Scene:
3:30 AM
All household occupants are sleeping peacefully.
Except the smallest, a stowaway named Evan.
A piercing scream pierces the quiet, piercingly.
The groggy male caretaker is instantly on his feet, scrambling to the scene of the crime.
Groggy Male Caretaker: What's the matter, Bubs?
Evan: It HURRRRTS!
Groggy Male Caretaker: What hurts?!?
Evan: I wanna hold it!
Groggy Male Caretaker: Hold what? What's going on?
Evan: The butterfly! Wanna hold the butterfly! Wanna hold it!
Groggy Male Caretaker: Don't we all, Son. Time for bed.
Evan: Nigh-nigh, motorcycle!
Groggy Male Caretaker: Good night, Son.
Groggy Female Caretaker: What was the problem?
Groggy Male Caretaker: Butterflies.
Groggy Female Caretaker: Again?
Groggy Male Caretaker: Can't trust 'em.
Weirdest late night experience - Go!
.
Vegging Tales
The plot to every episode of Thomas the Tank Engine can be resolved by getting rid of Thomas. If I was Sir Topham Hatt, I would sell him for scrap or pay James to nudge him off a cliff.
Super Why! is the most annoying and ridiculous kid's show ever. The theme song has about 4 words and gets stuck in your head all week long until it makes you stabby. Example plot: kid in class is asked what 3 + 2 is. He then ditches class with his friends and goes to their top secret command center, where they don superhero costumes and start researching books for the answer. I turned it off at that point. Seriously...it would have been easier to stay in class, yes?
Evan was watching Little Einsteins on the iPad the other day while I was cleaning. He came running up to me, crying his eyes out.
"SCARY! Rocks are scary!"
Curious, I picked up the iPad to see what was going on. The Little Einsteins were trying to stop an asteroid field from destroying the earth. Yikes!
"That IS scary, Son. Let's watch something else."
Evan selected The Magic School Bus. I started it and headed off to finish cleaning. His wails brought me trotting back. Tears were dripping off his chin. I picked up the iPad and sure enough, they were flying the school bus through an asteroid field, talking about how they could be destroyed any second.
So basically I'm teaching my son to fear an imminent death from space rocks. Go me.
What kids' shows do you love or hate?
.
.
The $287 Bill
The man approached the bank teller with confidence.
He handed him a crisp bill with Lincoln's face on it.
Man: Hi. I'd like to get change for this.
Teller: Will five ones do, or do you need quarters as well?
Man: No, I'd like 14 twenties, and 7 Susan B. Anthonys.
Teller: What? This is a $5.
Man: No, it's a $287 bill.
Teller: There's no such thing!
Man: But there should be!
Teller: And yet there isn't!
Man: *Grabbing a pen* There is now...pass over my Susan B. Anthonys!
Teller: Just because you write "287" on it and cross out the "5" doesn't make it a $287 bill.
Man: Sure looks that way to me! What gives you the right to decide?
Teller: This is a $5 bill. That's what the U.S. Treasury intended it to be. No more, no less. I don't make the rules, Sir. I don't have to like the rules, but I do have to comply.
Man: But I would be a lot happier if this was a $287 bill! Why don't you want me to be happy?
Teller: I'd like for you to be happy, Sir. I just would like for you to be happy with a $5 bill.
Man: You bankers and your rules! If you all would just relax, we could all have our own way and be happier. What do you care if this bill is a $5 bill or a $287 bill? It doesn't affect you. You wouldn't be giving me your own personal money as change; it would be the bank's.
Teller: If everyone made their $5 bills into $287 bills, inflation would make the $287 bill the new $5 bill. We wouldn't accomplish anything but driving prices higher. And I don't know about you, but I don't want things to cost more. I'd have to live in the world you created, which isn't the way things were intended to be. That's how it affects me.
Man: You're so hateful and judgmental!
.
He handed him a crisp bill with Lincoln's face on it.
Man: Hi. I'd like to get change for this.
Teller: Will five ones do, or do you need quarters as well?
Man: No, I'd like 14 twenties, and 7 Susan B. Anthonys.
Teller: What? This is a $5.
Man: No, it's a $287 bill.
Teller: There's no such thing!
Man: But there should be!
Teller: And yet there isn't!
Man: *Grabbing a pen* There is now...pass over my Susan B. Anthonys!
Teller: Just because you write "287" on it and cross out the "5" doesn't make it a $287 bill.
Man: Sure looks that way to me! What gives you the right to decide?
Teller: This is a $5 bill. That's what the U.S. Treasury intended it to be. No more, no less. I don't make the rules, Sir. I don't have to like the rules, but I do have to comply.
Man: But I would be a lot happier if this was a $287 bill! Why don't you want me to be happy?
Teller: I'd like for you to be happy, Sir. I just would like for you to be happy with a $5 bill.
Man: You bankers and your rules! If you all would just relax, we could all have our own way and be happier. What do you care if this bill is a $5 bill or a $287 bill? It doesn't affect you. You wouldn't be giving me your own personal money as change; it would be the bank's.
Teller: If everyone made their $5 bills into $287 bills, inflation would make the $287 bill the new $5 bill. We wouldn't accomplish anything but driving prices higher. And I don't know about you, but I don't want things to cost more. I'd have to live in the world you created, which isn't the way things were intended to be. That's how it affects me.
Man: You're so hateful and judgmental!
.
Superphone Tasty Cologne
When I first found my son standing in our shower, sucking on the cap to my cologne bottle, banging the bottle on the shower door, I was annoyed. Then it occurred to me - what else are you going to do when you're two and Mom and Dad won't turn on the TV for you or let you use the iPad?
I used to call the gym "the Hurting Place". I don't do that anymore since I stopped going when we bought an elliptical machine. Now I walk up to it and say, "Hello, Newman."
Buying the new iPhone will give me superpowers, yes? I seem to remember that's how it works.
We got our refrigerator 9.5 years ago. It has a water dispenser in the door. I have never changed the water filter for this dispenser. I prefer the water from the refrigerator dispenser over our tap water. Either this means the filter is still good, or I prefer water filtered with yuck. Let's go with option 1.
What have you been lax about lately?
.
I used to call the gym "the Hurting Place". I don't do that anymore since I stopped going when we bought an elliptical machine. Now I walk up to it and say, "Hello, Newman."
Buying the new iPhone will give me superpowers, yes? I seem to remember that's how it works.
We got our refrigerator 9.5 years ago. It has a water dispenser in the door. I have never changed the water filter for this dispenser. I prefer the water from the refrigerator dispenser over our tap water. Either this means the filter is still good, or I prefer water filtered with yuck. Let's go with option 1.
What have you been lax about lately?
.
Things My One-Year-Old Used to Be Able to Do...
 |
| This is what sunroofs are for. |
My one-year-old used to be able to:
- Sing "Amazing Grace".
- Count to 6, using most of the numbers along the way.
- Name all the letters in the alphabet by sight.
- Drive Grandpa's Corvette around the cul-de-sac.
- Use an iPad, iPhone, iPod or iAnything like a pro. Including turning on the magnification feature no one could figure out how to turn off.
- Build a lawn mower and a truck at Home Depot.
- Somersault down a flight of stairs and ask to do it again.
- Show off his vocabulary - turquoise, onomatopoeia, arrivederci, Isotopes.
- Ask us to take him to a baseball game, then say "OK!", and go wait by the garage door.
Sadly, my one-year-old can no longer do any of these things.
Because, today, he's two.
Evan, I don't know where the time goes, but I do know this:
We love you.
Now, get in the car - we're going to a baseball game!
Sappy, precious memories...go!
.
A Glimmer of Hope
This post is part of The Caper Challenge. Follow the link to read other's caper stories.
--
It mocked him, hanging there like a shining, unreachable star.
--
It mocked him, hanging there like a shining, unreachable star.
Glenn sighed and turned away. He shuffled on down the road. The road to nowhere, it seemed.
He was tired.
Tired of walking to work since they couldn't afford a second car. Tired of working the night shift as a custodian in a skyscraper stuffed with cubicles. Tired of never being able to buy Trixie anything nice. Tired of struggling.
Trixie. His dear, sweet Trixie. Trixie who didn't need anything fancy; who was content. Trixie who encouraged Glenn to have hope, to try harder, to laugh more. Trixie, the light at the end of his tunnel. She'd even made it a point to pick him up from work whenever it rained, just so he didn't have to walk.
She deserved better than living paycheck to paycheck, playing hide-and-seek with the landlord for a few days past their rent's due date every month. She deserved better than the shabby, leaky and smelly apartment a custodian's paycheck allowed.
Trixie always made the best of things. Glenn remembered sitting on the roof of their apartment building. Glenn had been on edge, but after just a few minutes of Trixie's smile, he was relaxed and enjoying himself. In fact, he had almost forgotten that they were on the roof in an effort to avoid the landlord's incessant pounding on the front door.
They had watched the stars.
He couldn't get the image of the necklace out of his head. It hung in the window of the jewelry shop day after day. Every day it shined for him to see, twinkled for him to wish. He wanted it for Trixie.
Glenn pulled his badge from his back pocket as he approached the doors to his skyscraper. He paused on the front steps.
He couldn't do it. Couldn't muck his way through another shift wiping toilets and dumping bins for ungrateful cubicle dwellers. Couldn't stand dusting around their smiling family pictures and Dilbert page-a-days. Tonight the ingrates were peacefully dreaming at home again and he couldn't stand it anymore.
The wind picked up and it started to rain. He pulled his hood over his head and groaned.
Just perfect.
He turned and marched back the way he had come. He didn't know he had a plan, and surprised himself when he hurled the rock without a moment's hesitation. The glass shattered, sparkling in the moonlight as it glittered to the ground around his feet. But it didn't sparkle nearly as stunningly as the necklace. His gaze wasn't even distracted by the blaring of the alarm.
He grabbed it quickly, snapping the fish line it dangled from. He held it close to his face, trying to examine it in the dark.
Fake. "Of course", he thought. It's in the window, easy to snag. He stepped up and in, glass crunching under his work boots.
It was too dark to hunt for the real one. Besides, he hadn't much time. He methodically began to smash every display case. He grabbed and he grabbed, discriminating against nothing. He filled his coat pockets and then his pant pockets. There was still more, but he couldn't fit it anywhere. Quickly, he pulled his socks up over his pant legs and began to fill the pant legs with more jewelry.
He heard the sirens, but couldn't run. He'd lose all the jewelry, and he had no idea where the necklace was stuffed, if he even had it at all. He walked as quickly as he could down the alley behind the jewelry store. He turned down another alley, thinking only of distance, no real plan in his mind.
He reached the chain link fence at the same time the police squad car reached the alley. He was trapped. The fence separating the alley from the junkyard was too tall to climb.
The squad car had its flood light on and was sweeping the alley. He crouched in the corner with nowhere to go. If he hadn't been seen yet, he would be very soon.
"Psst!"
The voice immediately behind him startled him. He glanced back, through the fence. An old, skinny man stood there, beckoning. A scraggly beard pretended to cover his face.
Glenn stared dumbly at the fence.
The old man snapped, "Just push it!" He turned and began walking away.
Glenn pushed on the fence. It bent in at the bottom. He scrambled under and let it snap back in place. The flood light illuminated the spot he'd been in just two seconds earlier. He turned and followed the old man as fast he could without losing all his loot.
"Why did you help me?", Glenn asked.
"'Cause I ain't the cops! Plus, it'll cost you a cut of whatever you're packing. You look like the Michelin man!"
He led Glenn to a shack near the entrance to the junkyard.
"On the table."
Glenn hesitated for only a moment, but the old man did not. He was holding a dirty revolver in his hand.
"Now."
Glenn started emptying pockets and pant legs. The old man's eyes grew wider and wider as the pile on the table grew taller and shinier.
"You can have it all", Glenn said. "Except this."
He gently pulled out the necklace. It glinted brighter inside the shack than the dim single bulb hanging eerily from the ceiling should have allowed.
The old man chuckled. "That's funny." He raised the revolver an inch or two. "Hand it over. Now."
Glenn gripped the necklace tighter. "Please. It's why I did it. It's for my girl. Trixie deserves something special. Please."
The old man squinted at Glenn. A long moment passed. He glanced longingly at the necklace one last time and shifted his gaze toward the sound of the sirens
"Take it and get out of my sight, or my bullet will find you faster than those cops."
Glenn shoved the necklace into his pocket and hurried from the shack. He sprinted home, not slowing the entire way. He took the stairs up to the apartment. Didn't want the ding of the shaky elevator to wake the landlord.
Eight stories up. It wasn't until he approached his apartment door that he began wondering what he'd say to Trixie. How would he explain why he wasn't at work? What would he tell her about the necklace?
He stopped at the door and took a deep breath. It didn't matter what he would say. Trixie would know what to do. She always did.
He pushed open the door, but instead of Trixie's warm smile, he found himself looking into a wolf-like sneer. Two detectives had a bewildered Glenn in handcuffs before he could say a word. They led him to a car.
"How did you find me so quick?", he asked from the backseat on the ride downtown.
"You're an idiot, Glenn. We found your badge in the middle of the jewelry store, right next to the rock you tossed through the window."
Glenn sighed. The badge must have fallen out of his pocket in his haste to pack in the jewelry. He was so focused on getting out of there he hadn't even thought about checking to see if he'd left any evidence.
--
Trixie stared at him through the glass, the phone against her ear.
"You stood me up, Glenn."
He stared back in surprise, and then realization washed over him.
"You came to pick me up."
"And saw everything!"
Glenn hung his head. "That figures," he thought.
"It was worth a shot, though," said Glenn despondently.
"Well, that's not how I would have planned it. I guess I'll have to teach you how to spot a real diamond from a fake. I'll wait for you, Glenn. We'll both be here when you get out."
Then, as sly as a fox, she brushed her hair back from her neck discreetly revealing an unmistakable glimmer. She hung up the phone, gave him that warm smile, stood and walked away.
Glenn smiled. Trixie, his love, shined as bright as hope itself.
Special thanks to Jana and Jane Anderson, who helped me immensely with this story.
--
What did you think?
.
Trixie. His dear, sweet Trixie. Trixie who didn't need anything fancy; who was content. Trixie who encouraged Glenn to have hope, to try harder, to laugh more. Trixie, the light at the end of his tunnel. She'd even made it a point to pick him up from work whenever it rained, just so he didn't have to walk.
She deserved better than living paycheck to paycheck, playing hide-and-seek with the landlord for a few days past their rent's due date every month. She deserved better than the shabby, leaky and smelly apartment a custodian's paycheck allowed.
Trixie always made the best of things. Glenn remembered sitting on the roof of their apartment building. Glenn had been on edge, but after just a few minutes of Trixie's smile, he was relaxed and enjoying himself. In fact, he had almost forgotten that they were on the roof in an effort to avoid the landlord's incessant pounding on the front door.
They had watched the stars.
He couldn't get the image of the necklace out of his head. It hung in the window of the jewelry shop day after day. Every day it shined for him to see, twinkled for him to wish. He wanted it for Trixie.
Glenn pulled his badge from his back pocket as he approached the doors to his skyscraper. He paused on the front steps.
He couldn't do it. Couldn't muck his way through another shift wiping toilets and dumping bins for ungrateful cubicle dwellers. Couldn't stand dusting around their smiling family pictures and Dilbert page-a-days. Tonight the ingrates were peacefully dreaming at home again and he couldn't stand it anymore.
The wind picked up and it started to rain. He pulled his hood over his head and groaned.
Just perfect.
He turned and marched back the way he had come. He didn't know he had a plan, and surprised himself when he hurled the rock without a moment's hesitation. The glass shattered, sparkling in the moonlight as it glittered to the ground around his feet. But it didn't sparkle nearly as stunningly as the necklace. His gaze wasn't even distracted by the blaring of the alarm.
He grabbed it quickly, snapping the fish line it dangled from. He held it close to his face, trying to examine it in the dark.
Fake. "Of course", he thought. It's in the window, easy to snag. He stepped up and in, glass crunching under his work boots.
It was too dark to hunt for the real one. Besides, he hadn't much time. He methodically began to smash every display case. He grabbed and he grabbed, discriminating against nothing. He filled his coat pockets and then his pant pockets. There was still more, but he couldn't fit it anywhere. Quickly, he pulled his socks up over his pant legs and began to fill the pant legs with more jewelry.
He heard the sirens, but couldn't run. He'd lose all the jewelry, and he had no idea where the necklace was stuffed, if he even had it at all. He walked as quickly as he could down the alley behind the jewelry store. He turned down another alley, thinking only of distance, no real plan in his mind.
He reached the chain link fence at the same time the police squad car reached the alley. He was trapped. The fence separating the alley from the junkyard was too tall to climb.
The squad car had its flood light on and was sweeping the alley. He crouched in the corner with nowhere to go. If he hadn't been seen yet, he would be very soon.
"Psst!"
The voice immediately behind him startled him. He glanced back, through the fence. An old, skinny man stood there, beckoning. A scraggly beard pretended to cover his face.
Glenn stared dumbly at the fence.
The old man snapped, "Just push it!" He turned and began walking away.
Glenn pushed on the fence. It bent in at the bottom. He scrambled under and let it snap back in place. The flood light illuminated the spot he'd been in just two seconds earlier. He turned and followed the old man as fast he could without losing all his loot.
"Why did you help me?", Glenn asked.
"'Cause I ain't the cops! Plus, it'll cost you a cut of whatever you're packing. You look like the Michelin man!"
He led Glenn to a shack near the entrance to the junkyard.
"On the table."
Glenn hesitated for only a moment, but the old man did not. He was holding a dirty revolver in his hand.
"Now."
Glenn started emptying pockets and pant legs. The old man's eyes grew wider and wider as the pile on the table grew taller and shinier.
"You can have it all", Glenn said. "Except this."
He gently pulled out the necklace. It glinted brighter inside the shack than the dim single bulb hanging eerily from the ceiling should have allowed.
The old man chuckled. "That's funny." He raised the revolver an inch or two. "Hand it over. Now."
Glenn gripped the necklace tighter. "Please. It's why I did it. It's for my girl. Trixie deserves something special. Please."
The old man squinted at Glenn. A long moment passed. He glanced longingly at the necklace one last time and shifted his gaze toward the sound of the sirens
"Take it and get out of my sight, or my bullet will find you faster than those cops."
Glenn shoved the necklace into his pocket and hurried from the shack. He sprinted home, not slowing the entire way. He took the stairs up to the apartment. Didn't want the ding of the shaky elevator to wake the landlord.
Eight stories up. It wasn't until he approached his apartment door that he began wondering what he'd say to Trixie. How would he explain why he wasn't at work? What would he tell her about the necklace?
He stopped at the door and took a deep breath. It didn't matter what he would say. Trixie would know what to do. She always did.
He pushed open the door, but instead of Trixie's warm smile, he found himself looking into a wolf-like sneer. Two detectives had a bewildered Glenn in handcuffs before he could say a word. They led him to a car.
"How did you find me so quick?", he asked from the backseat on the ride downtown.
"You're an idiot, Glenn. We found your badge in the middle of the jewelry store, right next to the rock you tossed through the window."
Glenn sighed. The badge must have fallen out of his pocket in his haste to pack in the jewelry. He was so focused on getting out of there he hadn't even thought about checking to see if he'd left any evidence.
--
Trixie stared at him through the glass, the phone against her ear.
"You stood me up, Glenn."
He stared back in surprise, and then realization washed over him.
"You came to pick me up."
"And saw everything!"
Glenn hung his head. "That figures," he thought.
"It was worth a shot, though," said Glenn despondently.
"Well, that's not how I would have planned it. I guess I'll have to teach you how to spot a real diamond from a fake. I'll wait for you, Glenn. We'll both be here when you get out."
Then, as sly as a fox, she brushed her hair back from her neck discreetly revealing an unmistakable glimmer. She hung up the phone, gave him that warm smile, stood and walked away.
Glenn smiled. Trixie, his love, shined as bright as hope itself.
Special thanks to Jana and Jane Anderson, who helped me immensely with this story.
--
What did you think?
.
The History of Words
A long time ago, people used them too. They still do.
The End
Give me a brief history of something.
.
The End
Give me a brief history of something.
.
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