The exercise:
Let us write about: the secret.
The wind didn't stop blowing today, and I was still feeling a little tired, so I took care of a few things around the house that I'd been putting off for far too long. So now we're a couple steps closer to being totally settled in.
The Canucks got the day off, but they're back in action tomorrow night. Still watching the game winning goal over and over. Still think it's awesome.
Mine:
"Bobby, what do you have behind your back?"
"It's a secret."
"Is it, by any chance, Mama's car keys?"
"I'm not allowed to say."
"Oh, really? And who told you that?"
"Charlie. I think he doesn't want to go with you."
3 comments:
Hehe, your prose today made me laugh. Curiously, my dog likes going to the vet, though she doesn't always like what happens to her there (usually it's for ear infections and she doesn't like people looking in her ears. At all.)
Glad to see that you're riding the wave of the Canucks win!
The secret
The blonde was sat opposite me staring at the crepe on her plate. I was also staring at it, ignoring the lamb-shank on mine.
"Did it just move?" she whispered, but since she only ever stage whispers the four tables around us all looked over.
"I think so," I said slowly. "Prod it with your fork."
"No! You prod it!"
The crepe moved again before I could object though, and the Blonde and her chair flew backwards, crashing into the table behind. It rocked on its pedestal leg, looked like it would right itself for a moment, then crashed over, spilling spaghetti bolognaise and house-red everywhere. I tried not to sneer.
"Is there a problem, sir?" The waiter must have run from the kitchen, and was trying not to gasp. Behind him, more waiters were converging on the toppled table.
"Her crepe is moving," I said, pointing.
"Ah yes, that is the secret." The waiter looked smug.
"The secret?"
"Of the crepe, sir."
"I see." I didn't, and I knew that my review in tomorrow's Times would be starting along the lines of "Certain secrets are best revealed, when dining at least." Then it occurred to me that I could at last write about my half-brother's ugly little secret in context, and if that didn't get him to leave the country, then I misjudged his tolerance for having things thrown at him in the streets.
I cheered up immediately.
Safe with me
Even if you ask
Can't drag it out,
Really. It's not
Ever to be
Told.
Greg - our family dogs have always seemed to know when they're headed for the vet, and they're rarely interested in going along with the idea.
The stage whisper cracked me up, as did the reference to the half-brother at the end :)
Morganna - excellent use of the acrostic format :D
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