The Aerie
Did a writing exercise tonight, the first free writing I've done despite being out of work for a month. You'd think I could get more done, but classwork and job hunting eat up my time.
For those of you who don't know, and why should you, my wife (the actual writer in the family) made three big piles of cards: Characters, Places, and Stories. The exercise is to pick one card at random from each pile and write whatever story comes to mind inside of half an hour. Tonight I got "The Belle of the Ball," "A Phone Booth," and "Food Fight."
Anyway, the story is after the jump, which when you click "Continue reading 'Writing Exercise'" means you agree to follow copyright law and conventions and not to copy or transmit my story anyplace in any form, but you're welcome to link people here...
Bedtime Story
Are you going to stay in bed this time? No? Really. Do you know when I was your age if we said “No” to our elders, we went to bed with our bottoms red and our stomachs empty? Oh you have never been hungry a day in your life don't tell me you wouldn't care. All right, if it will get you to lie down. What do you want to hear?
Why do you care how I met your grandfather, hm? You're knee-high to a cricket, romance ought to be the farthest thing from your mind. Don't boys have cooties anymore? Well, good, at least some things don't change.
All right, well, where to begin. Yes, there was a dance. What you don't understand is, there was ALWAYS a dance. Because in those days we didn't HAVE television. Well, most of us didn't and those that did had nothing to watch. Great Aunt Nelly says that was the “Golden age of television,” yes, but it was as stuffy and boring then as it is now, just like her. You will NOT tell her I said that. Remember about the red bottoms?
No, most of us had nothing to do and our parents would no more let us watch television all night than yours will let you play video games all night, so we had to amuse ourselves. So we had dances.
Now back then I was the belle of the ball. I did not RING, that means I was pretty. Of course that's why you're pretty. You are! Well that's the biggest pile of nonsense I ever heard. Didn't you just tell me boys have cooties? Do you know what that means? That means that when they tell you you're ugly they really mean you're pretty, that's what cooties do, they make your brains work backwards. Yes it does explain a lot, doesn't it?
Now where was I? The way you keep interrupting you'll be awake until your parents get home and then what kind of trouble will I be in? Of course I can! Well, no, they can't punish me, but your mother can give me the Evil Eye like she always has since she was your age and smaller.
SO (I'm ignoring you now you'll notice) I was the belle of the ball, and before you ask a ball is a DANCE. Oh you do? Well you're very clever with your Cinderella. Very well. And I was a young lady, all of seventeen and ready to go to college. Well, along comes your grandfather, and he sits at our table!
It was your Great Aunt Nelly and I and a girl named, oh, I don't remember anything but her big buck teeth. Well your grandfather sits at our table, next to Clara, oh, that was her name, Clara. And that put him across from me, you see, since I was sitting next to Nelly. I used to tease him that if Nelly and I had switched places that night he would have ended up married to her, oh he hated that idea!
No your Great Aunt Nelly is VERY nice, it's her liniment that smells that way young lady, and that's no way to speak of your elders.
Well anyway your grandfather, oh he was so young and charming, tall and slender, in a white sport coat with his hair combed up. Well my heart was all a flutter. And he asked me to dance and back then we danced real DANCES, not this jumping nonsense your cousins call dancing.
Now back then if you danced once with a boy, you were being polite, and if you danced twice you were a couple, but if you danced three times with the same boy, well, let's just say people would whisper. So we danced and I thanked him and went back to my table.
Well your grandfather was persistent, and the next week we danced again. And this time I was hoping he would ask me again, but he didn't.
The following week was an Ice Cream Social. It's kind of like dessert and dancing both. Yes, it's my favorite too. And there was your grandfather who had gotten quite regular in his habits, so of course he asked me to dance. And then, when I was going to return to the table, I felt him take my hand, this hand right here, except it was much smoother then, without all the spots, and he asked me to dance again.
No, we didn't get married right then, don't rush ahead! We were dancing our second dance, and I was hoping that afterwards he would give me his class ring to show that I was his girl, and I could hardly think straight the whole time, when what do you think happened next?
That's right, I've told you this before, haven't I, and only about a million times. Yes, GLOP, a big ball of ice cream hit him in the face. No, he didn't have glasses then, he got those later. Well, I was so surprised I didn't know what was happening.
And do you know what he did then? Yes, that's right. As all those boys and their cootie-brains started throwing ice-cream all over the room, your grandfather bent over to shield me from the mess. He hurried me off that floor as quick as he could, but it was crowded with young hooligans and my dress was silk and taffeta and one drop of ice cream would ruin it forever.
Yes, that's right, your grandfather wanted to protect me, and he hustled me into the safest thing he could think of at the moment, a phone booth, and crowded in after me. Normally that would have been quite scandalous but at the time everyone was busy with those boys throwing ice cream.
Now don't you jump ahead, and lay down. Get under the blanket, because when I stop talking you're supposed to be asleep, remember? Okay.
So yes, then he turned around, and he looked so funny with his face sticky with ice cream, but I didn't DARE laugh. You will learn young lady that you could shoot a boy with a gun and not hurt him half as badly as if you laugh at him. Don't you dare, I'm telling you this woman-to-woman, you have to keep that to yourself, it's part of growing up. You'll understand... yes, that's right, when you're older.
Where was I? So he turned around and looked so funny, but I kept a straight face and I said “Oh, dear, you're a mess. And I took my kerchief and I tried to wipe off the ice cream. And do you know what happened next? Of course you do.
Yes, he did. Oh, and it was wonderful. Yes, because it tasted like ice cream, did I tell you that already? I did, did I? Well an old woman forgets. But yes, boy's kisses usually don't taste like ice cream, they taste like whatever dreadful thing a boy has been eating, and let me tell you that can take some getting used to. But he kissed me, right there in the phone booth, while young hooligans all around were throwing food and whooping up a storm. We stood there in our tiny little phone booth, and we could have been on the moon for all I cared.
And that was how I knew I loved him, because when you kiss someone you love, no matter what they've been eating, they always taste sweet.
Well after that of course we got married. Yes,well, back then a boy didn't kiss you if he wasn't set on marrying you. No, not right away, a few months later before he went away in the War. Yes, I can, but that's another story for another night.
Sh, do you hear that? It's your mother and father home, and you still awake. Now you lie down and pretend you're asleep or your old granny is gonna get the Evil Eye. Yes, good night.
Well of course you taste like ice cream. You get it from your grandfather.
Posted by Albatross at September 30, 2009 10:30 PM | TrackBack