27

1

Daycare bound

Story Idea Number 1: 

My best friend and I were sitting on my stoop, wasting time and trying to think of ways to procrastinate as to avoid going to our sweltering apartments on the east side of Milwaukee. This area is very trendy and new-age but also happens to be absolutely infested with crack heads posing as down on their luck, run of the mill homeless people so that they can panhandle. We had been sitting for maybe fifteen minutes when this guy in his late 30's, (maybe early 40's, missing teeth, grimy) came wandering on by and talking at us in such gibberish that my best friend and I didn't know how to react. So standard reaction kicked in; mess with him a bit to get him to go away. He started asking us about weed and if we smoked, to which my friend and I responded with something completely disgusting, along the lines of, "Oh man, that stuff makes me just shit myself with diahrea". I know what you're thinking. Yes, we really are lovely people, aren't we? We thought we had grossed him out sufficiently so that he'd leave. That is, until he pantomimed the scenario we just described. He ran up and down the sidewalked yowling and making shit noises. Did I mention it was 11pm? Down to our last hope of getting this psycho to let us enjoy our cigarettes in peace, I look at my best friend, lean to the side, and pushed out a pathetic sounding, squeeky, but audible, fart. She and I look at eachother and start laughing so hard we cry. I don't even think cracky heard it. What finally got him to go away was that she and I absolutely couldn't breathe, let alone talk, we were laughing so hard. When we were finally able to talk again and he was gone, she looked at me and said, "I can't believe you did that, I was thinking about it the whole time!" Ah. . . Great minds think alike. 

Story Idea Number 2: 

Again, adventures with my best friend. Shortly after starting to hang out with my best friend we were driving in her car on the way home from a bar one evening while discussing how much we detest bugs. In particular, spiders. We're pretty much alone on the free way  and as we're discussing how sick and horrifying the spiders that are commonly found on the east side are (because they're the size of a quarter and look like they should have stat bars like in video games) I catch a shadow on her dash board. Lo and behold, there is the exact specimen of spider we had just been discussing. As if it had heard us and said, "Oh really? What NOW, #(@$&#(&!!!!" My best friend and I promptly scream and bee line for the shoulder like our lives depend on it. Actually, scratch that. Our lives did depend on it. Our standard reaction to these things is to flail like we're on fire and scream like we've been dunked in acid, not exactly conducive to exemplary driving. So we jump out screaming bloody murder on the side of the freeway in the middle of the night so that we may perform the cootie dance practically in the freeway. After at least 5-10 minutes of squealing, slapping ourselves all over, and keeping a constant vigil on this behemoth (if it disappeared there was no way in hell we'd be getting back in the car), I finally became brave enough to clobber the thing with a rolled up trader-joe's flier. I smeared that thing on the inside of her windshield like I was living a scene from 300. (Spartans! Prepare for glory!) It took us another few minutes to actually scrape spider carcass off the dash, crawl back into the car, and start driving again. 

Story Idea Number 3:

Okay, so this is actually a serious one. 

When I was maybe 5 years old my parents had just finished their divorce and my mother was dating some fat lazy jerk named Mike. Mike was probably the least appealing human being I've ever met. He was fat and balding with a crappy attitude and a general dislike/disinterest in children. How my mom found this guy I don't know, but the bottom line here is that he sucked. OH, and that he really didn't like me. Normally when my mom went to work I went to the babysitter's house so they could watch me play and run around. However, one day, Mike volunteered for that joy. So mom hugged me good bye and off she went.

A little later on, I was trying to read the word 'the' for my assignment in kindergarden and Mike was being the most difficult asshole about it when I was asking for help. I could make the 'th' sound just fine, but the vowel was making me really upset. All he would tell me was, "you figure it out." After about ten minutes of that, I decided I had had enough and decided to go play.

After a little while I realized I was hungry and told mike about it. He proceeded to put together the most slapdash rendition of kraft mac n' cheese I'd ever seen. (Think about that for a moment, it's kraft mac n' cheese, it's nearly impossible to make it wrong) Needless to say, my five year old self was less than impressed and I didn't want to eat it. I was hungry, tired, and cranky and I'd had about enough of this man and his crap. I whined that I wanted to go to the babysitter's house. Mike got mad and yelled at me to go there myself if that's what I wanted. So I did what any reasonable five year old girl would do. I yanked on my favorite barbie nightie, grabbed my stuffed barney the dinosaur and I was out the door. My confident worldly five-year-old self was totally cool until I reached the end of the sidewalk that marked the end of the block, and the beginning of a street. I stood there for maybe ten minutes before Mike came out to look at me and laugh as I stood staring at the epic conundrum: My mother had told me never to cross that street. So I sat there staring at the street sign and the ground, in turn. I heard Mike yell something about getting back in the house before he went back in the front door. I didn't care. I'd be damned if I swallowed my pride and went back into that house. So I stood there for a very long time. Then I stood there for a very long time in tears. Then I stood there for an even longer time absolutely bawling my eyes out. That was about the time a couple rolled by in their car and asked me what was wrong. I told them 'My mommy says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers'. They gave me an odd look, then smiled and said, "Good girl." and drove away. I probably sat there for a few hours, which if you know anything about 5 year-olds, is an increadibly long time. What can I say? I'm stubborn. Now in real life, my story didn't have quite as happy an ending. I sat outside for a long time at the curb and finally went to my neighbors house (because I hated Mike and the lady next door was nice). However, here's where the story and reality would depart. If I would have had my way, my mom would have come home sooner, realized right then and there that mike was an ass, kicked him out and walked to the curb to find me. She would have taken me by the hand and barney, she, and I would have gone home. (Good news is eventually she did realize mike was awful, it just took a little longer)

So far these are my story ideas. I'm leaning toward #3 at the moment even if I do have to change the story a bit. I have a handful of sketches drawn for the spider one so far. I'll post some up asap. 

Comments

Please sign in or sign up to comment.