Thursday March 8th, 2012

The exercise:

Today we write something to do with: scrambled.

It's been a long and tiring day, so I'm just going to get on with it.


Rudy sat in his darkened living room, the drapes drawn tightly together, listening to the static on the radio. A writing pad sat teetering on his lap, threatening to fall after every nervous tap of his pen.

Outside the streets were silent, aside from the distant footfalls of soldiers enforcing the curfew. Rudy hadn't heard a shot fired after sundown in weeks, which meant either the army had made their point or the rebels were getting more clever.

He didn't even dare to think which side he privately rooted for. It was silly, he knew, but his survival relied on caution.

Which was why he was on edge that night.

The stranger's instructions had been simple: write down the words in the exact order they were spoken, then deliver the transcript to him the following morning. It would mean nothing to Rudy; the stranger would unscramble the message himself.

His threat had been even more clear: tell anyone and his entire family would die, Rudy last of all.

The static faded and was replaced by a female voice, speaking slowly, carefully, with an accent he didn't recognize. Without pausing to think, Rudy began to write.


Anonymous said...

plans to form
decisions to make
planets going retrograde
adds to confusion
what was once right
now seems so wrong
ouch my head hurts
my brain's become scrambled

Cathryn Leigh said...

"How do you like your eggs?" Sarah looked up as Jason decended the stairs.

"Uh..." he looked at her blankly.

"Scrambled, over easy, hard boiled..." She raise her eyebrows but he shrugged. Sarah shook her head and sighed. "And I'm going to guess you have no idea how eggs are cooked either."

Sarah turned back to her cooking. She was about to scramble the eggs, until she remembered she hadn't gone to market yet. Over easy it'd have to be. She served them up on bread with some cheese and a glass of water.

Jason looked at his plate curiously. "You can eat eggs like this?"

"You've never had an egg, cooked as an egg?" In her astonishment she spoke with her mouth full and quickly swallowed.

Jason shook his head and then took a hesitant bite, before devoring it.

"See you this afternoon love," he told her when he was done. Giving her a kiss to the forehead, he left.

After going to market Sarah realized she couldn't make bread because they'd eaten their ration of free eggs that morning. Signing sarah grabbed a couple coins to trapse back to morket to make sure htey'dhave bread for tonight's dinner. Someday she'd get used to tis 'backwards' way of life.

Greg said...

@writebite: I like the way the things listed in the poem don't quite fit together though they almost feel like they should; it adds rather nicely to the denouement about the brain being scrambled!

@Cathryn: I never know what all these American terms for eggs mean! Over-easy is fried with a runny yolk still? Scrambled are much easier to understand... until you start getting asked if they're made with butter or cream or (horrors) milk.... I like the general domesticity of the scene and how Jason seems a little klutzy around food.
And eggs in bread? I thought that was only brioche!

@Marc: That's a neat idea for secret messages: send it to a complete innocent and force them to record it and then give it to you. Of course, if Rudy's curious enough to try unscrambling the message himself, the story gets even more interesting! The curfew had me intrigued too.

GEGS? (9,4)

In the world of cryptic crosswords, pretty much any word associated with cooking can be an anagram indicator: cooked, whipped, beaten, etc (though chopped and sliced are usually reserved to mean cutting a letter off). The question-mark is used to indicate that something is perhaps awry, or a little bit of a side-step. So for the above clue, the question-mark indicates that we need to think a little laterally. GEGS -- well, that's an easy anagram of EGGS. So what might indicate "Anagram EGGS to get this?" Well obviously: SCRAMBLED EGGS!

Cathryn Leigh said...

@ Greg - your dizzing intellect has let me in a tizzy... but now after re-reading a few times, I must say LOL, how clever... you're intelect dizzing as ever. :}

Eggs to me are hard boiled or scrambled. never got into the over easy (you got it right) or what ever they call it when you throughly cook the yoke. But my hubby likes over easy so I learn how, sort of...

And of course Jason doens't know is way around a kitchen. He's a noble... not sure how he managed to cook for himself in the field, but then you wouldn't have eggs outt here. *he he*

And yes eggs in bread. It's a main ingrediant for quick breads (the ones that don't have to rise overnight) like Banana bread *nom nom*

(Sorry I just had to comment *giggles*) :}

Iron Bess said...

“Sum un a beech,” my dad said when he dropped the spatula. “I drooped this, wa cha call, thing.”

I chuckled and retrieved the spatula off the floor then rinsed it off under hot water before handing it back to him. “It’s called a spatula dad,” I said. “And it’s, son of a bitch, not sum un a.”

He glanced at me then down at the spatula. “Spitula?”

“Yup, spitula,” I laughed again. It was just after six in the morning and I could tell that dad was itching to go for his walk. Personally I was itching for him to go for his walk as well that way I could crawl back into bed and sleep for another two hours before he got home.

“Your mudder, she knew spitula and such,” he said wistfully. “She always say, son of a beech, for me too.” He carefully laid the spatula next to the frying pan and turned the burner off. “Breakfast, you no want?” he asked. “Too early?”

“Yeah dad,” I said. “It’s way too early in the morning for this cowboy. Why don’t you go for your walk and I’ll make you breakfast when you get home.”

He straightened his shoulders and rolled his head loosely back and forth visibly relieved. “Ya, too feckin early. Breakfast after, walking now,” he scrambled his English like a cook scrambled her eggs. He sat heavily on the deacon’s bench by the door and pulled his shoes on. “Your, mudder, she no like so early the morning too.”

Dad looked a little lost and forlorn sitting there on the bench, suddenly I could see him as he was, shrunken, sad, and lonely. I walked over and planted a kiss on his bald spot. “Okay dad, you have a good walk and don’t talk to any strangers.”

He smiled up at me and patted my cheek gently. “Bah, nobady stoopeed like you old papa. Only papa and the birds is out today morning.”

I pulled the curtains aside and watched as he picked up the walking stick which was leaning against the back stoop. He briskly walked down the path then opened the small garden gate before stepping out onto the sidewalk. “Morning you Missus,” he shouted at, Amy Davidson, my next door neighbour. She picked the newspaper up off her front lawn before waving to him. I couldn’t hear what she said to him but saw dad give a big smile before walking away.

“He’s going to be okay,” I told the cat as I headed back to bed.

Anonymous said...

iron bess...wistful, left me feeling nostalgic for my own papa

Anonymous said...

@Greg- Eggs are made with butter or cream? Like mixed in? Or cooked on(like instead of oil)?

@Cathryn- Yum! A friend of mine bakes an ever changing assortment of breads for a local Farmer's Market. Pumpkin Chocolate Chip was probably my fave. Oh, and lemon!

Soooo tired. Long week at work but was lucky enough to leave an hour early today and hike a lovely, muddy, slushy, sunny, practically springtime trail.

My head after checking billing accounts on only 400 pages of a 700 page report.
The way my words must seem when they bump up against too many emotions on the way out.
Yes, please, with cheese, veggies, ketchup, and sriracha. Oh, is that an omelet?
The crazy pieces of my life before I decide I like them better than the calm order I once dreamed of.

Krystin Scott said...

A collection of letters that make little sense
Make up the first line of our defense
They contain a capital letter and a number too
And are displayed as asterisks to protect you
Passwords and CAPTCHA are what they are called
So hard to read and remember you should be appauled
A scrambled bunch of random alphabet mess
They frusterate, annoy, and cause us much distress

Anonymous said...

“A-eend, I want those bad boys *scrambled*!” Said Marcus thumping his chest for extra emphasis.

Jenny looked at him, heaved a sigh and then fought the urge to bury her face in her hands.

“Why do you always have to do this?” She asked, trying to keep it from sounding plaintive.

“You do realize that it comes off as a little bit pathetic? Some skinny white kid from BF nowhere in Southern Manitoba and suddenly your all Fiddy Cent or some shit?”

Marcus grinned.

“I just gotz to be me Bay-be!”

Jenny shook her head.

“It's not that I give a crap of course, it's just that about half the time people give me this look. Like they're sympathizing that I'm stuck hanging out with someone with mental problems.”

Marcus was not deterred.

“Hell, cracker can think what they want J-zizzle. They just jealous cause I be so cool.”

“You know. When you get like this I start wondering why I'm hanging out with someone who has a bit of a shaky grip on reality.”

She gave him a penetrating look.

“Speaking of which if you're suddenly all 'Soul Man' why aren't you ordering collared greens and grits with your eggs.”

Marcus made a universally understood face.

“Ewww! That stuff is gross!”

Marc said...

Writebite - I can definitely relate to your poem. Feel like my brain's been scrambled all week.

Cathryn - cute little scene with Sarah and Jason :)

Greg - yes, well, that didn't help with my scrambled brain.

Iron Bess - I'm with Writebite. Beautifully handled.

H.N. - Love this: "The way my words must seem when they bump up against too many emotions on the way out.

Krystin - CAPTCHA is absolutely miserable. I have to refresh it 3 or 4 times before I get one I can actually read.

GZ - hah, one can only keep it so 'real' before a line must be drawn :)