one particular summer, after many days like the ones aforementioned, Mom took Blair and I over to Garrett's to pick up Bailor. After a lot of pleading on our parts, she agreed to let us take our bathing suits and swim for a while with Bailor and Garrett.
Once we got to Garrett's, Blair ditched me to hang out with the big boys. I, of course, did not find this acceptable, and vowed to find a way to be included. Garrett had a raft that was floating out away from shore, and the boys decided to swim to it. Not to be outdone, I decided to swim after them. Mistake number two.
Once we got to Garrett's, Blair ditched me to hang out with the big boys. I, of course, did not find this acceptable, and vowed to find a way to be included. Garrett had a raft that was floating out away from shore, and the boys decided to swim to it. Not to be outdone, I decided to swim after them. Mistake number two.
Being the inexperienced swimmer that I was, it took me a WHILE to reach the raft. By the time I got out there, I needed a rest. The boys decided they were bored and wanted to swim back in (or maybe they just wanted to get away from me, I'll never know the real reason why they decided to leave just as I got there, but I suspect it's the latter). I was out of breath and tired, and I badly needed a rest. But the boys started swimming to shore, and I decided that I had to as well, without taking a breather. Mistake number three.
I was little, very little, and I couldn't swim nearly as well as I thought I could. With each stroke I could feel my little body shutting down, my little lungs screaming for more oxygen, my little limbs shutting down in self defense. My feet were being dragged to the bottom by the water shoes my mom made me wear, but I was too afraid of getting in trouble to kick them off. About halfway between the shore and the raft, I knew it was physically impossible for me to swim anymore. I turned around and floated on my back for a while, and then decided to backstroke the rest of the way to shore. Mistake number four.
Realizing I was losing the battle, I finally kicked off the water shoes. I wasn't worried anymore; the only thing I could think about was getting to shore. I could hear my mom screaming, and it seemed like I wasn't moving at all. I finally flipped over, using the last of my strength, to see how far I was from shore. And then I started to panic.
When I flipped over the first time, I had unknowingly began to swim sideways, parallel to shore, the way you would during a riptide. Well, there are no riptides in Spider Lake, so I was just wasting my energy. As soon as I realized what was happening, I gave up. If I had had any energy left, I would have flailed my arms and legs and screamed. As it was, I was exhausted. I had already swallowed a lot of water and was continuing to do so without respite. I could see my mom screaming and waving her arms from shore, and it was all I could do to keep my head up to watch her. I think part of me knew then, deep inside, that I was drowning, but the child that I was was too innocent to understand. Possibly I believed, after many Sundays spent in Church and Bible school, that the hand of God would come down or something and save me before it was too late. And then, by some miracle, that's what He did.
Blair came out of nowhere. I don't remember seeing him around me, I don't remember hearing him coming. All I knew was that somehow he was there, exactly when I needed him the most. He wrapped his arms around me and, having spent every conceivable ounce of energy I possessed, all I could do was rest my head on his shoulder while he swam me into shore.
After that moment, though, my memory becomes foggy. I remember one of my brothers going back and getting the water shoes, I remember coughing up a lot of water, and I remember my
mom telling me that I wasn't allowed to swim out to the raft anymore. All of this is disjointed. What I remember best is my mom's face, the last thing I saw before I went under, and realizing, somehow, that I knew Blair would save me, and knowing also that he always would.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Party in the USSR
I hopped off the communist band wagon
I no longer support Stalin
Welcome to the land of persona nongrata
Am I gonna fit in?
Hangin' with the peasants
Here I am for the first time
Look to the left and I see the KGB crimes
This is all so crazy
Everybody seems so paranoid
My tummy's turning and I'm feelin' kind of democratic
Too much pressure and I'm nervous
That's when the secret police spotted me
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
So I put my hands up
I'm in line to be shot
Hope for life dies away
Noddin' my head like “I'm gonna die”
Movin' my hips like “maybe if I gyrate inappropriately the executioner will let me live”
And I got my hands up
They're shootin' down the line
I know I'm gonna be next
yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
Get to the open fields where bodies lie
Everybody's lookin' at me now
Like “Who's that Rousky supportin' democracy,
They gotta be from outta town”
So hard with my fellow conspirators not around me
It's definitely not a Fascist party
'Cause all I see are Winchesters
I guess I never got the memo
My tummy's turning and I'm feelin' kind of democratic
Too much pressure and I'm nervous
That's when the secret police spotted me
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
So I put my hands up
I'm in line to be shot
Hope for life dies away
Noddin' my head like “I'm gonna die”
Movin' my hips like “maybe if I gyrate inappropriately the executioner will let me live”
And I got my hands up
They're shootin' down the line
I know I'm gonna be next
Yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
Yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
Feel like hoppin' on a flight (on a flight)
Goin' to England tonight (England tonight)
Commies stop me every time (every time)
I don't know why 'cause Churchill seems alright!
So I put my hands up
I'm in line to be shot
Hope for life dies away
Noddin' my head like “I'm gonna die”
Movin' my hips like “maybe if I gyrate inappropriately the executioner will let me live”
And I got my hands up
They're shootin' down the line
I know I'm gonna be next
Yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
Yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
So I put my hands up
I'm in line to be shot
Hope for life dies away
Noddin' my head like “I'm gonna die”
Movin' my hips like “maybe if I gyrate inappropriately the executioner will let me live”
And I got my hands up
They're shootin' down the line
I know I'm gonna be next
yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
I no longer support Stalin
Welcome to the land of persona nongrata
Am I gonna fit in?
Hangin' with the peasants
Here I am for the first time
Look to the left and I see the KGB crimes
This is all so crazy
Everybody seems so paranoid
My tummy's turning and I'm feelin' kind of democratic
Too much pressure and I'm nervous
That's when the secret police spotted me
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
So I put my hands up
I'm in line to be shot
Hope for life dies away
Noddin' my head like “I'm gonna die”
Movin' my hips like “maybe if I gyrate inappropriately the executioner will let me live”
And I got my hands up
They're shootin' down the line
I know I'm gonna be next
yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
Get to the open fields where bodies lie
Everybody's lookin' at me now
Like “Who's that Rousky supportin' democracy,
They gotta be from outta town”
So hard with my fellow conspirators not around me
It's definitely not a Fascist party
'Cause all I see are Winchesters
I guess I never got the memo
My tummy's turning and I'm feelin' kind of democratic
Too much pressure and I'm nervous
That's when the secret police spotted me
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
'Cause my neighbor turned me in
So I put my hands up
I'm in line to be shot
Hope for life dies away
Noddin' my head like “I'm gonna die”
Movin' my hips like “maybe if I gyrate inappropriately the executioner will let me live”
And I got my hands up
They're shootin' down the line
I know I'm gonna be next
Yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
Yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
Feel like hoppin' on a flight (on a flight)
Goin' to England tonight (England tonight)
Commies stop me every time (every time)
I don't know why 'cause Churchill seems alright!
So I put my hands up
I'm in line to be shot
Hope for life dies away
Noddin' my head like “I'm gonna die”
Movin' my hips like “maybe if I gyrate inappropriately the executioner will let me live”
And I got my hands up
They're shootin' down the line
I know I'm gonna be next
Yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
Yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
So I put my hands up
I'm in line to be shot
Hope for life dies away
Noddin' my head like “I'm gonna die”
Movin' my hips like “maybe if I gyrate inappropriately the executioner will let me live”
And I got my hands up
They're shootin' down the line
I know I'm gonna be next
yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
yeah-ah-ah-aaahaha it's a party in the USSR
Southern Living
“Flashlight tag, for those of you who don't know...” Pastor Dan began, looking straight at Mackenzie and me. Great, as if people aren't staring enough as it is, you have to go and single us out. Thanks, Pastor Dan. Thanks a bunch. “begins when we hide this flashlight in the church. Me, Janine, Lucy, Renee and Mark are going to hide, and you have to run in and try to steal the flashlight. If any of us touch you, you are out and have to go to 'jail'. Whoever finds the flashlight first wins. Any questions?”
Yeah, do you honestly think no one noticed your plan to hide in a dark church with three underage girls and a guy too preoccupied with “the joy of the hunt” to notice any illicit activities in the bathroom? Nice try, Pedophile Pete, but no cigar.
“No? Okay, let's begin.”
Mackenzie and I looked at each other, knowing there was no way we were actually going to participate in this nonsense. We walked to the back of the church and ended up sitting down on some sort of crate just outside the doors, close enough to the action to follow what was going on, but still far enough away so that no one would actually think we were participating in the juvenile game. Not having anything better to do, we began to people watch.
There was this cute boy we had noticed earlier, Aric, who was around the back of the church near us with a group of other boys. They were talking loudly, clearly trying to get our attention. They had it, that is, until...
“Have y'all seen Napoleon Dynamite?” Aric asked. “That's so funny! That's like my favorite movie!”
I winced. You have got to be kidding me. We finally find an attractive guy in this God-forsaken town and he likes Napoleon Dynamite. Who likes Napoleon Dynamite? The crazies who sit in the back at school and make fart noises because they think it's clever. The same kids who can't play on the bowling team because their grades are too bad. The ones who think Babe can actually talk. That's a bright one there, watch out for Aric, he's a catch. I glanced at Mackenzie and could tell she was thinking the exact thing I was. Needless to say, Aric fell off the radar after that.
A short while later, a brave but incredibly stupid boy came over and sat by us.
“What were y'alls names again?” He asked slowly.
“Baige and Mackenzie,” Mack said.
He paused. “Oh, I thought y'alls names was Mercedes. That way y'all could be a beige Mercedes, get it? Like the car...”
“Yeah. We get it.” Clearly we've got another bright one here. He and Aric probably came here straight from a Mensa meeting.
“So what is there to do for fun around here?” Mack asked.
“Oh, plenty!” he said (his name was Frankie, by the way.) “Y'all drink?”
She and I looked at each other. This kid has so much going for him. “No.” I said.
“Oh. Y'all smoke?”
“No.”
“Oh,” he said, perplexed. We could tell he was running out of modes of entertainment. “Y'all swear?”
“Like a sailor,” I said, throwing him for a loop.
He paused again. “Oh. Does that mean y'all swear a lot?”
“Yes...” I said. “Sailors are notorious for their profanity...” This just shut him up. He had absolutely no clue how to respond. He stared at us, his head tilting slightly to the left, and I swear I could see drool starting to come out of his mouth. We sat in silence like that for a long time.
“Well, is there anything to do here besides playing flashlight tag?” Mack asked, breaking the silence.
Frankie recovered from his stupor then, but we could tell he had to think long and hard, racking what little brains he had to come up with another answer.
“Well....y'all could...y'all...could...y'all could come to my baseball game!”
Party. I cannot think of one single thing I would rather do than drive across three towns to watch you play in your division x baseball game. Do you even have enough people in this town to make up a team? Does your scoreboard consist of Grandma Aggie marking each run with a tally on the one room school house's chalkboard?
“Yeah!” He said excitedly. “Come to my baseball game!” We could tell he was really proud of himself for coming up with such a riveting possibility.
“Oh, um, we would, but we're actually leaving to go tour colleges tomorrow, sorry,” Mack said. She's always been the diplomatic one.
Luckily, a girl walked over to Frankie at that point and he focused his attention on her, I mean, she was his sister, how could we compete? Mackenzie and I were left to contemplate alone on the wonders of southern living. Thank you God, I prayed, for letting me be born north of the Mason-Dixon Line.
Yeah, do you honestly think no one noticed your plan to hide in a dark church with three underage girls and a guy too preoccupied with “the joy of the hunt” to notice any illicit activities in the bathroom? Nice try, Pedophile Pete, but no cigar.
“No? Okay, let's begin.”
Mackenzie and I looked at each other, knowing there was no way we were actually going to participate in this nonsense. We walked to the back of the church and ended up sitting down on some sort of crate just outside the doors, close enough to the action to follow what was going on, but still far enough away so that no one would actually think we were participating in the juvenile game. Not having anything better to do, we began to people watch.
There was this cute boy we had noticed earlier, Aric, who was around the back of the church near us with a group of other boys. They were talking loudly, clearly trying to get our attention. They had it, that is, until...
“Have y'all seen Napoleon Dynamite?” Aric asked. “That's so funny! That's like my favorite movie!”
I winced. You have got to be kidding me. We finally find an attractive guy in this God-forsaken town and he likes Napoleon Dynamite. Who likes Napoleon Dynamite? The crazies who sit in the back at school and make fart noises because they think it's clever. The same kids who can't play on the bowling team because their grades are too bad. The ones who think Babe can actually talk. That's a bright one there, watch out for Aric, he's a catch. I glanced at Mackenzie and could tell she was thinking the exact thing I was. Needless to say, Aric fell off the radar after that.
A short while later, a brave but incredibly stupid boy came over and sat by us.
“What were y'alls names again?” He asked slowly.
“Baige and Mackenzie,” Mack said.
He paused. “Oh, I thought y'alls names was Mercedes. That way y'all could be a beige Mercedes, get it? Like the car...”
“Yeah. We get it.” Clearly we've got another bright one here. He and Aric probably came here straight from a Mensa meeting.
“So what is there to do for fun around here?” Mack asked.
“Oh, plenty!” he said (his name was Frankie, by the way.) “Y'all drink?”
She and I looked at each other. This kid has so much going for him. “No.” I said.
“Oh. Y'all smoke?”
“No.”
“Oh,” he said, perplexed. We could tell he was running out of modes of entertainment. “Y'all swear?”
“Like a sailor,” I said, throwing him for a loop.
He paused again. “Oh. Does that mean y'all swear a lot?”
“Yes...” I said. “Sailors are notorious for their profanity...” This just shut him up. He had absolutely no clue how to respond. He stared at us, his head tilting slightly to the left, and I swear I could see drool starting to come out of his mouth. We sat in silence like that for a long time.
“Well, is there anything to do here besides playing flashlight tag?” Mack asked, breaking the silence.
Frankie recovered from his stupor then, but we could tell he had to think long and hard, racking what little brains he had to come up with another answer.
“Well....y'all could...y'all...could...y'all could come to my baseball game!”
Party. I cannot think of one single thing I would rather do than drive across three towns to watch you play in your division x baseball game. Do you even have enough people in this town to make up a team? Does your scoreboard consist of Grandma Aggie marking each run with a tally on the one room school house's chalkboard?
“Yeah!” He said excitedly. “Come to my baseball game!” We could tell he was really proud of himself for coming up with such a riveting possibility.
“Oh, um, we would, but we're actually leaving to go tour colleges tomorrow, sorry,” Mack said. She's always been the diplomatic one.
Luckily, a girl walked over to Frankie at that point and he focused his attention on her, I mean, she was his sister, how could we compete? Mackenzie and I were left to contemplate alone on the wonders of southern living. Thank you God, I prayed, for letting me be born north of the Mason-Dixon Line.
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