Thursday February 27th, 2014

The exercise:

Write about an: intrusion.

I tried to take Max to get his haircut this afternoon but I guess it was a bit too late in the day for him, as he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. I wasn't interested in forcing the issue, for his and the barber's sake, so we'll try again tomorrow.

If it happens again we'll just have to cut it ourselves while he's sleeping. Should we get to that point, I take no responsibility for how goofy he'll look.

Mine:

An abandoned beach, the sun warming the sand with its rays as it slips toward the horizon. Waves roll gently onto the shore before whispering their unhurried retreat. A bottle of wine in one hand, a wicker picnic basket in the other, heavy with the promise of a long, leisurely dinner.

That report is due on Monday. If they don't like the results heads are going to roll.

Log cabin, a roaring fire in the hearth. Through the windows snow can be seen drifting down to earth between the pines. Nearby an owl calls out. Thick blankets, hot chocolate, bookshelves crowded with the finest works of literature produced in the last five hundred years.

Dad is in the hospital again. The doctors don't sound optimistic.

Perfect silence. A view that reaches for eternity in all directions. Breathe in peace, breathe out stress. Feel at one with the earth beneath my feet. Ponder the vastness of the universe, the meaning of life and death.

Beeping, beeping, beeping. Louder, louder, louder. Groggy fingers fumble for the alarm clock.

I wish reality would stop intruding on my dreams.

2 Comments:

Greg said...

You could always try the reward route for getting him to have his haircut -- you know, if he's good and gets his haircut then you won't beat him before he goes to bed, kind of thing. I would say it's the way it works with dogs, but both of mine are short-haired and don't need haircuts :) And if you do cut his hair yourself, then we need a picture!
Great little story, and I like the way it becomes clearer gradually throughout what's going on. Very subtle in its own way, and definitely not what I was expecting from you for a title of 'intrusion' :)

Intrusion
It was a quiet evening in Sixticton: the deer were eating the home-owners' gardens, the sunset was a shade of medicinal pink that cast doubt on the idea that there might be a perfect Creator, and only a wisp of smoke in the air revealed that the mountain behind Sixticton might be smouldering still. One street behind Main Street (known mostly as Other Street though it did have a council-approved name as well), a skinny kid with bad teeth, scruffy clothes and a hungry glint in his eye was looking at the front door of a picturesque house.
The door opened and Martha came out.
"Look," she said to him. "I can see you, aight? This ain't no penetration test if I can see you, aight? If this was real I'd have called Jefferson already and he'd have let the dog loose."
Sixticton were very proud of the fact that they now had an entire police-dog to call their own.
"Ah," said the skinny kid with a cunning grin. "But you're not checking out the back now, are you? I'se just a distraction, see!"
There was the bellow of a disgruntled deer from the rear of the house, followed by a shriek. Martha rolled her eyes.
"Seriously? Seriously, aight?" she said. "You sent your mate round the back when the deer are out? They're in rut, aight?"
"What's rut?" The skinny kid was looking nervously around him, and the shriek came again, drawn out and higher still.
"Let's just say," said Martha, shaking her head, "that if the deer's caught him then he's got an intrusion of his own going on. Probably penetration testing, right enough."

Marc said...

Greg - if it would just stop getting in his eyes I'd be happy to let him go without a cut for as long as it takes for this phase to pass.

Hah, your description of the sunset made me smile! And the dialogue is just great fun to read. Nice work :)