“This is a work of fiction. All the characters in it, are imaginary, from my OWN THOUGHTS and not necessarily represent the views of anyone but my own. Please take any narrow minded opinions about my work and place them in the comments area below. As for anyone who thinks this represents anyone in reality needs to get their head examined.”
“DILLIGAS?” – Inspired by a quote from a friend!
Grade a paper, grade another paper, grade a third paper and yet not one person gets the impact of Abraham Lincoln’s assassination. This is getting tedious. I really need to stop. Maybe if I grade 7th grade math my ears won’t bleed from stupidity.
It never ends. It’s an ongoing battle against iPads and iPods and no matter what I do I can’t get into these kids heads. What I need to do is find a way to break convention without getting suspended. The last time I got suspended just because I made them roll a condom over a banana. It wasn’t my fault that stupid McKenna Richardson protested to the school board because her god wouldn’t want her to ever touch a condom. I failed to stop myself from taking out a picture of Lucy and show her what happened when you are 16 and you don’t use a condom. Stupid brat told her mother that an “unfit mother” was teaching her. So it was my fault she couldn’t handle her science experiment to dissect a frog. Again she brought up god. I wanted to go “hey girl, you know you are going to end up marrying some asshole who is going to be telling you that you are doing the “lord’s work” while he’s shoving his sausage down your throat.”
But I didn’t. I just told her that God made the creature and if she wanted to pass she had to tell me if it was a male or female frog. She guessed wrong, I failed her and here I am , grading papers while waiting for the stupid school board to make a decision if I keep my job.
“Ms. Anders,” a voice cries from down the hall. “The board is waiting for you.” Read more…
Categories: "Quotes", My Writing..., What's on my mind Tags: Board of education, Fiction, Frustration, My thoughts, Quotes, School Board Morons, Story, Teacher, Writing, Writing Challenge
Peace in the country
Mother’s Day 2010
As yet another day starts in the Hill Country I sat on the porch watching the mist start to come over the trees to the east. The smells of coffee and cholesterol wafted in from the kitchen.
“You want any,” my wife asked?
“Nah, I’m plenty good enough just watching the dogs run chasing the shadows in the forest.”
“I’m starting to burn the bacon,” she said as she closed the window to keep the burning smell inside.
(Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppppp) sounded the smoke alarm as I walked into the house into a smoke filled kitchen.
“You need help dear?”
“Nah, just trying to make it crispy.”
“There’s a shock. You think the smoke alarm is going to wake the neighbors?”
“Nah, they are along the banks fishing this morning.”
“Happy Mother’s Day darling”
“Yup, it’s Mother’s Day”
The door started to get scratched up and I wandered over, taking a sip of my coffee as I opened the door to let the two most ferocious dauschounds who barked and whined until I reached down and petted them.
“Don’t be given them any treats,” my wife said as I was reaching them down to hand them both a piece of bacon.
“I’ve got no idea what you are talking about,” as one of the dogs trotted by with a piece of meat in his mouth.
Her glare spoke volumes and I just reached down to open the paper trying to find people I didn’t like in the obituaries. Seeing none and not caring about the sports scores, I closed it and headed outside to enjoy yet another peaceful day before it got hot.
Nothing worse, than heat and humidity in the Hill Country.
I should call mom and tell her Happy Mother’s Day.
I think she knows…
Happy Mother’s Day Mom I thought as I relax on the porch until the sun goes down.
Categories: My Writing... Tags: Fiction, Hill Country, My Writing..., Vacation
Scotty liked the way he felt when he was in the air. There was nothing than can defeat him when he was on his bike. He did most of his thinking while flying in the air. Most people concentrated or focused on the landing, or the technique. Scotty just focused on the freedom.
“Why do I jump? Because there is something that I can touch that no one else can. I can feel the sky as I jump every time. I hate the concept of the ground, but I’ve got to touch the sky every now and then. Jim can fly his jets till he turns blue in the face, but he never touches the sky.”
I could never jump a bike, my fear of heights would capture my desire to touch the sky.
But there was that one day…
I was 11 and had the greatest BMX bike ever (Okay maybe it wasn’t the greatest, but it was mine) , a solid red Schwinn that my Uncle Al gave to me. And I know I wasn’t Evil Knievel because instead of jumping Snake River, or a Las Vegas monument, I was just jumping the ramp that my brother and I had put across a small stream.
We put the ramp where we could ride as fast as we could down the two blocks of street , making the small turn down the dirt road and then down the small hill to the ramp.
It was the last day of summer and I hadn’t landed the jump yet.
I had tried every day that summer and whether I was short, or didn’t even make the ramp, I just wanted to make this jump before school started. Everyone in the 5th grade knew I was going to try the jump and I had the pressure of trying to make it or be known as a failure for the entire year.
So my best friend Scotty was there and told me “no matter what happens, just do your best and don’t forget to touch the sky.”
So I put on my best Dungarees and my favorite t-shirt on and headed down the three blocks to the staging area.
As I rode up my stomach fell.
Cause it wasn’t Jimmy or Scotty there.
It was the entire 5th grade.
“You can do it Donnie” said a guy who I thought tried to stuff me into my locker last year.
“I’ll kiss you if you make it D,” Joanna said to me.
And all I could think of was Scotty’s words as I started to pedal, and circled the path.
Touch the sky, touch the sky…
and I started my run, pedaling faster and faster as I hit the turn and down the dirt hill I pedalled.
The kids were just blurs as I past each of them, I could see the ramp and hit it going faster than I thought possible.
And I was flying. It was just like Scotty said. It was amazing, I could taste it.
I landed the jump , and as my hands were in the air celebrating my landing I hit a pebble.
And I flipped in the air again, but this time with a bike on top of me landing with an awkward thud.
Something was broken in my arm. Yup, definitely broken.
Joanna gave me that kiss, but I didn’t feel it.
I didn’t feel my broken arm (in three places).
Categories: My Writing... Tags: Fiction, My Writing..., Story of my life, Teen angst
(Simply a fiction story of my overactive imagination…)
Fredrick was a small town that was originated by two gay frontiersmen named Fred and Rick back in the 1800′s. Nothing really happened in the town. It had developed into the #6 retirement community in the the entire south due to the proliferation of antique stores and the town shut down at 8 p.m. daily with the exception of the Polish bar that kept open till midnight. Oh, what a wild town it was.
When my wife told me that we were going to Fredrick, I thought that there would be something interesting for a thirtysomething couple to do.
“We’re not here to do anything really, except shopping for the children for me, and you get to rest,” Allison said as my mouth dropped.
“Wait a minute dear. We had a deal.”
“The deal was over when you had a heart attack at 34. You get to follow the doctors diet, you get to rest in the country and if this week goes well you get to go back to your internet job and heart attack causing lifestyle”
“But,” I knew I was doomed.
“No, you don’t.”
“Fine,” the words I said when I knew that I was doomed. I had a plan, get away when she slept like a freight train.
Yeah, about that. We were staying in her parents house 5 miles from the main strip of Fredrick. And when I mean strip, I mean one street that if you moseyed a block over you were surrounded by bed and breakfasts and grumpy old people who hadn’t had enough prune juice in their life.
So the first night, I snuck out at 1 A.M. thinking that I had plenty of time till last call.
I pushed the car down the gravel driveway until it was far away from the house for me to start it up. I headed down the two lane highway that lead into town to find it deserted. I walked up to the bar and thinking that maybe it was just a slow night, but how wrong I was.
“Sorry son, Denial county rules say all alcoholic beverages must be served drank no later than midnight. So you can head back home. And by the way Daniel, give my best to your wonderful wife and I won’t tell her that you tried to get a drink when I see her next,” said Sheriff Stone laughing.
I drove back home angrier than ever.
I tried to get onto the family computer but trying to suffer through dial up was completely beyond me. I tried everything to find some connection that my wireless could pick up but I was in the middle of NOWHERE! There was not a wireless hot spot in the town, not even in the only three star hotel.
“Sorry son, we just don’t have a reason to have it here. You can head up to Austin if you need it bad enough,” was the excuse that I got.
I was in my own personal hell.
I got back into bed and looked at my wife.
“Did you say hi to Sheriff Stone for me honey,” Allison said as she laughed while turning to hold me?
“I hate this place. I love you, but I just don’t like you now.”
“Just give it a shot dear.”
“Shoot me, hell, I’ll just borrow your dad’s gun.”
“No, dear. Let me hold you and you can try something new tomorrow,” she said as she fell asleep holding my shoulder.
I didn’t sleep much that night. It was quiet.
Too quiet.
The next couple of days were a blur, Allison shopping, me being pack mule and drug around to every shop that I could imagine in hell:
A store that had nothing but cat stuff, including ceramic waving cats, which always freaks me out.
A store that had every sports teams gear, cept my favorite team, reason why … “no one really likes them down here”.
We went to a store that had antique guns, but no bullets.
Oh and don’t get me started on the store that sold nothing but antique doll clothes.
The best that I could do was just resign to the fact that the next couple of days would drive me nuts.
However, the final night changed the entire way I think of Fredrick.
I was sitting on the porch that had surrounded my in-laws house enjoying a pipe of vanilla tobacco when it walked up to me.
Now, everyone in town talked about the 18 point buck.
It was a legend in the entire county, no one had ever seen the beast that it was. All the hunters had tried to shoot at it and thought to have failed. It was huge and had the scars that would terrify any child. Bambi, this was not.
I didn’t move and stopped even puffing on the pipe as it came closer.
The chair that I was sitting on was on the edge of the porch closest to a large area of grass that I was supposed to mow before we left on Sunday. And I looked back to find my gun, hell even my father in laws gun to shoot it. I would be the hero of Denial. But I forgot that my gun was in my car and my father in laws was in the gun case locked up because of the last time I came to Denial. I was in such a hurry to shoot a buck off the porch like my father in law that I forgot about the recoil and I kinda launched myself through a plate glass window. The family nicknamed me “Secret Service” because of it. I had to find a way to let everyone see that I could either kill it, or hell take a picture of it.
The buck came closer and my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. It slowly moved and started eating something on the ground in between my chair. I slowly tried to move and it immediately jerked up.
I could feel the snorting and snot flying from the nose of the beast. I took a puff of my pipe again and it went back to work eating while I slowly took my phone out so I could take at least a picture of it.
I tried to block the sound out when it took but the noise was just enough. The buck sprang onto the porch and came closer and closer to me. I backed up more and more until I was at the door of the house.
As I tried to open the door in the dark the buck came closer until it launched into the air at me. I heard a loud noise and I blacked out.
I came to in the hospital room with scratches and bruises everywhere and I had a couple broken bones.
“You’re a lucky man, not many people have come that close to an 18 point buck without proper equipment and survived sir,” said the nurse to me.
I tried to get her attention and she finally got my message to bring my phone to me.
I wanted to show her the picture of the buck, but as I scrolled through I found that I only took a picture of the bucks ass and a good portion of my left thumb.
Stupid camera phone.
Stupid buck.
When I got home weeks later my wife had a surprise for me.
“Just keep your eyes closed hun until we get into your office.”
“What’s the big deal? You refile everything while I was gone again dear?”
“Shut up and keep your eyes closed.”
“Fine,” I said knowing that she had something up her sleeve.
“Okay open them,” she said with a laugh.
Now of all the things I wanted in my office, the list included naked playmates, stacks of unmarked cash, hell even the lack of bills would make me happy, I wasn’t expecting to see it hanging on my wall.
“There you go honey, you’ll never forget that moment again.”
On my wall was the eighteen point buck head, with a plaque that read:
To my darling husband
who didn’t flinch much when
I shot the eighteen point
on our porch.BTW, we named the Buck Dollar
Love, your wife.
I knew I’d be renicknamed Dollar when I got back to Fredrick again.
But this time Allison, I’ll have my weapon near me and I’d only stare at the stars with you next to me.
And I promise I won’t leave the bed after you are asleep ever again.
Now can you please change the dressing on my ear. I can still hear ringing.
Categories: Instant Tragedy, My Writing... Tags: Buck, Deer, Fiction
Categories: Instant Sean, My Writing... Tags: Fever, Fiction, My Writing..., Sean, Sick
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