Yup. That there is a story I would definately skip if I came across that headline. Hell, I would not be surprised if y'all didn'tr read this here post, thinking I was going to go into detail about it. I suppose I could write some of this in italics and make it look like I was quoting a paper or something... naw. Too much effort to have someone skip reading this.
Today is turning into a decent day. My brother finally paid me off all the money he had owed me over the past ... I dunno how many years. A whopping $350 is waiting for me to pick up form my sister's house tonight after work. Just in time for my spending money for Mexico!! Makes me happy!!!
I am out of books again. I need to get the ones out of my car and bedroom, and put together the series books and get them into the book store. Then hopefully the bookstore has soem books I am looking for... or would be interested in.
It is almost lunchtime. I have no idea what I am going to do for lunch. I could go spend 12 bucks and get some food, or go home and fix a salad bowl. Or I don't know. Not sure what sort of mood for food I am, and it is a bit irritating. Anyways, I am getting out of here for an hour. I tried to put together a short story, and have included at this post's end. It sucks, but not bad for about a half hours work, whilst answering phones.
PeacE
The digital clock on the microwave read 11:10. Sunlight was streaming through the window, spreading its sheen as it struck the empty metallic sink. The dog in the backyard is laying in the shade of the block wall fence as much as possible, the tongue lolling out, panting like it had just ran a marathon. That’s how dogs cool themselves since they don’t sweat. At least, that is what they taught in Science class, and that summer I worked at the Humane society. But that was another time and place.
I slide open the patio door, and the sunscreen door, reflex makes me close my eyes shut more, so I am barely squinting. The handful of geckos I had seen this morning on the wall are long gone. Hiding out in a tunnel, or somewhere new they have found another easy way into the home. I take the hose, and turn on the faucet. Hot water comes out the end, which I lay at the foot of one of the “trees” my parents were trying to grow in the desert. After a couple minutes I feel the water, and it dropped to a more “temperate” temperature, and I made sure the water dish for the dog’s water dish is filled.
As quick as I could, I got back inside, where the air conditioning was set for a regular 79 degrees. I kicked back on the couch for a few minutes. I had to get out of here … I was starting to feel ‘out of sorts’. I flipped through the channels on the television, but there nothing interesting on.
I headed down the hall, hoping I would be able to locate a book in my room I had not read yet. Or even worse, find one I have read, but am willing to read again. No such luck.
I flopped down on the bed, and rolled on to my back. Staring at the ceiling, thinking to myself that there has to be something to do around here. Why else would people choose to live in the desert? Surely not to spend 6 months of the year trapped indoors from the heat.
I holler (who uses that word anymore?) at my brother one room over. “Let’s go shooot some baskets.”
“It’s too damn hot right now. Why don’t you wait til like three?”
“Get off yer damn ass and shut off your soap. Let’s go shoot some baskets for about an hour.” My brother is only three years younger than I, but he was totally into watching the soap operas back then. I wouldn’t be surprised if he still likes to watch them today. I head towards the kitchen to use the phone.
“Wait 5 minutes then we can go”, he replies. I am okay with that.
“I’ll call Tom while you get ready.” Tom, the stepdad. Here I was 15 years old, but the major rule he had when we lived at home was phone calls. We were not to be using the phone “all afternoon” talking to friends; if we wanted to go outside, or on a bike ride, or over to the elementary school to shoot baskets – we had to call him at work and request permission. Then he would give us a time limit, and have us call when we got back home so he knew we were there again within his time limit. School year we had to always call whenever we made it home from school. Sucked big time.
Author’s Note – I don’t know where I am trying to go with this story. I thought in the beginning the ending would come to me, but it isn’t. It is like reliving a summer day from my teen years… seriously! Welp, I guess I am just practicing my descriptives, narration, etc.
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