Did I Ever Tell Ya the Story . . .

“So, jest how long is this Appalacian Trail, anyhow? I’m gettin’ hungry.”

"Hungry already! We only been hikin’ fer an hour!”

“Whatcha got in that knapsack a’ yours?”

“Got some Tarnation breakfast bars.”

“Did I ever tell ya the story of how, years ago, I aimed to improve on those Tarnation bars by inventin’ the first granola bars? I shur loved the convenience a’ breakfast bars, but needed some dang variety! So when I seen me an ad for a recipe contest, I doctored up Ma’s oatmeal raisin cookie recipe into bars, adding a drop of Vermont maple syrup for authentic breakfast-y flavor, a’ course.”

“So, you won yourself the recipe contest, did ya?”

“Nope! And what’s worse, come to find out, I ding-danged signed away the rights to my recipe by entering the contest in the first place! Never saw a nickel fer my efforts.”

“Nowadays there’s aisles ‘n’ aisles of granola bars in every grocery store in America."

“Yeah, well, don’t I know it. So, jest keep your stinkin' Tarnation bars. Somehow, I’m not so hungry all of a sudden. Got anything to drink in that there knapsack?”

“Just some bottles of Slake water.”

“Did I ever tell ya the story of how Pa invented bottled water, but done got cheated out of making his fortune? For years and years, he was the one to go way out to the flowing well to fill pint dairy bottles on those hot Fourth of July celebration days. Then he’d come back inta town and ever'body’d gather ‘round and he’d hand out them bottles t' anyone cravin’ a sweet sip of cool spring water.”

“So, jest how’d he miss out on his fortune?”

“Seems one summer Pa was feelin’ poorly. Jest the chance sneaky Ol’ Jake Slake was awaitin’ for! Jake hightailed it out to the flowing well alright, but he did not pass out the water for free to the thirsty townsfolk, no siree! He charged two cents per - three cents if’n’ his ol’ lady added a drop of flavoring to it! The kids’d go crazy for it!”

“Sounds like Ol’ Jake had the market cornered!”

“From that summer on, he shur ‘nuf did!”

“Whatever happened to Ol’ Jake?”

“The Mega-Giant-Ultra Foods Corporation eventually came ‘round, sniffin’. Jake sold ‘em the Slake brand for a nice tidy sum. Then he up and died of a heart attack, but don’t you jest know how it goes sometimes. His wife and his lazy-bones kids inherited ever'thing and are probly sittin’ purty right now on their own tropical island, or some such place! Somehow this Slake water don’t taste so good right now . . . “

“Yeah, I know watcha mean . . . So, I suppose now yer goin’ to tell me how yer Ma invented somethin’?”

“Yup, let me tell ya the story. Along with Granny’s help, they was the first t' ever splash clever sayings right across the front of a T-shirt - they both always was good with words. But ya see, the idear took off so fast - ever'body started doin' it - they never had a real chance a' cashin' in. Nowadays, it's a standard way a' gettin' a message across. But if Ma ‘n’ Granny coulda peeked into the future 'n' seen that somebody woulda ever made a T-shirt proclaimin’ Jesus Loves the Hell Outta Me, they might never a' got started in the first place.”

“What about yer Grandpap? Invent anythin' earth-shatterin’?”

“Nope, Grandpap never did go in for innovation. Fact is, rumor has it, he was the very last man 'round these parts ever t' wear knee britches.”

Warrior Daughter

My dad wanted me to be a warrior. I wanted to see his smile after a footrace more than any ribbon or trophy. When it was cold, or a Saturday, when my body was in recuperation mode, my finish line frown always matched his own. For training, he would lift me up to the pull-up bar in our garage. I remember seeing the bald gym teacher's eyes light up when I pulled my shaking chin over the bar for the ninth time, sure my face was red for all my classmates to see sitting Indian style on the lacquered gym floor below.  He would pat me on the back for beating all the boys and tell us all to run laps and I pretended to be as out of breathe as the other girls so they wouldn't hate me so much.  My dad also taught me how to lift weights in our concrete basement. We ran a half marathon once with one day of training and I wore my toe bruises as victorious warrior paint. Sometimes we'd ride bikes together and I'd cry on the homestretch when the wind was a bear and there were hills and my water bottle was empty. After those day-long rides, we felt like we'd earned the right to make popcorn and watch an old Hollywood classic in an exhausted stupor.
One summer day, my dad and I participated in one of the Breakaway Bike Club's long distant rides. We were trailing a little behind the other fifteen or so spandexed bodies and somehow we took a wrong turn and got lost. We arrived at the parking lot finishing much later, the gang all stood around, squirting Cytomax into their sweaty mouths, clicking around in their florescent clip shoes. My dad then said something I didn't comprehend: that we'd fallen behind so bad on account of me being slow; a girl. It was then and there that I learned to lie.
I started getting lazy and didn't care if my dad smiled or frowned anymore. So when he asked me why I didn't push myself in a 5K, I told him being mediocre felt good. When he asked me why I was gaining weight, I told him I wanted to try new foods and needed to stretch out my stomach. My Spartan, on-the-ready body took the brunt of my flabby adolescent rebellion.
As for our athletic relationship all these years later, let's just say that all that energy is still spinning somewhere in the ethers. We don't live in the same town anymore, but sometimes when I call him up, he tells me he had a dream we were doing yoga together. And I always think of him when I go for a soft and long bike ride alone.

A Sincere Apology

I just want to apologize for not writing anything for the June topic. The month kind of got away from me and before I knew it, July was here and I hadn't written a thing. Please understand that I didn't completely forget about Ditalini Press during the month of June. I thought about sitting down and writing a fib few times throughout the month, but every time I did, something prevented me from following through.

I actually had something written fairly early in the month, which is rare for me. I’m not too proud to say it was a masterpiece, some of my finest work. I was in the living room making the final edits to my epic tale when my laptop crashed. It completely froze, and I had to take out the battery just to get it to shut down. When I turned the laptop back on, my operating system wouldn't even load. The laptop was dead and my whole story was gone; I was too devastated to start writing again. So, I abandoned that idea and waited for inspiration to strike again.

It was about two weeks later when I finally had another idea for a story. My laptop was still inoperable, so I had to type it on my desktop computer. When I got to the computer, the keyboard was gone! I looked outside and saw the kids swinging by the cord over their heads as if to use it as some sort of makeshift weapon. I ran outside to stop them and was struck in the head. When I regained consciousness, I was no longer in the mood to write, so I put it off for another few days. The kids said the whole ordeal was an accident, but the 'destroy dad' carvings on the keyboard hinted otherwise. I guess I spend too much time on the computer.

With the end of the month looming, I decided just to type my story at work. Not the most inspirational of places, but at least I'd get something done. I logged on, got situated, and then, out of nowhere, the bio hazard alarm sounded. I spent the rest of the day crammed in a tiny room with all my co-workers until we were told the alarm must have just malfunctioned. Hooray. On the bright side, I at least got to help tape the doors to prevent any airborne pathogens from getting in; and was able to see my family again, too. Needless to say, I didn't get my story written that day either.

So, here we are, July first, and I still am without a story. It's not like I didn't try though; a few extenuating circumstances just got in my way. I hope you understand.

June Topic - "Boy That's A Lie!"

In the original spirit of Mark Twain's beloved characters Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, write a lie. A fib, a stretch of the truth. A tall tale, an innocent enough invention of story standing in for the real thing...for what harm could a little self-serving anecdote do? Write the lie in a first person narrative like Huck did in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The character is your entire creation, same with the scenario in which the character finds him/herself needing to fib.

*Just so everyone understands, you don't have to write in the style of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, or use that time period...etc. I was just inspired by that book to have a topic featuring a lie.