Thursday, May 01, 2008

Copyright 1987, me

Contrary to what some of you might think from reading this blog, I didn't begin my writing career at 24 years old. In fact, I've been blogging since I was seven years old - of course, back then they called it "writing a story" and instead of a computer, we whippersnappers used what was called "paper." This was in 1987, well before the paperless society that we've all come to enjoy today.

It was also, obviously, before my political awakening, which didn't happen until I was eight. So what did I write about? The luck I had, of course! I'm known for my luck the world over.

The first of two stories I shall share today is an account of a true event. It happened at a bowling alley in between gutter balls. Three things you should know before delving into this tome:

1) By "vendor," I mean, "claw machine." It was next to Bubble Bobble.
2) Colin is my brother, not a random stranger.
3) My mom was actually 34 when this happened.

How I Got the Animal Out of the Vendor

One day I put 25 cents in the vendor. I got a cat. I named her Purry. This is the story of how I got Purry.

I was at the bowling alley. I wanted a chance at the vendor. Mom didn't mind me taking a chance at it. So she gave me 50 cents. That's 2 chances.

I put 25 cents in. I pressed the (up) button. The claw grabbed the cat. The claw came back and dropped Purry. I got it, saying "yeah" in shock when Colin asked "You got something?" I was so excited.

And Mom said in shock, "That's the first time in 36 years!"


Believe it or not, I actually won stuff from a claw machine two or three more times in the ensuing years, or 52 times if you count that one with the candy that wins every time. I must have played that one a hundred times...

This next story is a little different. For this one, I wanted to show off my more pastoral literary skills, as well as my ability to infiltrate my pen into the world of someone completely different than myself. And thus you have...

The Woman and the Cornbread

Once upon a time there was a woman. She wanted to make a cornbread. She got the recipe card. She got the flour, and the pot and the other stuff. She put the stove to six degrees. The woman put some hot water into the pot. Then the cornbread was ready in five minutes. Then she ate it at the time she went outside. She saw the sun and her mom's old house. She saw the trees and grass. She saw the country from the barn she lived in. The cornbread was excellent when she had it with milk. It was still not gone for two hours. It was yummy.

I recall several stories I wrote around this time involved cornbread. While I can see its purpose in this story (after all, the title sort of necessitates at least a cornbread cameo), it was a bit of a stretch to put it in the others. Hell, I didn't even like cornbread!

I'd love to share those other stories with you, but I don't think any of them still exist. I do remember that one involved a town losing its phone service for a month because its power lines fell down; another involved Valentine's Day at school (where they had cornbread and punch); one had animals playing a made-up card game for days at a time; and yet another was about someone named "Mrs. Peter."

There was also the comic strip "Math Cookie and Cornbread," but that was a school project. Honest!


pudding-monkey said...

That's some fine writin' there.

We wrote "books" alot in Grade 2. I wrote one called "Avery Anaconda Makes New Friends." There's a whale called Humpy in it.

Ian McGibboney said...

That reminds me of a book I read in second grade: "The Snake That Sneezed." It's like your story, except the snake eats every animal he encounters, including a giraffe. Pretty soon, he slithering around with all these animal shapes in him. Then he sneezes, and they all emerge intact and unharmed.

On an unrelated note, I had counseling in third grade.

Terry Troll said...

How could anyone not like cornbread??? Even heathen unnatural cornbread with sugar added is good.

rhonda said...

ian mcgibboney presents Stories From the Sociable Era.


Karla said...

You should have sent these original compostions in with your application to the New York Times. This way they would really see how much passion you have for writing. And you would not have had to tear into a million peices the response letter they sent you. Great stuff!!!