The Hamburger Fiasco (To my sister)

The Hamburger Fiasco

There was no way I was going to be able to force down another fifty cent hamburger.   Even with the squirt of ketchup and swipe of mustard, it was inedible. 

            “Tammy, “ I whispered.  “Do you want my hamburger?” 

            She shook her head and pointed to the hamburger in her hands. 

            “Dad,” my voice trembled, “I’m full.  Can I be done?” 

            “Eat your lunch!  I paid good money for that hamburger.  There are starving kids in Africa who would kill for the food you eat.”

            Sulkily I stared out the window.  I took a sip of the lukewarm orange drink, but it wasn’t enough to wash down the dry hamburger or the warm pickles. 

            My dad rolled down the window and threw out the cone of his ice cream.  I turned and watched it splatter on the pavement behind the car. 

“Dad, you just polluted!  We will get arrested for that!”

            “No, I didn’t.  The birds will eat it.”

            I watched out the back window for the birds, but none appeared before I lost sight of the ice cream cone.

            I turned back to my hamburger.  It hadn’t gotten any smaller yet.  I wondered if birds liked hamburgers.  Too bad there wasn’t a way to get the hamburger outside so the birds could eat it.  I could roll down the window, but my dad would hear the air rushing by and get mad at me for wasting food.  Too bad cars weren’t hollow.  Wait a minute!  I bet the car is hollow on the bottom.  It is just the sides and top that are covered so we don’t get bugs in our car.  I bet there is nothing under the seats.  If I can push my hamburger far enough down in the crack of the seat, it will fall out onto the street behind us and Dad will never see it fall out.  Then the birds can eat it and no one will ever know that I didn’t eat it.  It’s brilliant!

            “Tammy,” I whispered excitedly.  “If we push the hamburgers down into the bottom of the seats as far as we can, they will fall out the back of the car!”

            “Are you sure, Tiff?  I don’t think they will fall on the street.  I think they will get stuck in the seat.”

            “Tammy, you are so dumb!  Of course they fall out the back of the seat to the ground.  How do you think they clean out cars?”

            “Okay, if you’re sure.”

            “I’m sure!”

            We furtively pushed the hamburgers down into the seat as far as we could. 

            “Tammy is so lucky to have me!  What would she do without me to figure all these things out?”

My pride lasted a week or so, until the car began to reek of rotten meat.  No one could figure out where the smell was coming from, until my dad decided to pull the seats out.  Much to my chagrin, there were the remains of a couple of dozen happy meals in various stages of decay.  It turns out cars aren’t hollow, after all. 

Coincidentally, my parents started buying me fish sandwiches when we went to McDonalds.  I never had another fifty cent hamburger again.  It turned out I was as smart as I had always thought I was, after all.

To My Sister

     July 7 is a special day because it is my my sister's birthday.  This year was a big birthday for her.  I didn't get to go to her party because I had a class I couldn't miss.  I wanted to get her a ride on a hot air balloon but my money didn't come through.  So I've been trying to think of what to get a very special person for a very special day, and remembering some of the fun things we did together as kids.  My kids have heard the stories a hundred times, but this time my daughter wondered if Tammy's kids heard the same stories or if Tammy remembered them differently.  That made me laugh.  I decided to start writing my version of the stories for my sister.  I will post a new chapter of our lives every few days.

Unreal Estate

Unreal Estate: A co-created work by The Writ

A story written as a co-creation, three paragraphs at a time.

Unreal Estate

     The moon was shining fiercely, more intense than any full moon he could ever recall. It was almost blindingly bright. Of course, he had never taken in the moon from his back, lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

     “At least I can still see it there,” he thought, breathing heavily. “That means that I’m still alive.” But the swirl of the night’s events was overtaking his mind like an out of control carousel. The party, the jokes… who was insulted? Who started screaming accusations? “Why did I run?” he muttered. Nothing made sense.

     He needed to be clear, clearer than he had ever been in his entire life… the life that now hung in the balance.

     Slowly he turned his head to the right and the movement made him grunt – excruciating pain, bolts of white flashes of that fierce moon like a rocket into his pulsating brain. The need to start assessing the reality of his situation was necessary but not tempting.

      Memories were starting to line up in a more orderly fashion and he didn’t enjoy the way that the scenery unfolded. ”Oh no,” he whispered.  ”I didn’t say that, did I? Damn that Tequila…”

      He could barely open his eyes, if he remembered it correctly there were a couple of terrible blows to both eyebrows and the swelling was troublesome, to say the least. When he finally got his vision under control – he gasped for air.

     Pain wracked his chest.  The taste of blood flooded his mouth, and he began to choke.  It was strange to hear your own death cry.  He always pictured his final sound as a rebel yell, not this strange gurgling sound.    He rolled over, agonizingly slow, and continued coughing up blood until only dry heaves remained.  He spit the remaining blood out of his mouth and dropped his head to the dirt. 

     “Are you done yet?  That’s quite the death cry you had going there.  Leave it to you to die in the dirt, choking on your own blood.  Though from the looks of it, I would say you don’t have much left in you.  It’ll save me the trouble of killing you.”  Though the voice was melodic, the words were cold steel. 

     Holding his rib, he struggled to his knees, gasping for breath.  Dark hair covered his proud defiant eyes, but not the familiar smirk.  A silver 9 mm handgun touched his forehead.  He didn’t recognize the gun, but he knew its owner.  Tequila, the woman who had started this whole mess.

My Characters have Hijacked my Blog

     I have been doing a lot of blog writing lately, but now it's time to start writing the random stories, poems, and novels stuck in my head.  Some of my blogging friends and I have joined together to create a collaborative story called "Unreal Estate."  Each of us adds three paragraphs to the story and then sends the story on its way to a new friend.
     I decided to sign up on a whim and then I panicked.  The negative voice in my head was in fine form.  When I found out it was my day to write, I was sure I was going to have to beg my way out of the group.  I managed to breathe, remembered all the writing tips I've learned, and slowly wrote three paragraphs.
     A funny thing happened in paragraph two.  I decided to add a new character to the story.  She was a demure woman holding a gun, scared and unsure if the man lying in front of her was dangerous, but also wanting to make sure he was okay.  As I wrote, she looked over my shoulder, and she was not happy with me.  She knew exactly who she was and what she would say and she wasn't scared or worried.  She was mad at this man and was ready to kill him.  All I could do was try to keep up with her.  When I was done, she said, "That's better!" and left.
     I have heard other authors talk about their characters hijacking their stories, but I always thought they were exaggerating or just sharing a humorous anecdote.  I did not know the characters actually do come to life and hijack the story so the author doesn't mess it up.
     Of course, part of the group requirements are that I post the newest additions to the story on my blog.  Well, those of you who know me from other blogs know I can't have the worlds collide.  I now have six blogs because each new idea has to have its own space.  They cannot share blogs.  So, today is a new blog because Tequila, my newest character, hijacked me, told me her name and told me what to say.  I hope she approves of this blog!