Now, I've done a lot of crazy things in my life, but one takes the cake. If you know me well enough you've probably heard this story, so bear with me. If you haven't heard this before all I have to say is don't judge me. I was just a kid.
I take you back to a simpler time. The 1980's to be exact. The time of the dinosaurs, according to some. I was only about six or seven years old. I was in my room watching The Monkees on Nickoledeon. Yes, I was one of those spoiled kids that had a tv in their room. Thinking back to what happened after that episode makes me think it's not such a great idea. The episode was all about the Monkees visiting a circus. This immediately caught my attention because I was at that time fascinated by the circus. I sat intently and watched all the crazy mishaps. In one scene they visited a fire eater. From here on out, it all goes downhill....
I sat there amazed as I watched the performer. Something clicked inside of me. "This is what I was born to do!" Now, I'm usually not a person that goes against my instinct, but i really wish I had this time. It seems my conscience was nowhere to be found on this faithful day.
I immediately began plotting how to make my dream come true. I realized of course that I couldn't start out with fire. I would have to take baby steps, work my way up to the grand finale. I scanned my room for something useful. There it was right in the middle of the blue shag carpet in all its glittery green glory, my baton! So I geared myself up for the beginnings of my destiny. I practiced for a little bit, but then the novelty began to wear off. I needed something new and exciting. Another glance of my room led me to just the right thing. My Fisher-price roller skates were just laying there, begging to be used.
Now from here I really begin to doubt my logic and think that I really should have been better supervised as a child. I don't know what I was thinking, so don't even bother asking. I must have been too busy thinking how much of a success a roller skating fire eater would be. For some reason I did not fasten the skates to my feet. I decided to merely balance on them. This as you can probably imagine is was a disaster. I lost my balance and thudded to the floor. The noise must have been horrible. My dad came tearing into the room and turned the whitest shade of pale possible. I will spare you the gross details, but lets just say it wasn't pretty. The only upside was all the ice cream I could eat for the next two weeks while my throat healed and I regained my voice. My parentsreferred to it as the quietest two weeks of our lives.
After that faithful day I've never been able to look at batons, roller skates or the Monkees the same way again.
Monday, November 2, 2009
The Burnt Waffle
This is the first story I've written in a long time. It was inspired by an interesting conversation at the breakfast table. A challenge was issued to me and this is the result...
The Burnt Waffle
“BUZZZZZZZ!!”
A deafening sound filled the dark room. I stirred, but remained in bed. There was no way some random buzzing was going to get my butt out of bed. A herd of elephants could break down the door, parade through the bedroom and start tap dancing on my bed and I wouldn’t stir. To make a long story short… I was tired.
“BUZZZZZZZZ!!”
There it goes again and still l lay there. I grab my pillow and put it over my head in a desperate attempt to block out the awful noise. Only I was too late…
“BUZZZZZZZZ!!”
“This is getting ridiculous.” I mutter. “Who is it?” I call out. Nothing. “Maybe its some traveling sales man at the door selling some new and improved waffle iron or some wonderful product I just can’t live without. “ I convince myself that that is exactly the source of that horrible noise that is pulling me away from the peaceful dreamy sleep I was enjoying only moments before.
“BUZZZZZZZZ!!”
“Look, Mr. Waffleman,” I mumble from underneath my pillow. “I want to thank you for your consideration in offering me your new and revolutionary product in the field of wafflery, but I regret to inform you that I already am the proud owner of a waffle iron. Furthermore I hardly think that selling waffles and or waffle related products at this time of day is such a good idea. What I mean kind sir, is that it is to early…”
“WILL YOU SHUT UP ABOUT WAFFLES AND TURN OFF THAT DAMN ALARM!”
My eyes snapped open and I reached my arm out searching for the alarm clock. I finally found it and gave it a mighty smack.
“The alarm. Of course. I knew what it was the whole time.” I said.
“Uh huh.” Said the voice next to me. “Sure you did.” He yawned. “So… who is this Mr. Waffleman? Something you’re not telling me?”
I reached for my pillow and playfully smacked the source of the voice in the face.
“I see how it is, Leaving me for some fast talking waffle sales man. Running off into the sunset hand in hand. I bet he promised you all the syrup in the world. The two of you living only on love and waffles.”
“Are you done?” I say while rolling over to face him.
“Ummmmm… yes.”’ He yawned again. “Yes I am. “
“Good. All this talk of waffles is making me hungry. How many do you want?” I say while getting out of bed and reaching for my bathrobe.
“I don’t know. How many does Mr. Waffleman usually have?” he chuckled.”
With that I picked up my pillow again and tossed it in his general direction, my aim is not so swift in the morning, but he got the message. I shuffled into the kitchen in search of the waffle ingredients and the all-important waffle iron. After finding all the necessary ingredients I set off in my attempt to make the most wonderful waffles known to mankind. I was a domestic diva. Combining all the ingredients and stirring the batter. June Cleaver had nothing on me. I was so involved in pouring the batter into the iron that I almost didn’t hear the doorbell buzz.
I shuffled my way to the door and opened it. Standing right in front of me was an old fashioned looking gentleman in one of the loudest looking suits I’ve ever seen. I’m no fashion expert, but I’m sure that plaids were not meant to be mixed. Still I had to admire his bold nature. He topped the outfit off with a straw hat. I stood there in a daze trying to figure out what this character was doing standing in my doorway this early in the morning.
“Is the circus in town this week?” I muttered under my breath. “Are they recruiting?”
“Pardon me, m’am?” said the gentleman. “Well, good morning m’am or madam or whatever the case may be. Now you are probably wondering what I’m doing here this early in the morning hours. Now don’t have any fears m’am. I’m not one of those crazy types that goes around attacking pretty little housewives like yourself…”
“Well that’s good to know…” I said, trying to get this nut job out of my doorway, but he just kept rattling on.
“Now, I bet you are asking yourself what exactly my purpose is for being here on this fine morning. Well Ma’m or madam. I will gladly tell you. I am here this morning to let you in on an opportunity that may change your life forever…”
Now this guy was throwing out bad creepy vibes all over the place. I’ve seen enough scary movies to realize where this was heading, but still I was intrigued. As they say, curiosity killed the cat but I am always up for a life changing opportunity. So I decide to let him continue. Although while he was talking I was scanning the room for any objects I could use against him if he crossed the line into craziness, I finally settled on the heavy vase on the end table next to me. All through this process the man kept talking.
“Now, I can tell by looking at you, madam that you are a woman on the go. I bet you are a big career type. Why I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the owner of a multinational conglomerate…”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, mister. “ I think to myself, “Oh, yes I am a mover and a shaker….in my bathrobe.” Still he continued,
“Anyways I digress m’am. I know that the last thing that you have time for in the morning is making breakfast for you and your beloved ones. Well madam, have I got the perfect product for you.
I began to get a weird sense of déjà vu. I decided however to just roll with it. The guy was still talking. I don’t think he even stopped to breathe. He was one determined sales man. Who was I to keep him from doing his job? He began to fumble around in the bag he was carrying.
“Now I bet that you are wondering just exactly how I am going to change your life. Well I’ll tell you. The answer is right here in this bag right here. This new revolutionary product is the answer to all your problems in the kitchen and perhaps all the problems in your life. Why, I don’t think there is any problem this product can’t solve. Why, I’ve personally developed this product for people like you. In fact once you begin using it,
you will think that I made this product for you and you alone. You will thank me forever for creating such an innovative and amazing product…”
“This guy is good. “I thought to myself. “Really good. Like infomercial good.” I was eager to see this miracle product.
“Well Ma’m I won’t keep you in suspense much longer. I am a self-professed expert in the field of wafflery.
‘WHAT?” I shouted.
“Wafflery, madam. I am, if I may be so bold, the worlds best expert in waffles. I run my own college of waffletology in Kalamazoo. At this fine learning institution I developed this revolutionary waffle iron…”
“Oh this is getting to weird. “ I think to myself. I begin to reach for that vase.
The guy reaches into his bag and sure enough he pulls out a waffle iron. Only he’s right. This was no ordinary waffle iron. This thing was so space age looking I bet it could do my laundry and file my taxes while making me delicious waffles. This just had to be to good to be true.
“Look, Mr…. Mr….” I said trying to get him to stop going on about waffles. “Look, Mr….”
“Waffleman, ma’m. Waffleman is the name.”
I froze in place. Thinking that maybe I misheard the gentleman.
“Waffleman?”
“That’s right madam. Waffleman. I am the last in the long line of the waffleman clan. Now, if I may continue….”
“BEEEEEEEEEEEP!!”
I shot up out of my seat, terrified by the sound. I opened my eyes and looked to my left and instead of seeing the infamous Mr. Waffleman I saw a smoking waffle iron. The source of the beep revealed itself to be the smoke alarm. I opened the window to let the smoke out. I walked cautiously up to the iron and opened it. I was face to face with what were once waffles. Now they looked more like burnt hockey pucks. I peeled them out of the iron and tossed them into the trashcan, where they landed with a thud.
“Honey, “ I call out. “Get dressed. We’re going out for breakfast!”
The Burnt Waffle
“BUZZZZZZZ!!”
A deafening sound filled the dark room. I stirred, but remained in bed. There was no way some random buzzing was going to get my butt out of bed. A herd of elephants could break down the door, parade through the bedroom and start tap dancing on my bed and I wouldn’t stir. To make a long story short… I was tired.
“BUZZZZZZZZ!!”
There it goes again and still l lay there. I grab my pillow and put it over my head in a desperate attempt to block out the awful noise. Only I was too late…
“BUZZZZZZZZ!!”
“This is getting ridiculous.” I mutter. “Who is it?” I call out. Nothing. “Maybe its some traveling sales man at the door selling some new and improved waffle iron or some wonderful product I just can’t live without. “ I convince myself that that is exactly the source of that horrible noise that is pulling me away from the peaceful dreamy sleep I was enjoying only moments before.
“BUZZZZZZZZ!!”
“Look, Mr. Waffleman,” I mumble from underneath my pillow. “I want to thank you for your consideration in offering me your new and revolutionary product in the field of wafflery, but I regret to inform you that I already am the proud owner of a waffle iron. Furthermore I hardly think that selling waffles and or waffle related products at this time of day is such a good idea. What I mean kind sir, is that it is to early…”
“WILL YOU SHUT UP ABOUT WAFFLES AND TURN OFF THAT DAMN ALARM!”
My eyes snapped open and I reached my arm out searching for the alarm clock. I finally found it and gave it a mighty smack.
“The alarm. Of course. I knew what it was the whole time.” I said.
“Uh huh.” Said the voice next to me. “Sure you did.” He yawned. “So… who is this Mr. Waffleman? Something you’re not telling me?”
I reached for my pillow and playfully smacked the source of the voice in the face.
“I see how it is, Leaving me for some fast talking waffle sales man. Running off into the sunset hand in hand. I bet he promised you all the syrup in the world. The two of you living only on love and waffles.”
“Are you done?” I say while rolling over to face him.
“Ummmmm… yes.”’ He yawned again. “Yes I am. “
“Good. All this talk of waffles is making me hungry. How many do you want?” I say while getting out of bed and reaching for my bathrobe.
“I don’t know. How many does Mr. Waffleman usually have?” he chuckled.”
With that I picked up my pillow again and tossed it in his general direction, my aim is not so swift in the morning, but he got the message. I shuffled into the kitchen in search of the waffle ingredients and the all-important waffle iron. After finding all the necessary ingredients I set off in my attempt to make the most wonderful waffles known to mankind. I was a domestic diva. Combining all the ingredients and stirring the batter. June Cleaver had nothing on me. I was so involved in pouring the batter into the iron that I almost didn’t hear the doorbell buzz.
I shuffled my way to the door and opened it. Standing right in front of me was an old fashioned looking gentleman in one of the loudest looking suits I’ve ever seen. I’m no fashion expert, but I’m sure that plaids were not meant to be mixed. Still I had to admire his bold nature. He topped the outfit off with a straw hat. I stood there in a daze trying to figure out what this character was doing standing in my doorway this early in the morning.
“Is the circus in town this week?” I muttered under my breath. “Are they recruiting?”
“Pardon me, m’am?” said the gentleman. “Well, good morning m’am or madam or whatever the case may be. Now you are probably wondering what I’m doing here this early in the morning hours. Now don’t have any fears m’am. I’m not one of those crazy types that goes around attacking pretty little housewives like yourself…”
“Well that’s good to know…” I said, trying to get this nut job out of my doorway, but he just kept rattling on.
“Now, I bet you are asking yourself what exactly my purpose is for being here on this fine morning. Well Ma’m or madam. I will gladly tell you. I am here this morning to let you in on an opportunity that may change your life forever…”
Now this guy was throwing out bad creepy vibes all over the place. I’ve seen enough scary movies to realize where this was heading, but still I was intrigued. As they say, curiosity killed the cat but I am always up for a life changing opportunity. So I decide to let him continue. Although while he was talking I was scanning the room for any objects I could use against him if he crossed the line into craziness, I finally settled on the heavy vase on the end table next to me. All through this process the man kept talking.
“Now, I can tell by looking at you, madam that you are a woman on the go. I bet you are a big career type. Why I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the owner of a multinational conglomerate…”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, mister. “ I think to myself, “Oh, yes I am a mover and a shaker….in my bathrobe.” Still he continued,
“Anyways I digress m’am. I know that the last thing that you have time for in the morning is making breakfast for you and your beloved ones. Well madam, have I got the perfect product for you.
I began to get a weird sense of déjà vu. I decided however to just roll with it. The guy was still talking. I don’t think he even stopped to breathe. He was one determined sales man. Who was I to keep him from doing his job? He began to fumble around in the bag he was carrying.
“Now I bet that you are wondering just exactly how I am going to change your life. Well I’ll tell you. The answer is right here in this bag right here. This new revolutionary product is the answer to all your problems in the kitchen and perhaps all the problems in your life. Why, I don’t think there is any problem this product can’t solve. Why, I’ve personally developed this product for people like you. In fact once you begin using it,
you will think that I made this product for you and you alone. You will thank me forever for creating such an innovative and amazing product…”
“This guy is good. “I thought to myself. “Really good. Like infomercial good.” I was eager to see this miracle product.
“Well Ma’m I won’t keep you in suspense much longer. I am a self-professed expert in the field of wafflery.
‘WHAT?” I shouted.
“Wafflery, madam. I am, if I may be so bold, the worlds best expert in waffles. I run my own college of waffletology in Kalamazoo. At this fine learning institution I developed this revolutionary waffle iron…”
“Oh this is getting to weird. “ I think to myself. I begin to reach for that vase.
The guy reaches into his bag and sure enough he pulls out a waffle iron. Only he’s right. This was no ordinary waffle iron. This thing was so space age looking I bet it could do my laundry and file my taxes while making me delicious waffles. This just had to be to good to be true.
“Look, Mr…. Mr….” I said trying to get him to stop going on about waffles. “Look, Mr….”
“Waffleman, ma’m. Waffleman is the name.”
I froze in place. Thinking that maybe I misheard the gentleman.
“Waffleman?”
“That’s right madam. Waffleman. I am the last in the long line of the waffleman clan. Now, if I may continue….”
“BEEEEEEEEEEEP!!”
I shot up out of my seat, terrified by the sound. I opened my eyes and looked to my left and instead of seeing the infamous Mr. Waffleman I saw a smoking waffle iron. The source of the beep revealed itself to be the smoke alarm. I opened the window to let the smoke out. I walked cautiously up to the iron and opened it. I was face to face with what were once waffles. Now they looked more like burnt hockey pucks. I peeled them out of the iron and tossed them into the trashcan, where they landed with a thud.
“Honey, “ I call out. “Get dressed. We’re going out for breakfast!”
Sometimes I write things....sometimes
Hello! Welcome to me own little corner of the blogosphere (such a funny word) . As the title of this post says...sometimes I write things. This blog will be for those times. I really want to get back to writing regularly, and I figured that a blog would be the perfect way to start. I'll fill this blog with my short stories, random thoughts/raves and anything else that amuses me. Enjoy!
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