23 Mar 2020
Today’s prompt: “Go to a café and closely watch two people interact. Then write a scene about two people in a café.” [Note: I did not do the first half of this prompt because it may be a while until it is possible for me to do so.]
“This entire coronavirus thing is completely overblown,” you say, your linguine-laden fork hovering over your plate. “It’s just a big media overreaction.”
“Yeah, it’s all a hoax,” your dining companion says, before coughing, and not into her elbow either.
21 Mar 2020
Today’s prompt does not come from the book, but rather, from a sign I observed.
You have died of dysentery. Funeral services at 11.
19 Mar 2020
Today’s prompt: “A death in the family”
Maybe a year ago, if I saw this writing topic, I would’ve written something snarky about the storyline of that name in Batman, and what it says about humankind that when called upon to choose whether Jason Todd would live or die, that readers of the comic overwhelming called the 900 number to say Robin should die, and how probably it’s people like that who decided to murder you in a horrible manner. Let’s say they trapped you in a bear trap and drowned you in a giant vat of mayonnaise. That sounds about right.
But I’ve recently been through two deaths in my family. I’ve already written in this blog about the day my Grandma died. But last Friday, the day I euthanized my dog Sarah, I couldn’t bear to write about it.
In many ways, I still can’t. Not without crying, anyway.
We all knew my dog was getting older. That she was arthritic and usually couldn’t get up on her own any more. I was out one night with friends who had dog-sat for her before, and we did the math. Sarah was 18. One of my friends, Steve, offered that when the day came that Sarah had to be put down, he was willing to be there with me. Having a friend who will offer to do that for you, unasked? That’s how you know you’ve done something right with your life.
The very next week, Sarah was diagnosed with bone cancer.
With a younger dog, you’d amputate. With an older, arthritic dog, all you can really do is make them as comfortable as you can for as long as you can.
My vet and I kept an eye on her quality of life. We gave her painkillers and other medications. I took her to weekly vet visits. And I did what I could to celebrate her last days. I fed her special foods. Another friend, Nikki, even helped me make a peanut butter cake for her. But eventually, on one visit to the vet, when she tried to bite a vet technician who had accidentally touched a painful area, we realized she was in too much pain.
I spent another week with her building memories. Hanging out with her in the garden. Quilting together. Sharing cheeseburgers. And then I made the hardest phone call I’ve ever made in my life. I called an in-home euthanasia service.
A vet and her assistant came to my house. My friend Steve and my parents were there. The vet and vet tech lit a candle, talked through the whole process with me, sedated Sarah, and then gave her an overdose. Sarah was breathing hard near the end, or maybe that was me. And then the sedative hit, and her face completely relaxed. And then she was gone. It was so peaceful. And I just started sobbing. Steve and my parents held me.
While I paid the vet, my parents put a towel under Sarah’s body. My dad and I picked up the ends of the towel and carried the body to the trunk of my parents’ car so my folks could bury her in their pasture. Steve asked if I wanted him to do it, but I said no. I felt like I needed the finality somehow. On the way to the car, her front paw flopped out of the towel and I almost broke down again. But we made it. We laid Sarah in the trunk. I stroked her fur one last time and said goodbye.
I will never be able to hear “Sara” by Jefferson Starship again without tearing up. No time is a good time for goodbye.
17 Mar 2020
Today’s prompt: “You are a camp counselor. Make up a story that will scare the bejeezus out of your eight- to ten-year-old campers.”
On a night like this, at a camp like this, beside a lake like this, after the campers had all finished singing songs around the campfire and gone to bed, a man crawled out of the lake. He walked up the trail to the cabins, and as he walked, water drip. drip. dripped off of him onto the trail.
He approached the first cabin, and he put his hand on the window, and he peered inside. Then he walked to the front door of the cabin, the wet palm of his hand making a squeeeee sound as it slid across the window. The campers inside the cabin heard the sound, but they stayed in their bunks.
Next the campers heard the man knocking quietly on their door. Tap. Tap. Tap. And they heard a deep voice say, “Open the door. I’ve brought you some waterrrr….”
The campers all shivered in their bunks and pretended they didn’t hear anything.
The man moved to the next cabin. He drip. drip. dripped along the path. Again, he put his hand on the window and peered inside. Then squeeeee, he pulled his wet hand along the windowpane as he walked to the door. He tap. tap. tapped on the door and said, “Open the door. I’ve brought you some waterrrr….” The campers in this cabin pretended to be asleep as they trembled in their bunks.
The man from the lake walked to a third cabin, drip. drip. dripping as he went. He peered in the window and slid his hand across the glass, squeeeee. He tap. tap. tapped on the door, and said, “Open the door. I’ve brought you some waterrrr….”
In that cabin was a camper named [insert-your-name-here]. They must have been thirsty, or not afraid of creepy noises, or both, because they opened the door to the cabin.
In the moonlight coming through the doorway, the other campers saw the man from the lake grab [insert-your-name-here] by the throat. It looked like he was choking them. The campers all screamed, and the man from the lake fled. But it was too late. Their cabinmate was dead.
The next day, an autopsy was performed, and the coroner declared that the cause of death was drowning. The campers protested that they’d seen the man choking [insert-your-name-here], but the coroner said, “Then why were their lungs filled with water?”
15 Mar 2020
Today’s prompt: “Write a letter from a coach to a parent of a player, explaining why the player quit the team.”
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Morton,
It is with deep regret that I write to inform you that your son, Connor, has quit the Jonesboro Plumbing Pirates little league team. He may have already told you about this, but I felt it was my responsibility as his coach to follow up with you and make sure you know about what happened.
It all started three weeks ago when a speeding car lost control of its brakes and plowed through the guard rail on 26th Street and into left field, running over Peter Schwartz. It was a real tragedy for the team. Some of the kids saw his body as it was crushed under the car. They didn’t quite get over it. They didn’t quite have the same spirit in ball games any more.
That was bad enough, but then that freak lightning storm swept in the next week and struck the new left fielder, Kent Washburn. Kent was real popular on the team. The kids took it hard.
We kept playing. Weren’t winning any games any more, but we kept playing. For Peter, we’d say. For Kent. And then this week, tragedy struck again. We were playing the Thompson Lumber Tigers, when out of the blue, a giant eagle flew into left field, picked up [insert-your-name-here], and carried him off. I didn’t know they made eagles that big. It looked like there was a struggle in the air, and then [insert-your-name-here] fell. Broke their neck in the fall.
So that’s why Connor quit. He said I couldn’t guarantee his safety any more. Can’t say as I blame him.
Sincerely,
Coach Wally
13 Mar 2020
Today’s prompt: “Your most embarrassing moment”
Realizing as you plummet to your death that there was a piece of toilet paper trailing on your shoe the entire time.
11 Mar 2020
Today’s prompt: “You wake up with a nameless feeling of dread in your gut, but you can’t figure out what it is. Write down everything that could possibly happen during the day that could be something for you to dread.”
Being devoured by Abholos, the Devourer in the Mist.
Being fed on by Chaugnar Faugn, the Feeder.
Being eaten by Gog-Hoor, Eater of the Insane, after accidentally reading The King in Yellow.
Being swallowed up by Kaalut, the Ravenous One.
Being devoured by Lexur’iga-serr’roth, He Who Devours All in the Dark.
Being devoured by M’Nagalah, the Devourer.
Being devoured by Sheb-Teth, Devourer of Souls.
Being devoured by Shuy-Nihl, the Devourer in the Earth.
Being consumed by Xinlurgash, the Ever-Consuming.
Being consumed by Yug-Siturath, the All-Consuming Fog.
Being feasted on by Zvilpogghua, Feaster from the Stars.
Of course, you only have to worry about one of these. To the Great Old Ones, you’re only snack size.