So why don't I? I need to man up and post something stupid, because Should is a word for losers. Will is a word for winners. I probably should wait until I finish my coffee before writing this blog post, because I might regret how ridiculous it is later. But I'm a winner, so I will go ahead and finish this before the baby wakes up.
TWO STORIES. Two very short stories written in my late teens / early 20s. Just as an object lesson in how far I've come.
#1Oswald was a brave, cheerful teacup whose only real flaw was his ambition. He wished to be more than a simple, chipped teacup: maybe, he dreamed, a teapot.
Unfortunately, his dream failed because he simply could not hold 5-10 cups of water.
#2As Julie sat at the breakfast table, she smiled at her new husband. He was certainly handsome and charming. His teeth were straight and pearly white. Still, there was something about him - something that unnerved her. Her hand shook briefly as she reached across the table for the salt. Dan smiled at his new wife, picked up the pancake syrup, and poured himself a tall glass. Julie stared at him for some time. She cleared her throat several times. He kept staring at her - that same blank, mindless grin on his face. Her heart began to thump. Thump. Thump. As if it would break in two.
"Did you...?" she asked, and then shook her head, clearing her throat again. "Why did you pour yourself a glass of pancake syrup?"
Dan stared at her for several seconds, his smile fading into a curious frown. "Pour myself what?"
"This..." he shook his head, confused. "This isn't pancake syrup. This is rum and coke."
"Rum and coke," Julie repeated.
"Yes," said Dan. He didn't like the way the conversation was going. Maybe he should divorce her immediately, he thought.
"I saw you pour that syrup in your glass," said Julie.
"Jesus Christ jumped up on a pony," shouted Dan. "TRY it. I'm just having a rum and coke!"
"I'm not drinking syrup," Julie told him. "And why the hell would you drink a rum and coke at 7:30 in the morning?"
"Because I like it," Dan shouted. "What the hell business is it of yours?"
"I'm just wondering," seethed Julie, "why exactly you poured yourself a tall glass of syrup."
Dan glared at her for a long, long moment. Finally, he grabbed the glass, still staring at her, and chugged it down. Immediately, he coughed and retched, his last mouthful of the syrup covering their brand-new tablecloth.
"Jesus Christ," he sputtered, "that's SYRUP."
Both stared at each other in silence, unsure of what to say. Julie felt a tear slide down her cheek. Finally, she picked up the breakfast dishes and took them to the sink, where she began to wash the plates.
It was going to be a beautiful day.