trying something new today- writing a little bit of a story- I hope to add on to it on Fridays, or throw it out and start a new one. Anyways, here's the first little bit.
It hadn’t been a romance made in heaven. In fact, it was more like the funny papers.
“Funny papers? Who says funny papers anymore?”
In fact, it was more like the Cartoon Network.
“No, that’s not what you mean. Say Peanuts.”
“You think we’re like Peanuts? Peanuts is all about unrequited love. Look, look at Charlie Brown and the redheaded girl. Look at Lucy and um, Schroeder.”
“Not Schroeder. Was it? His name was-“
Our story was more like something you’d find in an old newspaper comic, or maybe a Marx brother’s film. Something light and slapsticky- with the occasional surprisingly dark moment, like when Harpo plays the harp and you realize that he is such a deeply sad man.
All that to bring us to today, where I sit in a rumpled hospital bed with fractures scattered around from place to place. The quick version is, I tried to fix my own roof and found out I can’t fly. As to why I tried to fix the roof myself- I’ll let someone else tell that story.
It was a dark and stormy night…
“No, you are not saying that.”
“This is my narrative now, right?”
It was dark and stormy for many reasons. We had dined early, to have more time for arguing. It had been a little stormy for weeks, actually. Once again, we had arrived at that commit-or-bail option in the relationship, which is usually my cue to bail, but I was having second thoughts. I mean, I was considering the big M. I just happened to be considering it inside my head, which is why I got left with two entrees and a good bit of sympathy from all the husbandly-types in adjacent tables.
"Can I just say-"
to be continued...