tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46584491414561265002024-03-13T06:44:20.701-07:00The Book of BartholomewMark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-83896465730738955242017-05-18T15:46:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:20:48.840-07:001 - Bartholomew Makes a Decision<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">There
once was a young man named Bartholomew who was far too young to be on
his own, but there he was. Being a little unsure of himself, he
could not always tell when people were being sincere or when people
were trying to take advantage of him. But when he knew what he
wanted to do, that was what he did. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">One
evening, while enjoying Dionne Warwick songs and his favorite evening
meal of fresh hot corn on the cob, apple red onion marmalade, beans
and some kale, one of his twelve telephones rang. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hello,”
said Bartholomew.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hello
sir, how are you this evening?” asked the voice on Bartholomew’s
cellular telephone.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
am well. Who am I talking to?” asked Bartholomew in return.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">My
name is Gerald. Can I ask you how the siding is on your house?” </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Before
Bartholomew could answer, Gerald continued, “Did you know that
there are some excellent advantages to having vinyl siding on your
home, from increased insulation, thus reducing your heating bill, to
additional security from adverse weather, thus reducing your
insurance costs? We all could use a little more money in our
pockets, couldn’t we? I know I could. Couldn’t you, sir?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
didn’t want to answer. He wanted to get back to his corn,
marmalade, beans and kale before they got too cold or too warm or too
wilty. But it was true that he could use more money in his pocket,
and it sounded like vinyl siding would do the trick. Bartholomew
tried to imagine the amount of money he would save on his heating
bill.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Compared
to most people, Bartholomew did not have a lot of money or
possessions. He did own a house, but it was modest - just big enough
for him and his cat, Oliver. He did have furniture and household
items he inherited from his parents. He did have twelve phones,
eight toasters and three televisions (non-digital). All of these
items were on sale when he bought them and each was a good deal that
saved him money but, somehow, he always felt poorer once he purchased
them. Many of these items no longer worked. In general, Bartholomew
was happy with his life and what he had was enough for him. Yet this
offer seemed, for some reason, very compelling.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Of
course, I would love to have extra money in my pocket,” said
Bartholomew. Before Gerald could continue, Bartholomew added, “Does
the siding come in different colors, because, although I like my
house, I always thought I would want my house to be blue – dark
blue. It is just something I have always wanted and if I were to buy
siding, I think I would want it dark blue.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yesssss,
sir! We do have a dark blue siding. I tell you what, sir…uhm,
what is your name, sir?”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">My
name is Bartholomew,” said Bartholomew</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
tell you what, Bartholomew. I’ll come over, look at your house and
give you an estimate. If you like, we could start siding your house
and start saving money tomorrow! How does that sound Bart?”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">My
</span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>name</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
is Bartholomew.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Sorry, I meant
Bartholomew. I hope there is no offense,” said Gerald, barely
concealing his insincerity.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “None taken,”
said Bartholomew as he scratched his chin, a little bit annoyed.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “If you’re
home, I’ll come over right now and start saving you money,” said
Gerald.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Yes, I’m
home now, but…” Bartholomew did not finish his sentence before
there was a knock on his door.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew was
annoyed that he was on the telephone, which was distracting him from
his favorite music and his lovely meal, and </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>now</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
he also had to answer the door. His parents had both been good cooks
and stressed the importance of good healthy food and slowing down to
enjoy dinner. Bartholomew was not yet a good cook, but he at least
tried to take his time while eating. He sighed, “Wait a minute,”
into the telephone and got up to answer the door.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Oliver raced to
the door before Bartholomew. With his back arched and his hair on
end, Oliver hissed at what was waiting on the front stoop. To
Bartholomew’s surprise, when he opened the door, Gerald was waiting
with his telephone to his ear. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hello,
Bartholomew,” said Gerald into the telephone and to Bartholomew’s
face.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hello,
Gerald,” said Bartholomew as he hung-up his phone. “I’m glad
you are so prompt, but I really want to…”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Grabbing
some political literature off Bartholomew’s doorknob and entering
the house, Gerald said, “This will only take but a minute,” and
he twitched his mustache from side to side. He handed Bartholomew
the literature, which Bartholomew noticed was in support of Mayor
Dick and Senator Jane. </span></span>
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2-isUDPNeE/Vqqnp6YonJI/AAAAAAAAHwU/57ehi0BfN5k/s1600/vote_mayordick.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2-isUDPNeE/Vqqnp6YonJI/AAAAAAAAHwU/57ehi0BfN5k/s320/vote_mayordick.gif" width="123" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">This
is a small house. I am sure it won’t take too much siding to cover
it. It probably will only take a day or two at most to complete the
job,” said Gerald. He wrote some scribbley words and numbers on a
piece of paper. Then he stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth,
squinted his eyes and looked into the air - as if he was thinking.
He scribbled down more words and numbers. Then, out of his pocket,
he pulled a tape measure for measuring Bartholomew’s house. Gerald
ran pell-mell around the outside of the house, jumping up here,
crouching down there and stretching his arms and the tape measure as
far as he could. Bartholomew followed him, observing this strange
man who wore overalls with the lower half of one leg missing over a
plaid shirt with one long sleeve and one short.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">As
they came to the back yard, Bartholomew looked up at his family oak
tree that had been planted by his great grandfather. The giant oak
tree was a hundred and fifty years old and its gnarled branches
spread out over his whole back yard and over parts of his neighbor’s
yards, too. Bartholomew and his whole family were proud of this
tree.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fFYkf3M3K_c/Vqqn7dj5iKI/AAAAAAAAHwc/65XdwAp4qTs/s1600/oaktree_centerfold-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fFYkf3M3K_c/Vqqn7dj5iKI/AAAAAAAAHwc/65XdwAp4qTs/s400/oaktree_centerfold-blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Once
he was done, Gerald shoved a piece of paper at Bartholomew and said,
“This is how much it will cost. It’s the best price you’ll
find. I am sure you’ll be happy with it and we can start tomorrow,
if you like.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
looked at the piece of paper and could not understand a single thing
that was written on it. There were numbers and words and what looked
like a mayonnaise stain, but none of the scratchings connected into
anything he understood. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Gerald
shifted in his overalls slightly and then said, “I’m sure you can
see what a good deal this is, Bartholomew.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh
yes,” said Bartholomew, not wanting to let on that he didn’t
understand anything on the paper. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Gooood!”
said Gerald as he twitched his mustache again.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">If
you could just sign it on the bottom, Bartholomew, then my crews can
get started saving you money,” said Gerald.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
didn’t feel good about signing the paper but, being a trustworthy
soul and not knowing what else to do, he signed it.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Gerald
smiled a greasy kind of smile and said, “Thank you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
felt somehow that he had done something wrong. He wasn’t sure
what, but he did not feel right.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Well,
poor Bartholomew had a crew of fifteen workers, including three of
Gerald’s sons, siding his house for the next two weeks. When they
were done, his yard was nothing but mud littered with nails, the
lowest branch of the beloved family oak tree was snapped off, the
siding was pastel orange and, for some reason, his front doorknob was
missing! Whenever he protested to Gerald, Gerald would point to the
bottom or the back of the piece of paper Bartholomew had signed,
where there was a bunch of small scribbles. Gerald would begin, “It
says right here…” and then Bartholomew would shake inside because
he felt that he really had done something wrong when he signed that
paper. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">By
the time the project was over and Gerald was long gone, Bartholomew,
who until now, did not have much, had even less. He was so poor, for
the next month he could only eat one of his favorite items at a meal
instead of three or four. One day, while succumbing to a cheap meal
at the Donkey Burger restaurant, Bartholomew decided that maybe he
couldn’t trust his own decision making abilities and he needed to
find some friends to help him.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">__________________________________________</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Illustrations by Mark Granlund </span></span></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-56786317017231510612017-05-17T09:22:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:20:27.979-07:002 - Gerald Teaches a Life Lesson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n7SOyIk3amg/VqudT0Qk9KI/AAAAAAAAHyo/DX6MrKzIPQI/s1600/2med.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n7SOyIk3amg/VqudT0Qk9KI/AAAAAAAAHyo/DX6MrKzIPQI/s1600/2med.gif" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus";"><br /> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">One
day Gerald assured himself that his three sons, Xavier, Khua and Mo,
had benefited greatly over the years from his wisdom and deep
insights about life. The result of his example surely would mean his
sons would become successful. He also assumed that his only
daughter, Geraldine, would, because of his example, find a man
successful like himself. Yet, he realized, because he was so busy
trying to cheat people out of their money and because he didn’t
like children, he had never spoken to them directly about the
important things in life. He decided he would begin to take a more
direct route of sharing his life’s lessons with his children on
occasion, when it struck him. And, at this moment in time, it was
striking him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">He
found the boys with The Nanny in the parlor. The boys were too old
to have a nanny, but Gerald was too pre-occupied to notice these
things. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Xavier,
Khua, Mo! Come over here!” commanded Gerald. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
boys rushed over to his side because, since Gerald so seldom spoke to
them, they figured it was important when he did. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Now
boys,” Gerald began, “Have a seat. I think it is time I tell you
something important, something that, when you are older, you will
thank me for. This world isn’t a easy…this world is not easy a
place…It’s not easy, in this world, to be successful like me. It
takes a certain attitude, a certain resolve.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
boys leaned in closer.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Gerald
adjusted his sea foam colored tie and continued.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
have worked hard my whole life to get where I am. I’m not proud of
everything I have done, but I haven’t ever really done anything
wrong. I want to share with you something my father, your
grandfather, (rest his soul) told me when I was your age. He shared
this with me just before he died and it has been one of the keys to
my success.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
boys leaned in even closer.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Xavier,
Khua, Mo, if you ever find yourselves on a deserted island with one
other person and there is only enough food for one of you, you will
have to kill that other person.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
boys sat quiet for some time pondering what they had just been told.
Finally, Xavier raised his hand. His father nodded at him to speak.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">So,
if we find ourselves on a deserted island with another person, and
there is only enough food for one person, you want the three of us to
kill this other person?”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ih2erm2Nq3A/VqueP4i5xoI/AAAAAAAAHyw/W53icrDhfrU/s1600/life_lesson_1-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ih2erm2Nq3A/VqueP4i5xoI/AAAAAAAAHyw/W53icrDhfrU/s320/life_lesson_1-blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">No,
not the </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>three</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
of you, just the </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>one</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
of you,” answered Gerald, a little annoyed.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Like,
which one?” asked Khua.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Which
one what?” asked Gerald</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Which
one of us should, like, kill this other person?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">The
one of you on the island, of course!” answered their father.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">But
aren’t we all on the island?” asked Mo.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">No,
no, no,” cried Gerald as he ran his hand through his thinning
hair. “Just one of you is on the island with one other person.
Then, in order to survive you will have to kill that other person.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">But
what if that other person is Mo?” asked Xavier.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Because,
like, if it’s one of these two,” Khua said pointing at his
brothers, “I would rather kill Xavier. Can I choose who I’m on
the island with?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Gerald
turned away in frustration. “NO! You are not on the island
</span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>together</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">.
There’s just one of you and one other person!”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
if the other person is their mother?” asked The Nanny who was still
in the room. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">In
unison, all three boys answered, “I wouldn’t kill Mom! Dad,
don’t make us kill Mom!”</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NAILNOpT-_o/VquedUCwzBI/AAAAAAAAHy4/vpsWVIkLyZM/s1600/life_lesson_2-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NAILNOpT-_o/VquedUCwzBI/AAAAAAAAHy4/vpsWVIkLyZM/s320/life_lesson_2-blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">NO!
NO!,” Gerald yelled, turning red, “Your mothers are not on the
island!” Gerald said this because all three boys have a different
mother. “LOOK! There are only two people on the deserted island,
one of you and someone you have never met before! It is a </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>stranger</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
you are going to have to kill!”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
boys were quiet again, pondering what their father was telling them.
After awhile, Mo raised his hand.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yes,
Mo,” Gerald said.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Um,
so there’s only going to be enough dessert for one?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Gerald
couldn’t control himself and, in a rage, grabbed his own shirt with
both hands and pulled, popping all of the buttons. The boys ducked
the projectiles.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">AAAAAGH!
IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT THE FOOD IS!” screamed Gerald. “THE
POINT IS THAT YOU HAVE TO BE WILLING TO KILL PEOPLE TO BE SUCCESSFUL,
LIKE ME!”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Now,
the boys were very quiet, their eyes wide and their mouths open.
Even The Nanny stopped what she was doing and looked horrified.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Gerald glared at them for a moment and then asked, “WHAT?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Xavier
hesitated, afraid to ask the question but even more afraid of the
answer he might hear. “Have you ever killed someone, dad?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Before
their father could answer, Khua interrupted in a cautious quiet
voice, “Yeah, you didn’t, like, kill Grandpa, did you?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Gerald’s
eyes grew big, his nostrils flared and the hair on his head
straightened out like knives. If he had a heart, it would have had
an attack.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">In
a very low growling voice, he answered, “No, I have not killed
Grandpa. No, I have not killed anyone – directly. And, yes,
sometimes I think I want to kill the three of you.” Spit was
dripping from his lower lip as he pointed his trembling finger at
them. “You boys had better toughen up. Nobody’s going to help
you in this world…not even me.”</span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> And
with that Gerald turned and strode out of the room like a mass of
smoldering coal with legs. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
boys again sat quiet for awhile, pondering what their father had told
them.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny slowly approached them. “Boys, can we agree that if you ever
are stranded on a deserted island with me or Geraldine that we
wouldn’t kill each other?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">We
wouldn’t want to kill you, The Nanny,” they said in unison.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yeah,
maybe we could just, like, eat less,” said Khua. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Maybe,
we could also work together to find more food until we get rescued,”
offered The Nanny. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">If
it’s only, like, bananas and cocoanuts, you can, like, have it
all,” said Khua.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hCaxwQe7uPI/Vque91JhGPI/AAAAAAAAHzA/Sa4le539rVE/s1600/life_lesson_4-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hCaxwQe7uPI/Vque91JhGPI/AAAAAAAAHzA/Sa4le539rVE/s320/life_lesson_4-blog.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Xavier
said nothing but looked at the doorway where he last saw his father.
He looked at the family crest above the fireplace, and then he got up
to go be by himself in his room. The Nanny watched him leave with
concern in her heart. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What’s
a deserted island?” asked Mo.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">_______________________________________________________</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "andalus";">Written by Mark Granlund</span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "andalus";">Illustrations by Matt Wells </span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-42536506395312811182017-05-16T11:26:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:20:10.818-07:003 - Geraldine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M_Tu-0Hbt9w/Vq0M-I9sCrI/AAAAAAAAH40/EWnp9oRNNl4/s1600/ch3_cover_flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M_Tu-0Hbt9w/Vq0M-I9sCrI/AAAAAAAAH40/EWnp9oRNNl4/s320/ch3_cover_flip.tif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Geraldine
was standing behind Bartholomew at an ATM machine. She saw him
remove quite a bit of money from the machine and stuff it into the
pocket of his plaid shorts. She decided she wanted to know him
better. She followed Bartholomew to a nearby restaurant with tables
and chairs on the sidewalk and live music wafting from inside. She
sat down at the same table with him. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hello,”
said Geraldine, “How are you today?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh…hello,”
said Bartholomew, a little shocked to see that someone had sat at the
table with him. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Do
you mind if I eat with you? You just look so interesting and kind, I
thought it would be sorta nice to share some food.” Geraldine said
this while blushing a little and batting her eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Now,
with most women, being so forward as to sit at a table with a
stranger would not be necessary to get a man’s attention. But
Geraldine was the most unattractive young woman in the whole city and
had become accustomed to being quite forward with men she wanted to
get to know.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
did not answer right away. He wasn’t sure about eating food with
Geraldine. Bartholomew was turned off. He wasn’t sure if it was
because of the numerous large pimples on her face, the cavernous
nostrils of her upturned nose with whatever was in them plainly
visible to the world (and today there was quite a lot to see), the
crooked discolored teeth, the huge yellow eyes or the dirty bushy
hair that looked like it would jump off her head if it wasn’t
attached. Maybe it was the words of the song coming from the
restaurant, “…life ain’t worth living if you’re living for
mistakes, it ain’t worth living at all…” Or maybe it was the
strange, low-level feeling inside that she was not here to be kind to
him. But, Bartholomew, being a polite and kind young man, couldn’t
see a good reason to say no, so he said “Yes, well, I would enjoy
your company.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">When
the food arrived, (Bartholomew ordered organic creamed corn, avocado
salad and lingonberry juice) Geraldine leaned in toward Bartholomew
and said:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
really are nice looking. I mean you are attractive, but you also
look like someone who is </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>nice</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
to people.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
blushed a little. He was not used to young women telling him he was
attractive. But he had to agree that he was kind to people. It was
one of Bartholomew’s strengths that he always tried to be polite
and kind.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Thank
you,” he said, “you are so kind to say so.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,”
responded Geraldine, “I am as kind as I am pretty.” She spread
her lips into a wide smile that engulfed her face and showed even
more crooked teeth. She also let out what was meant to be a cute
little giggle, which sounded more like a snort that ended with an odd
nausea-inducing gurgle.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8eV7O5EPjQ0/Vq0NwuZn-CI/AAAAAAAAH48/iEvhtI-mWks/s1600/inverted_frog_blog.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8eV7O5EPjQ0/Vq0NwuZn-CI/AAAAAAAAH48/iEvhtI-mWks/s400/inverted_frog_blog.tif" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">They
spent the next half-hour eating and in a conversation that can be
best described as awkward, inconsistent and uncomfortable. Each time
Bartholomew began to talk, especially the times when he would begin
to share something about himself, Geraldine would interrupt him with
a story or comment of her own. But, at the beginning or the end of
each comment or story, Geraldine would compliment Bartholomew. In
this manner, like an unaware frog slowly being boiled to death,
Bartholomew fell in love. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">By
the end of the meal Bartholomew was so happy to have found someone
who saw the best in him that he didn’t even notice when Geraldine
let him pay for her raw hamburger and limp, greasy fries. _______________________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Illustrations by Mark Granlund </span></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-79522553888248210482017-05-15T18:25:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:19:55.798-07:004 - Uncle Jeffrey the Violinist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Abq2TyE_QMk/VrFgdVCbkNI/AAAAAAAAH6M/_3cj1MnKvCg/s1600/cover-flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Abq2TyE_QMk/VrFgdVCbkNI/AAAAAAAAH6M/_3cj1MnKvCg/s320/cover-flip.tif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> When Bartholomew’s
parents died, his Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt Josephine offered to take
Bartholomew into their home. When Bartholomew decided to stay in his
parents’ house and live on his own, Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt
Josephine took it upon themselves to act as his guardians and advisers. Bartholomew was thankful for this and at the same time
found it disconcerting. There are some very rare situations when a pair of sisters marries a
pair of brothers, and this is what happened with Bartholomew’s
parents and Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt Josephine. Uncle Jeffrey was
Bartholomew’s father’s younger brother and Aunt Josephine was
Bartholomew’s mother’s younger sister. To make matters even more
difficult for Bartholomew, and the main reason why he did not want to
live with Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt Josephine, was that each set of
siblings looked very similar. So, when Bartholomew would talk with
Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt Josephine, he felt as if he was talking to an
odd and unconvincing imitation of his parents.<br /> </span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Although
it was difficult at times to be around his Aunt Josephine and Uncle
Jeffrey, Bartholomew had a soft spot for his Uncle Jeffrey because of
a story he had heard about him from his father. Both Bartholomew’s
father and Uncle Jeffrey lost their own father when Uncle Jeffrey was
six years old. This, of course, was devastating for both brothers,
as the loss of a parent is, but Uncle Jeffrey lost a father twice.
<br />
<br />
About
the time his father died, Uncle Jeffrey was showing a great natural
talent for the violin and had started taking lessons from a gentleman
named Master Czoza. Master Czoza had taken Uncle Jeffrey under his
wing and Uncle Jeffrey focused his grief from his father’s death
into his violin playing.<br />
<br />
Uncle
Jeffrey,” Master Czoza would say, “you must pull the bow straight
across the strings, do not pull it like a teeter-totter! Now, try
again, fifty times. Give me a C with a straight strong pull on the
bow. DO NOT ARC. Now go.”<br />
<br />
Uncle
Jeffrey did his best to please Master Czoza. He never talked back,
he never wavered.<br />
<br />
As
the years went by Uncle Jeffrey became a young impresario giving
concerts at more and more impressive venues. Yet, Master Czoza was
never satisfied with Uncle Jeffrey’s playing. One day, Master
Czoza addressed Uncle Jeffrey.<br />
<br />
Uncle
Jeffrey, you have been studying violin with me for twelve years now.
Have I taught you to love your violin?”<br />
<br />
"Yes,”
Uncle Jeffrey answered.<br />
<br />
“No,
you cannot love your violin. It is your tool; it is your slave. It
is there for you to shape into beauty, for <i>you</i>
to mold it into an expression of love. Do not love your violin.
Make your violin into something <i>you</i>love.”<br />
<br />
Uncle
Jeffrey stared at him.<br />
<br />
“Do
you understand?”<br />
<br />
“No,”
said Uncle Jeffrey.<br />
<br />
“My
son, you are a great talent. You can play a violin like few your
age. You are even better than I was at your age,” Master Czoza
said looking into Uncle Jeffrey’s eyes. He then turned away and
said, “Your future could be unlimited if you begin to play from
deep within yourself. Technically, you can master anything-- given
enough time.”
<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Are
you ready for the challenge of your life?” he asked in his calm but
strong voice.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Uncle
Jeffrey said nothing. He hesitated and then nodded his head.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Master
Czoza strode over to his piano and pulled sheet music off the top of
a tipping stack of papers and books. He handed it to Uncle Jeffrey.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">This
sonatina is from a little known composer from the late 18</span><sup><span style="font-family: "andalus";">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
Century. I have no doubt you will probably be able to play the notes
without fail after three tries. It will not be technically
challenging for you. But, if you can make it into something that
expresses your most inner self, it will reach into the souls of all
who hear it and give to them what they most desire. You will know
you have played this piece rightly when you see me cry. And believe
me, Uncle Jeffrey, I have not cried in a very, very long time.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Over
the next several weeks, Uncle Jeffrey played nothing else. The song
ran through his head every minute of the day. Twice a week, he would
go to Master Czoza’s studio and play the sonatina. Two months had
passed, and Master Czoza had nothing but derision for Uncle Jeffrey.
He called Uncle Jeffrey names like “lumpy fingers,” “bow man,
row man,” and a few things too harsh to repeat. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Uncle
Jeffrey kept at the song as summer turned into fall and fall into
winter. He stopped performing for audiences and soon had no desire
to play any other song but this one great challenge. Those who heard
him play could find nothing wrong with the song and said it was quite
beautiful. But Master Czoza still would not release Uncle Jeffrey
from his quest. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">With
each stroke of the bow, Uncle Jeffrey began to imagine Master Czoza
beginning to cry; water gathering on his lower eyelid and then
pouring over the dam and streaking down his cheeks. He knew there
would be no noise when Master Czoza cried. It would be a deep seated
stirring that would rise silently to the surface to erupt into
nothing more than maybe a drop or two - maybe a quiver of the lip.
As small a response as that would seem to some, Uncle Jeffrey
dedicated his life to it. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">One
day, while playing the counterpoint in his sonatina, images of Master
Czoza came to him. Master Czoza was not crying in these imaginings,
but a smile slowly wriggled its way across his lips and it seemed he
was about to laugh. Master Czoza did not laugh often, but when he
did, Uncle Jeffrey knew that his master was pleased with him. Uncle
Jeffrey’s father came to mind. He loved his father and missed him
greatly, but during this challenge he had thought seldom of him.
While he was thinking about his father, the counterpoint he was
playing suddenly took on a life that Uncle Jeffrey had never
imagined. He played the same notes he had always played but it
sounded like a completely new and different song. Uncle Jeffrey
became very excited and ran off to Master Czoza’s studio. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Master
Czoza sat in silence, as he normally did after hearing the sonatina.
But this time a smile slowly wriggled across his lips.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
are getting somewhere, Uncle Jeffrey. I am very pleased. I am not
about to cry, but I am very pleased.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
next few weeks saw Uncle Jeffrey happier than he had been since his
father’s death. Since that sad loss at age six, Uncle Jeffrey was
not one to talk much about his father. But now he began to talk with
his brother, Bartholomew’s father, about their father. He began to
laugh about memories, he began to cry because his heart was broken,
and he began to want to be happy. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Each
week Master Czoza began to smile bigger and even started to laugh.
When Uncle Jeffrey played the sonatina the room filled with
brightness and levity. The sun shone stronger, colors seemed
brighter, smells seemed more aromatic and food-- even small morsels--
became full of flavor. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">One
day, after a particularly good performance for Master Czoza, Uncle
Jeffrey said, “I do think I have become a most excellent violin
player. I owe all of this to you Master Czoza.” He bowed, took
Master Czoza’s hand and kissed it in reverence.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Master
Czoza slowly removed his hand from Uncle Jeffrey’s lips.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yes,
Uncle Jeffrey, you have become quite excellent. You will make people
happy with your music. Have you tried to play any other pieces
lately?” Master Czoza asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">No,
I have dedicated myself to this sonatina you have set before me.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">With
that, Uncle Jeffrey picked up his violin and began to play from
memory a concerto by Mozart. The room swirled with brilliance and
Uncle Jeffrey had the sense that even the immortal Mozart would be
pleased with his performance.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Master
Czoza was applauding.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yes,
yes. That was remarkable. Very splendid. You are to be greatly
admired, Uncle Jeffrey. But, if I may correct you, I did not give
you a task. I gave you a challenge, and that challenge is still
unfulfilled.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">But
why should I seek to make you cry if I can make you laugh and smile?
Are you so cynical that you cannot see the value in this?” Uncle
Jeffrey ignored a twinge of regret in his bones for acting arrogantly
toward Master Czoza.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">There
certainly is great value in making people smile and laugh. But the
greatest tragedy and the greatest comedy both end in the same place:
tears. I have enjoyed your growth and the brilliance you exhibit,
but my eyes and my soul are as dry as the Gobi.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Master
Czoza raised his hands to hold Uncle Jeffrey’s face.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">My
son, I hope one day you will make me cry. I do not care if it is
because I feel a great joy in my heart or because I feel a great
tragedy. If you can reach into my soul and release my burden, you
will have given my soul what it most needs. You still have one more
lesson to learn, my son, and this lesson is even harder than what you
have learned this past year and a half.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Uncle
Jeffrey went home angry that night. He had brought such joy to
Master Czoza yet the teacher had such disregard for Uncle Jeffrey’s
talent. He wasn’t going to spend another year and a half under the
tutelage of this malcontented fiddle player. He stayed up much of
the night planning to leave Master Czoza and planning to play for
audiences who would love his talent. His audiences would dance and
sing and laugh to his music. Everyone would be happy and thankful to
Uncle Jeffrey for making life so much more enjoyable. He decided
never to </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">play
that silly little sonatina again. He finally fell asleep with the
sound of the cheering crowds playing in his head.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
sun was well up by the time Uncle Jeffrey’s mother knocked on his
door to tell him that during the night Master Czoza had died. Uncle
Jeffrey said nothing.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Arrangements
were made for Master Czoza’s funeral and Uncle Jeffrey was nothing
but stunned silence during the days that intervened. Master Czoza
had no family, but there were innumerable people whom he had taught
over the years and the people he knew from his own days of being a
performer. Hundreds of people would attend and, although he was
only nineteen years old, Uncle Jeffrey was asked to say something at
the funeral. Uncle Jeffrey was in such shock that he had agreed to
this without thinking about what he should say.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
funeral arrived and the cathedral was full. There were many
dignitaries and some of the finest classical musicians from around
the world. Many people were crying as the priest and some of Master
Czoza’s friends talked about what a great and inspiring man Master
Czoza was. Just before the funeral, Uncle Jeffrey realized he would
not survive giving a speech about his master, his friend-- his
second father. He decided to play something on his violin. He felt
unprepared as he knew he could make people laugh and smile, but that
was not what was needed here. He decided to do his best with a piece
by Brahms he hadn’t played in a few years. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Walking
to the podium, the solemn crowd suddenly seemed large – very large.
Uncle Jeffrey hadn’t played in front of a crowd in over a year.
He closed his eyes and lifted his violin to his chin hoping he could
get through this without embarrassing himself as Master Czoza’s
most promising student. He imagined Master Czoza laughing at him as
he began the Brahms song. The bow seemed to drag heavily along the
strings. His fingers seemed too thick for the neck of the violin.
Lost in his grief at having failed Master Czoza’s challenge and at
having lost a “father” twice while still young, Uncle Jeffrey did
not notice that halfway through the prelude the song turned on a
c-sharp into a different tune. The bow began to flow smoothly on the
strings and Uncle Jeffrey’s fingers loosened as he began to play
the sonatina.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Uncle
Jeffrey’s broken heart began to spew forth memories of his father
and Master Czoza. Tears began to gather on his lower eyelid and then
poured over the dam and streaked down his cheeks. The people who
were listening became silent. They had never heard anything so
beautiful. The musicians sat stunned. The congregation listened to
the point of tears. Everyone was transfixed on Uncle Jeffrey as the
notes of the sonatina swirled through their hearts and souls. As his
fingers and bow moved over the body of the violin, it did not produce
a single sound. The music, this simple short sonata which Uncle
Jeffrey had burned into his heart, was now coming from him, not the
violin. With each breath, in cascaded the deep loss his soul had
felt all these years and that he would feel for the rest of his life.
With each fingering and pull of his bow expelled an immortal hope
for wholeness. Uncle Jeffrey played on, not fully realizing that it
was notes of the sonatina expressing his most inner self.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Up
near the ceiling, floated Master Czoza’s soul. He was not smiling
or laughing. He was crying. His tears fell one each on each
person’s soul in rhythm to the sonatina. As Uncle Jeffrey began to
close the song, Master Czoza came to stand in front of him. He wiped
away Uncle Jeffrey’s tears. He held Uncle Jeffrey’s head in his
hands and as one of Master Czoza’s tears fell on him, he said to
him, “Congratulations, my son, you have completed the challenge.
Your father is so proud of you.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">With
that, Master Czoza evaporated. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Following
this incident, Bartholomew’s Uncle Jeffrey could not play the
violin without the grief of his losses overwhelming him. He played
less and less, and eventually he put the violin in the closet and
played for no one.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> *
* *</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">In
the brief period between his parent’s deaths and their funeral,
Bartholomew did stay with Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt Josephine. Late one
night he woke from a bad dream. While trying to fall back to sleep,
he thought he heard someone crying and quietly playing a violin.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">____________________________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Illustration by Martha Iserman </span></div>
<br />Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-39845719084305858702017-05-14T16:59:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:19:36.476-07:005 - Bartholomew and Geraldine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0VxXfcDWEKE/VrPx0TPOA5I/AAAAAAAAH6s/8FAvXyFUyCI/s1600/5med.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0VxXfcDWEKE/VrPx0TPOA5I/AAAAAAAAH6s/8FAvXyFUyCI/s1600/5med.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew and
Geraldine had been dating each other for two weeks when Bartholomew
asked her to come to his house for dinner and meet Oliver, his cat.
Oliver felt he was responsible for Bartholomew since Bartholomew was
so young and without his parents. When his parents had died, which
was only two years earlier, he inherited the house, including Oliver.
He had been just two weeks away from his eighteenth birthday when
his parents died. By the time everything got sorted out by Aunt
Josephine and Uncle Jeffrey, Bartholomew had turned eighteen-- old
enough to inherit the house and live on his own if he wanted. If it
hadn’t been for Oliver, Bartholomew had no idea how he would have
survived the last two years. If it hadn’t been for Bartholomew,
Oliver knew exactly how </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>he</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
would have survived. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "andalus";"> Oliver
knew something important was about to happen the way Bartholomew was
dashing about, cleaning and cooking. Oliver walked over to
Bartholomew and rubbed against his legs.</span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
Oliver!” said a startled Bartholomew. He bent down and rubbed
Oliver’s back.</span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
Oliver, why do I feel like something bad is about to happen, like I
am going to do something wrong – screw everything up? I wish this
feeling would go away.”</span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Maybe
it is because you are trying to cook—not one of your more
successful skills,” answered Oliver with a purr.</span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
wish I knew better how to cook. Well, I can’t burn beet and bean
sprout sandwiches and salad. And I just have to warm up the organic
roasted parsnip soup. As long as I watch that closely I should be
okay,” said Bartholomew.</span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "andalus";"> Oliver
purred, “Well, it is not the most difficult, or the tastiest, but
it should be sufficient.”</span>
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew put
the soup on the stove over a low flame and set the table. He walked
into the living room, grabbed newspapers, magazines and some books
that were lying on the furniture. He picked up some socks from the
floor and threw everything in the closet. He turned on some Dionne
Warwick music. Oliver followed Bartholomew around the house.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Oh, Oliver, I
haven’t told you, but I have been seeing someone for the last two
weeks. Her name is Geraldine. She is a very nice woman who really
likes me. She will be here for dinner in about ten minutes.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Oliver froze
mid-step. Bartholomew sat down on the sofa. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Come here,
Oliver,” Bartholomew said as he patted the sofa cushion. Oliver
jumped up on the back of the sofa and buried his head against
Bartholomew’s.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “How come you
didn’t tell me earlier? You know I like to know what is going on
with you. You know I am responsible for you – purrrrrrrrr.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I wish my
parents were here,” said Bartholomew. He sank further back into
the sofa.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Oliver said
nothing and climbed down into Bartholomew’s lap. He let
Bartholomew rub his back, which made them both feel better. Oliver
was settling in for a long back rub when suddenly all of his senses
went on alert. He stood up in Bartholomew’s lap, his back arched.
He looked at the door and let out a low growl and a hiss. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Bartholomew,
there is something out there! Something dangerous! Something
unnatural! We should go hide in the closet.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> The door bell
rang. Bartholomew stood up, dumping Oliver onto the floor. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “No
Bartholomew, don’t answer it!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “What’s wrong
with you Oliver? Stop your hissing,” said Bartholomew as he walked
to the door.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Oliver hid behind
the edge of the sofa where he would be available, if needed, to
protect Bartholomew.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> The door opened
and there stood what Oliver thought was a true-to-life monster. He
bolted towards the door, “NO BARTHOLOMEW! STAND BACK! I WILL SAVE
YOU!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “OLIVER!”
yelled Bartholomew as he closed the door on Geraldine. “Don’t
make me put you in the bedroom! Now you behave for Geraldine.”
Bartholomew opened the door again.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I am so sorry.
I don’t know why my cat is acting so strange. Come on in
Geraldine.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Thank you,
Bartholomew,” Geraldine replied with a smile and a very wet peck on
his cheek.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> After Bartholomew
closed the door, he turned to show Geraldine to the dining room and
found Oliver backed into a corner, his fur on end.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Now stop it!”
said Bartholomew to Oliver.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Geraldine
smiled at Oliver. “That’s surprising. Most pussies like me,”
said Geraldine. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
don’t know what’s got into him,” excused Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Geraldine
and Bartholomew moved to the kitchen to make sandwiches and salad.
Oliver found it difficult to relax. He decided he needed to be in a
safer place, but nearby. He jumped up onto a chair and then to the
top of the china hutch. He lay quietly up there, watching, waiting
in case he would have to strike.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
and Geraldine entered the dining room and put their salad and
sandwiches on the table. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">So
is this like the appetizers or some kind of California thing?”
Geraldine asked as she looked doubtfully at the food on her plate.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
said nothing but walked over to the hutch, opened a door and pulled
out a gift for Geraldine. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Here,
Geraldine. Here is a gift for you.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Geraldine’s
yellow eyes grew large and her hands immediately reached for it.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
Sweetypie, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Geraldine said
without taking her eyes off the gift. She quickly removed the
wrapping. </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Ohhhhhh!”
Geraldine squealed when she saw a box from a jewelry store. </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
Baby, YOU are </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>so</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
sweet,” she said with a great big smile. </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">She
opened up the box. Oliver stuck his head out from the top of the
hutch to see what Bartholomew had bought her.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Aaaahhhh!”
Geraldine screamed. “Oh, I love them! I love you! How did you
know? These are </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>so</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
precious,” Geraldine said as she held the large gold earrings up to
her ears and looked at her reflection in the glass door of the hutch.
</span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">How
did I know?!” Bartholomew asked. “You only talked about them for
twenty minutes the other day, but I figured if that’s what my baby
wants, that’s what my baby gets.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Oliver’s
hair stood on end and his claws dug into the top of the hutch. He
knew Bartholomew shouldn’t be spending that much money on someone
as monstrous as Geraldine.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Come
here, Baby,” Geraldine said to Bartholomew. “I am going to give
you the biggest kiss.” Bartholomew and Geraldine stood with arms
wrapped around each other and they kissed. Oliver could not bear to
watch. It was a long, loud and sloppy kiss. Not only was Oliver
mad, now he was repulsed.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Mmmm,
you taste so good,” said Geraldine. “You know what I wanna do
with you now, Bart?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
do you want to do to me, Gerald…deen?” replied Bartholomew</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">BART!
Oliver couldn’t believe his ears. Bartholomew never lets anyone
call him Bart. Why was Bartholomew so possessed by her? Why
couldn’t he see how bad she was for him? Oliver peered over the
side of the hutch to see the two of them still embracing, still
kissing. Geraldine reached down and grabbed Bartholomew’s right
hand and placed it on her breast. With her right hand she reached
down and began to rub Bartholomew’s crotch.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0KAqUQM8jIk/VrPzZaVB4hI/AAAAAAAAH64/zu-XnT34p6c/s1600/esch_cat-%25282%2529.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0KAqUQM8jIk/VrPzZaVB4hI/AAAAAAAAH64/zu-XnT34p6c/s1600/esch_cat-%25282%2529.gif" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">MMMEEEEEOOOOOWWWWW!!!!!”
Oliver leapt from the hutch, claws extended. He landed on
Geraldine’s head and almost fell off, pulling all of Geraldine’s
bushy hair with him.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">OLIVER!”
shouted Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Oliver
tried to swat at Geraldine from on top of her head, but her hair was
so full of knots and snags that his claws became entangled.
Bartholomew tried to hold onto Geraldine so she wouldn’t fall over
while also trying to grab Oliver. Geraldine grabbed onto
Bartholomew’s belt and continued rubbing his crotch. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Geraldine,”
cried Bartholomew over the loud meows and hisses coming from Oliver,
“you have a cat attacking your head!”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh
Bart, I want you so bad,” Geraldine said, barely audible above the
sound of furniture moving and plates and glasses crashing.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Then
the smoke alarm went off and Bartholomew and Oliver noticed the smell
of burnt soup coming from the kitchen.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh
no!” said Bartholomew as he tried to rush to the kitchen. But
Geraldine had a strong grasp of his belt and her hand was still
between his legs, so he fell to the floor.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Geraldine
was on him in a second trying to undo his belt with a crazed cat in
her hair, alarms going off and smoke starting to fill the room.
Bartholomew threw her off, got to his feet, and ran to the kitchen.
He grabbed the pot off the stove and threw it in the sink. He turned
off the burner. He scrambled onto the counter and was reaching up to
turn off the alarm when Geraldine grabbed Bartholomew around the legs
- her face at the same level as his crotch. She murmured “Oh,
Bart,” and buried her face into him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NdXaNcG-8EQ/VrPzmtOp4tI/AAAAAAAAH68/l-tVieENgMg/s1600/esch_flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NdXaNcG-8EQ/VrPzmtOp4tI/AAAAAAAAH68/l-tVieENgMg/s400/esch_flip.tif" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Despite
all of the chaos, Bartholomew suddenly had clarity. He calmly turned
off the alarm. He reached down, grabbed Oliver around the stomach
and helped him get his claws unstuck from Geraldine’s mass of hair.
Bartholomew threw Oliver into the dining room. Oliver immediately
resumed his station on top of the hutch.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
looked down at Geraldine, who was licking the zipper on his jeans and
making some kind of animal noises. He carefully moved Geraldine out
of the way so he could get off the counter. She wrapped her arms
around him and started kissing his neck. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
pulled her close and whispered into her ear, “Geraldine, did you
notice my cat attacking your head?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yes,
I did,” Geraldine said in a pouty kind of baby voice. “And you
were so bwave and stwong to come to my wescue. Let me reward you,
Bart.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Geraldine,”
Bartholomew said, peeling her off one arm at a time, “my name is
Bartholomew.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">But,
but…,” said Geraldine.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Maybe
we should have this dinner another time. I need to air out the house
and calm down my cat. Then I need to clean up this mess. Let’s
try this again later, okay?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">OK,”
she said as she rubbed his nipples through his t-shirt. “You’re
so smart. Where’s my earrings?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">She
found them on the floor, picked them up and walked to the door. She
turned and beckoned to Bartholomew with her finger. He walked over
to her.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
call me. Maybe you can take me out for steak next time. Maybe see a
show.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and walked out the door.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
turned to witness a disaster site: dining room table and chairs
knocked over, glasses, plates and food on the floor and smoke still
hanging against the ceiling. He began to clean up, and then he heard
Oliver on top of the hutch.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">And
you!” Bartholomew said. “You! What got in to you? Your
behavior was totally insane. You are an insane cat!” </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oliver
leapt down and skulked over to the sofa. </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">After
cleaning the dining room, Bartholomew finally sat down with Oliver.
Bartholomew reached out his hand and began to pet him.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Purr
- didn’t I warn you something dangerous was at the door? Why don’t
you listen to me? You shouldn’t be seeing her. She is shallow,
just wants you to spend money on her and is obviously in heat </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>all</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
the time.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
Oliver,” said Bartholomew. “Sometimes I am so confused. I know
you don’t like her, but she calls me sweet names and says nice
things about me all the time. And I don’t have anybody else. I’m
twenty years old, and I am still a virgin. I know that’s not that
bad, but I couldn’t even imagine being close to someone the last
two years while I was dealing with my parents’ deaths. But now I
want someone. I’m </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>tired</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
of being alone.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Oliver
flicked his tail and wrapped it around Bartholomew’s arm. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
have me,” he purred.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’m
so glad I have you Oliver. I don’t know what I would have done
these last two years without you. But…you’re—you’re not a
person. You’re not a girl.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Oliver
crawled into Bartholomew’s lap wishing to resume the backrub that
was so rudely interrupted. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
we could have you spayed,” Oliver said cattily.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">__________________________________________________________</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus";"><span style="font-size: large;">Illustrations by Mary Esch </span></span></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-85102961114279715802017-05-13T19:45:00.000-07:002018-10-30T20:24:58.901-07:006 - Claire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nXqAWGpFlSs/VrVq97WcHrI/AAAAAAAAH7Y/101LakYntmg/s1600/6med.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nXqAWGpFlSs/VrVq97WcHrI/AAAAAAAAH7Y/101LakYntmg/s1600/6med.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Claire
sat in the coop looking at Henrietta.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
just can’t imagine what I want to be doing in three to five years!”
she said as Henrietta scratched at some scratch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
guess I should have said I wanted to still be working for his company
in three to five years.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Doesn’t
matter, cluck,” said Henrietta.</span></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Claire,
normally a pleasant person, was in a foul mood. She petted
Henrietta. Henrietta stooped her body to flatten her soft feathery
back. It felt better that way when someone petted her.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
a jerk. As if I would want to be scoring psychological profiles for
the next five years. Myers-Briggs my ass,” said Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">She
picked up some scratch and let Henrietta eat out of her hand. Claire
dug her toes into the straw, dirt, wood shavings and chicken shit
that covered the floor of the coop. She kicked it about here and
there, drawing shapes unconsciously. Henrietta finished the scratch
in Claire’s hand and moved to the corner of the coop to scratch and
peck a little more.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Are
you moving, (peck) out here (peck) with me?” asked Henrietta.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Henrietta,
you have such a nice house. You got a bed, food, a ladder and most
important of all, it isn’t my parents’ house.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yes,
(peck) but I don’t think (peck) that you would want (peck) to go to
the bathroom (peck) on your floor (peck). Besides (peck) it is in
(scratch) your parent’s (peck) backyard.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
suppose it does get a little crowded with the six other chickens,”
said Claire as the rest of the brood came bounding in the door.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Brrrrrrrrk,”
said Henrietta in a soft low voice so the other chickens couldn’t
hear her.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Feathers
flew everywhere. Wings flapped and bodies hopped as the chickens
jockeyed for position. “I want to roost.” “No it’s my turn.”
“Is there any food?” the other chickens squawked at each other.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dmnRKdFhdZU/VrVrsXVBhmI/AAAAAAAAH7g/Chp9Bav--is/s1600/booklet_centerfold_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dmnRKdFhdZU/VrVrsXVBhmI/AAAAAAAAH7g/Chp9Bav--is/s1600/booklet_centerfold_blog.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh
bother,” said Henrietta.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
am I going to do?” asked Claire as she picked some feathers out of
her hair.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Doesn’t
matter (peck). “Done enough already,” said Henrietta.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">This
world sucks,” both Henrietta and Claire said at the same time.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Claire
leaned her head against the wall of the coop and sighed. And then
coughed as some dust or feathers caught in her throat. She reached
down to pick up Henrietta and hold her in her lap. She pinned
Henrietta’s wings against her body. Henrietta did not like this
and kicked until Claire put her back down. Henrietta ran to the
other side of the coop.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Fine,
be that way! Don’t help me out,” said Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Help
you out (peck)? You’ve screwed everything up (peck).”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Claire
looked out the small window at her parents’ house. Evening was
setting in. She could see the exterior of the house as well as the
interior rooms lit up. She saw the dark window of her room -- the
room she grew up in. She didn’t need to see it. She knew every
wall, every shelf, every doll, every poster, and every piece of
clothing in the closet. Except for one year of living on campus
during college, she had been staring at the walls of that room for
twenty-two years. People say that as you get older the years seem
shorter. To Claire they seemed to be getting longer.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “<span style="font-family: "andalus";">If
only I could do something right,” she sighed.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Can’t
(scratch). Ruined the world,” said Henrietta.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
chickens exploded in a frenzy of screeches and feathers as Claire
screamed, stomped her feet and repeatedly bashed the walls with her
fists. The coop looked like a chaotic, spastic snowglobe with
chickens and feathery snow falling upward, sideways and downward all
at once. By the time the last flake fell, Claire was covered with
feathers and began to chuckle. The chickens hovered nervously as far
from her as possible.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
I guess I’ll survive. Everybody does. So what if I can’t get a
job in my field. I can make things work. So what if I still live in
my parent’s house. I’ll be in my own place someday soon. So
what if no guys are interested in me. I’ll….” Claire stopped.
She wasn’t sure if she stopped because she knew what she was going
to say was a lie or because saying it might make it come true. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
(peck)! Always about you (peck)!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Fuck
this world. They’re all too stupid to know anything,” said
Claire</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Too
stupid. True, true,” said Henrietta.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">They’re
so stupid they don’t know what’s good for them,” Claire
reassured herself.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">True,
true,” said Henrietta. “Killed the world (cluck).”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">They’re
so stupid they’ll all probably die from stupidity.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">True,
true. They killed themselves (scratch).”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Henrietta
came closer to Claire and pecked at her shoelace thinking it was a
piece of spaghetti. Henrietta liked spaghetti. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">They’re
so stupid I’m surprised this world even exists anymore.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Not
much longer (scratch), brrrrrk (cluck).”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Claire
got up. Hunched over under the low ceiling of the coop, she made her
way to the door while a sea of small feathery bodies parted for her.
Her seat was immediately taken by a silver-laced Wyandotte. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Thanks
for the chat, Henrietta,” Claire said turning to face the buff
colored chicken. “Everything will be fine. I’ll survive and
tomorrow will be a new day.” Claire turned and walked out the
door.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">(peck)
Not many more days (peck). Won’t survive, brrrrrrrrk. Killed the
world (peck). Doomed us all (scratch).”<br />_________________________________________________<br />Written by Mark Granlund<br />Illustrations by Mark Granlund </span></span></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-62367708981661097132017-05-12T19:49:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:18:57.511-07:007 - Bartholomew and the Cabana Fire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNPwDowjNxk/VrlfhA1Al3I/AAAAAAAAH8c/GaQIkXqnRx0/s1600/7lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNPwDowjNxk/VrlfhA1Al3I/AAAAAAAAH8c/GaQIkXqnRx0/s400/7lg.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew felt
just horrible about his cat, Oliver, attacking Geraldine during
dinner, so he stopped by her house the next day to apologize. It was
evening, and the sun was about to set. Geraldine’s father, Gerald,
answered the door wearing pants that were two sizes too big and a
shirt that was two sizes too small.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
“Hello, and how’s
your siding doing, Bartholomew?” asked Gerald.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Oh, its fine,
Gerald. I was wondering if Geraldine was home.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Your roof is
looking pretty old. You should replace it soon. I’d be glad to
come out and give you an estimate,”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“No, that’s
okay, Gerald. Is Geraldine here?” Bartholomew asked peering over
Gerald’s shoulder. Behind him he saw Gerald’s three sons
wrestling with each other and throwing punches. As they disappeared
out of sight, he heard the sound of furniture breaking. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“I believe she is
out back. I would offer to let you walk through the house,…”
Gerald looked Bartholomew up and down, “but perhaps you should walk
around the outside. She might be in the garage or by the pool.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew walked
to the back yard. He didn’t see Geraldine anywhere. But lying
scattered by the pool he noticed a couple of bathing suits, one man’s
and one woman’s. He walked to the garage and didn’t find
Geraldine there either. He was walking back toward the house and
decided to look in the poolside cabana. He opened the door and found
Geraldine and a young man in towels standing very close to each
other. Bartholomew stood in the doorway and stared.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Hi, Bartholomew,
how are you?” asked Geraldine. Before he could answer she
continued, “This is Kyle. He’s my little pool boy. He was just
showing me how his equipment works.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Ch-yeah,” said Kyle, with a nervous grin.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Go on, Kyle, you were just going to show me what you do with your hose,” said
Geraldine. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew glanced
at Kyle suspiciously.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Well, I take
this hose and place it firmly into the hole in the box just down
here,” Kyle demonstrated as he attached the hose to a hole in a box
on the floor of the cabana. “This connects the hose to the
filtration system. Then I take the other end of the hose, which is
out there,” Kyle pointed toward the pool, “and can suck any
debris out of the pool. Eventually, I clean out the filter in the
box when it is full, ch-yeah.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“How come you’re
both wearing towels?” asked Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Geraldine and Kyle
looked at each other for a moment.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Oh, Kyle was
showing me some of the chemicals he uses and we accidentally got some
on our swimsuits. We took them off right away and washed them out
and put them out there to dry,” replied Geraldine. Noticing
Bartholomew’s disbelieving expression, she quickly added, “We
changed one at a time into towels here in the cabana. So,
Bartholomew, what are <i>you</i> doing here?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“I…uh...just
came by to apologize about the dinner and my cat,” said
Bartholomew. “I feel just horrible.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Oh, that’s
very sweet of you. But really, I had a nice time. It’s a shame it
ended a little early,” she said as she eyed Bartholomew’s crotch.
She then turned to Kyle. “Did you say you were done with your
hose for today, Kyle?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Yes, yes, I’m
done working here today. I will be back again on Tuesday to clean.
It was nice meeting you Bartholomew,” Kyle said as he offered his
hand to him. Bartholomew didn’t shake it and simply stared out the
window of the cabana.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Kyle walked out the
door, picked up his swimsuit and exited out the back gate.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Now Bartholomew,
I don’t want you getting the wrong ideas about Kyle,” said
Geraldine. “Your cat was not very friendly, but you are the
sweetest and kindest man I have ever dated. YOU ARE GREAT! I’ve
been telling The Nanny about you and she thinks I should hold on to
you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“You have a
nanny?” asked Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Yeah, she’s an
angel,” said Geraldine. “Besides, Kyle’s not my type; you know
- all muscle, tan, great hair. Do you think I’m shallow?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew looked
at Geraldine. He couldn’t help but notice her turned up nose with
her large nostrils. In one of the nostrils he could see a couple of
hard dry chunks of mucus attached to some nose hairs. Behind the
mucus he could see her nostrils disappear into darkness inside her
head. At that moment, Bartholomew was slightly repulsed by
Geraldine’s looks and felt that maybe <i>he </i>was a bit shallow.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“No, I don’t
think you are shallow. If anyone is shallow, it’s me. I’m sorry
Geraldine,” Bartholomew said as he moved closer and gave her a hug.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Geraldine held onto
Bartholomew for a <i>long</i> time. Then she pulled back and asked
“Did you bring me anything?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“No,” said
Bartholomew, “Should I have?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Oh, I just
thought maybe, to make up for your cat, you might have brought me
something. You are such a thoughtful and kind person that way,”
Geraldine sighed as she glanced
out the window of the cabana to the gate where Kyle had left.</span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UW3i50rAA1w/Vrlg1D_s4lI/AAAAAAAAH8w/fR01U1alhN8/s1600/ball.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UW3i50rAA1w/Vrlg1D_s4lI/AAAAAAAAH8w/fR01U1alhN8/s200/ball.gif" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew looked
out the window, too. He saw the sun going down. He noticed, inside
the cabana, piles of things stored there. He saw tiki torches,
broken patio furniture, good patio furniture, pool toys, an arsenal
of waterguns, floating devices, pool cleaning equipment, and some
things he was unfamiliar with. It looked to Bartholomew as if
Geraldine had more stuff in her cabana than there was in his whole
house. Bartholomew looked out the open door and saw Geraldine’s
large house with its many peaks and windows. He felt a little
uncomfortable because it was so much larger and grander than his own
humble home. He wondered what it was that Geraldine saw in him.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Hey,”
whispered Geraldine, “It’s almost dark. Do you want to go skinny
dipping?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Now Bartholomew
felt very uncomfortable. “What?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Skinny-dipping,”
restated Geraldine. “You know, swimming without clothes on. When
it’s dark, nobody can see us, not even Gerald. C’mon, it’ll be
fun!”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Skinny-dipping…
it sounded so exciting to Bartholomew. Swimming naked with a girl is
something he hadn’t done since he was five. But that was
different, VERY different.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Uh, okay,”
Bartholomew said.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“It’s going to
be dark soon,” said Geraldine as she looked into Bartholomew’s
eyes. “Perhaps we should have some floating candles so we can see
each other. That would be so romantic. I think there are some
around here someplace.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R3XCg-qkUp8/Vrlg-Fn5AbI/AAAAAAAAH80/ZFA1Tuu_VsE/s1600/umbrella.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R3XCg-qkUp8/Vrlg-Fn5AbI/AAAAAAAAH80/ZFA1Tuu_VsE/s320/umbrella.gif" width="107" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew agreed.
He would have agreed with just about anything right about then. He
looked around the cabana for floating candles. He could see them on
a shelf in the back behind some tiki torches and old furniture. He
pushed aside the furniture, causing the tiki torches to slide along
the wall and fall to the floor. Bartholomew reached over some more
debris and grabbed a few floating candles.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Oh, Bartholomew,
you are <i>so</i> romantic. I think there are matches over there,”
Geraldine said as she pointed at the window ledge.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
maneuvered over to the ledge and grabbed the matches. As he backed
up he bumped into Geraldine.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Sorry,” he
said.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Oh, don’t ever
be sorry for touching me,” said Geraldine and she put her arms
around Bartholomew. Bartholomew held the candles and the matches up
in the air and tried to hug her back.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Well, it’s
dark outside now, should we get ready to go?” asked Geraldine.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew started
to light the floating candles. He struck a match.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“What’s that
smell?” Bartholomew asked.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The tiki torches
that fell to the floor were now leaking kerosene. Some had flowed
near to Geraldine and Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Let’s go,”
said Geraldine as she dropped her towel to the floor. In the low
light of the match fire, Bartholomew could barely make out a smile on
her darkened face. He could see Geraldine’s flat breasts and small
nipples highlighted by the warm glow. His eyes licked like flames
down her bony body to her belly button and then to the tattoo on her
hip and then to her… Bartholomew dropped the lit match and stared
at Geraldine.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The flame quickly
grew larger as a puddle of kerosene had pooled just behind
Bartholomew. They did not notice. Bartholomew kept staring and
moved toward this body in front of him. Geraldine pulled Bartholomew
forward to undo his belt.
</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tlHaTCO1QHc/VrlhJIMKMtI/AAAAAAAAH88/rQtMFxJKXUo/s1600/inflatable.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tlHaTCO1QHc/VrlhJIMKMtI/AAAAAAAAH88/rQtMFxJKXUo/s320/inflatable.gif" width="247" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The flames followed
the kerosene to the pile of patio furniture. A blaze began behind
Bartholomew. They didn’t hear it begin to crackle. Geraldine
worked at his belt while he placed his hands on Geraldine’s breasts
and caressed her shoulders. Remembering the incident with Oliver,
Bartholomew kept his hands away from Geraldine’s hair. The flames
of his passion were burning as never before. But soon his flames of
passion were overcome by the flames behind him.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“What is that
smell?” Bartholomew said as he turned around. “OH!”
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew tried
to turn to look at the fire but Geraldine jerked him back to face her
as she continued to undo his belt.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Geraldine,
there’s a fire!” Bartholomew said as he could start to feel the
heat on his back.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Oh, Bartholomew,
I burn for you, too.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew turned
his head around to see the size of the fire. Plastic hoses stored in
a coil in the corner started to release an acrid yellow plume of
smoke.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Geraldine, we
have to get out of here!” Bartholomew yelled as he tried to push
her to the door. Geraldine finally had Bartholomew’s belt undone
and was working on the top button and the zipper of his pants.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Geraldine, you
have got to stop! We have to get out of here!”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew began
to panic as the yellow smoke began to fill the cabana. He tried to
run to the door, but by then Geraldine had succeeded and had pulled
Bartholomew’s pants down around his ankles. He fell to the floor
of the cabana and frantically crawled on his hands and knees toward
the door.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Geraldine,
stop!!”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew reached
the door and pushed it open. Immediately, the flames grew twice as
big and the plume of foul smoke roiled out the door and into the
night sky. Bartholomew crawled out, turned over and lay just outside
the cabana on the cement apron surrounding the pool. He wondered
what had happened to Geraldine—he could see nothing inside the
smoke-filled door of the cabana. Suddenly, big yellow eyes, a mouth
full of large crooked teeth and a smoking disheveled nest of hair
emerged out of the doorway and landed on Bartholomew.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bNmsYVzZWik/VrlgB4Z_o8I/AAAAAAAAH8o/8t_1v9fzq1o/s1600/geraldine_flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bNmsYVzZWik/VrlgB4Z_o8I/AAAAAAAAH8o/8t_1v9fzq1o/s400/geraldine_flip.tif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Oh,
Bartholomew,” Geraldine said in a hushed sexy voice, “Make love
to me here, now. I’m on fire for you, my little cabana boy.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“NO, STOP!”
cried Bartholomew as he tried to crawl away.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
“GERALDINE?”
The voice of Gerald rang through the air. “GERALDINE, ARE YOU OUT
HERE?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Geraldine quickly
rolled to the edge of the pool, grabbed her swimsuit and slid into
the water.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Here Daddy, I’m
here in the pool,” she said as she slipped on her swimsuit bottoms
and then her top.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“ARE YOU OKAY?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Yeah, Daddy, I’m
fine. I’m in the water, away from the fire. But I think
Bartholomew needs help.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Gerald walked over
towards the cabana and saw Bartholomew lying on the cement with his
pants around his ankles, his white underwear glowing in the light of
the flames. Gerald picked Bartholomew up off the ground and helped
him away from the fire. He then pulled a hose from around the back
of the house and started to spray the cabana.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">When the fire was
starting to die down, mostly because it was running out of fuel, not
because of the efforts of Gerald, he asked Bartholomew and Geraldine
what had happened.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Well, Daddy,
Bartholomew was in the cabana getting some floating candles so we
could swim in the dark.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“But, how did the
fire start?” asked Gerald.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Oh, Bartholomew
was lighting a candle and some of the tiki torches fell on to him and
knocked down the candle and spilled kerosene all over.” Geraldine
tipped her head at Bartholomew indicating that he should follow her
lead.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“That cabana
is…was… such a mess, I knew someday something would happen. I’ve
been meaning to have a bigger one built,” said Gerald. “But what
are your pants doing around your ankles?” he asked, looking at
Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“He didn’t have
a swim suit so he was going to swim in his underwear and only got
that far before the fire happened,” interjected Geraldine before
Bartholomew could answer.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Well, thank
goodness I’ve got insurance,” said Gerald as the sound of fire
engine sirens sounded in the distance.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“I’m so sorry,”
Bartholomew found himself saying. “I didn’t mean for this to
happen.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Don’t worry,”
reassured Gerald. “Since I own the insurance company, my crews can
rebuild the cabana for me this weekend. Really, you might have done
me a favor. Now I can have a bigger cabana built with a Jacuzzi
attached. It will be bigger than what’s-his-name’s next door.
This’ll be great.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew pulled
up his pants, said goodnight to Geraldine and Gerald and walked out
the same gate through which Kyle had exited only forty-five minutes
earlier. As he walked home, fire trucks passed by heading to a fire
that already was out. He slowly staggered home wondering just what
it was that was happening to him. He thought about the incident with
Oliver and the smoke alarm. He thought about how scared he was of
the fire in the cabana. Two fires! He thought about Geraldine and
was glad that she wasn’t injured during either incident. He
thought about Geraldine and how she kept tugging at his belt despite
obvious threats to their lives. Then he thought, for a brief moment
that, perhaps, Geraldine was not his type of girl. Maybe she wasn’t
the type of friend who could help him make good decisions. But
Geraldine was always telling Bartholomew what she liked about him.
She, obviously, was a good person who thought very highly of
Bartholomew. He put the thought that Geraldine was not the right
woman for him out of his mind - at least for a while longer. <br />_____________________________________________<br />Written by Mark Granlund<br />Illustrations by Tim Jennen</span></div>
</div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-9858705345541994302017-05-11T14:45:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:18:37.768-07:008 - Ned the Giant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wQO5ni-COCc/Vrpq4afUIEI/AAAAAAAAH94/_qgtNORB0gk/s1600/stuka_flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-80RIH3OInSM/VrpmSVPB8iI/AAAAAAAAH9s/FcV69WVNaw0/s1600/8lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-80RIH3OInSM/VrpmSVPB8iI/AAAAAAAAH9s/FcV69WVNaw0/s320/8lg.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus";"><span style="font-size: large;">Late one night, while Ned was completing a model of a Ju.87 Stuka and eating a
10-sack of Donkey Burgers, he noticed an odd ache in his knees. He
had been sitting at the table for a couple of hours and stretched his
legs to make them feel better. The ache did not go away. Ten
minutes later his toes began to feel cramped inside his slippers as
his nails rubbed against the lining. He kicked them off thinking he
would clip his nails later.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned
had only to adhere a few decals and his Ju.87 Stuka would be
complete, ready to dogfight with his P-39 Airacobra that hung from
the ceiling. He felt hot, wiped his forehead and pulled his long
blonde dreds off of his nape. A labored breath of air escaped from
his mouth. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">He
placed the last white cross on the back section of the fuselage –
done! </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wQO5ni-COCc/Vrpq4afUIEI/AAAAAAAAH94/_qgtNORB0gk/s1600/stuka_flip.tif" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wQO5ni-COCc/Vrpq4afUIEI/AAAAAAAAH94/_qgtNORB0gk/s320/stuka_flip.tif" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yes!” Ned
said as he pumped his fist and made a face as if he had just
confidently and capably defeated a Sumo wrestler. He turned away
from the model plane, leaving it to cure until morning. He walked to
the bathroom making noises that, to him, resembled the noise of an
airplane engine that was straining into a steep climb, needed a
gallon of oil and was misfiring one piston. Anyone else would have
thought he was just making noise. As he brushed his teeth, the plane
engine continued, except now it flew through a rainstorm. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "andalus";"> </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned walked to his
bedroom, took off his clothes except his underwear, set his alarm,
turned off the lights and slipped under his covers. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Ugh!” Ned
thought as his job began to make its way into his consciousness. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“I don’t want
to go to work tomorrow,” he said to his ceiling. He thrashed about
in his sheets. He plumped his pillows. He turned from side to side.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“God, I hate my
job!” Ned yelled at his nightstand. In the dark, he could see the
clock read 12:10 am. A dull ache permeated his bones. He thought
about when he was eleven years old and how his bones and knees would
hurt when he was in a growth spurt. One summer he grew an inch and a
half. While lying in bed, he calculated he had grown one eighth of
an inch per week that summer. Ned tossed and turned until 12:30 am
before he finally fell asleep.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“…baby, your
karma is so large and it’s thick as can be. She’s got large
karma, large karma…” blared from the radio. Ned didn’t stir.
“..large karma, large karmaaaaaaaaaaah…”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned rolled over
to swat the radio’s sleep button and fell on the floor.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Startled, he
quickly got to his knees and looked at his bed. He rubbed his eyes.
His bed had shrunk overnight. He looked around the room and
everything seemed to be normal, but smaller. Ned thought he was
imagining things, but then he realized that his underwear must have
shrunk overnight as well. He stood up and walked to his dresser. He
tried on a few more pairs of underwear, but they all were too small.
Ned found a pair of athletic shorts with a draw string and tried them
on. They would have to do. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned ducked under
the doorway and walked to the kitchen. He pulled out some Toxic-Puff
cereal and ate the entire box. He was still hungry. He downed the
carton of milk – still hungry. He ate three slices of leftover
pizza, five pieces of toast, and something leftover from days gone-by
which he didn’t recognize. He was still hungry, but Ned decided to
stop eating before all his food was gone. Heading back to his room
he ducked even further than before under the doorway. That’s when
he heard it. His shorts split right down the crotch and Ned was
flapping in the wind. At the thought of having no clothes that could
possibly cover his body, Ned said “Shit.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">He looked around
his bedroom for something to cover himself. He could barely get
around his room without knocking his head on the ceiling light or
banging his knees on furniture. The mattress went flying off his bed
as he grabbed the sheets and pulled at them to remove them. In
moments, white sheets were wrapped around Ned’s waist like a giant
diaper. Now too big to use the mirror, Ned looked down at himself.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“What is
happening?!” Ned half yelled to no one.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Well, I guess
I’m not going to work today,” he said thinking that a giant
diaper was inappropriate to wear to the office. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned contemplated
calling a doctor. He reached for the phone. But as he thought about
it, he was pretty sure that a doctor wouldn’t be very helpful in
this situation. They don’t make “don’t-grow” pills. Maybe
he should call his parents. What would they do? No, either he would
grow bigger and bigger and explode…or he wouldn’t. What could
anyone do to help in this situation? </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">By noon, Ned’s
head was hitting the ceiling. He made his way to the kitchen and
realized he could not stay in his apartment much longer or he would
never get out of it. Visions of grotesquely overweight dead people
being cut out of their homes flooded through his brain. He decided
he would have to leave the apartment now, even though he was only
wearing a big diaper. Autumn was beginning, and, although the days
were warm, the nights were beginning to get chilly. Where could he
go? Maybe he could hide in the apartment garage. His car had its
own stall. He could push his car out and then hide in there until he
could reason things out. He decided that would be his next move.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned
quickly grabbed his keys which seemed ridiculously small in his hand.
He quietly, as quietly as a newly nine-foot tall person could,
stumbled down two flights of stairs and out to the garage. Ned froze
in his tracks as he heard laughter behind him. He turned to see a
crow in a tree chuckling to itself. No one else was watching –
good. Ned quickly opened the garage door, and ducked in. He
reached in the car window, put the keys in the ignition, shifted the
car into neutral and rolled it out the door. As he was walking back
into his garage stall he heard a gasp and a slight shriek. A face
appeared in a second floor window. It was Mrs. Katie, the apartment
building gossip. Ned dove into the garage and pulled down the door
with a slam.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">After
some time, the darkness and the smell of oil and gas were starting to
get to Ned. He wondered
if he should open the door a bit for fresh air and to look and see
what was going on outside. He decided to wait. As he sat there
waiting – for something – his body didn’t stop growing. Ned
was sitting on the garage floor but felt that his head was running
out of room and that soon his legs would be too long to lay flat on
the floor. He realized that not only was his apartment too small,
his garage would also soon not be big enough. No matter what he
wanted, he was going to grow up and up… and up. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned
didn’t want to be so big and he didn’t want other people to see
him big. If they saw him big they would see what a real big loser he
was. He estimated that now the mole on his back was probably the
size of a manhole cover. He imagined women running away in disgust at the sight of his gigantic
penis and hairy scrotum. Ned hadn’t gone to the bathroom yet, but
imagined his turds would be enormous, smelly and disgusting –
causing others to vomit. His own vomit would be like a river. His
stream of urine would create a lake. His body odor would be pungent
from five blocks away. People would see how disgusting – how
unlovable – he was. Perhaps worst of all, because he was so big,
it would become obvious how dumb he was. Everyone thought he was
smart because he wore glasses and liked science, but there were many
things Ned did not know. He did not know how to talk to girls. He
did not know how to move his gangly body without stumbling over
something. He didn’t know how to talk to guys who didn’t like
science. Actually, he wasn’t sure how to talk to guys who
like science. He didn’t know how to build things with his hands.
He knew nothing about art or music. He knew nothing about sailing.
And he knew nothing about what to do if your body suddenly triples in
size. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Three
sharp wraps on the garage door startled Ned. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Anybody in
there?” asked an authoritative voice. Ned didn’t make a sound.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Three more wraps
on the door. “Is anybody in there?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Someone tried to
pull the garage door up, but it was locked. Ned heard the sound of
keys and then the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. He
did not move.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The light of the
day blinded him as the garage door rose. He heard many voices gasp
and a murmur run through a crowd that had gathered.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Ned, is that
you?” asked the familiar voice of the building owner, Gerald.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned shielded his
eyes from the light with his hand and answered, “Yeah.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“What
happened?” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“I don’t
know, Gerald. I just started growing and I can’t stop,” Ned said
with the words catching in his throat. He felt tears come to his
eyes.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">“Well, you
can’t stay in that dark car stall forever. Why don’t you come
out and someone else can help you?” said Gerald.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nOX_Je4T4us/VrprQ3E7D2I/AAAAAAAAH98/4wn0bQbklUc/s1600/giant-flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nOX_Je4T4us/VrprQ3E7D2I/AAAAAAAAH98/4wn0bQbklUc/s400/giant-flip.tif" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned crawled out
of the garage and slowly stood up. He stood eighteen feet and three
inches tall. A crowd of about forty people had gathered outside the
garage. Everyone was still for a moment as they took in a sight they
had never seen before. All was quiet. Ned looked around. He could
see in the window of his third floor apartment. He could see over
the garage to the block of houses behind. He looked down and could
only see the tops of people’s heads or their upturned faces. If he
wanted, he could reach up and pet the laughing crow in the tree. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Then,
Ned’s sheet-diaper fell to the ground. Suddenly, everyone
responded. Mrs. Katie began to pray to God for protection. Gerald
pulled out his phone to take pictures and calculated out loud how
much money he could make selling the photos and turning Ned into a
sideshow freak. Ned thought both of them ridiculous. He wasn’t
going to hurt anyone and he certainly wasn’t going to become a
sideshow freak. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine and Uncle Jeffrey, who were out on their daily
constitutional, held hands and began to sing <i>Puff
the Magic Dragon</i>. Mr. Wannamaker,
who was closest to Ned, peed in his pants. Several people fainted,
someone whistled a long note, a few people uttered “think of the
children” and a group of people screamed and ran to get away but
ended up running into each other and falling down. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Like the snap of
a hypnotist’s fingers, when Ned’s diaper fell, everyone began to
act out a suggestion that was given to them. Suddenly, everyone woke
up and went around acting odd and out of step. He was still Ned, just
big – really big. These people were so silly. Ned saw Mrs. Katie
look up at him in terror as she rifled through her rosary beads as
fast as she could. Ned began to laugh. He laughed hard and everyone
stopped what they were doing and looked at him. The people who had
fallen to the ground, looked up at him while rubbing their bruised
heads. Ned laughed even harder. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">With
each huge laugh, Ned began to shrink a little bit. The more people
stared at him and the more they reacted, the more he laughed and the
more he shrank. He eventually reached his normal height. Ned bent
down picked up his sheet and wrapped it around his waist. He looked
at Mr. Wannamaker, mouth open and wide-eyed, standing in a puddle of
his own urine. Ned let out one last loud laugh and walked through
the crowd and went into his apartment. </span></div>
_______________________________________________________________________
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Illustrations by Matt Wells </span>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-69629517053810447012017-05-10T06:17:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:18:21.356-07:009 - Aunt Josephine and Her Long Ride<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew liked
his Aunt Josephine very much. She was warm and kind toward him,
although in a subtly severe way. She often would bring over meals
unannounced. Each surprise meal, although a little bland and
dutiful, was big enough for two days worth of leftovers. But
sometimes, when delivering food, Aunt Josephine would begin to talk
about God, and Bartholomew would feel very uncomfortable.
Bartholomew was not uncomfortable with the idea that God existed, but
Bartholomew was uncomfortable with the way that Aunt Josephine talked
about God. Bartholomew felt that when Aunt Josephine talked about
God, it often was out of context with the current conversation, and
she seemed to be trying to convince herself that God actually
intervenes in this world – that death was not the end.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Whenever this
happened, Bartholomew kept quiet and didn’t say much. If he did,
it seemed like one thing would lead to another, and eventually Aunt
Josephine would tell him that she was praying for him every night,
and then she would start to tear up thinking about her dead sister,
Bartholomew’s mother. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> One day, Aunt
Josephine went to a funeral of a college friend. The funeral was in
a town several hours away. As she drove to the funeral by herself,
she listened to classical music and thought of all of her friends
from college. She wondered who would be there. She had not heard
from many of them in the last five years, except her friend Ti whose
funeral it was. Aunt Josephine tried to remember whether each of her
roommates had married, had kids and what they were doing for jobs.
Images of people dressed in sweaters on Christmas cards rolled
through her head. She thought about funny, sad and crazy things that
happened in college. She thought about Gwaine getting completely
covered with chocolate when she stumbled into a chocolate fountain at
a dance. Then there was Riva who would get up in the night and run
down the hallway in her sleep. Jerri got locked out of the apartment
in her underwear. Aunt Josephine, Ti, Prissy and Danielle all got so
drunk at a girls-night-out party that none of them remembers how it
happened, but the next day they all had words in permanent marker
written all over their bodies. Aunt Josephine never allowed herself
to get drunk after that. She also remembered the sad times, like
when Riva’s boyfriend Charlie died in a car accident, when Jerri’s
mom had cancer and when Gwaine became very depressed. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Her drive seemed
to take no time at all. Aunt Josephine’s plan was to stay in a
hotel that night, attend the funeral the next morning and then drive
home directly after the service so that she could spend some time
with Uncle Jeffrey before going to bed. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> The next day,
many of her friends from college were there. Ti was one of those
people who kept in touch with everyone, and once she was your friend,
she always was a friend. Jerri and Gwaine were there. They all
talked and found out about each other’s lives. They also lamented
that Riva was not at the funeral. Jerri mentioned that, last she
heard, Riva was going to come and wondered what had happened to her.
</span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> After the funeral
was over, people began to leave, but Aunt Josephine stayed around the
cemetery for a while. She wanted to reminisce with people instead
of starting her long ride home. When she finally walked to her car,
she was approached by someone. It was Riva! They hugged.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I’m so glad
you’re here,” said Aunt Josephine. “We didn’t see you at the
funeral. Jerri and Gwaine were here.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Yeah, I was
keeping a low profile,” said Riva, “you know how emotional I
get.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Jerri and
Gwaine would have loved to see you. They were saying how they miss
you.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Riva just stared
at Aunt Josephine.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Would you
mind, Aunt Josephine,” said Riva, “if I catch a ride home with
you?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “What?” asked
Aunt Josephine.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Can I get a
ride home with you?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “But I live six
hours away. Why would you…is everything okay Riva? Are you and
George okay?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Actually, I
dumped George about a year ago. I’m on my way to see a friend who
lives near you. My car is having issues,” Riva said rolling her
eyes, “and I was going to take a bus, but it would be much nicer
riding with you.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Absolutely, I
would love the company!” said Josephine, unsure if Riva was being
honest.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Thanks,”
said Riva.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “This is
actually a relief,” said Aunt Josephine. “I was dreading the
long ride home by myself and this will give us a chance to catch up.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “That’s just
what I want,” said Riva.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> * * * </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “So, what
happened with you and George?” Aunt Josephine asked as they hit the
highway just out of town with the </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>Hobo
Nephews of Uncle Frank</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> playing on the
radio.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Oh, I just
wasn’t happy with the way he couldn’t relate to me. I mean,
isn’t there a purpose to being together, beyond routine sex and
paying the bills?” Riva said. “So, eventually, when he didn’t
really move in my direction, after a year of counseling, I decided I
had had enough.”<br /> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Didn’t he want to stay together?” asked
Aunt Josephine.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “No, yes,
well…yes. He did want to stay together but he also seemed to want
to keep the relationship just like it was-- safe, easy,
unchallenging. That wasn’t enough for me. So I divorced him.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I’m so sorry
to hear that. It must have been very painful,” said Aunt Josephine
with sympathy in her voice.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> ”It was, on one
level. It was hard to end something that started fifteen years
earlier. It was hard to give up on the person I had hoped to grow
old with, the person I had built my life around. But on the other
hand, it was a simple decision to make. We obviously did not want to
head down the same road for the last half of our lives. I don’t
think I would be able to live the life I want if we had stayed
together. But that point is moot now.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Aunt Josephine
was silent and stared stone-faced at the road ahead.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “What, Aunt
Josephine?” asked Riva in a slightly exasperated tone.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “What do you
mean?” said Aunt Josephine.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “That kind of
silence means you are thinking something but don’t want to say it.
You haven’t changed that much since college,” said Riva, “so
spill.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Well, I just
think that if you felt you wouldn’t be able to live the life you
wanted in the second half of your life, then you didn’t </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>really</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
build the first half of your life around George, like you said. I
mean, either you did build your life around him or it was just
convenient to be with him.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Well, why
don’t you say what you really mean?” asked Riva sarcastically.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I’m sorry,”
said Aunt Josephine, “I don’t mean to offend, it’s just a
question that came to mind.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Actually, this
is why I wanted to drive home with you, Aunt Josephine,” said Riva,
“I have a lot of questions, and I felt that a ride with you would
help me clear my head about some of the things I am facing.” </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Aunt Josephine
stared out the windshield at the dashed line rushing toward her and
underneath the car. She turned and looked at Riva, whose eyes were
focused on Aunt Josephine with a mix of sweet calm and an anxious
plea for help. Aunt Josephine recalled a twenty-year-old Riva who
had been so confident—a young woman who would do what she felt like
doing, whether anyone else supported her or not.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “What’s going
on, Riva?” asked Aunt Josephine. “Why didn’t you show yourself
at the funeral? Who is this friend you’re visiting, and what
problems are you facing?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Riva pushed her
fingernail against a cuticle. She repeated this motion four more
times on her left hand and then switched to her right.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Aunt
Josephine, why are you and Uncle Jeffrey still together?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Because we
love each other,” answered Aunt Josephine reflexively.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Sure, but what
does that mean?” asked Riva. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
for me, it means trying to give of myself to Uncle Jeffrey as much as
I can and to continue to learn how to do that every day.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">How
do you give yourself over to someone like that? I mean, obviously,
what Uncle Jeffrey wants and what you want is not always the same
thing. What do you do then? And I don’t mean just on little
things like leaving socks on the floor, I mean on big things, things
that are the foundations of your life.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,”
Aunt Josephine began, happy to have this opportunity to talk about
her faith, “I pray to God for guidance on those things.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">And
what does God tell you?” Riva asked with only a slightly sarcastic
tone.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
actually, not much,’ said Aunt Josephine. “Most the time praying
just delays me from acting long enough that problems blow over. But
once in awhile, a scripture verse or some memory will come to mind
that helps me understand things in a slightly different way that
helps. Either way, when I pray about my problems with Uncle Jeffrey,
I generally remember how much I love him and that always helps.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">So,
it may not be God, after all. I mean, when I had problems with
George the same thing would happen to me, even though I wasn’t
praying. I was just kind of problem solving in my head,” said
Riva.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine was silent. A question rolled around in her head and she
thought it would be better not to ask it. Next thing she knew, she
said, “Well, in the first place, how do you know it </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>wasn’t</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
God helping you, and second, and I don’t want to pass judgment on
George, but I know that Uncle Jeffrey is doing the same thing that I
am: trying to figure out how to be close and caring toward each
other, despite our difficulties. Uncle Jeffrey has proven himself
worthy of my love.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Riva
looked out the window at the farm fields rolling by and then noticed
her ghostly reflection on the glass. She quickly adjusted her focus
on a herd of cows in the distance lying down in the shade of a tree.
</span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Perhaps
that was my problem – I was trying to love someone who, ultimately,
wasn’t trying to love me. I chose someone who would rather watch
television and play fantasy football than relate to me. Why didn’t
I see it coming?” asked Riva, raising her eyes to the ceiling of
the car.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Neither
Aunt Josephine nor Riva said anything for a while as the car sailed
through oceans of corn rising and falling beneath the summer sun. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’m
going to take a little nap,” said Riva.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Okay,”
said Aunt Josephine, “I was thinking of stopping to eat in about an
hour.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">That
would be nice,” said Riva as she turned her head and immediately
fell into a deep sleep.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> * * * </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">After eating
(Riva only picked at her food while Aunt Josephine seemed to eat
enough for both) the two friends headed back out onto the road. Aunt
Josephine was driving. Although she was a bit tired, Aunt Josephine
did not like riding in a car. She felt uncomfortable just sitting in
the passenger’s seat while someone else did the work. She also
couldn’t allow herself to fall asleep while riding because she
always worried something might go wrong if she wasn’t paying
attention.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Aunt
Josephine, how can you so willingly give away your life to someone
else? I mean, don’t you have aspirations and dreams you want to
fulfill?” asked Riva.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Of course I
have aspirations and dreams, although at our age they are becoming
more realistic than when we were younger. I work hard at work and
want to eventually move up to a better position and better pay. I
like helping people. I don’t think I can change the world, but if
I can make someone else’s life a little better, then I am happy.
And I want to love someone as best I can, and be loved back. I think
that is the most rewarding thing in life.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Riva said
nothing.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “What are you
thinking?” asked Aunt Josephine.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I …my career
didn’t turn out like I wanted. I mean, there I was, putting in
eight hours a day doing something as uncreative as cleaning people’s
teeth. I always wanted to write and travel and meet more interesting
people.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Honestly Riva,
writing and traveling is what you wanted to do when we were in
college. There’s a reason very few people end up living the life
they dreamed up when they were in college. Life never does what we
think it will. It’s more about compromise and finding what you
like inside what you are doing. Not that I think life is about
aiming low, but what did we really know about life when we were
twenty?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “You might be
right, Aunt Josephine,” said Riva as she played with the rings on
her fingers and looked out at a dilapidated barn with its roof half
caved-in. “The most important thing in life is loving and being
loved. I just didn’t figure that out until it was too late.”
Riva raised a hand to cover her face. “But now I am realizing I
never had the skills or ability within myself to give my life, to
give myself, to anyone or anything.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Oh Riva, it’s
never too late,” said Aunt Josephine, as she reassuringly put her
hand on Riva’s leg. “I’m sure you will find someone else. It
just takes time…and I’ll be praying for you.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Riva put her hand
on top of Aunt Josephine’s and looked at her with tears on her
cheeks. Aunt Josephine thought Riva’s hand felt a bit cold. She
noticed circles under Riva’s wet eyes that she didn’t notice
before. Riva’s skin seemed a bit pale.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Aunt
Josephine,” Riva said with a trembling smile on her lips, “it is
already too late. Very soon I am going to have to give my life away,
and I have no practice, no ability… I have no comfort in doing
this.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Aunt Josephine
cried. A few moments later, Riva had fallen asleep. She slept
deeply, motionlessly. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> * * * </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">As
they were nearing Aunt Josephine’s hometown, Riva began to grab at
her seat belt and thrash her legs. Then she woke up. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,”
Riva breathed as she realized where she was.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Are
you okay?” asked Aunt Josephine.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Uh,
yeah,” said Riva as she readjusted herself in her seat and rubbed
her face in her hands. </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Was
that a bad dream?” asked Aunt Josephine.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
could say so,” said Riva.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">If
we were back in the dorm, would you have awakened running down the
hall?” Aunt Josephine asked with a smile.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Riva
smiled back, “Yeah, probably.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine said nothing as she turned the car off the highway, happy
to be on the last stretch home.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Did
I ever tell you what was happening when I would wake up running down
the hallway in college?” </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">No.
I just figured you were a very active sleep walker,” laughed Aunt
Josephine.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
was running from death,” said Riva as she pulled her hair back
behind her head and secured it with a hair band. “I would be
falling asleep, and just at that moment when I would lose
consciousness, I would suddenly realize that when I die, that was it.
I never would exist beyond that point and everything I knew –
everything-- would be gone to me. I would peer into the great abyss
of nothingness. So, that pretty much freaked me out, and, even
though I was still asleep, I would get up and run away.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine was silent.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Go
ahead, tell me what you’re thinking. I can take it,” said Riva.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,”
Aunt Josephine started hesitantly, “I think that must have been
really scary for you. Death is…scary. And to feel it so strongly
must have been really…mind-blowing.” Aunt Josephine was
disappointed she was unable to come up with a different phrase. “But
you know there is a place after this world, after we die, don’t
you? You don’t have to fear.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Aunt
Josephine, it is because of these experiences that I have never
believed in heaven or hell. These death dreams I have are so real
and so strong that they are more believable than Bible stories. But
now I am wondering. I mean, after all, how could God give His only
Son so we can be together forever, yet, when the time comes to be
with Him God says “sorry, you didn’t love Me enough — go burn
in hell? Is that love?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine silently turned left at the Donkey Burger restaurant.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What?”
asked Riva.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine hesitated. “But, isn’t that what you did to George?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What?”
asked Riva.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
told George that he didn’t love you enough and took yourself away
from him. In this instance, I would think you understand God better
than most.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Riva
said nothing. She wanted to cry, she wanted to kick and scream, but
her body was becoming too weak to do anything.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">But
surely, He will take me back? Won’t He? I mean God always sees the
best in us, that part of us that is redeemable, doesn’t He? He can
see what our souls cannot, what we have been incapable of seeing our
whole lives? Can’t He?” </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine was silent again, but not because she wanted to say
something she thought Riva wouldn’t want to hear. She was silent
because she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to
think. She wasn’t sure what she believed. In her heart, she loved
Riva and didn’t want her to go to hell. Aunt Josephine remembered
all the wonderful things Riva did for her, meant to her, in college.
Surely, she was worthy of eternal life. Would God see that? </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Can
I tell you a little secret?” asked a very pale Riva as she leaned
in toward Aunt Josephine to whisper to her. “This morning Death
came for me. I had a death dream this morning, but I didn’t wake
up running down the hall. My body didn’t wake up at all. My soul
didn’t know what else to do, so it ran. It ran down my hall, out
of my house. It ran to get away from Death and it ran to find you.
I am here…and…and…I am still home in my bed.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine was silent, her eyes wide. She focused her attention on
safely navigating the road while her mind raced wildly. Both women
were silent for several blocks. As she pulled onto her street Aunt
Josephine asked, “Why would you come to me when Death came for
you?” </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Because
you were the one who was comforting and supportive whenever I had a
death dream in college. You were the one who was there when Charlie
died in the car accident. When we were roommates with Gwaine, Jerri
and Ti is when I felt most like I gave of myself. You were the four
people to whom I have opened myself up and given my life to – more
than anyone since. And especially you, Aunt Josephine. You’re the
one who will have an answer for me. Tell me how to deal with Death.
It’s</span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
coming for me, Aunt Josephine.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
car pulled into the driveway, the key was turned, the engine stopped.
Aunt Josephine unbuckled her seatbelt and turned toward Riva. She
wanted to run, to leave Riva. This was all too much. Here she was,
sitting in a car with a friend who is dead and asking her the answer
to Death. Or, she was sitting in her car with an old dear friend who
had gone mad. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Death
is coming and will take me away any time now. I need to know, Aunt
Josephine, how do I give my life without any regrets? How do I lose
my life in order to gain peace? You are the one who can tell me, you
are the one who already does this.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine sat frozen, looking at Riva. This question went far beyond
her pat answers. This was beyond her faith, her experience and her
ability to even think. She sat there motionless, speechless. Riva
suddenly looked beyond Aunt Josephine and appeared paler. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Quick,
Aunt Josephine, how do I give my life, what do I do? Death is here!”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: "andalus";"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine looked behind her but saw nothing.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
must help me, tell me quick!”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: "andalus";"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Riva
became paler to the point of almost becoming translucent. She lunged
forward and grabbed on to Aunt Josephine with all her might. Her
arms and hands were frigid.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">No!”
yelled Riva. “No, I’m not ready to go. Leave me alone! Aunt
Josephine, what should I do? Tell me, now!” </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine was silent. As she sat in the driver’s seat of her car,
in her driveway, in front of her home, she felt Death seep through
her entire body. She felt Riva’s icy-cold grip burn her skin like
frost-bite as it was torn away. She heard Riva scream in desperation
as her body slowly faded just inches from Aunt Josephine’s face.
The last word she heard from Riva’s pleading mouth was her name,
“Aunt Josephine!” Then she was alone; alone in her car in her
driveway in front of her home. She wanted to faint, but she
couldn’t. She wanted to scream, but her lungs were so cold, no air
could escape them. She sat there until she could finally recognize
that life was somehow normal again. Aunt Josephine got out of her
car and went to find Uncle Jeffrey and to love him, to hold him –
to find her sanity.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><br /> * * * </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Aunt
Josephine never told this story to anyone, but Bartholomew could tell
that something very important had happened to her on that trip.
After the trip, she talked less about God to Bartholomew. It no
longer seemed like she was trying to convince herself of anything.
Bartholomew also noticed another change; when she cooked for him, the
food was no longer bland and dutiful, it tasted rich and spicy and
beautiful, like the food his mother used to make.<br />____________________________________________________________</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: "andalus";">Written by Mark Granlund<br />Illustration by Marth Iserman</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-45832933803267130682017-05-09T06:15:00.000-07:002019-04-11T17:49:59.856-07:0010 - Bartholomew and a Carload of Trouble<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus";"> <span style="font-size: large;">Bartholomew and
Geraldine were driving down the road in Bartholomew’s car, a 1974
Peugeot, white with pink side panels and chrome trim. The car had
been his father’s who kept it in the garage and only drove it on
special occasions. They were heading to the Mountains of the Great
Divide for a picnic lunch on the hottest day of the summer.
Geraldine had suggested the outing as a way for Bartholomew to make
up for burning down her father’s cabana. She also insisted on
Bartholomew’s father’s Peugeot, as she thought it looked
European, which it was.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Oh
Bartholomew,” gushed Geraldine, “You are </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>so</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
romantic taking me to the mountains for a picnic. Did you bring the
food I asked for?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Uh, not all of
it,” said Bartholomew. “I brought sunflower butter and beet
sandwiches on oat croissants, corn, some kale and a dessert. Oh, and
some apple-carrot juice. Of course, it is all organic.” </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I didn’t ask
for any of that disgusting food. Didn’t you bring the pickled
pig’s feet, Donkey Double Cheeseburgers, chips and bubblegum ice
cream? Didn’t you bring any of that?” </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “No,” said
Bartholomew, twitching in his seat a bit. “I guess I didn’t
understand.” But he did understand. Bartholomew didn’t like the
food Geraldine requested so he brought the food </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>he</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
liked. He was beginning to think that he and Geraldine had many
obstacles to becoming a couple. After all, they didn’t like the
same food or movies and Geraldine didn’t like to read. Also,
Oliver, Bartholomew’s cat, didn’t like Geraldine and Gerald,
Geraldine’s father, didn’t seem to like Bartholomew, even though
he often said quite the opposite. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Bartholomew,
you look just like a race car driver behind the wheel of this car.
It’s like you’re Jimmy Stewart or Cam Gordon or some racing guy
like that,” said Geraldine.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew
smiled and enjoyed the feeling of driving the twisting and turning
mountain roads, the sun above, the cool wind on his sweaty skin and a
girl by his side-- someone who thinks he’s something special.
Suddenly, Bartholomew felt something between his legs. He looked
down and saw Geraldine’s hand rubbing the inside of his thighs.
When he looked up at the road again the Peugeot was almost rubbing
against the guardrail. Bartholomew quickly adjusted the car.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Geraldine,
could you please not do that while I’m driving?” asked
Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Oh,
Bartholomew, you are driving…me crazy. I have wanted you so bad
since the cabana,” said Geraldine as she moved closer and started
rubbing Bartholomew’s crotch even rougher.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Geraldine! I
…stop…please, don’t…” </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> The speed at
which the Peugeot drove down the mountain increased greatly.
Bartholomew had trouble holding the car in the turns and they were
drifting into the opposite lane. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Geraldine…please…”
Bartholomew started as Geraldine was undoing his zipper.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Another car was
coming up the mountain, approaching the Peugeot. Bartholomew was
trying to pull Geraldine’s hand out of his pants when he finally
noticed the other car. He swerved the Peugeot back into the right
lane just in time. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Ahead Bartholomew
saw a place to pull over and park in front of a small roadside store
called the </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>Last Chance Oasis and
Frappacino Cafe.</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew was
disappointed in Geraldine. She seemed blinded by her desire for
intimacy. He felt that she wasn’t even cognizant of him and what
he wanted. Perhaps he should tell her that their relationship wasn’t
working and that it should end. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew
turned off the engine and opened his mouth to tell Geraldine he was
going to drive her home. But all that came out of his mouth was a
groan as Geraldine’s hand had suddenly done something very
satisfying in Bartholomew’s pants. Geraldine wasted no time. She
reached around Bartholomew, grabbed a lever and reclined his seat.
She then lifted up her skirt and straddled Bartholomew. He couldn’t
help but notice that she was not wearing underwear. He wondered if
she was wearing any when he had picked her up. A little more
disconcerting, Bartholomew noticed that part of himself was now
outside of his pants.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Geraldine slid
back and forth on top of Bartholomew. Sweat collected on her
forehead and streamed down her face, her neck, across her tattoos and
onto her breasts that were now clinging to her sweat-soaked tank top.
Their moans mixed in the air with the cicada buzz, the oppressive
heat of the sun and the calm sweet chirping of birds. Geraldine’s
body was throwing off heat, a heat that made Bartholomew sweat from
every pore. His breathing started to become labored. His eyes began
to roll up into his head and he felt that if they continued he would
pass out from the heat. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Stop,”
Bartholomew whispered weakly. “I…I…”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Then Bartholomew,
feeling like there was a raging fever inside him, saw something that
startled him. On the back seat, to the side of his reclined seat, he
saw a small fire start. The flames stayed low and licked along the
surface as if the air was too humid to welcome it. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-STkLiULHHYQ/VsR-iJCi2yI/AAAAAAAAH_s/P1d4b1Zdwe4/s1600/blog3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-STkLiULHHYQ/VsR-iJCi2yI/AAAAAAAAH_s/P1d4b1Zdwe4/s400/blog3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Stop.”
Bartholomew said a little less weakly this time. Geraldine paid no
attention. With her eyes closed, quiet unintelligible words
sputtering from her moving lips and with each thrust of her hips,
Bartholomew could tell that she had left him and gone to another
world somewhere inside herself. Bartholomew realized she suddenly
seemed very young and vulnerable.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Although she may
have seemed vulnerable, Geraldine was still very capable of
accidentally kicking the gear shift into neutral. Imperceptibly, the
Peugeot began to roll backward out of the parking lot.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Paying attention
to what was happening closest to him and feeling a bit of déjà vu,
Bartholomew said “Geraldine, stop, there’s a fire!”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Geraldine paid no
attention as she continued to rhythmically rock on top of
Bartholomew. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Geraldine,
there’s a…AAAHHHH!” said Bartholomew as he noticed a tree trunk
go pass his window. The Peugeot began to pick up speed. The added
breeze whipped up the flames on the back seat.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “GERALDINE,
STOP!!! WE CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS!!! WE ARE GOING TO DIE!!!”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Needless to say,
at this point, Bartholomew’s body did not have any attention, or
endurance, for intimacy. As a result, Geraldine slowly came out of
her stupor to the sounds of Bartholomew yelling at her.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “GERALDINE,
STOP!!! PLEASE!!! I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS WITH YOU!!! WE DON’T
BELONG TOGETHER!!! I’M GOING TO DIE!!!</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Geraldine stopped
and looked down at Bartholomew as the Peugeot was bouncing along the
shoulder of the road. Geraldine dismounted and sat in her seat. She
folded her arms across her chest, hiding her sweat-soaked breasts and
stared out the window as a couple more tree trunks passed.
Bartholomew continued to lie in his seat, surprised by Geraldine’s
response and feeling as if he had done something wrong. The Peugeot
slowed as it started up an incline and eventually came to a gentle
stop as the bumper nudged up against a tree. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “You can take
me home now,” said Geraldine, still looking out the window.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew
pulled his seat upright and looked at Geraldine. Then he remembered
and looked back at the fire. It was out, there was no sign of it
anywhere. Had Bartholomew really seen what he thought? </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “You can take
me home now,” repeated Geraldine while tightening her arms against
her chest and staring out the window.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew
started the car and quietly made his way down the mountain road. The
weather felt muggier than before and it seemed like an eternity
before they pulled into Geraldine’s driveway. Once the Peugeot was
parked, Geraldine turned toward Bartholomew. She had tears in her
big yellow eyes and mucus rimming her up-turned nostrils.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Bartholomew, I
thought you </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>liked</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
me,” she said, holding back the tears. “You were always doing
things for me and being so polite and thoughtful. You made me feel
special.” Geraldine wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I’m always
polite and kind to people. That’s who I am,” said Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Well, where I
come from, people aren’t very nice or kind,” said Geraldine.
“When they are, it’s because they like you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I just thought
that’s the way everyone is supposed to be, whether you like someone
or not,” said Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “It would be
good, in the future, since you are so nice, to let a girl know sooner
if you like her or not,” said Geraldine, as she began to cry some
more.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “You’re
right, I should,” whispered Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> They both sat for
a while in the Peugeot and listened to the idling engine.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Geraldine reached
for the latch and opened the door.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Well, goodbye,
Bartholomew.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Goodbye,
Geraldine.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Geraldine got out
of the car and stood next to it for a moment. “You know what
really bums me out?” asked Geraldine as she looked away from the
car. “I’m not going to have a boyfriend to celebrate my
eighteenth birthday next week.” Then she walked off and into her
house.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew took
a big gulp of air, slowly pulled out of the driveway, and drove home
with only one very large thought on his mind: “Whew!”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">___________________________________________________</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Illustrations by Mark Granlund </span></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-14443480710012399132017-05-08T07:27:00.000-07:002019-04-11T17:52:59.020-07:0011 - Someone to Call Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cYbvPcMoFao/VsiESNlCiLI/AAAAAAAAIAU/MLC-ssrdjwk/s1600/11med.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cYbvPcMoFao/VsiESNlCiLI/AAAAAAAAIAU/MLC-ssrdjwk/s400/11med.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">He
moved his hands across the surface feeling for bumps, dimples or
pits. It was smooth.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Topping!”
yelled Uncle Cy.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
looked up, nodded, put down the sander and walked to Uncle Cy’s
office. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Sit
down, Topping,” said Uncle Cy, as he gestured toward a coffee pot.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
shook his head at the offer of coffee and sat down on a duct
tape-patched naugahyde-covered kitchen chair. Uncle Cy sat on the
edge of an old wooden desk in his one-piece blue Carhartt, and he
shifted papers around. He sipped coffee from his mug—the one with
the words “World’s Greatest Dad” written on the side, except
the word “Dad” was written-over with the word “Asshole.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Topping,
you know business has been getting a little slow lately. With
Christmas coming, nobody is going to get their auto painted. They’re
going to spend their money on presents and decorations and shit. So,
after we finish Mr. Torvenstrum’s car, I’m gonna have to let you
go for a little while – just until the end of January when things
should pick up again.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
stared at him and nodded.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Uncle
Cy tilted his head to one side, raised one large white eyebrow and
looked at Topping’s face to make sure he was okay. Satisfied, he
continued, “Maybe you could get a job at a store where you can buy
that girl of yours a real nice Christmas present. They give out some
big discounts to employees sometimes.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Uncle
Cy tilted his head the other way and lifted his other big white
eyebrow. Unsatisfied, he continued, “I promise, I’ll hire you
back in January.” </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Okay,”
replied Topping, relieved that he wasn’t being let go for good but
disappointed to not be making money just before the holidays.
Topping liked working with Uncle Cy. He was easy going, a little
salty and was patiently teaching his nephew everything he needed to
know to become “the best damn car painter in the Midwest” –
like his Uncle Cy. Topping also liked the work. He liked the detail
involved in car painting; sanding the surface until it was perfectly
smooth, applying the tape over the trim, spraying the paint with a
smooth mechanical motion of the arm and the repeated layering of
these activities when creating a custom paint job. Topping had
already helped paint flames on five cars. Uncle Cy did most of the
creative paint jobs and would touch-up work that Topping had started.
But Topping was already able to do a small flame job almost on his
own.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">* *
*</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Even
before he opened the apartment door, Topping could smell the pizza
that Charlotte was baking. He entered, took off his shoes and
brought his lunchbox into the kitchen and placed it on the counter.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hi
Honey,” Charlotte said while making salad. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and buried
his face into her long brown hair. He moved his hands feeling the
smoothness of her stomach and then placed them gently on her breasts.
He kissed Charlotte on the neck.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Okay,
Tiger,” Charlotte said with a smile. “I’m saving that for
dessert.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
hugged Charlotte while she finished making the salad. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-soyvC4SN5Pk/VsiFhEKEpzI/AAAAAAAAIAg/JWpIIw3DYvk/s1600/salad_blog.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="371" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-soyvC4SN5Pk/VsiFhEKEpzI/AAAAAAAAIAg/JWpIIw3DYvk/s400/salad_blog.gif" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Could
you check on the pizza?” Charlotte asked as the timer bell rang.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
reluctantly pulled his arms from around her and turned to open the
oven door. The heat rolled out onto his face and his skin hurt for a
moment. The pizza was done. Topping grabbed an oven mitt that
resembled a chicken. He closed the beak around the pizza tray and
pulled it out of the heat. Charlotte buys frozen cheese pizzas and
then adds her own toppings. </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">This makes
her feel like a chef. Tonight she decorated the large disk of cheese
with some pepperoni, black olives and green pepper slices. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
and Charlotte’s apartment is always hot beyond their control.
Though it is only twenty degrees Fahrenheit outside, Charlotte is
wearing a simple summer print dress with spaghetti straps. She
places the salads on a small card table next to glasses of ice water.
Topping admires her bare legs and arms, her neck and clavicle bones.
He dishes out slices of pizza on a couple of chipped plates and
brings them over to Charlotte who is sitting on a folding chair.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e_iKZGRPy1U/VsiFmljwCaI/AAAAAAAAIAk/g6hhtJBBNyQ/s1600/glass_of_water_blog.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e_iKZGRPy1U/VsiFmljwCaI/AAAAAAAAIAk/g6hhtJBBNyQ/s400/glass_of_water_blog.gif" width="268" /></a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Her
long brown hair hangs down over her plate as she bows for a silent
prayer that Topping never shares. After a whispered “amen,” she
lifts up her face to him. He sees eyes shining with happiness,
bright with satisfaction in sharing dinner with the man across the
table from her. Charlotte smiles at Topping as she chews on some
salad, her toes touching his under the table. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">How
was work today?” she asks.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
doesn’t answer her. In thirty-seven seconds he will tell her that
he will be out of work for at least two months. In fifty-two seconds
he will tell her that there won’t be much money for Christmas. He
will tell her and he knows, to the deepest depths of his heart, that
even after telling her the bad news she will still look across the
table at him with deep contentment. In a minute and a half, he will
suggest that they cancel their plans to have a New Years Eve party
for all their friends. Despite all the disappointment, he knows she
will still share herself with him tonight with complete surety and
passion.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Charlotte
looks at him with slight concern on her face.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Honey,
is everything okay?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
stares back at her, breathes heavily, relaxes his shoulders and says,
“Yes, everything is amazing.”<br />______________________________________________________</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Illustrations by Mark Granlund </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-18713691704868977922017-05-07T08:41:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:17:22.747-07:0012 - Christmas Wrap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JdpXkTYxpVM/VtHM1hIg1iI/AAAAAAAAIBg/2q6uLnkX8IA/s1600/12med.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JdpXkTYxpVM/VtHM1hIg1iI/AAAAAAAAIBg/2q6uLnkX8IA/s400/12med.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus";"> <span style="font-size: large;">Christmas was
fast approaching, and Bartholomew was looking to make a little extra
spending money to buy Oliver and Aunt Josephine and Uncle Jeffrey
some presents. Bartholomew saw an ad at the local coffee shop for
someone to wrap Christmas presents. It was a three day job, and it
was pretty good pay, so he called to inquire about it. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Hello,” said
a man’s voice on the other end of the line.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Hello, this is
Bartholomew,” said Bartholomew. “I would like to inquire about
the present wrapping job.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Bartholomew?
Is this the Bartholomew who is dating my daughter Geraldine?” asked
Gerald who owned the man’s voice. Gerald did not know that
Geraldine and Bartholomew had stopped dating five months earlier. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Uh, yes, I did
date your daughter for awhile. How are you, Gerald?” asked
Bartholomew.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Gerald coughed so
loudly Bartholomew had to hold the phone away from his ear.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Yeah, why
don’t you come by. Wrapping starts tomorrow and I need one more
person. Maybe you could join Geraldine for dinner afterwards.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I don’t
think…” started Bartholomew.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “You know the
house. Just come on by tomorrow morning at eight and you can get
started.” </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Well thank
you, Gerald,” said Bartholomew.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Yeah, and say
hello to your parents for me,” said Gerald as he hung up the phone.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UU1zE9wquW0/VtHPDaHAe-I/AAAAAAAAIBw/aO7gSnNaKsU/s1600/insert1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UU1zE9wquW0/VtHPDaHAe-I/AAAAAAAAIBw/aO7gSnNaKsU/s200/insert1.gif" width="169" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lfT630C-dDo/VtHOii477iI/AAAAAAAAIBs/ePwnE7HwDAM/s1600/insert1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Usually,
Gerald was as tight as a swollen door when it came to money. But
there was one time each year when he would shower his children with
gifts. That was Christmas. Gerald was so generous that each of his
four children: Xavier, Mo, Khua and Geraldine each had their own
special room, decorated with their own Christmas tree and presents. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
showed up at Gerald’s </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">mansion ready to
wrap presents and hoping to avoid running into Geraldine.
Thankfully, she was in school most of the day. Bartholomew arrived at
the same time as three other young people who were to help wrap. The
</span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Butler showed each wrapper to a room in
which they would spend the next three days wrapping and decorating
for one of Gerald’s children. Bartholomew was worried that he
would end up having to wrap Geraldine’s presents and decorate her
Christmas room. Thankfully, he was assigned to Xavier.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
walked through the wooden double-doors and found a gigantic room
filled furniture and several tables piled high with items to wrap.
In the corner was a ladder and boxes of lights, ornaments, and wall
decorations. In the middle of the room was a thirteen-foot-tall
evergreen tree.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">There
are some directions over by the boxes on what to do with the
decorations,” said The Butler gruffly, “and the wrapping paper,
tape, and materials are over on the table. There are directions
there, too. Certain presents need to be wrapped with certain paper.
If you have any questions, you can push this button on the wall here
and The Nanny will come and tell you what to do.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
turned to ask a question, but The Butler had already left the room. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
felt a bit overwhelmed by all the presents, so he decided to start
with the decorations. On top of the boxes of decorations was a sheet
of paper with very neat hand-written directions accompanied by a
detailed sketch of the room with the decorations in place. On a
second page was a drawing of the tree with all of its ornaments and
strings of lights. Bartholomew thought this would be easy. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RI13UwQO8HQ/VtHPml7dLgI/AAAAAAAAIB4/7VttpXQJxYc/s1600/insert2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RI13UwQO8HQ/VtHPml7dLgI/AAAAAAAAIB4/7VttpXQJxYc/s200/insert2.gif" width="95" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">He
took out the lights and ornaments and walked over to the tree and
began stringing the lights. Each time the lights wrapped around the
tree the string was to be one foot higher than the last string while
spiraling up to the top of the tree. Bartholomew spent the next
half-hour completing this task. He unpacked the first box of
ornaments and began to place round, shiny globes on the tree. When
he was done with that box of traditional ornaments, he moved on to
the next box, which included more personal items. A few ornaments
had the words “Baby’s First Christmas” on them. Apparently,
each year, the bottom of the Christmas tree was cut off before being
placed in the base full of water. Each of these cross-cuts of the
tree had a ribbon threaded through a drilled hole and the year
written on it in permanent marker. There were eighteen of these
ornaments, one for each year of Xavier’s life. There were other
home-made ornaments and ornaments with photos of Xavier and his
siblings in them. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">One
ornament in particular caught Bartholomew’s eye. A dried milkweed
pod was splayed open (having released its milky-white seeds) and
lined with red felt. On the edges, where the felt and the pod met,
there were little hot-melt glued jewels, giving the impression of the
pod being encrusted with diamonds. In the middle of the felt was an
old photograph of a young woman in a simple dress. On the map of
where to place ornaments, this ornament was highlighted and the
directions were very specific about placing it at eye-level in the
middle of the tree when viewed from the door. It was as if this was
the first ornament Xavier was</span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> to see when
he entered the room. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
spent the rest of the morning finishing the tree, including placing
the tinsel, three strands at a time, over the tip of each branch. At
noon, The Butler came through the door and loudly informed
Bartholomew that lunch was being served in the dining room.
Bartholomew had just put the empty ornament boxes back in the corner
and was glad to take a break.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">During
lunch, Bartholomew met the three other wrappers: Ned, Topping, and
Claire and found out about the other rooms and the presents for
Gerald’s other children. He didn't care much for the food provided
- a plate of Donkey Burgers and fries with milk shakes. He ate a
just little and then decided to wait until he got home.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3GG_4B5BXTA/VtHQGt6bBjI/AAAAAAAAICA/03UrJ5lDe-g/s1600/insert3.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3GG_4B5BXTA/VtHQGt6bBjI/AAAAAAAAICA/03UrJ5lDe-g/s200/insert3.gif" width="167" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">After
lunch, Bartholomew decorated the rest of Xavier’s room. He strung
garland over the curtain rods and across the fireplace mantle. He
hung two stockings (one with Xavier’s name written in glitter)
above the fireplace. He placed Christmas themed blankets and pillows
on the furniture and window-clings of Santa and his elves on the
windows. Also in Xavier’s collection of decorations were a series
of posters of popular animated Christmas television specials. There
was </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>Frosty the Snowman</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">,
</span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, Kris
Kringle</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">, the </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>Grinch</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
and a few others Bartholomew did not recognize. These posters were
hung on a large windowless wall. By the end of the first day he had
completed the decorating of Xavier’s Christmas room. He slipped
quietly out of the house so as not to be seen by Geraldine. Little
did he know, she was miles away and focused on someone else. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
next day, Bartholomew arrived at Gerald’s house at eight in the
morning. When he walked into Xavier’s Christmas room, the first
thing he noticed was the milkweed pod ornament on the tree. The
bright red felt burst off the tree in an explosion of color that one
could not avoid. He also noticed that, over night, someone had come
into the room and slightly altered some of his decorations. These
were little changes only the person who decorated would notice; the
draping of the garland was a little less loopy, the posters were in a
different order, the pillows on the furniture were fluffed and more
upright. It made Bartholomew think of elves coming into the room at
night to fix it up the proper way– like in the tale of the cobbler.
Perhaps the window-cling elves were coming to life at night, or
maybe The Nanny. Bartholomew laughed.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
began his wrapping activities with a stack of small items and books
on a table near the fireplace. There were several books, which
surprised Bartholomew as he didn’t think Xavier read very much.
The books had titles like; </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>How to
Survive on a Deserted Island, Wilderness Survival Skill, </i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">and</span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>
Camping On the Land.</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew
flipped through a couple and enjoyed the detailed instructions on how
to build a fire, build a lean-to out of snow, dress a deer hide, and
how to orienteer. He noticed that the instructions for wrapping the
presents and decorating the room had a similar look as the
instructions in the survival books; all capital block letters, little
arrows pointing to things and simple line drawings. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">On
this table there also was a compass, water bottle, maps, a couple
different Swiss army knives, a manual-crank flashlight and other
camping gear. Bartholomew wrapped all these presents, placed the
appropriate ones in Xavier’s stocking and the rest under the tree
in the correct order. He then moved onto another pile of presents
near the door to the room.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">In
this pile there were computer games, DVD’s and accessories. Again,
there were a couple of DVD’s about nature survival skills and
camping skills. But there were also some movies: </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>Alien
vs. Predator, The Deer Hunter, Scarface</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">,
the </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>Saw</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
movies, and an old David Bowie movie, </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>The
Man Who Fell to Earth</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">. When he had
completed this pile, Bartholomew heard The Butler’s voice bellow
from the hallway informing him lunch was ready and waiting in the
dining room. Bartholomew quickly placed the presents under the tree
and ran to the dining room to eat with the other wrappers. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny stopped by during lunch and asked how things were going. The
wrappers and Bartholomew were surprised that The Nanny was only a few
years older than them. During their conversation they learned many
things. Apparently, Gerald gives each of his children a credit card
with a $5,000 limit and then lets them go shopping for themselves.
Then each of Gerald’s children creates instructions for someone
else to wrap the presents and decorate their rooms. Xavier’s
instructions were the most detailed and exacting of all the
children’s. Mo’s instructions seemed to be almost non-existent.
Khua’s instructions were filled with little doodles of fantastic
animals and people. Geraldine’s instructions were extensive, but
written with such bad penmanship that Claire couldn’t read half of
them.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">That
afternoon, Bartholomew moved to another pile of presents to be
wrapped. This pile had items that were sports related: a sport bow
with metal tipped arrows, shooting targets, a membership to a
shooting club, cross-training DVD’s, and some camouflage and
athletic clothing. It took the rest of the afternoon for Bartholomew
to finish wrapping these items. It took him four tries before he
successfully wrapped the bow without ripping the paper. He was
instructed to wrap each arrow individually, but Bartholomew had used
so much paper on the bow that he had to wrap three of the arrows
together. He placed all of the presents under the tree and went
home.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">On
the third day, Bartholomew entered Xavier’s Christmas room and
again noticed the milkweed pod ornament. Then he noticed that
Santa’s window-cling elves had come to life again and had slightly
rearranged things. Presents were stacked under the tree in a
different order and the three arrows had been separated and
rewrapped. Bartholomew also noticed that a string of lights was
added around the family crest above the fireplace mantle. He laughed
and thought that tonight he should leave a couple of things out of
place so the elves would have some work to do. He wanted to do
something small, something that wouldn’t take much time or effort.
He noticed the stockings above the fireplace. The stocking with
Xavier’s name written in glitter was bulging with small camping
gear. The stocking next to his was empty. Bartholomew took one
present from Xavier’s stocking and placed it in the empty stocking.
Then he moved to the tree. Yes, of course. Bartholomew moved the
milkweed pod ornament up one branch. It was only five inches but
enough to occupy the elves. Feeling satisfactorily mischievous,
Bartholomew moved onto the last pile of unwrapped presents. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">It
was not a big pile, and Bartholomew felt that he may be able to
finish before lunchtime. The presents in this pile were an odd
assortment of things that scared Bartholomew. He did not feel good
about wrapping these presents, but he figured he could finish them
and then be done and go home. The first present he picked up was a
very large Bowie knife. It was in a sheath. Bartholomew took it out
to look at it. It was very sharp and had jagged edges and a very
long thin point. He put it back in the sheath and wrapped it
quickly. The next few items included a bag of gun powder, some metal
pipes, fuses, a clay-like material and a booklet titled </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>How
to</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>Make
Bombs and Blow Things Up</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">.
Bartholomew thought that these items might be illegal and that maybe
he should call the police. But he also figured if he wrapped them
quickly he could just get out of there and go home. It took quite
awhile to wrap, because, again, each pipe was to be wrapped
individually. There were a few other items Bartholomew could not
identify, but they looked just as nefarious as anything he had
wrapped thus far. Finally, under a pair of brass-knuckles and
nunchucks lay an unmarked wooden case. Bartholomew picked up the
case and wondered what was inside.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">He
knew he shouldn’t look. He should wrap it and be done. But he was
curious. Bartholomew dawdled while wrapping the brass-knuckles and
nunchucks. Then all that was left was the wooden case. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
ran his fingers along the surface of the dark red mahogany. He felt
the latch with his right pointer finger and undid it. He slowly
opened the case. Inside was a gun; a black cold, evil looking gun.
Bartholomew had never seen a pistol before.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pegw5H7fZmI/VtHRAnupoiI/AAAAAAAAICM/XE6ynSUc5VU/s1600/insert4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pegw5H7fZmI/VtHRAnupoiI/AAAAAAAAICM/XE6ynSUc5VU/s200/insert4.gif" width="145" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Lunch
is served!” bellowed the voice of The Butler. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Startled,
Bartholomew lost his grip and the case fell with a crash and the gun
skidded across the floor. In fear, Bartholomew looked to the doorway
but The Butler was not there. He had made his announcement and moved
on, unconcerned about Bartholomew’s doings. Bartholomew felt a
moment of relief, until he looked down at the gun case and saw the
cover hanging by one hinge and splinters on the corner. Bartholomew
scurried across the floor for the gun. He was scared to touch it, as
if he might become infected with doom. After some hesitation he
grabbed the gun and placed it in the wooden case. Bartholomew laid
the case on the table and decided to deal with it after lunch. After
all, it was the last thing he needed to do – he had all afternoon.
</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">He
would have enjoyed his lunch with his new friends and The Nanny if he
wasn’t so preoccupied. He had a sense that The Nanny was
interested in him. She sat next to him and talked quite a bit with
him. But Bartholomew had no attention for these things at the
moment, although he did remember the food was quite tasty today and
enjoyed eating some very good onion soup. How was he going to fix
the gun case? Maybe he could fix it the best he could, wrap it and
write an apology note with it saying that he accidentally dropped it
and that he’s willing to pay for a new case. Maybe Santa’s
window-cling elves would come tonight and fix it for him. Wouldn’t
that be convenient? Bartholomew also thought that he should put the
present he moved back in Xavier’s stocking and move the milkweed
pod ornament back to its rightful place. Yes, that’s it; move
everything back, wrap the case and write an apology note. Everything
would be fine.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Lunch
was over. The Nanny was saying something to him as Bartholomew
quickly left the dining room and headed back to Xavier’s Christmas
room. He opened the door and walked in the room to find Xavier
standing by the table with the gun. He held the case in his hands
and was surveying the damage.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
Xavier, I’m so sorry. I dropped the case when I went to wrap it,”
said Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Xavier
said nothing, but looked at Bartholomew with anger in his eyes.
Bartholomew lowered his eyes.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
picked it up and didn’t realize it would be so heavy. It just fell
out of my hand. Look, I’ll gladly pay for a new case. Really, it
was an accident,” said Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Its
enough that I have to come in here each night and correct your
inability to follow </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>simple</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
directions, but this is just so incompetent, so </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>stupid!”</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
said Xavier. He looked away from Bartholomew in disgust. “You
</span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>will</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
pay for a new…”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
looked at Xavier to see why he stopped talking. Xavier was staring
in the direction of the fireplace.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What…why
did you…why is that present in </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>that</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
stocking?!” yelled Xavier as he pointed at the stocking and glared
at Bartholomew. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’m
sorry, Xavier. It just looked so empty and there really wasn’t
enough room in your stocking for all of your stocking presents. So I
just put it in there. I’ll put it back.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
moved toward the fireplace to correct the situation. Xavier stepped
in front of him. “You won’t go near that stocking,” he said in
a low growling voice. Changing his mind, Xavier said, “On second
thought, you will go over to that stocking and remove the present and
put it back in my stocking. And you will do it without touching </span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><i>that
</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">stocking.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Xavier
grabbed Bartholomew by the t-shirt and shoved him over toward the
fireplace.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hey!”
shouted Bartholomew, “I’ll change it because I shouldn’t have
put it there, but you don’t have to start pushing me around.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’ll
do to you what I want to,” sneered Xavier.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
adjusted his t-shirt and moved to the fireplace. He very carefully
pulled the present out of the stocking and placed it into Xavier’s.
At that moment, for some unknown reason, the window-cling elves
decided to play a trick on Bartholomew. The empty stocking fell from
the fireplace. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
ran for the door. Xavier caught up to him and grabbed him by the
arm. He pulled Bartholomew around and threw him onto the floor by
the table. Xavier was immediately on him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Stop
it!” shouted Bartholomew, “I didn’t make it fall. You saw that
I didn’t touch it.” </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Xavier
wanted to punch Bartholomew but Bartholomew had covered himself up
with his arms. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Stupid,
you are stupid!” yelled Xavier who began to slap Bartholomew hard
on the arms. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Although
Bartholomew was under heavy duress, he began to get his wits about
him and realized that Xavier wasn’t that big or that strong and
that eventually he would get away from Xavier and get out of there.
The goal was to prevent as much damage as possible. He also thought
that it was good that Xavier hadn’t noticed the milkweed ornament.
Bartholomew hoped to get out of there before he did. While Xavier
continued to yell odd derogatory things and slap at him,
Bartholomew’s eyes looked over at the ornament to see if the change
was obvious. Xavier stopped and followed Bartholomew’s eyes.
Suddenly, a loud scream filled Bartholomew’s ears. Xavier started
to shake and tears streamed from his eyes. At that, Bartholomew
became very scared. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">With
one hand on Bartholomew’s chest holding him down, Xavier reached up
on the table with his other hand, opened up the wooden case and
grabbed the gun. He forced the muzzle through a small opening in
Bartholomew’s arms and pressed it against his head. Some small
part in Bartholomew’s brain thought that new guns don’t have
bullets in them and that same small part of his brain did not recall
wrapping a package of bullets. So, that small part of his brain
reassured Bartholomew that he was not in grave danger. The rest of
his brain, however, made him squinch his eyes as tight as possible,
cry and almost pee in his pants.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Xavier,”
came a woman’s voice, sounding kind of bored.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Xavier
continued threatening Bartholomew.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Xavier!”
the woman said more emphatically. “Get off him now, or else!”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">It
was The Nanny. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q9VJudlitow/VtHRV1-qO2I/AAAAAAAAICU/rqylS0F7zQc/s1600/illustration_flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q9VJudlitow/VtHRV1-qO2I/AAAAAAAAICU/rqylS0F7zQc/s320/illustration_flip.tif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Xavier’s
muscles seemed to relax some and his attention was drawn away from
Bartholomew.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Xavier,
you know your father won’t let you have any bullets. Now, stop
trying to bully Bartholomew and leave him alone.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">That
small place in Bartholomew’s brain said, “I told you so,” and
he began to open his eyes and stop crying. He gratefully noticed his
pants were still dry.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Xavier
punched Bartholomew in the shoulder and then got off of him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Look
at what he did! He broke the gun case, he put a present in the wrong
stocking and…and…he moved…</span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>the
ornament</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">,” Xavier said pointing at
the tree. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
you are such a baby. Now put the gun back in the case and get your
butt out of here. You’re not supposed to see this room until
Christmas morning,” said The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">But
he keeps doing things wrong!” Xavier whined as he put the gun in
the case.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">He can’t even
follow simple directions!” Xavier whined more as he moved toward
the door.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
do you say?” asked The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Turning
around and restraining his anger, Xavier spat out, “Sorry, Bart.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">It’s
Bartholomew,” said The Nanny, smiling at Bartholomew. “Now say
it right and leave the room.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Sorry,
Bartholo</span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>mew</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">,”
said Xavier and he walked out of the room like a smoldering piece of
coal.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny turned toward Bartholomew, who had gotten off the floor, and
sympathetically held his arm.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Don’t
worry about Xavier. He does this stuff to his brothers all the time.
And don’t worry about the last present. I’ll take care of it.”
The Nanny looked at Bartholomew for a moment. “Are you all
right?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
didn’t really know what to say. He had just been in a fight with
someone who held a gun to his head. He also felt responsible because
he shouldn’t have purposely misplaced things. Of course, Xavier’s
response was extreme, but Bartholomew made Xavier mad by messing with
his stuff. At the same time, when The Nanny touched his arm,
Bartholomew was surprised by something emotional. He sensed a deep
desire to be with her, to share everything with her. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
think I’m fine,” said Bartholomew. “Thank you, thank you very
much,” he said to The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Like
I said, don’t worry about this too much. This kind of thing
happens around here every day. I tell you, some day these kids are
going to kill me.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
can imagine,” said Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">It’s
nice meeting someone normal like you, Bartholomew. It reminds me
everything in this world isn’t crazy-curvy topsy-turvy. It reminds
me that a girl can still find a guy who might be good to her.” The
Nanny smiled at him, put her hand on his shoulder and guided him to
the door. Again, Bartholomew felt a desire to open up to her. Once
he was out of the room she said, “Wait here a minute and I’ll
walk you out.” The Nanny walked back into Xavier’s Christmas
room and hung the milkweed ornament back on the right branch. She
kissed her fingertips and placed them on the photo nestled in the red
velvet. The Nanny, with concern in her heart, whispered “Oh,
Xavier,” and headed back to Bartholomew. <br />_____________________________________________________________________ </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Illustrations by Mary Esch </span>Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-29477198043064153342017-05-06T16:36:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:17:02.002-07:0013 - Lunch Wrap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
dining room was almost as big as Bartholomew’s house. The table
was twenty feet long with six chairs down each side and two large
high-backed armchairs at the ends. Sitting at the table were the
three other present-wrappers with a big plate full of Donkey Burgers
and fries and milkshakes. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hi,
I’m Topping,” said one boy with brown touseled hair.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hi,
I’m Bartholomew,” said Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hi,
I’m Ned,” said a tall boy with blonde dreads and wearing a light
blue shirt with a button-down collar. </span></span>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’m
Claire,” said the only girl at the table.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
sat down, tucked a napkin in the collar of his Rampage t-shirt and
picked at a Donkey Burger. He wasn’t sure if he would touch the
fries or the milkshake. Perhaps he could wait until he got home to
eat.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned,
Claire, and Topping continued a conversation they had started before
Bartholomew walked in.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
can’t believe it, really? She’s getting sex toys for Christmas?
How bizarre,” said Topping. </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yeah,
I just feel creepy wrapping her presents. They’re so…ugh. I
just can’t imagine it. And to think that her dad is buying her
these presents. Ish!” said Claire. </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
kept his head down, taking a big bite of the burger, afraid they
might find out that he had once dated Geraldine.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Her
dad might be paying for them, but I don’t think he picked them
out,” said Ned as he adjusted his glasses. “My directions and
lists seem to indicate that the boy whose presents I’m wrapping
picked them out of catalogs and shopping supplements.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">That
seems like my lists, too,” said Topping. “Besides, I can’t see
anybody’s parents buying them sex-toys. That would be just weird.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yes,
but you saw her father,” said Claire. “I mean, that was a rather
odd outfit he was wearing – a fur collar on a sleeveless t-shirt
and pants with zippers all the way up the sides?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
is your room like, Bartholomew?” asked Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
finished swallowing the bite of burger and then delayed by taking
time to wipe his mouth and secretly spitting the chewed burger into
his napkin.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
nothing too strange, so far. But I was just decorating the tree. I
haven’t gotten to presents, yet. What’s your room like?” asked
Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">There
are a lot of music related items,” said Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
like instruments?” asked Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned
and Claire’s eyes locked for a moment and then, talking to the
table in front of him, Ned said, “No, he has CD’s, mostly rap,
hip-hop and then some videos of spoken word performances.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Any
InJustIce or R.A.V.Dog CD’s?” asked Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yes,
there were two InJustIce CD’s, I believe, and a video of their
concert.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Awesome,”
replied Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
wanted to ask about the bands because he had never heard of them, but
he sat quietly.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
like their song ‘Dead Pony,’ but not much else,” said Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
c’mon!” said Topping, “You don’t like ‘Large Karma’ or
‘Rage of Summer’ or ‘Ballistic?’ You gotta like ‘Large
Karma!’ That’s a great song!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned
didn’t answer. He just kept eating his third Donkey Burger.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Bartholomew,
you must like them. You’re wearing a Rampage t-shirt. They toured
together about three years ago.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Their
pretty good,” said Bartholomew, hoping that Topping would drop the
subject. Bartholomew liked his Rampage t-shirt, but he bought it at
a second-hand clothing store for the image and the color. He had no
idea Rampage was a band. </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Claire,
you like ‘em?” asked Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
their pretty good. What are the presents in your room?” asked
Claire changing the subject.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">There
are a lot of joke books and practical joke things,” said Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Practical
joke things?” Claire asked.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yeah,
you know, joy buzzers and exploding cigars and shit like that.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
winced inside when Topping swore.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Can
you believe that they each get a tree and a room full of presents?
That is like nothing I can imagine,” said Claire as she blew a
strand of brown hair out of her face.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">It
does seem to be a bit excessive,” said Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Some
people just don’t know what to do with their money,” said
Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">At
least he’s willing to spend his money on us. I haven’t been able
to find a job, and I’ve been looking since the beginning of summer
when I graduated,” said Claire, “I don’t know if I’ll ever
get a job in my field.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
did you study?” asked Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Psychology,”
said Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
thought that was interesting, but he didn’t know what to add.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
graduated last year with a degree in business and all I’ve been
able to get is a low-paying internship that most likely won’t lead
to anything,” said Ned. “I’m getting paid better doing this.
I’m calling in sick for these three days.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yeah,
this economy sucks!” added Topping, “What do you do Bartholomew?
You got a job?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Just
odd jobs here and there.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
still living with your parent’s?” asked Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yeah.
I never would have imagined I would still be living with them. I
thought I would be living with some friends and making money after
graduating. But, obviously, that’s not what happened. Instead,
I’m living in the same room I grew up in and I’m here wrapping
sex-toys for some spoiled rich kid.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
about you, Topping?” asked Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
have an apartment with my girlfriend and I’m working for my uncle.
He paints cars. But things are slow right now. So I’m picking up
a little money here and there.” </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Things
were quiet for a moment as everyone decided it was too depressing to
talk about jobs and money.</span></div>
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XGrz2ch6R2U/VtonZMy8AEI/AAAAAAAAIDQ/czNA749ffqM/s1600/blog2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XGrz2ch6R2U/VtonZMy8AEI/AAAAAAAAIDQ/czNA749ffqM/s1600/blog2.gif" /></a>
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
noticed a tattoo on Bartholomew’s arm as he handed him the plate of
french fries.</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Nice
tat!” said Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
was a little embarrassed but held out his arm to show everyone the
moon tattoo on the tender underside of his right wrist. Then he
showed them the sun tattoo on his left wrist.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dtpqCwYcFIQ/VtonqhMdXcI/AAAAAAAAIDU/0nL5DSjjqC4/s1600/BLOG3.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dtpqCwYcFIQ/VtonqhMdXcI/AAAAAAAAIDU/0nL5DSjjqC4/s1600/BLOG3.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Cooool,”
said Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Wow,
I like how intricate they are,” said Claire. “Did you design
them yourself?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Sort
of. I worked off of some designs I liked. They were originally
drawn by Aristotle. But I did change them quite a bit,” said
Bartholomew</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
do they mean?” asked Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Day
and night,” said Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
duh!” said Topping with a mouth full of fries.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Why
is the moon on your right wrist? Is there some meaning to that?”
asked Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
actually, yeah.” Bartholomew wasn’t sure how much he should tell
them. He hadn’t really explained the tattoos to anyone before
except to Uncle Jeffrey, Aunt Josephine, and Oliver his cat. Uncle
Jeffrey and Aunt Josephine did not approve of tattoos, and especially
of these tattoos.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Uh,
the moon is on my right wrist because I am right handed and… at the
time I got them… uh…my life seemed more dark than sunny,”
Bartholomew said not looking at anyone.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Why
was that?” asked Claire with a sympathetic look in her brown eyes.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well…I
got them soon after I lost both my parents.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
other three wrappers sat stunned for a moment. Everyone heard the
sound of a half-chewed french frie hitting the floor as Ned opened
his mouth in disbelief. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
I’m sorry,” said Claire as her face blushed red for having asked
earlier if Bartholomew lived with his parents.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
room got quiet again.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Butler walked in and began to remove empty plates and glasses from
the table. He disappeared through a swinging door, returned
promptly, and waited to the side of the table for Bartholomew to
finish his lunch.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
four wrappers talked about a few recent movies they had seen. When
Bartholomew had indicated he had finished eating The Butler grabbed
his plate and announced, “Lunch is over. You may continue
wrapping.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
sound of chairs scraping on the floor reverberated throughout the
room and Bartholomew, Claire, Ned and Topping filed out the door. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">On
the second day of wrapping, Topping was the last one in for lunch.
He quickly sat down and said hello to everyone. Everyone said hello
back and then Ned continued their discussion about the lists of
presents.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">In
response to your question, Claire, about Mo’s presents, I believe
Mo is short for Maurice, well, his instructions are very poorly
written. His handwriting is almost illegible. Fortunately there
isn’t very much for me to do. So, I take my time deciphering his
instructions.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
the coolest thing is a really cool keyboard that you can hook up to a
computer and edit songs. Then he has a lot of fake gaudy gold
jewelry and some videos about money and finance. Oh, and there was
something, I’m not sure what it was, but I think it might be a
bong.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Whoa!”
said Topping</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Anything
interesting in your room?” Ned asked Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Do
you guys know any of these kids? This Khua has magic and performing
stuff. He’s got juggling torches and knives. There are some magic
books and ‘how to’ books on tying knots or something. Oh, the
coolest thing is some Chinese stars and a big saw and what I think is
one of those magical cabinets where you saw someone in half.
Although it’s not painted very fancy like usual. Oh and a nice
bull whip. You ever see that when they whip a cigarette out of
someone’s mouth?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What’s
in your room?” Bartholomew asked Claire. </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Before
Claire could answer, a young woman walked into the room. She looked
about the same age as the rest of them. Her blonde hair came to the
middle of her back in a ponytail. She was wearing what resembled a
Goth horse-rider’s outfit; black leather boots, light brown pants
that gathered at the knee, a short black </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">lace skirt over the pants, a
white blouse under a fitted black jacket, lace gloves and a small
bowler hat. She had heavy black eye-liner </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UNzjwEb9X3g/Vtoo1nNo17I/AAAAAAAAIDk/Ne40KfGC_7g/s1600/blog4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UNzjwEb9X3g/Vtoo1nNo17I/AAAAAAAAIDk/Ne40KfGC_7g/s1600/blog4.gif" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
and her lips were a red so
dark it was almost black. Her fingernails were painted black, and
hanging around her neck was the biggest cross necklace Bartholomew
had ever seen. She was pretty. Ned fidgeted in his seat.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hi,”
she said.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Everyone
said “Hi” back to her.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’m
The Nanny,” said The Nanny. “I hope present wrapping has been
going well.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Everyone
nodded and responded in some positive fashion.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
if you have any questions, feel free to ask. I did a lot of the
decorating previously and can give you some pointers. As you have
probably noticed, some instructions are very detailed. If you do
what the instructions say, you’ll be fine. The kids whose
instructions aren’t as detailed, well, they aren’t so
particular.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Excuse
me,” said Topping, “how old are you?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny looked at him a little odd.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’m
twenty four. Why?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
isn’t it hard to be their nanny when you’re not much older than
they are?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Well,
Mr. Nosey-boy, I’m older enough. And besides, these kids need
someone looking after them and that’s me. Been doing it for six
years. Gotta problem?” </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
didn’t reply and went back to eating.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned
raised his hand. The Nanny smiled at Ned and nodded at him.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
was wondering, when Maurice says that he…”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Who?”
asked The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned
blushed a little, cleared his throat and then said, “Maurice. Mo.
I assumed Mo was short for Maur…”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny started to laugh. “Maurice! That’s funny. I never thought
of that.” She laughed a little more and then said, “No, Mo isn’t
short for Maurice. Mo is short for Moe. He was named after one of
the Three Stooges. But he couldn’t ever remember to write the
silent ‘e’ so now he is just Mo. Well, except to his aunts, they
still call him Moe. Oh, and when his dad is mad at him. Then he
calls him Moe Theodore.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Everyone
looked at The Nanny. She blinked back. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Ned
decided not to finish his question.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
cleared his throat and asked, “Do they pick out all of their own
presents?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh
yes, they do. Gerald gives them each a credit card with a $5,000
limit. Then they go out and buy the presents they want,” she said
in a matter-of-fact tone.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Then
why are we wrapping the presents for them, if they already know what
they are getting?” asked Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny looked at her quietly without blinking </span><span style="color: black; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><span lang="en-US">–</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">
waiting.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yeah,
why do we wrap their presents, then?” Ned asked after a moment of
silence. </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny turned to Ned. “Because that’s their family tradition. I
don’t quite understand it myself, but who am I to question a
family’s traditions? It seems to work for them. I’m just here to
help them however I can.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny walked over to Bartholomew and sat next to him.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Could
you please pass me the burgers?” The Nanny asked Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">He
reached out and grabbed the very large plate with images of roses on
it, and two burgers left as well. When The Nanny grabbed the plate
from Bartholomew, their fingers touched and he felt warm inside.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Thank
you,” she said.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Why
does Geraldine buy so many sex-toys?” asked Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny had just taken a bite of her burger and slowly and calmly
chewed it while looking off into space.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yeah,
getting sex toys for Christmas seems kind of weird,” said Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny nodded at Topping and lifted one finger to indicate that she
was almost done chewing and was about to respond to him. Ned stared
at her watching her chew.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y7rfprpQ8XI/VtopJwsiBKI/AAAAAAAAIDo/Lb4NHtiKGnA/s1600/blog5.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y7rfprpQ8XI/VtopJwsiBKI/AAAAAAAAIDo/Lb4NHtiKGnA/s1600/blog5.gif" /></a>
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">She
buys so many sex toys because she wears them out so fast,” said The
Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">At
this, Bartholomew spit out his Donkey Veggie soup. He began to cough
and took a moment to collect himself.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Are
you okay?” asked Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’m
fine,” said Bartholomew as he wiped off his mouth with a napkin.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What’s
the matter? Does it surprise you that Geraldine is into sex?” asked
The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
smiled a little and said, “No, not really.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
would be surprised what these kids are into,” said The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Everyone
looked at her with puzzled looks on their faces. The Nanny began to
eat soup, and whenever she leaned forward to put a spoonful of soup
into her mouth, her large cross necklace would clang against the
bowl. Bartholomew, seeing how big and heavy the cross was, thought
the bowl might crack.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">After
lunch, when they were leaving the room The Nanny said, “It’s only
day two. You haven’t gotten to all the presents yet. We’ll see
what you think tomorrow at lunch. Have a good day.”</span></div>
<br />
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">* * *</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">On
the third day of wrapping presents, Claire was the last one to enter
the dining room for lunch. The energy in the room was heavy like a
late night fog. The others looked at her and acknowledged her, but
they did not say anything. Claire sat down and began to sip some
cream of kale soup. The only noise was the sound of spoons striking
bowls and the four wrappers chewing and swallowing. Claire finished
her soup and then, under her breath, said, “I never would have
imagined.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What
was that?” asked Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Oh,
nothing, did I say something?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yeah,
you said something. All I heard was the word ‘imagine,’” said
Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Claire
seemed to be in a stupor and didn’t respond. A moment later, under
her breath, she said, “I never would have imagined.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What?
You said it again. What’s the matter?” Topping asked a little
annoyed.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What?
Did I say something, again?” asked Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">YES!”
said Topping obviously annoyed.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Topping
breathed heavy, flexed his hands and then balled them into fists.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">This
guy is a fucking weirdo,” Topping said to no one in particular.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">What?”
asked Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">My
guy is a fucking weirdo!” Topping repeated.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yours,
too?” asked Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Is
your guy a total whack, too?” asked Topping as he turned to Ned.
Everyone’s fog seemed to be lifting. </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Quite
frankly, I am wondering if I should be calling the police,” said
Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Why?
What’s the matter?” asked Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I…
I just can’t believe anyone would ever do this stuff, especially at
Christmastime!” said Ned while shaking his head.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
sat at the other end of the table away from everyone else and did not
engage in the conversation. He seemed to be deeply occupied. Claire
noticed that he was sweating and seemed to be worried.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny walked into the room and sat down at the table. She reached
for an avocado and kale sandwich, which she requested from The Butler
for Bartholomew’s sake.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hello
everyone, how are you all today?” said The Nanny who seemed very
cheerful and relaxed-- as if she was on a vacation. “Oh, I see
things are different today,” she said after surveying the room.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">How
do you let them </span><span style="font-family: "andalus";"><i>do</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus";">
this stuff?” asked Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> The Nanny chewed
on her sandwich while looking at them. “Bartholomew, could you
please pass me the cookie plate?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew
hesitated, still in his daze, and then reached for the cookies. As
he passed The Nanny the cookies their fingers touched again and he
felt a warm calm pervade his mind for a moment. Once their fingers
separated his mind went back to his crisis in Xavier’s Christmas
room. The rest of the wrappers stopped asking questions.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> After a while The
Nanny said to nobody in particular, “Everyone is on a journey.
Everyone is doing the best they can. These are the presents they
feel they need to learn about themselves, about life, or about
others.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “These presents
are disgusting,” said Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Yeah, all
these sex-toys are really weird,” said Claire.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Sex-toys?!
Try weapons of torture!” said Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Yeah, and
drugs and weapons of…of weapons,” said Ned.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> They all looked
at Bartholomew. He was unaware. He was thinking deeply about what
to do to avoid the crisis in his own Christmas room. They turned
back to The Nanny.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> She just looked
at them and blinked.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “Agh!” said
Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “What is it you
want, Topping?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I want to get
out of here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “You can leave
anytime you like. You will be paid for your time and I will finish
the wrapping and decorating, if need be,” said The Nanny.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> Topping took a
bite of his sandwich and chewed angrily. “Ugh, what’s in this
sandwich?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"> “I believe that
one is sunflower butter and beets,” said The Nanny.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
woke up from his stupor. “I’ll eat it if you don’t want it,”
he said.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">You
can have it,” said Topping and shoved his plate toward Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
bit into the sandwich, and for the second time during lunch felt more
at ease. The Nanny looked at him and smiled seeing him enjoy the
sandwich. She pushed the bowl of fresh hot corn on the cob and apple
and red onion marmalade to him. He looked up at her like a
five-year-old presented with his first banana split. She then
presented him with a bowl of caramelized onion soup. Bartholomew did
not know what to think about this. He scratched his chin and then
tasted a half spoonful. He looked up at The Nanny again and then
began to devour his now favorite soup. Although his need to set
things right in Xavier’s Christmas Room was still preoccupying his
mind, he was more at ease and looked up as Topping announced,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’m
leaving then. I’m not being a part of this, this…sickness. But
I wanted to give each of you an invitation. My girlfriend Charlotte
and I are having a New Year’s Eve party and you all: Ned, Claire
and Bartholomew, are invited.” Topping handed out the small
hand-calligraphied invitations while briskly ignoring The Nanny. </span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I
hope to see you there. Maybe we can get to know each other away from
this…this…” He shook his head, turned and left the room as
Claire and Ned both said thank you and indicated they would probably
make it to the party.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Anybody
else feel like leaving?” asked The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Actually,
I’m done,” said Ned. “There really wasn’t that much to do
once I deciphered his writing. I will leave after I have a few more
cookies.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Claire
cleared her throat, wiped her mouth and stated that she was done as
well.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
Nanny did not respond to her but looked at Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">And
you Bart, are you going to keep wrapping presents?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">My
name is Bartholomew. I have one more small item to take care of and
then I will be done.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">I’m
sorry…Bartholomew…I won’t make that mistake again,” said The
Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
chairs scraped back on the floor. Ned shuddered, thinking about the
items he had been wrapping that morning. He stared at The Nanny and
quickly looked away when she looked at him.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">There
are people in this world,” said The Nanny, “who will hurt you.
It’s not because they want to hurt you specifically. They just
want to hurt someone because they have been hurt. They may be people
you hardly know – people you wrap presents for – or it could be
someone close to you. Please don’t go away thinking ill of these
children I oversee, or of me. We are all doing the best we can.
Becoming whole can be a long and difficult process.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Claire
and Ned looked at each other with a WTF expression on their faces. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Hey,
Bartholomew,” said Claire, “Are we going to see you at Topping’s
party?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
had not been invited to a party for what seemed like forever. </span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus";">Yeah,
I wouldn’t miss it!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">The
three of them walked out the door of the dining room. Ned and Claire
headed toward the front hall together while Bartholomew turned
quickly to finish up his last present and then head home. He was
excited to think that he made some new friends and he was going to
see them again. The Nanny yelled down the hallway, “I’m going
check on Geraldine’s room and then I will come help you,
Bartholomew.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
heard her voice but not her words as he headed into Xavier’s
Christmas room.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vpIeJTW16hs/Vtop36nc4NI/AAAAAAAAID0/GaQq6IPhUHE/s1600/blog6.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vpIeJTW16hs/Vtop36nc4NI/AAAAAAAAID0/GaQq6IPhUHE/s320/blog6.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus"; font-size: large;"><br />_________________________________________<br />Written by Mark Granlund<br />Illustrations by Mark Granlund</span>
</div>
</div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-31055331166104927622017-05-05T20:04:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:16:43.813-07:0014 - Bartholomew Makes Another Decision<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qNXOXKuPDuo/Vt5KkvG-YlI/AAAAAAAAIEU/hCyxvsnQ1_c/s1600/14med.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qNXOXKuPDuo/Vt5KkvG-YlI/AAAAAAAAIEU/hCyxvsnQ1_c/s400/14med.gif" width="400" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"> <span style="font-size: large;">Topping
stood in the doorway with a New Year’s hat on his head and a beer
in his hand.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Bartholomew,
come in!” he yelled above the din of music and conversation while
handing him the beer. </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew
entered the small, warm apartment that was packed wall-to-wall with
people. He had not been around this many people in a long time and
felt a momentary sense of dread. But then he saw Ned standing in
the kitchen by a table full of food. Ned waved a Donkey Burger at
him. Topping and Bartholomew made their way through the crowd. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Hey,
Bartholomew. How’s it going? You have a nice Christh-muth?” asks
Ned as he stuffed a pig-in-a-blanket in his mouth.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Yeah,
it was okay,” Bartholomew lied. Bartholomew had not enjoyed the
holidays since his parents died. Was this really the third Christmas
he celebrated without them? Could their deaths be that far away
already?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “What’d
you do?” Ned asked as he grabbed another pig.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “I
went to Aunt Josephine and Uncle Jeffrey’s house and had brunch and
exchanged presents. And exchanged presents with Oliver.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Who’s
Oliver?” asked Topping.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Oh,
he’s my cat.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Topping
snickered, “What did Oliver give you?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew
blushed a little. “My Aunt Josephine and Uncle Jeffrey buy me a
present from Oliver every year…and three presents from Santa.”
Bartholomew wasn’t sure why he shared that last part.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Topping
and Ned laughed.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Wanting
to change the subject, Bartholomew asked, “What did you guys do?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “I
just went to my parent’s house,” said Ned after he finished
laughing. “Nothing special.” He surveyed the cookie tray.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Charlotte
and I went to my parent’s house and then her mom’s house,” said
Topping. “My parent’s dog gave me a Christmas present,” he said
looking mischievously at Bartholomew. “He took a whizz on my
shoes.” They all laughed together.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew,
feeling hungry, glanced at the table. It was the usual party fare:
store bought foods and a few homemade dishes that were of
questionable origin but whose creators insisted they were the most
delicious things they ever made. Bartholomew did not doubt these
assertions, but chose to pass on the food for now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Come
on,” said Topping. “I’ll introduce you to Charlotte.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">Topping
led them through the short entrance hallway to the living room.
About twenty people were situated around talking loudly over the
music. Sliding doors to a crowded balcony were open to cool off the
room. Claire was sitting on a blue chair next to the couch and gave
a small wave and a smile to Bartholomew. He waved back. Ned waved
at Claire even though they had already said hello to each other.
Claire smiled.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Charlotte!
This is Bartholomew!” Topping yelled as he pushed Bartholomew
through the crowd toward a pretty young woman. Bartholomew, after
only knowing Topping for a couple of weeks, liked and admired him.
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Seeing <span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Charlotte made him admire Topping even more. </span></span>Charlotte’s friendly smile framed by her
long brown hair and green eyes greeted Bartholomew. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Yeah
- from the Christmas wrapping job, right? It’s very nice to meet
you Bartholomew,” said Charlotte as she held out her hand that
wasn’t holding a beer.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew
took her hand, bent low and kissed her knuckles... at least that’s
what was going through Bartholomew’s mind. In truth, he shook her
hand curtly and said “Hi.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “That
sounded like one screwed up family,” Charlotte said. “Who gets
weapons of torture for Christmas? How bizarre!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Yeah,
my guy had materials for making pipe-bombs,” said Bartholomew
trying to impress Charlotte and the others listening to him.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “No
way, dude! You didn’t tell me that!” said Topping.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Yeah,
Xavier bought pipe-bomb material, nunchucks, brass knuckles and a
revolver.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Everyone
gasped and stared in disbelief at Bartholomew. Bartholomew thought
that maybe he had said too much.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> A
couple got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen for some food.
Bartholomew and Ned took their place with Ned slipping in next to
Claire. The five of them talked and laughed while songs reverberated
throughout the room.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Hey!”
said Charlotte all excited, “what are your resolutions or plans for
the New Year? I mean, what do you REALLY want to do this year? Ned,
how about you?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> For
a brief moment, Ned looked like a deer in the headlights. That is if
deer in headlights stuff chips and salsa into their mouths.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Oh,
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring this on you. You can think
about it for a minute. Topping and I want to buy a house,”
Charlotte said raising her shoulders and smiling at Topping. Topping
raised his eyebrows having just heard </span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"><i>this</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">
resolution for the first time; he said nothing.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">
“Okay, Ned, did you have enough time?” Charlotte asked with a
pleading smile.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Uh,
yeah. Well, the first thing I need to do is get a roommate. Mine
left about three months ago, and I can’t afford my apartment much
longer without one. So that’s first, and then I want to get a real
job. My job right now sucks. I really want to get something better
– nicer environment, better pay.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Topping
and Claire nodded their heads in agreement with Ned.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Topping
looked at Claire, “And you?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “I
need to move out of my parent’s house and get a job. Maybe there’s
a theme here.” Everyone laughed. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Yeah,”
said Topping “What, are we all in our twenties? We all want to
move and get a job.” Topping let out a loud and unedited laugh.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “And
friends,” Bartholomew added. After a moment of silence his face
turned red.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “So,
I guess we know what you want this next year,” said Topping as he
laughed even louder than the last time.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Charlotte
reached out her hand and put it on Bartholomew’s knee. “I think
you're a real nice guy, Bartholomew. Topping and I will be your
friends.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Me,
too,” said Ned and Claire at the same time. All four of
Bartholomew's new friends laughed.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Bartholomew’s
face turned even deeper red at catcalls and other people mimicking
“I'll be your friend, too.” Embarrassed that he represented
himself as a friendless loser, he looked down at the floor. But a
smile wriggled across his lips, through the embarrassment, as he felt
a sense of camaraderie with these four new friends. He began a quiet
laugh that almost got out of control. It was a laugh that came deep
from within, from a place he hadn’t touched in quite some time.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Now
wait,” Charlotte yelled above the laughing and catcalls, “maybe
Bartholomew has a few other New Year’s resolutions. Do you
Bartholomew?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> With
everyone's attention focused on him, Bartholomew hesitated. He
wanted to tell them he had been living on his own for too long. He
wanted to tell them that a giant hole had been unfairly placed in his
soul and that he had felt broken, almost beyond repair. That's what
he wanted for this New Year; he wanted to be repaired. He wanted a
year of laughing freely. He wanted a year of sharing himself
unedited with someone – anyone. He wanted friends… and now he
knew he secretly wanted a lover. He wanted to tell them all this and
bring all these friends home with him, forever. But how do you begin
to say these things? Bartholomew sat quiet for a moment and his
stomach grumbled. Then he realized what he could say out loud.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “I
resolve to grow a garden... full of the food I like to eat. And I
want to grow it with friends.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> Everyone
was staring at him, surprised by his answer… </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “And
every Wednesday night during growing season, I want all of you to
come over to my house. We will harvest food, cook it, eat it and
have beer and music and…” Bartholomew paused. He heard a song
on the stereo, a melody that he recognized but couldn’t quite
place. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HzTlnXX3JzQ/Vt5MCBrNGII/AAAAAAAAIEg/gDuqrKEz4So/s1600/party2-flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HzTlnXX3JzQ/Vt5MCBrNGII/AAAAAAAAIEg/gDuqrKEz4So/s400/party2-flip.tif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “…ever
since I metchya, seems I can’t forgetchya. The thought of you
keeps running through the back of my mind…”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “Hey,
who’s this singing?” Bartholomew asked Topping and Charlotte.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"> “The
Dionne’s,” said Topping, “They’re a cover band of some singer
named…”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Dionne
Warwick,” Bartholomew and Topping said at the same time.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">You
know her?” </span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">You
could say so.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
began to quietly sing the words to the song. People stopped their
conversations as the infectious beat and melody worked its magic.
Charlotte grabbed Topping’s and Bartholomew’s hands and they
started dancing. The rest of the room joined in. Ned was the last
to get up and move his body to the beat. The apartment became a
giant hopping hothouse of wall-to-wall people. They broke into
chorus.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Oh,
oh, oh, oh, I never knew love before and then came you! I never knew
love before, then came yooooooooooooou, then came you.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
laughed when Topping and Charlotte pointed at each other while
singing “then came you.” They turned toward him with big smiles.
Ned and Claire worked their way around the song the best they could
with big self-conscious grins on their faces. Everyone sang again:</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Oh,
oh, oh, oh, I never knew love before and then came you! I never knew
love before, then came yooooooooooooou, then came you.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">Bartholomew
looked around at all the young men and women in the room, bumping and
jumping and singing – not a care in the world. He thought it would
be great to be young, and then he thought, hey! It </span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"><i>is</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">
great to be young, it’s great to be such a long way from death. It
had been too close to Bartholomew for too long. Surrounded by the
music, the sound of people and the heat of the room, his soul lifted
up to the ceiling away from all of his troubles. Closing his eyes,
Bartholomew began to dance freely. Soon, the song he was singing
pivoted into a long laugh. Now he couldn’t stop. He laughed an
emptying laugh; a laugh so deep that it emptied some of his hurt. </span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">And
then he felt it. He felt an idea - an idea so powerful it hit his
heart like an atomic bomb. He, literally, would never be the same
again. He thought, for a brief moment, it might be possible for his
life, this tragedy, to turn into a comedy. Instead of crying in his
loneliness and loss, he could cry for joy, for that was what he was
about to do. When he opened his eyes, he marveled at his new friends
who were laughing and dancing and singing. </span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"><i>This</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;">
was what he wanted.<br />____________________________________________<br />Written by Mark Granlund<br />Illustrations by Justin Terlecki</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-42982898450999787622017-05-04T15:15:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:16:22.674-07:0015 - Lost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QzKqW09UwmU/VuNN2PyY38I/AAAAAAAAIFI/CqvZdAe-XlEKXl2H9Bg4LO5qogs-S9mMA/s1600/15med.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QzKqW09UwmU/VuNN2PyY38I/AAAAAAAAIFI/CqvZdAe-XlEKXl2H9Bg4LO5qogs-S9mMA/s400/15med.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Claire left the party in a huff.
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I just can’t
believe that he is so dumb!” Claire said to nobody as she strapped
on her bike helmet. Claire, not having a job, couldn’t afford a
car. But she also preferred to bike in order to help save the planet
from carbon dioxide. Fortunately, this New Year’s Eve it was
unusually warm, which Claire believed was already due to global
warming. The sky was dark with clouds and the streets were dark,
too. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I better get moving if I want to
get home,” Claire continued. As she finished talking to herself, a
crow on the light pole above her made laughing noises in its throat
and flew off into the dark sky.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Claire needed to cross the Third
Avenue Bridge and then pedal another twenty minutes to reach her
parent’s house. As she began to bike through the downtown streets,
the monolithic silhouettes of the tall buildings pressed in on her.
Her bike seemed hard to pedal, the streets seemed long from one
intersection to the next and she hit every red light possible. The
night was getting even darker and she hadn’t yet reached the river.
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Ned – what
kind of a name is that? I can’t imagine being so dumb,” Claire
said as she huffed past a closed delicatessen. In a mimicking voice
she said, “Maybe we can change our behavior before it is too late.
Maybe the environment isn’t lost yet. Argh!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Riding down Third
Avenue, she passed the last tall building and came to the River. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Wha…?” Claire breathed as she
looked up and down the River for her bridge. She did not see one.
All she saw was darkness and a crow sitting on the street sign
staring at her – head cocked looking out of one eye.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, shoo,” Claire said.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The crow did not shoo. Instead it
spoke, “Where’s your bridge, little girl?” </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“My bridge is right here. At least
it should be. I’m not imagining things. I know its here.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Where? Kaaa,” said the crow.
“Surely a whole bridge can’t move.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Maybe it is just around the bend of
the river,” Claire theorized as she headed west down the road that
ran along the River. The crow flapped its wings and vanished into
the blackness.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She rode past many buildings and
through several intersections. She turned the bend in the river and
still did not see her bridge – or any bridge.
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“This is crazy. How can people cross
the River?” asked Claire.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Maybe they can’t,” said the
crow as it landed on the ground next to a box of Donkey Fries lying
along the curb. “Maybe they aren’t supposed to.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“People have to be able to get
across the River,” said Claire. “There’s got to be a bridge
somewhere. Where could they have gone, there used to be at least
three of them?”
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The crow picked up one fry in its
mouth, tossed it around and then spit it out. “This doesn’t
belong here, either,” said the crow.
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Claire thought that she saw something
back where she had been and biked east along the River. As her legs
felt the ache of an incline, she thought about the first time she met
Ned at Gerald’s house just a couple weeks earlier. She thought
about how she liked his dreds, the manner in which he spoke and how
he seemed to be nervous around her. She remembered how excited she
was when they parted and he said he looked forward to seeing her at
Topping’s party.
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Claire passed many
buildings and biked beyond her original point, yet no bridge was in
sight. How could this be? She couldn’t even call her mom to come
pick her up if there were no bridges. How would she get back to her
parent’s house? In a little while they <i>would</i> start to worry
about their little girl.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Asking someone for directions would be
a good idea, thought Claire, but there was no one in sight.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“You could ask me, kaaa,” squawked
a black shape perched on a bus bench.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, go away. What do you know,
dumb bird,” said Claire to the crow.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>Dumb?! Me?!</i> I’m not
lost. I haven’t lost a whole big stone bridge,” replied the
crow. “I can see what’s right in front of me.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“This makes no sense!” Claire
said, and worry began to creep into her voice.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Makes perfect sense,” said the
crow. “Can’t find what you don’t need. Kaaa. Not supposed to
be on that side of the River. Don’t need to go there.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I need to get home!” Claire said
with tears starting to well up in her eyes.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The crow flew at Claire. She ducked
and covered her head with her arms. The crow landed on her
handlebars. The dark figure leaned forward and cawed as loud as it
could.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mq_ehjMOqp4/VuNRMYkNajI/AAAAAAAAIFU/6092JJ0yHT0wSN7Xlr7kFSxWh2UKEEI4A/s1600/illustration_flip.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mq_ehjMOqp4/VuNRMYkNajI/AAAAAAAAIFU/6092JJ0yHT0wSN7Xlr7kFSxWh2UKEEI4A/s400/illustration_flip.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Your world’s coming to an end!
You’re destroyin’ it! It’s over! KAAAAA! There is nothin’
you can do about it! You cannot go back! You cannot live there
anymore! KAAAAA!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Claire sprung from the bike to the
ground and scrambled away from the crow. She trembled as through her
enshrouding arms she watched the crow fly off into the night away
from the fallen bicycle. Claire wept. She had never been attacked
by an animal before. She sat there on the dirty sidewalk near the
bus stop until she stopped trembling. And then she wept some more.
She wanted to be in her mother’s warm loving arms, gentle hands
stroking her hair and lips softly telling her, “There, there.
Everything will be all right.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But Claire wasn’t in her mother’s
arms. She wasn’t even close to home – and never would be if she
couldn’t find a bridge.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Through her blurry tear-filled eyes,
Claire spied a moving figure across the street. She walked quickly
over to this person to ask them directions to the bridge – to the
way home. She wiped away her tears and was about to speak when the
person said,” Hi Claire. What are you doing here?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Ned? Oh, hi,” Claire said
surprised. “I’m…um…I’m trying to get home, but I can’t
seem to find the bridge across the River.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Ned pointed to a spot behind her.
“Isn’t that the bridge right there?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Claire turned and saw the Third Avenue
Bridge. The crow was sitting on a bridge railing and seemed to wag
its head at Claire. “Yeah, I guess that is,” said Claire.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Even in the dark of night, Ned could
see Claire blushing.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Thinking about how much alcohol Claire
had had to drink at the party, Ned asked, “Are you okay? Can you
ride your bike?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Claire stared at Ned. In the
streetlight, he looked like the handsome young man who was dancing
with her an hour ago, not the ugly young man who was a clueless idiot
about how the world is in peril of environmental collapse. She was
so glad to see a friendly face. Perhaps she shouldn’t have loudly
proclaimed him to be a moron at the food table. Perhaps she
shouldn’t have called him a Capitalist Nazi just before walking out
the door. Perhaps he could be so kind as to help her find her home.
Claire looked back at her bicycle lying on the ground and said, “No,
I can’t ride it. This big bird attacked me and I think my bike got
damaged.” Then she blurted out, “Can I stay at your place
tonight?”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Uh…um…,” said Ned and then
cleared his throat.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Please, I really can’t get home
and…well…I’m sorry for the things I said earlier tonight. I
don’t think you are a Capitalist Nazi. I just…” Claire
shivered.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah, that’s okay. I didn’t
take it personally. Do you want me to grab your bike?” asked Ned
as he went to pick it up.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Thanks,” said Claire.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Ned pushed Claire’s bicycle as
Claire walked beside him. She leaned against him and held on to his
arm. “You don’t mind, I can barely stand up I’m so tired,”
said Claire.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“No, that’s okay,” said Ned.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He walked Claire to his apartment
where they, where they… spent the night.<br />_______________________________________________<br />Written by Mark Granlund<br />Illustration by Krista Kelley Walsh</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
</span>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-4939262138073775272017-05-03T19:23:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:16:03.283-07:0016 - Mental Exercises<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B3ZA9UeiEaQ/VzaGGPNMnHI/AAAAAAAAIJw/pM5gSwH0RPERWRoDFLhpxMljJlvs700aQCLcB/s1600/16lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B3ZA9UeiEaQ/VzaGGPNMnHI/AAAAAAAAIJw/pM5gSwH0RPERWRoDFLhpxMljJlvs700aQCLcB/s320/16lg.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Hey, see you later,” said Ned.
“Happy New Year!”</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"> </span>Ned drifted out of the building and
into an unusually warm January morning. He thought it was odd but
was glad the weather was not bone chilling, since he had to walk
home. He lived in a small apartment building near the river on what
was considered the edge of downtown. It wasn't a fancy apartment,
but he was proud to have his own place. His job didn't pay very
well, but he had managed to scrimp and save enough money to be
comfortable and do the things he liked to do. Mind you, what is
“comfortable” to a twenty-three year old male is not necessarily
comfortable for anyone else.
<br />
<br />
As he walked, he thought about the
evening. He wondered why Claire, a young woman he had danced with
earlier at the party, seemed to become angry when they talked about
the environment. He thought she even called him names, or at least
he thought they were names – the music was loud and he hadn't heard
her very well. But she left the party in a huff and it seemed to be
directed at him.
<br />
<br />
“So what?” Ned said to himself.
He hadn't had a girlfriend in the last year. He wasn't going to get
bent out of shape by a girl getting weird at a party. Maybe it was
best that they didn't hook up.
<br />
<br />
It was warm enough that the few piles
of snow here and there were melting and running across the sidewalk.
The evening reminded him of a warm January night he had spent with
his father a few years ago. He was home visiting his parents during
his senior year of college. Ned was studying for a business degree
and the course load was becoming very difficult as he neared the end.
Statistics was never anyone's favorite subject, but for some reason,
Ned enjoyed it and was very good at it. But as the course become
more advanced and started to deal with stochastic calculus Ned
became very challenged. In fact, he was thinking that his grade
might come in too low to get a good job. What had bothered Ned the
most was that he would disappoint his father. His father had been
very supportive and he’d made it to every basketball and baseball
game Ned played in high school. He made sure Ned could go to a
college with a good reputation, paid for his tuition, and was always
encouraging him to learn a practical business skill – which would
increase Ned's chances at landing a decent introductory level job.
He knew once Ned had achieved these goals, it was then up to Ned how
far he would go. But what if he couldn't even get out of school with
a decent grade? All the work his father had done to position Ned
would be wasted. That night, a couple of years ago, while on a walk,
Ned felt that he should share his school problems with his father... <br />
<br />
“Uh, Dad,” Ned began as they
walked the dog down a snowy road.<br />
<br />
His dad did not respond, but kept his
eye on the dog.<br />
<br />
“Dad, I thought I should tell you
that, well, things are pretty crazy at school...”<br />
<br />
“JINGLES!” his father yelled as
the dog spent too much time sniffing around a garbage can. The dog
left the smell of chicken, moldy pizza and table scraps and moved on
down the road. Ned watched the spaniel for a while and then spoke
again.<br />
<br />
“My statistics class is really
stress-...”<br />
<br />
“STAY OUTTA THERE!” his father
yelled as the dog bounded into a swampy area off the road.<br />
<br />
Again, Ned watched Jingles who came up
to him with her tongue hanging out of her big grin. As Ned bent over
to pet her, the dog took off down the road again. Ned walked on,
following his father and the dog. They walked up a small rise, and
as they were nearing the house, Ned felt that he had one more chance
to talk to his dad before they were home, before his mom would
interrupt and try to feed them.<br />
<br />
“Dad, I...”<br />
<br />
“Don't make me pick up your crap!”
his father yelled at Jingles as she squatted in a neighbor’s yard.
Jingles, looking sheepishly, deposited her package on the neighbor’s
lawn. “For cripes sake, can't you get anything right? Stupid
dog,” Ned's father muttered.<br />
<br />
Other than the weather, Ned wasn't
sure why he was remembering that night with his father. He never did
share his school problems with him, but he ended the semester with
good grades and now had that introductory level job. Everything was
fine as far as his father was concerned. But Ned wasn't happy with
his job. He felt it was demeaning, simple and boring. Ned often
dreamed about starting his own business, but was pretty sure there
were enough stores and online sources that had role-playing games and
World War II models. He had no idea what his niche would be, nor how
to attract an audience. It never passed through Ned's mind that he
had no money to start a business and the mental exercise of creating
a business plan was so far just that: a mental exercise.<br />
<br />
His mind wandered to Claire. “Did
she call me a <i>Nazi</i>?” Ned muttered bewildered. “It
couldn't have been Nazi. Maybe Yahtzee – no that's stupid. Why
would she ask me to play Yahtzee?” Ned kicked at an icicle on the
sidewalk and sent it skidding off the curb and into the street. What
was her problem? It seemed like the party was going so good: they
danced, they talked and they even flirted. Maybe she drank too much.
Ned did notice that she always had a gin and tonic in her hand. He
didn't realize that Claire noticed he always had food in his hand –
or in his mouth.
Ned's mind wandered back to his
father. He realized, for the first time, that his father, although
supportive of him, never really shared himself with Ned. Ned's
father's idea of support was to provide opportunities for Ned, not to
interact in a personal way. This seemed like an idea that should
make Ned uncomfortable, but it didn’t. He’d grown up with that.
His mind simply wandered off the subject.<br />
<br />
What <i>was</i> that comment Claire
made? Something about the world warming up and how the environment
is dying – maybe. Thinking back Ned wasn't sure what their
conversation was before Claire left. Maybe he had said something
wrong. Other than complaining about his job, he couldn't remember
anything else he had said. Other than Claire talking about the world
coming to an end, he wasn't sure what else she had said. Ned was
starting to feel tired, and he looked up to see how much farther he
had to walk. He was more than halfway home.<br />
<br />
Maybe he could get a better job, one
that would make his father proud. He wasn't too concerned about what
the business was or who he worked for, Ned just wanted a job that
would impress his father and give him a chance to advance. As long
as he could keep advancing his career he would have a standard to
measure himself against. Is that too much to ask for? He determined
to send out a couple of resumes each week until he got a job he
wanted.<br />
<br />
Ned thought Claire was cute, but he
could do better there, too. He should try to find someone who would
be considered more of a “catch,” or at least someone who wouldn’t
call him names. Maybe he could find someone who would think the
world of him-- someone who would compliment and balance out his
skills and interests. Someone who is <i>fun</i>. Ned felt he should
start asking more women out. Being an introvert, Ned was not
accustomed to approaching women, but what the heck, this is a new
year – a new beginning. Ned determined to ask out two young women
each week until he found one he wanted. In fact, he thought that he
should ask out the very next young woman he met – as long as she
wasn't wearing an engagement or wedding ring.<br />
<br />
He looked up to see that he was only a
block from his apartment. He also noticed the night had blackened
considerably and he was alone on the street - he was glad he did not
have much farther to walk. He heard footsteps coming from across the
dark street. A young woman appeared out of the night and came
directly toward him. From what he could see through the dark night,
her winter coat, scarf and hat, she looked cute. “Now this is more
like it,” Ned encouraged himself.
_____________________________________________________________ </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Written and Illustrated by Mark Granlund
<br />
</span></span></span></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-52003497774349564922017-05-02T10:33:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:15:38.114-07:0017 - The Nanny is Too Literal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CK8bIu3ypK8/V0HshzAUpYI/AAAAAAAAIK4/rLw5-98LhBgnzwNNn6f_IqzgI_Jxg1LHACLcB/s1600/cover-flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CK8bIu3ypK8/V0HshzAUpYI/AAAAAAAAIK4/rLw5-98LhBgnzwNNn6f_IqzgI_Jxg1LHACLcB/s320/cover-flip.tif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> One day Bartholomew was downtown shopping at his favorite t-shirt store. Across the store, he saw The Nanny and Geraldine. He wanted to hide from Geraldine, but he wanted to talk with The Nanny. He wasn’t sure what to do, but then The Nanny waved at him and both she and Geraldine walked over to where he was standing. Geraldine lagged behind The Nanny.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Hey, Bartholomew,” said The Nanny happily.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Hey, The Nanny. Hi Geraldine,” said Bartholomew being polite.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Geraldine said nothing.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> The Nanny was wearing a black bodice with lace sleeves and silver metallic jeans with lips to match. Her hair was pulled up in a bun and, as always, she had heavy black mascara around her eyes. Bartholomew could see the chain of her large cross necklace around her neck. Geraldine was wearing a plain, white, low-cut v-neck t-shirt that was about two sizes too small. It was obvious she was not wearing a bra.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Geraldine noticed Bartholomew noticing her chest.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Hi, Bartholomew,” she said perking up. “I’ve missed you. What you been up to?”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Uh…not much. Just hanging out with some friends and stuff.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Geraldine put her arms behind her back and began swaying her chest back and forth like a hypnotist’s watch.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Maybe we could hang out again sometime?”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, uhm… maybe,” said Bartholomew forgetting that Geraldine doesn’t understand when people are just being polite. “What are you guys shopping for?” he changed the subject.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “We’re looking for some new spring clothes; shoes, new pants and a few t-shirts,” said The Nanny.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, and maybe some underwear,” added Geraldine. “Want to shop with us?”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You know, Geraldine, perhaps Bartholomew has his own shopping to do. You don’t need to have a guy help you with everything. Remember, this is supposed to be some shopping time for me and you – girl time.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “That’s okay,” said Bartholomew, “I don’t really shop in the woman’s department. I think I’ll be over here shopping for my stuff.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Okay, maybe we can meet up at the food court or the bathrooms later,” encouraged Geraldine. The Nanny rolled her eyes and then grabbed Geraldine by the shoulders.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “All right, Geraldine, let’s head over to the women’s department. It was nice seeing you, Bartholomew. Good luck with your shopping.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Good bye,” said Bartholomew.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “See ya later,” said Geraldine as she flashed a toothy smile.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew went about his shopping. He looked at cargo pants, shorts some sandals and t-shirts - lots of t-shirts.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> He turned to look at a rack behind him and bumped into The Nanny. </span><br />
<br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IItKFOgOKAM/V0HtAp3WghI/AAAAAAAAILA/PpcDuKcNN10cAVoW6UyZf1BpdzTnvnZZQCLcB/s1600/Shopping-flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IItKFOgOKAM/V0HtAp3WghI/AAAAAAAAILA/PpcDuKcNN10cAVoW6UyZf1BpdzTnvnZZQCLcB/s320/Shopping-flip.tif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Hi.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Huh? Sorry,” Bartholomew apologized for bumping into her.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I’m really sorry about Geraldine being so pushy with you.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “That’s okay,” said Bartholomew, “I kinda expect it from her.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> The Nanny laughed.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I know that you and Geraldine dated for awhile last year. I’m sure that the story I got isn’t accurate as to what happened. But I want you to know that I’m working with Geraldine to help her see that she shouldn’t be so… needy.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew laughed. “Good luck!”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I have tried just about everything I can think of that is legal. I just hope you don’t think too poorly of her. She really is a nice girl, its just she needs some help to stay focused. As I said, I’m sure what Geraldine told me wasn’t all true, but I can tell that she didn’t lie when she said you were the guy who has treated her the nicest. That’s not saying much, considering most of the guys she’s been with, but I can tell that you are very kind to your girlfriends.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew blushed, “Geraldine’s okay in my book. We’re just two very different people and we don’t want the same thing.” He paused. “What I mean is, well, I mean maybe I do want what she wants, just not, you know, not
like she wants it.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> The Nanny cocked her head and her brow creased slightly between her eyes.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I mean I would want it with…someone...who is…else. I mean, it would be fine with someone else. But Geraldine isn’t the…maybe there is someone else - someone nicer, someone prettier. Not that looks are all I’m about, I just mean…” Bartholomew took a deep breath. “Where’s Geraldine?”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “She took about twenty items into the dressing room. She’ll be in there for about forty-five minutes. Lord only knows what she does when she’s in a dressing room. She takes for-eeeeeee-ver.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew looked over The Nanny’s shoulder and spied Geraldine talking to a young man who works at the store. Together, they disappeared into the changing room area.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “She just doesn’t stop, does she?” said Bartholomew.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“She doesn’t stop what? Changing?”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Uh, yeah, changing. That must be why she takes so long in the dressing room,” answered Bartholomew.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> The Nanny stared blankly at him.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about Geraldine anymore,” said The Nanny as she looked over her shoulder to check on her. She turned back to Bartholomew.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I would like to get together with you every so often. Just check-in, talk, hangout. Would that be okay with you?” asked The Nanny.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Uh, yeah, that would be fine by me,” answered Bartholomew excited that The Nanny was interested in him.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Great! Would you be free this Thursday after I’m done with work?”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Sure, I’m uh, sure that would be fine.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Let’s meet at McGliffkey’s,” said the Nanny. “I’ll see you there at nine o’clock.”
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Okay,” said Bartholomew.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “And I won’t bring Geraldine,” laughed The Nanny.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Good,” said Bartholomew with a big smile, “cuz that would be like trying to have a conversation while a dog is humping your leg.” He immediately felt bad about comparing Geraldine to a dog and blushed because he was sure The Nanny would think he was a jerk for saying this.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What did you say?” asked The Nanny.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Good. She didn’t hear.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Like a dog humping your leg?” she continued.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Oh no! She did hear.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew buried his face in a pile of t-shirts he was holding. A dog humping your leg - what a stupid thing to say.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “That gives me an idea,” The Nanny said to herself as she turned and walked away.
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew uncovered his face to apologize, or at least add something on a positive note, but when he looked up, The Nanny was nowhere in sight. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Illustrations by Raighne Hogan </span></span>Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-32821180325666848032017-05-01T05:45:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:15:21.921-07:0018 - At the Library<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hfX9tlAqvmY/V0wz_FfC-ZI/AAAAAAAAIMM/soK45M9b8RM_6SR6HnWwfKy9BPnmLgzOwCLcB/s1600/18lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hfX9tlAqvmY/V0wz_FfC-ZI/AAAAAAAAIMM/soK45M9b8RM_6SR6HnWwfKy9BPnmLgzOwCLcB/s320/18lg.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I knew you’d be here,” said
Topping to Bartholomew who was tucked in behind stacks of gardening
books.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Aren’t I always here? I assume
you’re looking up jobs,” said Bartholomew happy to see his
friend.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Actually, I’m looking at books
about painting cars.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “So, you’re working for Uncle Cy
again?” asked Bartholomew as he closed a book on garden design.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Topping looked down, picked up a book
and ran his fingers over the spine. “No, he hasn’t had me back,
yet. Well, just one day a couple of weeks ago, but now it’s almost
March and I don’t know when he’ll call.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew smiled at Topping. “I’m
sure his work will pick up soon. It’s getting warmer out and
people will want to show off their cars.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Topping squinted at Bartholomew and
shrugged, “Yeah, maybe.”
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew wondered what he could do
to help Topping. He hated seeing him so down. Then he said it
without even thinking, “Do you want to paint my car?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Topping looked at him. He wasn’t sure
if it was a joke or just a bad attempt to make him feel better.
Bartholomew couldn’t believe he had said it. But then he thought
to himself, “Why not?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Topping, I want you to paint my
car,” said Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “No…no, I couldn’t. It’s
expensive to do and it’s a nice car just like it is.”
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “No it’s not. My car is white with
a big pink stripe down each side. <i> That</i> is not nice, or pretty
or anything but ugly,” said Bartholomew realizing that he never
really had liked the color of that car.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “But Bartholomew, painting a car
isn’t easy and the paint is expensive…and there’s no place to
paint it…and, and … it’s expensive,” said Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Geez, you make it sound like
painting a car is expensive,” joked Bartholomew. “Paint it at
Uncle Cy’s place after-hours and I will pay you.”
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “No, you can’t pay me, I’m your
friend!” protested Topping. Other people in the library started to
stare disapprovingly at the two of them.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Firmly but more quietly, Bartholomew
looked straight at Topping and said, “Design a new paint job for my
car and I will pay for the paint and five hundred dollars for you.
Don’t worry, Uncle Jeffrey submitted my taxes in early February and
I just got my return. I can cover this.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Topping didn’t know what to say. He
stood quietly for a while but then leaned forward and whispered to
Bartholomew, “It’s going to have flames. I hope you don’t mind
a 1974 Peugeot with flames.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew looked up and answered, “As
long as you get rid of the pink, I don’t care what you do.”
Thinking for a moment, he then added, “But flames would be cool.
Way cool.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3gYnw0RTNs8/V0w0pfd_yGI/AAAAAAAAIMU/klmyTsrUIa0Q9iuKbLl-Y5_4CnIEaSSiQCLcB/s1600/illustration_flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3gYnw0RTNs8/V0w0pfd_yGI/AAAAAAAAIMU/klmyTsrUIa0Q9iuKbLl-Y5_4CnIEaSSiQCLcB/s400/illustration_flip.tif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Topping pulled up a chair and sat
across the table from Bartholomew. They turned their attention to
the stack of gardening books.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What are you going to plant?”
asked Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I’m not sure, yet. Tomatoes,
peppers, and kale for sure. Some lettuce. Other than that, I don’t
know. The problem is I’m not sure <i>where</i> I am going to
plant. And I want enough room for you and Charlotte and other people
to plant, too.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Aren’t you planting in your yard?”
asked Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “No, it’s too shady. I have a big
old oak tree that was planted there by my great-great-grandfather,
and it covers the entire back yard. And the front yard is small and
shady, too - it’s a <i>really</i> big tree,” said Bartholomew
holding his arms out to indicate a sense of largeness. “I was
thinking of maybe planting at the end of my street. It ends at a
railroad track and there is a big space. Certainly big enough for a
garden.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I’ll help you build it,” said
Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “What?” asked Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I’ll help you build your garden.
Your helping me do something I want to do, so I’ll help you do
something you want to do,” said Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Bartholomew stared at him for only a
moment and then said, “All right. Good. I’ll let you know when
I start. But it’s going to be <i>big</i>.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Big enough for chickens?” asked
Topping with a grin.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Bartholomew laughed. “Yeah, Claire
and her chickens. That’s dubious.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“I can’t believe she wants you to
have chickens in your garden,” said Topping shaking his head.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“I can’t believe her and Ned are
still living together. And it’s your fault,” accused
Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“My fault?! How the fuck you figure
it’s my fault?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“You’re the one that had the New
Years Eve party. She never went home after that, did she? Stayed at
Ned’s that night and every night since.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Topping just shrugged his shoulders and
flipped some more pages. “Not my fault they shacked up. You came
to the party and you didn’t shack up with anyone. And if Ned has
his doubts and lets a woman run all over him, that’s his problem –
not mine.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Yeah, well I guess you don’t hear
about it as much as I do,” said Bartholomew. “He's not hanging
out at <i>your</i> place to get away from Claire.” They turned
their attention back to the books.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>After awhile, Bartholomew wanted to
talk to Topping about something – to get his advice – but wasn’t
sure how to go about it. His eyes skimmed the surface of the book
pages while thinking about what to say. He decided to just start
talking. “I still haven’t gone out with The Nanny.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Well, I’m not surprised,” said
Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Taken aback, Bartholomew demanded,
“What do you mean by that?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Geez, don’t get your underwear in
a bunch, I just meant with Geraldine missing The Nanny is probably
too busy or too freaked out to want to get together.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Missing?! What do you mean
Geraldine is missing?” asked Bartholomew as he pushed aside a stack
of books to better see Topping. He heard a “shush” come from
somewhere to his right.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Didn’t you read about it in the
paper? Geraldine has been missing for a couple of weeks now. She
just disappeared one day,” said Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Wha…how, what happened?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Like I said, she just disappeared.
No sign, no trace.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Bartholomew sat quiet for a moment.
Scenarios raced through his mind: was she abducted by one of her
“lovers,” had one of her brothers killed her, had The Nanny done
something to her? The last time Bartholomew had seen The Nanny she
had mentioned doing something illegal.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Are you okay?” asked Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Bartholomew didn’t answer. He felt a
ball of sadness inside him. How could Geraldine be gone? He had
dated her - and now she was <i>gone</i>? This just doesn’t happen.
This shouldn’t have happened. How? He had always thought
Geraldine was kind to him – spoke well of him. She was wild, but
Bartholomew always knew there was a nice person inside her.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“I dated her,” said Bartholomew,
half catatonic.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“I thought you said you didn’t get
together with The Nanny,” said Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“No, I mean Geraldine… quite awhile
ago, and she was too wild for me. But I got a sense that she liked
me and there is a nice side to her that most people don’t see.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Topping almost snickered when
Bartholomew said that he had dated Geraldine. But then he saw how
moved Bartholomew was by this news. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
know,” said Topping. “They didn’t say she was dead or anything
like that,” he added. “She might have just run away. You should
ask The Nanny. Give her a call.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Anger appeared in Bartholomew’s
voice, “She’s been telling me for the last few weeks she can’t
get together because she’s too busy dog-sitting. That it was
taking up more of her time than she thought it would. All this time
and she <i>never</i> has mentioned<i> anything</i> about Geraldine
missing.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Dog-sitting?!” asked Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Yeah, she picked up a side job
sitting somebody’s dog. I think it’s a pug.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“And she hasn’t mentioned anything
about Geraldine? That’s fucked up,” said Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Bartholomew cringed inside at the sound
of Topping swearing. It didn’t seem like appropriate language
given the terrible circumstance.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Yes, I will have to call The Nanny
and ask her about this,” said Bartholomew.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“Yeah, let me know what you find
out,” said Topping. He hesitated. “Bartholomew,…”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Bartholomew looked at Topping.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>“…well, if you need <i>anything</i>,
you can let me know that, too.”
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>In the seventy days that they’d known
each other, Bartholomew and Topping had become friends. They had
been running into each other at the library every other week.
Bartholomew was very happy about this. He had never had a friend his
age to support him when he was down. He had never had anyone who
wanted to work on projects with him and help him do what<i> he</i>
wanted to do. His friends had always been someone to play with,
someone to have fun with – like children. His previous friends had
no idea how to comfort him or simply sit with him when his parents
had died. They never patiently listened to him when he was unsure
about things, they didn’t know how to empathize and they never
offered themselves up as emotional support. As he thought about it,
he had never really had a friend who could help him like an adult
can. Then he laughed quietly to himself, “Hmmm, am <i>I</i>
becoming an adult?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> __________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Illustrated by Mark Granlund </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span>
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Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-83289357604681408372017-04-30T06:46:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:15:03.794-07:0019 - Earth Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5tfRlzJQiKc/V1QnXdv4XVI/AAAAAAAAIMk/x_fN9iE4PK0qkIgdgn-gWgdij0lm7xh4ACLcB/s1600/19lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5tfRlzJQiKc/V1QnXdv4XVI/AAAAAAAAIMk/x_fN9iE4PK0qkIgdgn-gWgdij0lm7xh4ACLcB/s400/19lg.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Thanks for
biking with me to this Earth Day thing,” Claire said to Ned.</span></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah, well…this
is going to be fun,” said Ned as he shivered in the cold wind.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“You really don’t
have to, you know,” said Claire as she downshifted so Ned could
keep up.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, I think
(puff)…Earth Day (gasp)…is great,” said Ned. “Tell me
again…why are we celebrating…Earth Day in March?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because Mayor
Dick is a total idiot. He didn’t realize Earth Day is in April and
by the time he figured it out he was already booked for that day. So
he declared Earth Day in our city to be on March 22<sup>nd</sup>
because it fit his schedule.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">They pedaled along
to the sounds of Ned huffing and puffing. As City Hall appeared,
booths and food vendors filled the streets and the great lawn in
front was almost empty. On a stage was a band playing some country
rock song about how incompetent the government is.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Let’s head
over that way,” said Claire as she nodded toward some booths. “I
want to see if Charlotte is volunteering.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Claire and Ned
locked their bikes to a rack and headed over to find Charlotte. They
passed the <i>Trees of Hope</i> and <i>Food Fit</i> booths. Claire
was looking ahead for the next booth when Ned noticed the attractive
women at the <i>Food Fit</i> booth. He took a leaflet they were
handing out about healthy food, along with recipes. Ned thanked them
and said he may come back later because he liked healthy food.
“Awesome!” the young women replied.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> They passed the <i>Robo-Green
Revolution, Not In My Back 40, Garden Yourself,</i> and the <i>Solar
Collector Collection</i> booths before Claire finally saw Charlotte.
She was working at the local progressive AM radio station booth,
WGRN.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Hey, Charlotte!” said Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Hi Claire. Hi Ned,” said
Charlotte.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “How's it going?” asked Claire
while Ned just stared at Charlotte with a silly grin on his face.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “It's been slow – no crowd at all.
It's not surprising since the whole event was moved up a month. It's
freezing out here!” she said as she blew into her hands and rubbed
them together.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Upon hearing Charlotte's words,
Claire's eyes widened with anger and she began a diatribe. “Can
you believe that? Mayor Dick is such a...such an...idiot.
Forgetting Earth Day is in April and moving the city's celebration to
March. Oh, it steams me! I just can't imagine what would possess
him to be so arrogant – so backward about these things.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “I think he didn't want people to
show up for the real Earth Day, so he moved it.” said Charlotte.
“His record on the environment has been pretty bad. This is worse
than not acknowledging Earth Day at all. Look, there's hardly
anybody here.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Wanting to impress Charlotte, Ned
said, “Yeah, maybe he really didn't want them to show up.
And...and...” He was looking for something to say that would sound
intelligent. “Maybe he wanted to toot his horn about his new small
business initiative that is supposed to help reduce carbon
emissions.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “That initiative doesn't do anything
to reduce emissions,” said Claire. “He just says it does. It
will actually increase emissions because it allows larger businesses
to create more under a cap and trade agreement.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, and he could toot his horn
next month if he wanted anyway,” added Charlotte. “When its warm
out.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Ned shrugged his shoulders and changed
the topic, “Are you and Topping going to garden with Bartholomew?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, I'm so excited. This is
going to be fun. I've never gardened before, have you?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “No, not really,” said Ned. “My
parents had a small garden but I never helped them with it.”
Neither of them asked Claire that question, because they knew her
parents really liked gardening-- and they even raised chickens. As
Ned began to wonder why it was that he never helped his parents
garden, he noticed several crows flying toward a tree behind the
stage. Then he noticed that the tree, which looked like it had
leaves, was actually full of birds.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> The band stopped playing and a woman's
voice rang out, “Ladies and gentleman, welcome! Welcome all of you
to the Great Earth Day Celebration!” A few cheers rose from the
pitifully small crowd as people turned to face the Deputy Mayor.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “It is a great honor to have you all
here. It's a little chilly, but seeing all of you warms my heart,”
said the woman. Applause rose from the crowd, mostly to keep their
hands warm; a couple people whistled. “Let me delay no longer. I
have the great honor of introducing to you the person most
responsible for this Earth Day celebration. A person without whose
leadership and guidance this city wouldn't be the spectacular place
it is. Ladies and gentlemen, your mayor and your friend, Mayor
Dick!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> There was no applause or cheers from
the smattering of cold people standing around. The word “moron”
was heard inside some muffles coming from somewhere back by the
display booths.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Thank you, thank you,” boomed the
voice of Mayor Dick. The mic was too loud. “What a great honor to
be with you all here on this beautiful day – Earth Day.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “But it’s not Earth Day!” yelled
a young woman's voice.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Mayor Dick didn't notice the comment
or the few robins and mourning doves that began to circle overhead.
He continued, “I am as proud as anyone of the great strides our
fair city has made under my mayorship toward a greener and more
vibrant city. I, and the city council and city staff...” a “boo”
was heard from the crowd... “have worked tirelessly to bring this
city into the greening of the 21<sup>st</sup> Century. It is with
great pleasure that I read the following list of our accomplishments.
First, an additional four acres of green space in our residential
neighborhoods...”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Due to foreclosures,” the young
woman's voice interrupted.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Ignoring the heckle, Mayor Dick
continued, “...for our children to play in. A new local food
vendor for our public schools...”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Donkey Burgers are going to make
them all fat!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “...that will provide healthy,
nutritious food for our children.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Donkey Burgers cause heart
disease!” said Claire as she moved toward the podium. The sun now
dimmed as numerous birds flew overhead. Robins, mourning doves,
crows, chickadees, warblers, cardinals and even a few chickens
created a massive dark cloud that became noisier with each
proclamation by Mayor Dick.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z6Dwfx5Brb0/V1QpMfVfk2I/AAAAAAAAIMw/VqOoUoU6RwsZwroVW1wjvaK1S9KmBRoFwCLcB/s1600/mayordick_flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z6Dwfx5Brb0/V1QpMfVfk2I/AAAAAAAAIMw/VqOoUoU6RwsZwroVW1wjvaK1S9KmBRoFwCLcB/s400/mayordick_flip.tif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “The city fleet has reduced its gas
consumption by fifteen percent.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Due to job loss!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Mayor Dick refused to acknowledge
Claire, but directed his comments to other people in the crowd. “We
have created a small business plan that will reduce small business
carbon emissions by thirty percent.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “But it will allow large businesses
to increase their carbon emissions by forty percent,” said Claire
as she stepped up next to the stage.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Mayor Dick scowled her way and
continued with agitation in his voice, “Citizens of this fair
metropolis, fear not of the future, for I and the council will
continue always to protect our land, water and air while also
protecting our high-quality way of life.” He paused for a moment
as he witnessed a single white dove feather fall down from the sky
and land on Claire's dark green beret. The sound of chirps and calls
grew louder</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “You're a liar!” yelled Claire
only a few feet from Mayor Dick.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Now that is not fair!” yelled an
offended Mayor Dick directly at Claire. “nothing I have said is a
lie.” A cacophony of squawks, chirps, calls, crowings and
gobblings almost drowned out the interchange between Claire and Mayor
Dick.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Well, it hasn't been the truth
either,” Claire yelled back.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “You, my dear, are the liar here.
And I will not let you deceive the fine people of this city with your
misguided understanding of what is important and what I have
accomplished. It is I who has been elected to be the protector of
this fair city from the misinformation and cynical enviro-propoganda
you are espousing,” replied Mayor Dick.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Claire did not give quarter. “Donkey
Burger is not going to provide healthy and nutritional meals to our
schools. The only reason they make burgers out of donkey meat is
because donkey meat isn't considered a food item by the FDA. They do
it so they don't have to follow regulations – so they can cut
corners and MAKE MORE MONEY!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “I will not stand here and listen to
you slander my good friend Gerald. He has run his Donkey Burger
business above board and with great success for many years.” With
this, the birds descended-- as a single organism-- to within five
feet of Mayor Dick's head. Hundreds of birds were flying en masse in
figure eights and diving to and fro just above his head, but still he
paid no attention. He only could see Claire, her red face and angry
eyes.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Gerald? Gerald? Above board? Do
you have any idea what he buys his daughter for Christmas presents?”
said Claire in disgust.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Whatever he buys her has nothing to
do with what kind of man Gerald is. “You obviously are not here
because you care about Earth Day...or the earth. Someone please
remove this girl from these festivities,” said Mayor Dick as he
signaled to a security guard.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> With that, Claire ran, and the birds
flew off to distant rooftops, trees and places unseen. Claire wanted
to blend in with the crowd and disappear too, but there was no crowd.
She headed toward the booth where Charlotte and Ned were standing.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Help, they’re coming to remove
me!” said Claire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Quick, you can hide under here,”
said Charlotte.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “If they want us to leave, why don't
we just leave?” asked Ned.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Claire's voice came from under the
table inside the WGRN booth, “Ned, go get our bikes and then we can
get away. Bring mine here. I need to hide!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Ned's face folded up in a look of “Do
I have to?” But he turned and went to fetch Claire's bike. He was
back in a few minutes.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Ned. Put it by the back of the
booth,” said Claire's voice. Ned did as he was told. “I'll meet
you back at Madeline Park by the water fountain. Then let's go get
some lunch.” Claire shot out from under the table, got on her bike
and was gone.</span><br />
<br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WyheUo9RIFM/V1QpcwNypmI/AAAAAAAAIM4/W2Zh5DSbakELHjw85gH3WFiznuFQJr6fwCLcB/s1600/NedClaire_flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WyheUo9RIFM/V1QpcwNypmI/AAAAAAAAIM4/W2Zh5DSbakELHjw85gH3WFiznuFQJr6fwCLcB/s400/NedClaire_flip.tif" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> As she saw Claire disappear over a
hill in the distance, Charlotte said, “That Claire. She is amazing
how she isn't afraid to stand up to them. She is so inspiring.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Ned wasn't feeling inspired. He
thought about going back to the <i>Food Fit</i> booth and talking to
the attractive women. But he wasn't feeling right about that. He
thought about talking with Charlotte a while and getting to know her
better. But he wasn't feeling like doing that today either. He
mounted his bike and slowly pedaled away from the Earth Day
celebration. Ned suddenly realized what he <i>was </i>feeling – he
was feeling alone.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">__________________________________</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Illustrations by Matt Wells </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-64889754025252279792017-04-29T16:49:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:14:47.196-07:0020 - Coffee with an Angel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kXCtwixNEJw/V2HomVs9KfI/AAAAAAAAIO4/8XfiLyl-zCA4MMjFwi9kLaiT3EufT4CjQCLcB/s1600/20lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kXCtwixNEJw/V2HomVs9KfI/AAAAAAAAIO4/8XfiLyl-zCA4MMjFwi9kLaiT3EufT4CjQCLcB/s400/20lg.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Bartholomew swung through the door of
the coffee shop and saw The Nanny waving at him. She was beautiful.
Her blonde hair was up in a bun exposing her long porcelain neck and
strong jaw line. She wore a buttoned blue blouse, a pair of tight
jeans and cowboy boots. Her eyes were a bright fiery blue – as if
they held the light of heaven. The only remnant of her previous Goth
attire was the over-large cross necklace of which Bartholomew could
see the top before it disappeared into her blouse.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">At the sight of Bartholomew, a smile
spread across The Nanny’s face. She stood up and welcomed
Bartholomew with a hug – a BIG, looong hug. He barely noticed the
cross imbedding into his chest.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“I am so happy you could make it,”
said The Nanny as she sat back down.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Bartholomew sat down across the small
round table from her. “Yeah, happy to be here. I'm glad you could
finally fit me into your schedule.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“I'm so sorry about that,” she
said with a sympathetic look in her eyes. “Things have been much
busier than I could handle.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Dog-sitting?” asked Bartholomew
with a bit of sarcasm in his voice.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes! Oh it has been amazingly more
work than I ever imagined,” said The Nanny with such enthusiasm in
her voice and eyes that Bartholomew's sarcasm faded. “But I think
I have finally figured it out. I know what should happen now.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Bartholomew didn't understand what she
meant but moved on to the subject he wanted to discuss with her.
“What happened to Geraldine? Why didn't you tell me she was
missing?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, she is missing. Oh… does
that bother you?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Does it bother me? Does it bother
me?! Yes, it bothers me! Geraldine was a nice girl. All right, she
was crazy, sex-starved and would take advantage of every situation,
but there was a nice side to her, too.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The Nanny smiled-- seemed pleased
about something.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Geraldine is missing! Why are you
so happy?!” Bartholomew almost yelled.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The Nanny said nothing but stared at
Bartholomew with such sparkling eyes and such beautiful skin and such
full-bodied hair and such positive energy and... Her presence was
disarming, as if her whole soul was there to do nothing but love and
support someone. Bartholomew couldn't help but think how different
she was when he had met her at Gerald's house. Her black Goth
clothes and dark eyeliner were gone. More importantly, he sensed
that her attitude was completely different. Before she seemed to be
waiting. The Nanny previously was disciplining and corralling
Gerald's sons and daughter, as if keeping them in line until
something else happens. But now, The Nanny was purposeful. She
seemed focused, honed-in and ready to do whatever it was she was
meant to do after a long delay. This made her very happy, full of
life and much larger than Bartholomew's anger or cynicism.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Bartholomew, would you be relieved
if Geraldine walked through that door right now?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well, wha... of course. I don't
want anything bad to happen to her.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Bartholomew, would you feel
something in your heart, something beyond politeness and kindness, if
Geraldine were to walk in that door and sit right down at our table?”
asked The Nanny staring unflinchingly into Bartholomew's eyes.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Bartholomew did not answer. What was
The Nanny getting at, he wondered. Wanting an answer, The Nanny
reached across the table and put her hand on Bartholomew's. There it
was again, the feeling Bartholomew had when he first met her, when
she had first put her hand on his arm – he wanted to share
<i>everything</i> with her.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, yes, I would feel <i>something</i>
in my heart,” said Bartholomew. “Geraldine is too crazy for me,
but there is still something nice about her… underneath. I liked it
when she would say nice things about me and how she liked to be with
me. And...,” Bartholomew hesitated, “when I broke up with her,
when we were on a picnic, she was really hurt. It was then I
realized how much she <i>really</i> liked me and that there was a
part of her that was..., was... truly good.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The Nanny moved closer to Bartholomew.
“You are amazing, Bartholomew. There is so much I want to share
with you. Your kindness and your heart are in tune with something
inside me. It makes me want to give something back to you –
something special, something deep and personal.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Bartholomew's eyes grew big. What did
she mean? This casual date was going better than he imagined, maybe
a little better than he was ready for. Bartholomew moved closer to
The Nanny. “What would that be?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“I can't share it with you right
now,” said The Nanny. “It's not time yet. Maybe a few more
dates, a little more history, a few more interactions and then it
will be time. I can't wait. I’m very excited!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Bartholomew couldn't believe what he
was hearing. He felt he must say something instead of sitting there
like a dolt with his mouth open. “Uh...I'm...you...yeah. Yeah,
that would be great. I'm very excited, too.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ioLk_R67OR0/V2Ho7XQfyrI/AAAAAAAAIPA/AFTRI7MNlLcDFpLzSTjcXR-9k9m-z8YMQCLcB/s1600/coffee_flip.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ioLk_R67OR0/V2Ho7XQfyrI/AAAAAAAAIPA/AFTRI7MNlLcDFpLzSTjcXR-9k9m-z8YMQCLcB/s400/coffee_flip.tif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">A yelp was heard from outside the
coffee shop. “I have to go,” said The Nanny. “I'm sorry to
cut this date short. Can we get together next week? I'll call you.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah, next week would be fine,”
said Bartholomew. “We'll talk.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The Nanny walked to the door.
Bartholomew stared at her beautiful jean-wrapped ass as it moved
across the room. She turned as she opened the door. “Bartholomew,
if this works out right, you're gonna get yourself a girl who is
everything you could want.” She smiled and walked out of the door
as another yelp was heard from outside.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">After The Nanny disappeared from view,
Bartholomew almost fell out of his chair with pent up energy. He sat
up straight and, not knowing what to do, stayed in the coffee shop
for another half hour thinking of all the ways he wanted to get to
know The Nanny better. Not all of them would be considered polite,
by some people, but they were all certainly filled with kindness. </span></span></div>
__________________________________________
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Illustrated by Mary Sandberg </span></span>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-90236917697637648912017-04-28T20:35:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:14:30.249-07:0021 - Charlotte Unfolding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LuNS1rH97V8/V2dkL4fcIeI/AAAAAAAAIPg/L-6squkMxhgIcF_vsgUDw8m7gexuZShkgCLcB/s1600/21lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LuNS1rH97V8/V2dkL4fcIeI/AAAAAAAAIPg/L-6squkMxhgIcF_vsgUDw8m7gexuZShkgCLcB/s400/21lg.gif" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Can you hand me the kale?” asked
Bartholomew as he grabbed a colander from the counter.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Charlotte handed over the kale and
continued mincing garlic. Bartholomew ripped the big rough leaves,
stem and all, from the stalk, placed them in the colander and washed
them in the sink.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“You sure you washed them enough?”
asked Charlotte. “They can be pretty dirty inside all those
bumps.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“This is how my mom used to do it.
It should work,” said Bartholomew with confidence.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“So you used to cook with your mom?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“No, I never really did. Both my
parents were <i>really </i>good cooks. They would buy fresh and
organic vegetables and things from the farmers’ market and the
co-op and they would cook really amazing meals. They were so tasty,
but for some reason I didn't feel like I should cook with them. It
kinda seemed like something they liked to do together – just the
two of them.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Didn't they want to teach you to
cook?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yeah, they asked me all the time.
But I just didn't want to do it. What they did was so delicious and
magical. I didn't even want to <i>know</i> how it was done. That
would have ruined the magic.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Charlotte tossed the minced garlic in
a large black cast-iron skillet to saute in some oil. Bartholomew
kept piling more and more kale into the <span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">colander</span>.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“How much do you plan on eating?”
asked Charlotte.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Oh, it cooks down a lot,” said
Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Charlotte removed a lid from a pot of
soup she had made the day before and stirred it around with a big
plastic spoon. She made the soup by chopping up vegetables and
cooking them in a couple cans of tomato soup she bought at the
grocery store. This was Charlotte's general method of cooking. She
would purchase pre-made items at the store and then add a few of her
own ingredients to make them better. “Charlotizing” food made
her feel good about her cooking skills. Topping knew how to make
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, hot dogs and a bowl of cereal but
not much else. In exchange for Charlotte doing all the cooking,
Topping would help set the table and clean up afterward – and
<i>always</i> tell her he liked her cooking.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“He sure is quiet back there,”
said Bartholomew about Topping who was in the bedroom working on a
design for painting Bartholomew's car.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yeah, he wanted to finish it before
you got here tonight but had a little more to do. He has a hard time
finishing it, he doesn't know when to stop.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“What do you mean?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Oh, you know. Topping is just so
intense and such a perfectionist about stuff that he always sees
something else he wants to change or correct.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Really?” Bartholomew said. “I
always thought he was just winging along and having fun. I didn't
know he was a perfectionist.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Charlotte felt like sharing her
thoughts about Topping with Bartholomew, but worried it would be
inappropriate. But she felt she could trust Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yeah, well when he is at a party he
is <i>really</i> enjoying himself. <i>And </i>when he is designing a
paint job, he is <i>really </i>designing a paint job. He is very
intense about what he is doing. Lately, I think because he hasn't
had a job, he has been filling all of his time with projects. Did
you know he designed the garden you want to plant?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“He has designed it? Wow, great! I
really haven't thought about any kind of design yet,” said
Bartholomew a bit relieved.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“No, that's not great. He should be
out here talking with us and helping us and being a good friend –
and a good boyfriend.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew said nothing. He didn't
want to be in the middle of Topping and Charlotte's relationship. He
washed a few more kale leaves.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“I'm sorry,” said Charlotte, “I
shouldn't have said anything. You’re his friend, I shouldn't be
sharing this stuff with you.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“No, that's okay,” lied
Bartholomew. Changing the subject, he asked, “Is the garlic done?
The kale is ready to be cooked.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Oh shoot, it's getting a little
burnt,” said Charlotte.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Quickly Bartholomew threw a heaping
pile of kale in the skillet and stirred it all together, hoping to
prevent the garlic from burning more. Charlotte pulled some bread
out of a cupboard, removed it from the bag and started slicing it.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Did you make that bread?” asked
Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yeah, I did,” said Charlotte.
“They have the dough already made in the freezer section at the
Food Barn. I just pop it in the oven and forty-five minutes later
it’s bread. It's pretty good.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew changed the subject again,
“You hear about Claire taking those spoken word classes?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yeah, I think its great! I just
love how she says what's on her mind. You should have seen her stick
it to Mayor Dick at the Earth Day Celebration. It was so cool. I
really admire her. I'm glad Topping met you and Claire. You guys
are good friends.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Noticing that she didn't mention Ned,
Bartholomew said, “You, too. I mean you two, too. Both you and
Topping. And Claire. I like her a lot, too. And Ned. He's great,
too. Ned is always coming over to my house.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Charlotte continued, “We should go
to Claire's performance. She has one in two weeks. It would be
great to go support her.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Definitely,” said Bartholomew.
“That would be fun.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Hey, when is your garden planning
meeting?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Uhmm,” Bartholomew glanced at the
calendar in his head. “On the last Wednesday of the month. I have
you two, Claire and Ned, Aunt Josephine and Uncle Jeffrey and maybe
Mr. MacBardon, my neighbor, all planning on being there. I'm really
looking forward to it. I haven't thought at all about the design,
but I know what I want to grow in it and am ordering some seeds this
week.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Could we order some seeds with
you?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Sure, you can...”
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Wow, that smells great!”
interrupted Topping as he walked into the kitchen. “Is it almost
ready?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew, who had forgotten about
the kale while talking to Charlotte, jerked his head around to see
that the kale had indeed cooked down quite a bit. He stirred what
was left in the pan while Charlotte went back to cutting bread.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yes, it’s just about done,”
said Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
With that pronouncement, Topping went
to the cupboards and started pulling out plates and set them on the
card table. He came back, put his hand gently on Charlotte's
shoulder to move her slightly so he could reach the glasses above her
head. He placed those on the table and then did the same with
utensils, napkins, salt and pepper and the butter dish. As Charlotte
placed the slices of bread on a plate and Bartholomew scooped the
kale into a bowl, Topping grabbed three beers from the refrigerator.
Then they all sat down on three of the four folding chairs around the
table.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Would you like to give thanks?”
Topping asked Charlotte.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Charlotte was a little annoyed at
this. She liked to give a silent “thanks” before each meal, but
Topping would never join her. He would simply sit and wait. Now he
was asking her to give thanks with a guest, as if this was something
Topping always took part in. A little embarrassed, she turned to
Bartholomew and explained, “I only give thanks quietly. Like a
moment of silence. We don't actually say a prayer or anything.”
With that, she bowed her head and was silent for a moment.
Bartholomew bowed his head, too, but kept one eye open just in case
he had to cross himself or mimic some other ritual he was unfamiliar
with. He noticed that Charlotte bowed her head and gave thanks while
Topping just stared at her and waited.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Amen,” said Charlotte.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Amen,” said Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Let's eat,” said Topping as he
grabbed the soup and ladled it into his bowl. Then he chose a piece
of bread and scooped some kale onto his plate. He started devouring
the soup.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Mmm. This is really good!” he
said to Charlotte.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
He then buttered his bread, dipped it
in the soup and ate half a slice in one bite. With his mouth
loaded he mumbled to Charlotte, “Whoa, this is great bread.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
After finishing his soup and bread,
Topping turned his fork upon the kale. He took a big mouthful of the
limp green mass. He chewed it a couple of times. Then a couple more
times. Bartholomew was waiting for the inevitable compliment, but
one never came. Topping kept chewing and chewing. Before Topping
was done, Bartholomew and Charlotte had taken a forkful of kale, as
well. They chewed and they chewed. Then they chewed some more. The
texture was rubbery, soggy and crunchy all at the same time.
Bartholomew didn't think that was possible with <i>any </i>food.
Topping finally swallowed.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“That's... what <i>is</i> that?”
asked Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Kale,” Bartholomew said while
still masticating.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Is this how you always eat it?”
asked Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Well, yes,” said Bartholomew.
“But my mother used to make it ten times better. I don't know what
she used to do. I wish I knew.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Charlotte finally swallowed her mass
of goop and said, “I think you need to take the stems of the leaves
out. They really... well, they...I think you should just take them
out. Cut them out and just cook the leafy part. I think that would
be better.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
No one ate any more kale. They had
ice cream for dessert. After Topping cleaned up the kitchen, he
showed Bartholomew his designs for the car. Upon seeing them,
Bartholomew just laughed.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Don't you like them?” asked
Topping somewhat unsure.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Like them? I think they're
fabulous!” Bartholomew was looking at three sketches of his car,
each with a different flame design. One design had flames that were
more symbolic of flames than actually looking like flames. The
second was more flame-like as the shapes licked down the side of the
car from the hood to the back. The third had what looked like actual
flames over the whole front of the car and then disappearing down the
sides.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Wow, can you really paint these on
my car?” asked Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Well...,” said Topping, “the
first design I can definitely do. The second one I could do but it is
a technique I haven't really done before. But I'm sure I could do
it. The third one is probably beyond me. I can draw it, but Uncle Cy
would have to help me quite a bit...and that one would take a long
time.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew surveyed the drawings one
more time. “I think we should try the second one, then. It will
give you a challenge and I like it better than the first. That third
one I'm not sure about. I don't know if I'm that excited about
flames to want that. But the second design would be cool.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Topping was a little disappointed to
hear Bartholomew say that flames aren't what he is really excited
about. He wanted this paint job to be something Bartholomew<i>
really </i>wanted, that expressed something about him.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Are you sure?” asked Topping.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yeah, I'm sure.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“You really want flames?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yes,” said Bartholomew grimacing
at Topping. “Yes, I want flames and I want you to paint them.”
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Okay,” said Topping. “My Uncle
said the shop would be available starting the first week of next
month. You're going to have to leave the car with me for three
weeks. I hope that's okay?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“I'll just walk, or bike or use
Uncle Jeffrey's car. That should be fine,” said Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Okay, then. That's settled,”
said Topping, knowing in the recesses of his mind that the design was
going to change again before he painted Bartholomew's car. He would
find just the right design for Bartholomew even if he had to work on
it every day for the rest of this month. He wanted it to be perfect.
Charlotte sighed knowing what Topping was thinking.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew looked over the drawings
one more time. “These are really good drawings. You ever think of
just making art?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Nope,” said Topping.<br />___________________________________________________________
Written by Mark Granlund <br />Illustrated by Raighne Hogan
</span></span></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-22407855279916614152017-04-27T11:23:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:14:11.885-07:0022 - The Consuming Fires of Gerald<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i2Cnw6xRqzc/V3qoiy89a9I/AAAAAAAAIRM/cb-AH3mcxT4LPbsdAV-tRvRpa_vop7g0ACLcB/s1600/22lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i2Cnw6xRqzc/V3qoiy89a9I/AAAAAAAAIRM/cb-AH3mcxT4LPbsdAV-tRvRpa_vop7g0ACLcB/s320/22lg.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Gerald was mad at himself, but he
didn't know it. He thought he was mad at something else. He removed
his black leather army boots, which held onto his leopard skin socks,
and threw them across the floor.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Why do I let The Nanny talk me into
wearing these stupid clothes?” he yelled at himself.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
The fur vest quietly hit the window and fell to the floor. Gerald
worked at his black rubberized denim clam-diggers but they offered
resistance. The harder he pulled on its leg, the more they clung to
his leg. He fell backward onto a small table and swore
like...Gerald: Shit, fucking shit, piss, goddamn, fucking asshole...
By the time he had gotten one leg out he had run through all the
English curse words several times and started cursing in foreign
languages: <span lang="de-DE">Scheiße</span> , merde, <span lang="sq-AL">i
ndyrë, ezel, </span><span lang="tr-TR">lanet olsun</span><span lang="sq-AL">
, </span><span lang="vi-VN">hậu môm</span><span lang="sq-AL">..</span>.
By the time his second foot was out, Gerald started cursing in
non-sensical language: garrgh, flister mick, bick, fuhstung, blahhhh
bak, fertimeigahugen... He threw the aggravating pants on the floor
and started cursing at them with his hands and fingers.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
It had not been a good day.
Everything seemed to be bothering Gerald. He thought everything and
everybody was out to get him – to ruin his day. It had never
occurred to him that if <i>everything</i> seemed wrong, maybe there
was something wrong with <i>him</i>.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
He walked barefoot out of the foyer of
his huge multi-roomed maze of a mansion and into one of the living
rooms. There, on the floor, was a broken vase. “Khua! Mo!
Xavier!” Gerald yelled. No response. “You better get in here
and clean this up or I'm going to beat your collective asses!” No
response. No one was home. Where was The Butler? “Ah,” Gerald
remembered, he had fired him that morning – the eggs were
over-cooked. What about The Nanny? She now lived out back by the
pool in a new combination cottage/cabana. She probably never saw
this. Gerald wondered why he ever hired her in the first place.
Maybe he should fire her. She can't even keep track of Geraldine,
his daughter. Gerald then remembered Geraldine was missing. That
made him even more mad at everyone.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“How could Geraldine be <i>missing</i>?
That is so irresponsible,” he said to no one. “That's when this
all started, when things started going downhill.” He headed to the
first floor kitchen. Mumbling to himself, “Someone wants to make
my life suck. That's why they kidnapped Geraldine. I own half this
town and most everyone hates me because I'm successful. As if I
care? But they are all trying to ruin me.”
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
He opened the refrigerator to find
some dinner. “And now I'm looking for my own food. Fuck, I hate
this.” Gerald contemplated going out to Donkey Burger where, being
the owner, he eats as much as he wants for free. Instead he grabbed a
cold container of something and went to look for a fork. Gerald was
unfamiliar with the kitchen. He never cooked for himself, never knew
where anything was kept. He thought of himself as the most powerful
man in town. He was also the most helpless in his own home. He
never found a fork, so he ate what was in the container with a pair
of tongs.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Gerald went to look for the dining
room. He never found it. He finally came to eat sitting in a chair
that was in a hallway. He didn't know if the food he was eating
tasted good or bad. Gerald was not concerned about things like
flavor. His only concern was that the slight pain in his stomach
went away. He could have eaten cardboard or slugs; he wouldn't have
noticed. His only driving force in life was to address, in the
moment, what he considered inequities for himself.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
This style of behavior made him very
decisive and pro-active, which led to his wealth. But along with
these positive traits came the burden of negative traits, such as an
uncaring nature toward others and himself, a pervasive valuing of
objects ahead of people, a consuming competitiveness, a heightened
sense of paranoia and a serious lack of aesthetic judgment. But
lately, it seems that another log had been added to the pile of
difficulties: he has been lonely. Gerald is so emotionally incapable
of dealing with loneliness that he simply gets mad – at everything
else.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
From a very early age, Gerald was
recognized to be imbalanced and a threat to those around him. So
much so that the gods that live in the heavens had determined that he
should not be able to procreate. The gods took vigil over Gerald's
romantic affairs and made sure there would be no off-spring. They
did this by creating distractions, like fires, at crucial moments
during intimacy. Although this strategy had its desired effect, the
situation only made Gerald more ornery and determined to consummate a
relationship. So determined, in fact, that the gods eventually had
to resort to much greater measures of distraction: earthquakes,
tornados, hurricanes and even plane crashes.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
This may sound like a lot of work, but
for a god, it is quite a simple matter. But, one day, while the gods
were distracted by their once every hundred year kickball tournament,
Gerald had about forty-five minutes to unleash his manliness on the
world. By the time the gods had realized what had happened, Gerald
had impregnated four different women. Nine months later, Xavier,
Khua and Mo were born. The fourth child, a girl, was foretold to be
so ugly and terrible that Mephistaherodyphia, the goddess of beauty,
delayed her birth for an entire year.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OLTGsAZ_o64/V3qpTQi4fZI/AAAAAAAAIRU/U9Yz4dVi6A08N3mQNKqUiMN1iy0eCjX0gCLcB/s1600/spread_final---blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OLTGsAZ_o64/V3qpTQi4fZI/AAAAAAAAIRU/U9Yz4dVi6A08N3mQNKqUiMN1iy0eCjX0gCLcB/s1600/spread_final---blog.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Once Gerald discovered that he had
impregnated four women, he was satiated and turned his attention to
his business affairs. Being the person Gerald is, he was naturally
unconcerned about the children, and he abandoned their mothers almost
immediately. The gods found this intolerable and determined to
manipulate events so that Gerald would eventually be responsible for
raising all four of his children. But, in order to help them – and
protect them – helpers were sent into their lives. Some would
call them guardian angels.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Over the years, although Gerald was
not concerned about his children, he became rather used to them. Now
that they were older and gone from the house more often than not,
Gerald would become lonely. He, of course, did not recognize this
feeling. He also did not recognize that his unconcern and rough
handling of his children had driven them out of their house. Deep
down, beyond his own ability to understand, Gerald was mad at himself
for this. His smoldering coal of a soul had been building for months
like pressure inside a volcano. It would not be long before there
would be no option except to unleash this force upon the unsuspecting
and supposedly incompetent and deserving souls of the people around
him. This force would not be recalled until Gerald felt emptied,
until someone lay defeated before him.
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Poor Bartholomew, it seemed like his
life was forever entwined with Gerald's and his children's. He would
have never asked for what was to come, but there was nothing he could
do to stop it.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
_________________________________________________________<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Written by Mark Granlund </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Illustrations by Mark Granlund</span></span></span></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-58018333968759475072017-04-26T09:40:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:13:50.753-07:0023 - Are You My Lover?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VcfQYXSoIao/WGk2NnmUuqI/AAAAAAAAIYM/d5OfcO6cz5M9lMvVBORh6CF12yvp5NkfACLcB/s1600/23lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VcfQYXSoIao/WGk2NnmUuqI/AAAAAAAAIYM/d5OfcO6cz5M9lMvVBORh6CF12yvp5NkfACLcB/s400/23lg.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
darkness faded into a blurry light. </span>
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Where
am I?” thought the pug. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">She
looked around. Inside she felt an uneasiness. She remembered having
something to eat. Was it a Donkey Burger and Fat Fries? She stood
up on her little tan legs. Her unease grew stronger. She walked out
into the bright light of the sun and a sidewalk full of people. The
people seemed unusually tall. Why was it that she only could see…</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
unease suddenly throbbed in her groin. Her tongue hung out of her
mouth, her eyes stared at all the... </span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>legs</i></span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">.
Hundreds of legs! Some legs were in blue denim, some in khaki knits
or dark polyester. The unease overwhelmed the poor little pug as
she found herself lunging into the crowd and attempting to attach
herself to the nearest leg. Her front paws reached for a calf, but
the person was walking too fast. The pug fell face-first onto the
concrete. She was up immediately, driven by a desperate need.</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z6kIacG-N5M/WGk6nzi_P4I/AAAAAAAAIYU/4CKM6h6-kfweRPRwssrIWeOhjzVwXsIdwCLcB/s1600/web.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z6kIacG-N5M/WGk6nzi_P4I/AAAAAAAAIYU/4CKM6h6-kfweRPRwssrIWeOhjzVwXsIdwCLcB/s1600/web.JPG" /></a></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
next attempt was on a leg covered with black tights. The pug's inner
claw snagged on the tights and she was pulled along. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Hey!!”
a startled girl cried. She turned and saw the pug’s cute black
face and little tan body. Her eyes widened and she wanted to hug the
pug and take it home. But then the dog clamped onto the girl’s leg
and began to hump furiously – “Are you my lover? Are you my
lover? Are you my lover?” The pug looked up at the girl. The dog’s
face wore an expression of embarrassment at being so needy. “Please,
oh please, be my lover!” </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Ugh.
Disgusting!” said the girl as she shoved the dog away and left.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Undeterred,
the pug ran over to a grouping of legs waiting curbside. She
launched herself onto a leg with an expensive leather shoe attached.
A man looked down. Without saying a word he kicked the pug in the
ribs. The poor pug flew into the roadway and the sound of screeching
brakes filled the air. The chrome bumper of a 1974 Peugeot eclipsed
the sun as the dog cowered in fear, anticipating pain. Nothing
happened, the car had stopped in time. The pug slowly opened her
eyes. For a moment, the unease had disappeared, but then a flock of
legs articulated across the roadway and the dog gave chase.</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D4k4VXVbOOg/WGk697MXDJI/AAAAAAAAIYY/dodhEDDYvKE1oJ0fUHT9LjcchA68ycqxwCLcB/s1600/web-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D4k4VXVbOOg/WGk697MXDJI/AAAAAAAAIYY/dodhEDDYvKE1oJ0fUHT9LjcchA68ycqxwCLcB/s1600/web-2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">I
have a lover, I know I do,” said the pug, “I will find them, I
will, I will.” </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">She
found it difficult to keep up with all those legs. How could she
ever hump them while they were moving so fast? The pug looked about
and spied a still pair of legs sitting at a bench. She moved in for
the mount. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Hump,
hump, “Are you my lover? Are you my lover? Are you my lover? Are
you my lover? Are you my lover? Are you my lover?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
cold hard metal of a walking cane forced itself between the pug and
the object of its affection. Her paws held on tight. The cane pried
and pried. Sounds of disgust emanated from an elderly woman-- owner
of the leg. With all her strength the woman finally separated the
dog. But the pug immediately attempted to attach again. The cold
hard metal came down on the pug’s head. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Are
you my, ouch! Are you my, ouch! Are you my, ouch!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
pug retreated. Despite its setbacks, the pug continued to try to
mount legs all day.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">I
have a lover, I know I do,” said the pug, “I will find them, I
will, I will.” </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">As
the sun began to sink in the west, the poor pug, bruised and beaten,
tired and defeated, found a quiet place behind a dumpster and fell
asleep. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
sun rose in the east, and the pug awoke. The unease was still there
in her loins. It drove her forward in search of a lover that would
accept her, a lover that </span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><u>will</u></span><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
love her.</span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
first leg she found was sitting at a bench. Bleary and tired, she
was thankful that it wasn’t walking. She rose up and grabbed on
with her front legs. Her hips began to thrust. Nothing happened; no
cane swatting her on the head, no kick from a shoe, no face-plant in
the sidewalk. Enjoying her uninterrupted pleasure, the little pug
went into another world somewhere inside herself. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">After
some time, the pug wondered why she hadn’t been hit or kicked or
shoved away. She opened her eyes and found that the leg she thought
she was humping had disappeared. It had somehow been replaced by the
leg of the bench. Was she so tired this morning that she had started
humping the wrong leg? At that moment she didn’t care. Having
humped the bench for awhile, she felt somewhat relieved. She
dismounted and went off to look for a real leg.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mMVTu4xafqQ/WGk7S7oagOI/AAAAAAAAIYg/0lq-st4Wx-UIF_Ey8ZRu21FbQe3GZZ-KwCLcB/s1600/hump_pug.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mMVTu4xafqQ/WGk7S7oagOI/AAAAAAAAIYg/0lq-st4Wx-UIF_Ey8ZRu21FbQe3GZZ-KwCLcB/s400/hump_pug.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
rest of morning she was met again with rejection and hurt. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">That
afternoon, after a lunch courtesy of a Donkey Burger restaurant
dumpster, the pug headed off to the downtown park. She approached a
bench full of legs. Remembering her previous bench encounter and the
last ten times she had been kicked, the poor little doggie decided to
mount the bench leg instead of the real legs. She humped away; “Are
you my lover? Are you my lover? Are you my lover?” The bench did
not answer. The real legs laughed at her. She ran away.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
pug was feeling defeated. Maybe she was barking up the wrong tree.
Perhaps legs and benches were not meant to be her lovers. At that
moment, an old car drove past. Its wheels spun round and round and
looked sexy to the little pug.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Are
you my lover?!” she yelled after the car.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
car did not respond.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
pug saw a plane fly high overhead. “Are you my lover?!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
plane was too far away to hear her.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Nearby
a lamp post seemed like something different, something the pug had
never thought about before. “Are you my lover?” the pug asked
over and over again as it thrust its hips back and forth against the
post. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">A
group of boys saw the pug humping the lamppost and broke out in
laughter. She stopped humping the post. She moved away and looked
for something else to hump. The boys watched her as she moved around
the park attaching to people’s legs and lampposts and rocks and
trees. The boys gathered around her.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">There
was something about these boys, something familiar. “Are these my
lovers?” the pug wondered, becoming excited by the number of legs
around her. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Hey,
little dog you can, like, hump my leg,” said one of the boys as he
extended his leg.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
dog did not think twice and attached herself to the blue jean clad
appendage. The boy laughed a mean sounding laugh and then a fist
came down into the pug’s face. The pug winced and yelped. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Good
one, Khua,” snorted Mo who was extending his leg out to the hurt
little dog. The pug could not resist. As she approached the boy,
his foot caught her in the ribs and sent her flying. She landed at
the feet of the third boy who had a cigarette in his mouth. He
picked her up by the scruff of her neck and held her in front of his
face. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">You
stupid mutt!” said the boy. “You want to hump something so bad,
don’t you? You want my leg? I’ll give you something to hump,
you horny little bitch.” With this he took the cigarette out of
his mouth and moved the lit end toward the pug’s crotch.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
other boys laughed. “Yeah, you stupid Hump-Pug,” said Khua. The
three boys laughed and started chanting, “Hump-Pug, Hump-Pug,
Hump-Pug…”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Hump-Pug
could feel the heat of Xavier’s cigarette coming close to her skin.
She squirmed and kicked, knocking the cigarette out of Xavier’s
hand. Xavier squeezed her neck even tighter and she whined.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">The
three boys laughed. “Stupid Hump-Pug,” said Xavier and threw her
to the ground. Mo gave her one more kick and the three boys walked
away chanting Hump-Pug’s name. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Poor
little Hump-Pug! She was confused. Why was a lover so hard to find?
How could people be so mean to her when she just wanted to love? The
following weeks and months were cold and dark for Hump-Pug. As the
winter wore on into a cold wet spring, she mounted an unimaginable
number of objects and legs. Each time she was disappointed and hurt.
To Hump-Pug, life began to seem as if it was a cruel joke, an
endless series of embarrassments. She felt cheated, as if her birth
was a mistake. Maybe she would be better off never having been born.
Maybe she would be better off dead. Her soul drooped, then it
crumpled and then it imploded. Hump-Pug no longer wanted to exist.
There was no hope. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">I
do not have a lover, I know I don’t,” said the pug, “I won’t
find them, I won’t, I won’t.”</span></span></div>
<br />
_________________________________________
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Written by Mark Granlund </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Illustrations by Mark Granlund</span></span></div>
Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-86068619575091679562017-04-25T16:15:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:13:36.005-07:0024 - The Nanny Diary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rMKcAJBuPIE/WGrnPVjUe-I/AAAAAAAAIZM/JnIIFUFc7M0T2oiTKk2S87vZU9Ld1EijwCLcB/s1600/24lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rMKcAJBuPIE/WGrnPVjUe-I/AAAAAAAAIZM/JnIIFUFc7M0T2oiTKk2S87vZU9Ld1EijwCLcB/s320/24lg.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
This evening Bartholomew came over for
dinner and a “lesson.” It went better than expected. I think
this young man is exactly what’s needed for <i>Operation Happily
Ever After</i>...</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
* * *</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew arrived at Gerald's house
with flowers in his hand just as it was getting dark outside. Per
The Nanny's instructions, he entered through the back gate. The last
time Bartholomew was at Gerald's house he left through the same gate
after burning down the pool cabana. Bartholomew was excited about
his evening with The Nanny, but entering Gerald's property gave him a
chill – a sense of dread. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
To Bartholomew's surprise, where the
charred blackened shell of a cabana used to be now stood a modest
size cottage with a pool on one side and gardens on the other three.
In the fading sunlight, it looked heavenly. This was now the home of
The Nanny, who Bartholomew could see through the kitchen window
pulling something out of the oven. He could not imagine a more
perfect domestic scene than this: a beautiful simple house, a
beautiful woman, and amazing food. (The Nanny had picked up very
quickly on Bartholomew's taste in food and... him.)</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“No, no, no,” Bartholomew said to
himself. “Stop it! I might have burned this house down last time I
was here, but I deserve happiness. I want a girlfriend and someone
to spend my life with. I deserve to be here – even if everything
else is so much...more than me.” Eyeing Gerald's house, a grand
mansion to which another wing was added since he had last seen it,
Bartholomew's heart crumpled one more time before he shored it up and
went to knock on the cottage door.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Before his knuckles could touch the
vinyl-encased fiberboard, it opened, and there stood Kyle the pool
boy. “Dude, long time, chyah,” said Kyle.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“What are <u>you</u> doing here?”
asked Bartholomew somewhat confused and irate. Memories of finding
Kyle and Geraldine, who he was then dating, in nothing but towels in
the darkened cabana swirled through his mind.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Inventory, hehe,” said Kyle.
“Pool season starts soon. Just checking on stuff, Dude.” Seeing
the flowers in Bartholomew's hand, Kyle asked, “What are you
doing?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“I came to see The Nanny,” said
Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Wrong door,” said Kyle. “Her
door's over there. This is pool storage, chyah.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew felt relieved that Kyle
hadn't actually been in The Nanny's house. “Thanks,” said
Bartholomew and headed to The Nanny's door. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Dude, you should've stuck with
Geraldine. The Nanny's weird. She's too perfect and she knows it.
Geraldine was cool, chyah,” said Kyle as he left.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew knocked on an old wooden
door. While waiting, he thought what's wrong with perfection? True,
Geraldine wanted to be with him. She liked how kind and polite he
was and she certainly was up for having sex, maybe every night – or
more. Maybe even <i>a lot</i> more. But The Nanny was beautiful,
and she wanted to be with Bartholomew, too. She wasn't as driven to
have sex, but Bartholomew figured he didn't really need sex several
times a day. Maybe just once a day would be okay.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
The Nanny opened the door. “Hi
Bartholomew! Come on in.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew walked into a house that
seemed to be very old with dark wooden beams, plaster walls, antique
furniture and handmade rugs. This surprised him since he knew the
house was less than a year old. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Do you like my stuff?” asked The
Nanny. “I have collected it over the years and take it with me
whenever I get a new job.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Haven't you been a nanny for
Gerald's kids for six or seven years?” asked Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Six years, eight months.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“You're not that old. What other
nanny gigs have you had?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Oh, a few more. But let's not talk
about that. Guess what I made for dinner?” Not waiting for
Bartholomew to answer she said, “Corn on the cob, green beans,
marinated lamb and kale chips.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Kale chips?” asked Bartholomew.<</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yes, it’s a new recipe I learned.
I think you’ll like them.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew and The Nanny had a
perfectly wonderful meal full of good food and good conversation.
For dessert, a wild berry torte with real whipped cream, The Nanny
put on some coffee and suggested they retire to the living room.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
They escorted each other and their
desserts to a big comfortable upholstered couch with maple legs. The
coffee table was also made of maple and held magazines, a few
chotzkes and a condiment dish full of chocolates.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Oh, this light is too bright. We
need candles. Bartholomew, could you grab me the matches on the
windowsill behind you?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
At this, Bartholomew became a bit
nervous. “Do we need candles?” Memories swirled in his head
again. This time it was of Geraldine asking him to retrieve some
matches from a windowsill in the cabana. It was one of those
matches that started the cabana on fire.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Don't be silly. I promise you, you
will be happier with candles,” said The Nanny. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew found the matches and
handed them to her. She lit five candles and placed them on tables
around the couch. They turned their attention to the very tasty
tortes and conversed while eating.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“So, how are your garden plans
coming?” asked The Nanny as she ate her last bite.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Oh, very well. Topping, Charlotte,
Ned and Claire are all going to garden with me and so are Uncle
Jeffrey and Aunt Josephine. I am very excited.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Putting her plate on the coffee table
and then moving closer to Bartholomew, The Nanny said, “That's
great. Is there room for one more?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Absolutely,” said Bartholomew as
he put down his plate and moved closer to The Nanny. At the same
time, they both moved to kiss each other. As they pulled their faces
away they stared into each others eyes. Bartholomew put his arm
around The Nanny and they kissed again. This time they kissed much
longer. They kissed several more times – each kiss becoming longer
and more passionate. Bartholomew wanted to put his hand on The
Nanny's breast but wanted to be polite and wait for a signal from
her. Instead, he cradled her head in his hand and then began to
stroke her hair while they kissed.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Ohhh,” said The Nanny, “that
feels so good. Keep stroking my hair and patting my head. Oh, that
drives me <i>crazy</i>!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Qnvlz-DYxI/WGrrhMf8tYI/AAAAAAAAIZk/Oxjoe39s2gUIRjifCJpyMCCU_YlWHm0BACEw/s1600/diaries5.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Qnvlz-DYxI/WGrrhMf8tYI/AAAAAAAAIZk/Oxjoe39s2gUIRjifCJpyMCCU_YlWHm0BACEw/s320/diaries5.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew didn't mind stroking her
hair, but he felt a little funny when he patted her head. But The
Nanny's groans indicated that, as silly as Bartholomew felt, he was
on the right track. The Nanny unexpectedly pushed Bartholomew
backward on to the couch. His leg kicked out and knocked over
something on the coffee table. Bartholomew went rigid. He could see
a candle rolling to the edge of the table, wax spilling on a
magazine. The candle fell aflame onto a handmade floor rug. He was
about to yell out, “NO, STOP, GERALDINE! THERE'S A FIRE!” but
the candle landed on its tip and went out immediately.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Are you okay?” asked The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew took one more glance at
the candle and saw that it was indeed out. All of his muscles
relaxed and he smiled. He was not with Geraldine. Things were not
necessarily going to be a disaster. “Yeah, I'm great,” he said
and kissed her again with renewed passion.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
With The Nanny lying on top of him,
Bartholomew was rubbing her back while they continued kissing. He
slowly pulled her shirt out of her pants and began to rub his hands
up and down on her skin. The Nanny stopped kissing Bartholomew,
arched her back and groaned some more.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Oh, that feels so good,
Bartholomew. You know just how to touch me, mmm,” said The Nanny.
“Could you put your hand down my pants and rub my butt? That
would feel so good, mmm.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew gladly did as he was told.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2J_zLJqG8Jo/WGrrg_MzvpI/AAAAAAAAIZc/4zkRQUSxWVIRLtNrCmnLTbSwkeKnj_X7gCEw/s1600/diaries1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2J_zLJqG8Jo/WGrrg_MzvpI/AAAAAAAAIZc/4zkRQUSxWVIRLtNrCmnLTbSwkeKnj_X7gCEw/s320/diaries1.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
The Nanny groaned more and rubbed her
body on Bartholomew as he lay underneath. “Yesssss, could you rub
me just above the end of my spine?” asked The Nanny. “Like,
imagine if I had a tail. Rub where it would meet my back and my
butt, mmmm.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew could have found the spot
with out such an odd description. But he was happy to make her happy
and to have her on top of him, making his body feel good, too.
Rubbing this new spot made The Nanny wriggle. She arched her back
even more and could hardly control herself. She breathed heavily and
placed her hands on Bartholomew's bosoms and began massaging them
while riding on him. This felt very good to Bartholomew, until he
smelled burning coffee. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EgMDpNpMPzI/WGrrgn1sOyI/AAAAAAAAIZY/V1lvNGtXECkhuPMCfIeIm_AANvJBlyYEACEw/s1600/diaries4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EgMDpNpMPzI/WGrrgn1sOyI/AAAAAAAAIZY/V1lvNGtXECkhuPMCfIeIm_AANvJBlyYEACEw/s320/diaries4.gif" width="167" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Then the beeping started. Loud long beeps
of a smoke alarm filled the air and Bartholomew's head. The Nanny
ignored them for a moment, continuing to ride Bartholomew who had an
urge to yell out, “STOP! THERE'S A FIRE! WE CAN'T DO THIS!”
But before he could yell out, The Nanny left the couch and went to
the kitchen. She turned off the coffee maker and put the coffee pot
in the sink. She then waved a towel in front of the alarm until the
smoke dissipated enough for the loud beeping to stop.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew lay there and laughed. A
calm pervaded his body. It was <i>not </i>going to be a disaster.
He could be with someone he wanted <i>without</i> it ending up weird.
What a relief.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
The Nanny returned, and seeing
Bartholomew smiling, happy and relaxed she said, “Now, where were
we before that rude interruption?” As she sat down on the couch
she removed her sweater. The Nanny grabbed Bartholomew's hands and
pulled him on top of her as she lay back. He rubbed his hands across
her skin. Her skin was so white and warm that it seemed to glow, as
if the light of the universe was just underneath it. Bartholomew
felt almost blinded by its beauty. He also felt her bra and a breast
that lay underneath it.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1kYgIH7lc34/WGrrg_xzX-I/AAAAAAAAIZs/7BZM7ywSsBYDEqhh_6daNxzisU1WSatuQCEw/s1600/diaries2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1kYgIH7lc34/WGrrg_xzX-I/AAAAAAAAIZs/7BZM7ywSsBYDEqhh_6daNxzisU1WSatuQCEw/s320/diaries2.gif" width="314" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew kissed her neck, her
forehead, her ears and her lips. He moved down on her body and
kissed her clavicles and then began to kiss her breasts. As he did
this, he moved his hand down to her stomach and gently rubbed it.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Ohhhh, ohhhh, that feels so good,”
said The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew focused on kissing and
rubbing her breasts more and stopped rubbing her stomach.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“No, no, don't stop rubbing my
stomach. Oh, that feels so good. Could you stop kissing my breasts
and just rub my stomach, mmmm?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew stopped everything for a
moment. He would much rather keep focusing on her breasts. He
thought twice before he started rubbing her stomach again. If that
was what she wanted, he would do it. But he also started to wonder
when he would get what <i>he</i> wanted.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
The Nanny unzipped her pants and asked
Bartholomew to rub lower – but not <i>too </i>low. She also liked
it when he rubbed her ribs with his fingertips. As Bartholomew
rubbed her stomach, her moans became louder and involuntary. The
Nanny grabbed his hands and said, “Stop. Stop. Oh, that drives me
wild. We should stop here. This is our first time being intimate,
we should stop here.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew stopped because he thought
it was polite to stop when a woman says to stop. The Nanny zipped up
her pants and sat up. She put on her sweater and kissed Bartholomew
again. Bartholomew kissed her back.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“You seem a bit sad,” said The
Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Well, I'm a bit frustrated,” said
Bartholomew. “I would have liked to continue what we were doing.
If you’re uncomfortable, I can honor that, but I still want to be
on this couch making-out with you and having you rub me where I like
it, too.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Oh, Bartholomew, that will come.
But you can understand where I am coming from, can't you?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Well, yes. I can understand if you
don't want to become more vulnerable. I am not expecting going all
the way tonight, but a little more rubbing and a little more sharing
of our private parts would have been nice.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Oh, Bartholomew. I am afraid you
<i>don't</i> understand,” said The Nanny with a look of concern in
her eyes. “I was as vulnerable as I can be. The act of sex isn't
what does it for some women. For some, sex is just a recreation or a
way of being close, but what really turns them on is when a man
doesn't strive to have sex – when a man strokes her hair and holds
her close instead of always seeking intercourse. That's when a woman
really knows that a man loves <i>her</i>, not just what he can do
<i>with</i> her. Do you understand?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew looked away at the flame
of a candle. He thought it was much more fun with a woman who wanted
to have sex first and then figure out all the emotional stuff later.
But then again, nothing burned down this time. Maybe he was better
off approaching things this way.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“After all,” said The Nanny, “once
you’re in a long-term relationship it's not like you are having sex
all the time – I think a couple times a week if you're lucky.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“What?” asked Bartholomew feeling
like his dreams had been dashed upon the rocks.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“And besides, there are other people
to think about,” said The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Bartholomew was about to ask what she
meant by <i>that </i>when The Nanny said, “I really like you
Bartholomew. I think you are the right person. The time will come
when you will be completely satisfied. But, to get there, we need to
work out a few things, learn a few things from each other. Trust me,
I have your best interests in mind, too. When can I see you again?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Uh, how about Tuesday night? Do
you want to come to my place for dinner?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Hey, there is a great band I want
to go see. They're called The Dionne's. Can we do that?” asked
The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Sure, <span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-US">I</span></span></span>
love them,” said Bartholomew. “Does picking you up at seven
work?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yeah,” said The Nanny as she got
up and walked Bartholomew to the door. “Seven is perfect.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
They kissed a few more times – and
then some more. Bartholomew didn't want to let go of her.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Good night,” she said.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Good night,” replied Bartholomew
and walked out the door.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
As Bartholomew strolled through
Gerald's back yard he wondered how an experience could be so
satisfying and yet so unsatisfying at the same time. It just made
Bartholomew want more. He wasn't paying attention as he reached the
back gate and almost ran smack into Xavier. Immediately, Khua moved
forward and pushed Bartholomew out of the way and was ready to punch
him. Even in the moonlight Bartholomew could tell that Khua's face
was bruised and his knuckles were bloody. But then Xavier recognized
Bartholomew and told Khua to stop.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“What are you doing in <i>my</i>
yard, Bart?” sneered Xavier.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Just visiting The Nanny,” said
Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“You’re not dating her now, too,
are you? I guess not, the house didn't burn down,” sneered Xavier
as he moved to stand in front of Bartholomew.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“I'm really sorry about the cabana.
I didn't mean for it to catch on fire.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“How come you're always apologizing
for messing up my stuff? You burn down my cabana, you break my gun,
you drop my stocking and you touched... <i>it</i>. What did you fuck
up tonight? Ooooh, maybe tonight you did...”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Xavier!” a voice rang out into
the night air. “Let Bartholomew go home in peace. He was here
visiting me. It has nothing to do with you. Now leave him be,”
said The Nanny.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“You got her protecting you now,
too?” said Xavier in a voice low enough that The Nanny couldn't
hear. He continued, “If I ever catch you messing with any of my
stuff again, I'm going to take care of you. This island’s not big
enough for the two of us, so leave my stuff alone.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“What island is that?” asked Mo.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Shut up,” said Xavier.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yeah, like, what island you talking
about?” asked Khua.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Shut up! Both of you.” Xavier
turned back to Bartholomew. “Like I said, leave my stuff alone or
you'll see what happens when The Nanny isn't around to protect you.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Xavier turned to leave and Khua and Mo
followed him. The Nanny waited to see that the boys would leave
Bartholomew alone and then waved goodnight to Bartholomew. He waved
goodnight back.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
* * *</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Even though everything went really
well tonight, Diary, I do have a concern about this one. I am
wondering if he will survive long enough! Until tomorrow.</span></span><br />
__________________________________________
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Written by Mark Granlund<br />Illustrations by Justin Terlecki </span> </span></div>
<br />Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4658449141456126500.post-91501308857449845172017-04-24T19:14:00.000-07:002017-06-29T20:13:17.919-07:0025 - Claire Speaks Out<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Isn't this exciting?” chirped
Charlotte to Claire who smiled nervously back.</span></span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Yeah,”said Topping, “I think
it's great you have gotten into this spoken word thing. It's so
cool.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Claire blushed, but not for long as
her mind refocused on memorizing her words. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Ned sat beside Claire, and Bartholomew
settled into a seat behind Ned and put his hand reassuringly on
Claire's shoulder. Claire didn't acknowledge the support but kept
rehearsing silently. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
The theater was packed. Except for a
handful of performance veterans and a few parents, it was wall to
wall young people. Busy voices buzzed as the vibe of good energy and
hormones pushed to the ceiling. The room darkened, the crowd hushed
only slightly and a middle-aged Latina woman walked to the mic. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Welcome to Slam104!” A cheer
went up from the crowd. The woman on stage waved at people in the
crowd she knew and waited for the cheer to come down. “I am
'Rissa...” another cheer, “and I want to thank you all for
coming out tonight to help us celebrate the power of our voices.”
Another cheer went up from the frothing rolling and boiling sea of
youth. “Tonight we have some amazing talent lined up for you.
Some are veterans, some have been performing for a short while and
some will perform for the first time. At Slam104 we work to bring a
voice to those who often don't have one and to those who need one.
If you are interested in becoming a part of our community, you can
talk with me afterward or talk with Tony Curtis. Tony, stand up.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
A big man in the front row wearing a
colorful sweater and a leather hat stood up and raised his arm to the
crowd. A cheer went up. He sat down and 'Rissa continued.
“Alright, let's get this party started!” A big cheer. “Let's
give it up for our first performer who comes from right here in this
neighborhood, JoJo!” Clapping and cheering greeted a young petite
woman to the stage.</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"> I am JoJo and I am sad this day – and every day.<br />
Cuz when I walk down my street I wonder which way <br />
I should turn. <br />
Turn like you, turn like me, turn like those who don't want<br />
people to turn. <br />
All I know is I must turn. So I turn and I turn and I turn until I...</span></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">JoJo's performance continued and faded
in and out of Claire's consciousness. “Turn, I turn, must turn,”
thought Claire's brain. Next up was a young man named Mouse. He
wore thick-framed glasses and a cotton print flower shirt. His
performance was punctuated by rhythmically yelling “burn it down,
build it up!” fifty times and then bowing his head and leaving the
stage. The crowd cheered loudly. “Burn it up, build it down,”
seeped into Claire's brain.</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
The next several performances drifted
through Claire's internal performance. She’d occasionally snag a
line or phrase on the rough surfaces of her concentration. Her
friends were enjoying themselves. Topping and Charlotte seemed to be
having the most fun, yelling and cheering for most of the performers.
Bartholomew liked some of the performances more than others and
would lean forward and say something to Ned after most of them. Ned
responded by nodding in agreement or by laughing. Ned, for his part,
found most of the performances a bit tedious. He couldn't understand
why everybody was yelling their lines. They all seemed angry.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Tony Curtis walked up to the mic. The
theater hushed. In a strong calm voice he began:</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><i> I am a man<br />
Sure as you are what you are.<br />
I am large, powerful. Do I intimidate you? Do I inspire you? I am a man.<br />
I look over this crowd and I see my past. I used to dream, too.<br />
Yes, I used to dream, but I do not anymore. My past is no comfort. I am a man.<br />
I used to dream of a Land of Promise,a place called Hope.<br />
My dreams have left me empty, though many have come true. I am a man.<br />
I see you all taking the flame into your hearts, seeking to cross the Jordan.<br />
I take pride in your hope and your passion and... I... lift... you... up. I am a man.<br />
My time has passed, I no longer carry the flame.<br />
Some would call me cynical, some lazy. Perhaps I'm jus' tired y'all. I am a man.<br />
I am not angry, I am not haunted, I am not lost.<br />
I know who I am. I no longer struggle and question. I am a man.<br />
I have grown beyond the struggle you now take up – the struggle you use to define yourself. <br />
When I look at you I do not see 'the future,' I see what has always been and always will be. I am a man.<br />
I see a school of fish in a stream, one of many streams full of fish all heading to an ocean full of even more fish.<br />
The ocean you swim in is not made of water. It is made of Love. I am a man.<br />
To struggle is to sharpen one's mind. To love is to soften one's heart.<br />
Youth is drawn to struggle, but the Elders understand the true life is of the heart. I am a man.<br />
It has been a long road to where I am and deviations were part of the journey.<br />
Your journey is just beginning, what deviations lay ahead no one knows. I am a man. <br />
Sure as you are what you are. <br />
I am a man.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Tony stepped away from the mic and his
footsteps rang through the theater as he walked to his seat. The
silence lingered like a thick soft frost clinging to tree branches.
'Rissa came forward and leaned into the mic. “Now, we have a first
timer, Claire.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
There was tepid applause as people
were still inside Tony's performance. Claire's friends, especially
Charlotte, patted her on the shoulders and gave her encouragement as
she rose from her seat. Tony Curtis smiled and gave her a thumbs up
as she made her way to the stage. The mic was just a bit too high
for Claire, She tried to adjust it but it wouldn't budge. She
cleared her throat and raised up on her toes. She began:</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“I, um, I,” Claire flicked the
hair out of her eyes and went flatfoot. “I mean, I can't
imagine...oh, okay.” Claire searched for the first few words of
her performance. She was nervous but if she could remember the first
sentence she would be fine. Back up on her toes, she began:</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"><i> I can't imagine what it will be
like once this planet is done with us.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman"; font-size: large;"><i> When I heard the bluebird call,
its sweet voice singing in my heart,<br />
I loved this world with its beauty and majesty and... </i></span>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Claire went flatfoot her eyes looking
inside her head for clarity. Back on her toes. </span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> ...its sweet voice singing in my
heart,
<br /> I loved this world with its beauty,
majesty and heart.
<br /> The trees sway in the wind and call my
name. Claire, Claire, Claire.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Topping adjusted his seat. Ned was
heard giving a sigh. Bartholomew sat quiet, his mind drifting off to
kale. The air in the theater shifted, Tony Curtis' performance was
very quickly gone and replaced with something writhing in pain.
Charlotte beamed at Claire, devouring her every letter, her every
movement.</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> I and the world, this planet, are
one.
<br />
You can't tell me anything different. I know it is true.
<br />
Chickens and I have a million year history. We speak the same language.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Ned sunk down in his chair. A quiet
“ba-gaack” was heard from the back of the room. A few people
laughed lightly. Claire did not hear, the driver and pushers were in
and heads down in this bobsled of a performance.</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> But they did not care for you, oh
Earth. No.<br />
The Man dissed you and choked you and
raped you.
</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> And his henchmen and that stupid Mayor
Dick laugh and spit on you.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> They think we cannot see, but I can.
And I can hear you, too. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> Do you hear me Mayor Dick? I can hear
you. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> I can hear you like an atom bomb. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> I can hear you Mayor Dick! You are
ruining the thing I love.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> You are ruining me.” </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Claire's voice cracked. She was
breathing heavy and paused to compose herself. She did not pause
long enough.<i> </i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>I HATE YOU!! MAYOR DICK!! I HATE YOU!!! YOU ARE KILLING ME!!! STOP IT!! STOP!!</i></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Tears were streaming down Claire's
face, her nose was running. Her eyes pleaded with the audience to
come to her side, to join her in shouting down the horror she was
witnessing. The crowd was quiet. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Remember the chickens,” Claire
said and left the stage. She did not go back to her chair but walked
out the side door and collapsed on the loading dock of the theater.
Claire could not catch her breath and heaved heavy sobs into the dark
night sky.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YpBOoh8q3Sg/WGxkCi5XgBI/AAAAAAAAIaE/CqD8YcCfiTcxD1FIUFveD9m4JAPAfsMiQCLcB/s1600/small-illustration.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YpBOoh8q3Sg/WGxkCi5XgBI/AAAAAAAAIaE/CqD8YcCfiTcxD1FIUFveD9m4JAPAfsMiQCLcB/s400/small-illustration.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Cawww!” said an old friend.
“Chickens? What about me? Remember me?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
Claire's mouth was so full of
embarrassment she could not speak. So the crow did.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
“Child! Still can't find your
bridge, can you? You have no home. You have no...cawww!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">
The crow melted into the night as
Charlotte came out the door. She said nothing and came to sit next
to Claire. She wrapped her in her arms – and her friendship.
There they sat, the both of them. Both crying. A moment later, the
guys were there. Bartholomew and Topping hopped down off the dock
and stood in front of Claire and Charlotte and joined the hug. Ned
paused. He stared blankly at her while his eyes looked inside his
own head for clarity. Then he knelt down, kissed Claire on top of
the head and put his arms around her. <span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Cocooned</span> in the flesh and
bone of friendship, Claire let herself melt into a blubbering puddle
of anguish.<br />_________________________________________<br /><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Written by Mark Granlund<br /><span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">Illustrations by Meghan Ho<span style="font-family: "andalus" , "times new roman";">gan</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<br />Mark Granlundhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039933816772360965noreply@blogger.com0