helloooooooooooooo to all the non-existant readers of the Quirky Story! i would like to apologize on behalf of Bianca and Beryl for them not posting in so long... Beryl is off being eaten by bears in the wilderness, and Bianca has immersed herself in something called..... the fair. gasp. be careful if you ask her about it, she may give you more information than you want. i'm just a friend and a faithful reader of the blog. girls, if you're ever in L.A., gimme a ring! we could hang out, maybe sing some karaoke... i can't take the diiiiiiistaaaance...... anyways, hope to see you soon. :-)
best regards,
Oliver J.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
[Note for the future: never let Bianca and Beryl have a camera. Bad idea.]
Beryl here. Bianca is here too, but she's being rather unhelpful at the moment. So. Here we are. Bianca and Beryl. And we're not updating the story. Because. We found a camera. His name is Bob. So here's what happened:
This is the Celtic Thunder impression, specifically Paul. He needs a smaller mouth.
This is for Ally. In honor of the Jane-Eyre-Duck-lips-experience from Lit class.
This is a very realistic depiction of our friendship. 'Nough said.
Secret agents. Wait...we weren't supposed to tell! We'll have to go into hiding.
And this is why Rachel is my only friend...
I am a monkey. Specifically the one from Lion King. With the red nose and blue rear-end. Nevermind.
Oh, yeah, Bianca is the aforesaid monkey as well.
She's taking flying lessons. Bear with me.
She's also enrolled in a manners course...but it hasn't been going too well. She has been diagnosed with OMS. Ouch, Rach. Ouch.
And at the end of the session...well, it was just too much. She passed out. I could only look on in horror. She's dead. :D
This is the Celtic Thunder impression, specifically Paul. He needs a smaller mouth.
This is for Ally. In honor of the Jane-Eyre-Duck-lips-experience from Lit class.
This is a very realistic depiction of our friendship. 'Nough said.
Secret agents. Wait...we weren't supposed to tell! We'll have to go into hiding.
And this is why Rachel is my only friend...
I am a monkey. Specifically the one from Lion King. With the red nose and blue rear-end. Nevermind.
Oh, yeah, Bianca is the aforesaid monkey as well.
She's taking flying lessons. Bear with me.
She's also enrolled in a manners course...but it hasn't been going too well. She has been diagnosed with OMS. Ouch, Rach. Ouch.
And at the end of the session...well, it was just too much. She passed out. I could only look on in horror. She's dead. :D
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
whhhhyyy...
is it that I can't see the cute little monkeys on my computer? I happened to be on a different computer yesterday...and lo and behold, there are monkeys all over this blog! How did I not know? I feel like a new person...
Sunday, July 5, 2009
part 20 {lib}
"Don't ever call me 'Percy' again. Explain what to me?" Eliana turned to look at Percival as he walked into the room in a pinstriped suit and pink tie. His blond beach-boy hair was spiked, with a surprising and somewhat out-of-character streak of blue on the left side of his head.
"Sorry, Percy," Hayden said absentmindedly. "Anyone want pancakes?"
"Of course," Eliana answered.
"Sure," Addison chirped.
"Would someone tell me what is going on?" Percival asked, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
"Well, your lemur is intoxicated, but beyond that, everything is fairly normal," Addison answered helpfully.
"Pancakes?" Hayden asked.
Percival ignored him, rushing to Gregory's plastic carrier. The lemur blinked up at him dazedly, staggered a few steps, then keeled over on the bottom of his cage, snoring.
"He needs a doctor!" Percival exclaimed urgently.
Hayden stopped measuring pancake mix to look at Gregory. "Chill out, man, he's gonna sleep it off."
"That'll be some hangover," Addison observed.
"He needs a doctor," Percival said again. He surveyed his options: Hayden, Eliana, and Addison. "I'm not sure he's awake," he murmured, watching Hayden pour soy sauce into the pancake batter. "The little one scares me," he went on, looking at Addison. "I guess she's the only one in her right mind enough to drive," he decided to himself, looking at Eliana. "You," he commanded. "Bring the car around. We must get to a veterinary facility."
Eliana raised her eyebrows. "Bring the car around from where? It's in the driveway. Anyway, just who is going to pay for the bill?"
Percival rolled his eyes again at the delay. "I'm the Prime Minister of Thailand's son, for goodness sake! Can we just go?"
"All right, all right, I'll drive you to the vet! What about Aunt Thelma?" Eliana asked.
"Still asleep," Addison answered. "Let's go."
They piled into Eliana's car; Hayden and Addison in the back and Percival riding shotgun with the pet carrier on his lap.
"This whole thing is unbelievable," Eliana muttered as she started the car.
Ten minutes later, they were standing in the waiting room of the vet office. The receptionist looked up and smiled, revealing two rows of braces with colored bands. "How can I help ya'll today?" she asked.
"First off, nice braces," Addison said. The receptionist beamed.
"Thanks. What's with the lemur?"
"He's, um, slightly inebriated," Eliana explained.
"Ok. I'll tell Dr. Quadrangle, and you'll need to fill out these forms."
The four sat down in the waiting room, which was decorated with artichokes and pineapples painted sporadically on the walls. Eliana began filling out the forms. Hayden, still in his pajamas, browsed a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. Addison alternated between looking over Hayden's shoulder and poking Gregory for some kind of response. Percival was occupied with slapping Addison's hand every time he tried to touch Gregory and answering Eliana's questions.
"Has he ever had German measles?"
"No."
"Mumps?"
"Once."
"Epileptic seizures?"
"He's on meds for them right now," Percival answered.
"Quite a medical history," Eliana commented. "Here, it needs your signature."
Percival signed and Eliana took the clipboard back to the receptionist.
"Dr. Quadrangle will call you when he's ready," the woman said. Eliana returned to her seat, but it was not long before Dr. Quadrangle poked his head around the corner.
"Gregory?" he asked.
-----
Sorry about the delay; I've been busy with ruling the world and doing all the other amazing things I do on a daily basis (piranha hunting, mining for diamonds, climbing really tall bookcases; you get the idea). I will leave you with this wisdom from Mark Twain: "Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint."
Ciao.
"Sorry, Percy," Hayden said absentmindedly. "Anyone want pancakes?"
"Of course," Eliana answered.
"Sure," Addison chirped.
"Would someone tell me what is going on?" Percival asked, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
"Well, your lemur is intoxicated, but beyond that, everything is fairly normal," Addison answered helpfully.
"Pancakes?" Hayden asked.
Percival ignored him, rushing to Gregory's plastic carrier. The lemur blinked up at him dazedly, staggered a few steps, then keeled over on the bottom of his cage, snoring.
"He needs a doctor!" Percival exclaimed urgently.
Hayden stopped measuring pancake mix to look at Gregory. "Chill out, man, he's gonna sleep it off."
"That'll be some hangover," Addison observed.
"He needs a doctor," Percival said again. He surveyed his options: Hayden, Eliana, and Addison. "I'm not sure he's awake," he murmured, watching Hayden pour soy sauce into the pancake batter. "The little one scares me," he went on, looking at Addison. "I guess she's the only one in her right mind enough to drive," he decided to himself, looking at Eliana. "You," he commanded. "Bring the car around. We must get to a veterinary facility."
Eliana raised her eyebrows. "Bring the car around from where? It's in the driveway. Anyway, just who is going to pay for the bill?"
Percival rolled his eyes again at the delay. "I'm the Prime Minister of Thailand's son, for goodness sake! Can we just go?"
"All right, all right, I'll drive you to the vet! What about Aunt Thelma?" Eliana asked.
"Still asleep," Addison answered. "Let's go."
They piled into Eliana's car; Hayden and Addison in the back and Percival riding shotgun with the pet carrier on his lap.
"This whole thing is unbelievable," Eliana muttered as she started the car.
Ten minutes later, they were standing in the waiting room of the vet office. The receptionist looked up and smiled, revealing two rows of braces with colored bands. "How can I help ya'll today?" she asked.
"First off, nice braces," Addison said. The receptionist beamed.
"Thanks. What's with the lemur?"
"He's, um, slightly inebriated," Eliana explained.
"Ok. I'll tell Dr. Quadrangle, and you'll need to fill out these forms."
The four sat down in the waiting room, which was decorated with artichokes and pineapples painted sporadically on the walls. Eliana began filling out the forms. Hayden, still in his pajamas, browsed a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. Addison alternated between looking over Hayden's shoulder and poking Gregory for some kind of response. Percival was occupied with slapping Addison's hand every time he tried to touch Gregory and answering Eliana's questions.
"Has he ever had German measles?"
"No."
"Mumps?"
"Once."
"Epileptic seizures?"
"He's on meds for them right now," Percival answered.
"Quite a medical history," Eliana commented. "Here, it needs your signature."
Percival signed and Eliana took the clipboard back to the receptionist.
"Dr. Quadrangle will call you when he's ready," the woman said. Eliana returned to her seat, but it was not long before Dr. Quadrangle poked his head around the corner.
"Gregory?" he asked.
-----
Sorry about the delay; I've been busy with ruling the world and doing all the other amazing things I do on a daily basis (piranha hunting, mining for diamonds, climbing really tall bookcases; you get the idea). I will leave you with this wisdom from Mark Twain: "Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint."
Ciao.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
part 19 [rach]
FINALLY I wrote the next section. so...here goes.
****************
“I’m not sure if the Zanglers have warabi chicken-peas, or whatever you just said…is this Percival?”
“Of course, who else would it be?” the voice exclaimed, irritated. “And what do you mean you don’t have my chick peas? I specifically told Dane to pack some up for me!”
“Who’s Dane?”
“My butler,” Percival replied, “although it really is no concern of yours. Did you understand my instructions, or shall I have to repeat them?”
Eliana scrunched up her nose and made a face at Addison, who laughed behind a hand. “Do you like…peanut butter and jelly?” Eliana asked, trying to keep from laughing.
A few loud sputtering noises came over the phone, then a quick intake of air. “If I must,” Percival said with the air of a martyr, “I will consume your quaint little American sandwich. But Gregory must not be without his rum, it makes him grouchy.”
“I’m not sure we have any—”
“It’s in my bag, the second to last one on the bottom with a red tag on the zipper. Third pouch on the right side, there’s a small bottle of it.”
Eliana was about to inquire further, when she heard a click on the line, and then a long, loud beeping noise. “He hung up,”, she said, setting the phone down on the counter.
“What does he want?” Addison asked.
“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich for His Highness, and a shot of rum for Gregory.”
“Um, mom doesn’t usually keep rum in the house…” Addison said.
“Percival has some. Second bag to the bottom is what he said…one with a red tag. Bottom of what, though?”
“His pile,” Addison said, lips pursed together.
“Pile…of what?”
Addison rolled his eyes and led Eliana into the dining room. Up against the far wall was a tower of suitcases at least a foot taller that Eliana. The one on the bottom looked big enough to fit a Saint Bernard.
“Of course, it would be the second to the bottom,” Addison grumbled. “Here, help me take these off.”
Eliana and Addison spent the next five minutes removing Percival’s luggage and attempting to locate the bottle of rum. They finally found it just where the boy had said, in the third pouch on the right side of the second to bottom suitcase with a red tag.
“Now the question is, how do we give it to him?” Addison asked.
“Maybe just in a cup.” Eliana suggested. “He seems like a pretty smart guy.”
Addison poured some of the liquid into a juice glass from their cupboard and cautiously slid it into the lemur’s cage. The animal snatched it up immediately and began guzzling his morning snack.
“Well, that’s taken care of,” Eliana said, “let’s get His Highness a sandwich.”
While Addison delivered the “quaint” little sandwich to their guest, Eliana cleaned up the kitchen dishes. It was then that Hayden came fumbling downstairs. “What was all the noise earlier?” he asked, scratching his head of very messy hair.
“Which time?” Eliana laughed, “when we were chasing Gregory, or when we were tearing down the tower of suitcases?”
“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked,” Hayden mumbled. “Um, Ellie? What’s wrong with the monkey?”
“It’s not a monkey you goof, it’s a lemur,” Eliana replied. “Don’t worry, he’s allowed to have rum.”
“Rum?!?” Hayden exclaimed. “Is that what’s wrong with him?”
Eliana walked over to where Hayden was peering into Gregory’s cage. The lemur was swaying back and forth, wearing the cup on his head and…hiccupping.
“Maybe we gave him a little too much?” Eliana asked, smiling sheepishly.
“I’d say,” Hayden laughed. “Have fun explaining this to Percy.”
****************
quote of the day: "When an opera star sings her head off, she usually improves her appearance." -Victor Borge
there goes my aspiration to be an opera singer. oh well, there's always botany.
have a good life. goodbye.
****************
“I’m not sure if the Zanglers have warabi chicken-peas, or whatever you just said…is this Percival?”
“Of course, who else would it be?” the voice exclaimed, irritated. “And what do you mean you don’t have my chick peas? I specifically told Dane to pack some up for me!”
“Who’s Dane?”
“My butler,” Percival replied, “although it really is no concern of yours. Did you understand my instructions, or shall I have to repeat them?”
Eliana scrunched up her nose and made a face at Addison, who laughed behind a hand. “Do you like…peanut butter and jelly?” Eliana asked, trying to keep from laughing.
A few loud sputtering noises came over the phone, then a quick intake of air. “If I must,” Percival said with the air of a martyr, “I will consume your quaint little American sandwich. But Gregory must not be without his rum, it makes him grouchy.”
“I’m not sure we have any—”
“It’s in my bag, the second to last one on the bottom with a red tag on the zipper. Third pouch on the right side, there’s a small bottle of it.”
Eliana was about to inquire further, when she heard a click on the line, and then a long, loud beeping noise. “He hung up,”, she said, setting the phone down on the counter.
“What does he want?” Addison asked.
“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich for His Highness, and a shot of rum for Gregory.”
“Um, mom doesn’t usually keep rum in the house…” Addison said.
“Percival has some. Second bag to the bottom is what he said…one with a red tag. Bottom of what, though?”
“His pile,” Addison said, lips pursed together.
“Pile…of what?”
Addison rolled his eyes and led Eliana into the dining room. Up against the far wall was a tower of suitcases at least a foot taller that Eliana. The one on the bottom looked big enough to fit a Saint Bernard.
“Of course, it would be the second to the bottom,” Addison grumbled. “Here, help me take these off.”
Eliana and Addison spent the next five minutes removing Percival’s luggage and attempting to locate the bottle of rum. They finally found it just where the boy had said, in the third pouch on the right side of the second to bottom suitcase with a red tag.
“Now the question is, how do we give it to him?” Addison asked.
“Maybe just in a cup.” Eliana suggested. “He seems like a pretty smart guy.”
Addison poured some of the liquid into a juice glass from their cupboard and cautiously slid it into the lemur’s cage. The animal snatched it up immediately and began guzzling his morning snack.
“Well, that’s taken care of,” Eliana said, “let’s get His Highness a sandwich.”
While Addison delivered the “quaint” little sandwich to their guest, Eliana cleaned up the kitchen dishes. It was then that Hayden came fumbling downstairs. “What was all the noise earlier?” he asked, scratching his head of very messy hair.
“Which time?” Eliana laughed, “when we were chasing Gregory, or when we were tearing down the tower of suitcases?”
“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked,” Hayden mumbled. “Um, Ellie? What’s wrong with the monkey?”
“It’s not a monkey you goof, it’s a lemur,” Eliana replied. “Don’t worry, he’s allowed to have rum.”
“Rum?!?” Hayden exclaimed. “Is that what’s wrong with him?”
Eliana walked over to where Hayden was peering into Gregory’s cage. The lemur was swaying back and forth, wearing the cup on his head and…hiccupping.
“Maybe we gave him a little too much?” Eliana asked, smiling sheepishly.
“I’d say,” Hayden laughed. “Have fun explaining this to Percy.”
****************
quote of the day: "When an opera star sings her head off, she usually improves her appearance." -Victor Borge
there goes my aspiration to be an opera singer. oh well, there's always botany.
have a good life. goodbye.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
post coming soon. i promise.
i just wanted to let you all know that Toby may not be feeling his best, so please don't bug him if he doesn't want to play....i kinda fed him like 80 million little hamster foods, and his stomach is slightly upset. so please just be considerate of his poor, overstuffed little self. (I'm thinking about getting another pet soon, to keep him company...we'll keep you updated.)
okay i'm gonna work on the next edition as soon as possible (ie: after i finish this history project ;). be on the lookout for something new and exciting. as usual.
goodbye.
okay i'm gonna work on the next edition as soon as possible (ie: after i finish this history project ;). be on the lookout for something new and exciting. as usual.
goodbye.
Monday, June 1, 2009
the wiiiiinner takes it aaaaaaaaallllllllllllll....
Bianca, you're probably the only one who will get the title, but you will laugh your face off when you see it, so it's worth it.
And the winner of our "secrets kept from the general public" contest is...Catherine and her interpretative dance skills! (Sorry guys, there really wasn't any competition)
So, just in case any of you were wondering. Cheers, ya'll!
And the winner of our "secrets kept from the general public" contest is...Catherine and her interpretative dance skills! (Sorry guys, there really wasn't any competition)
So, just in case any of you were wondering. Cheers, ya'll!
Monday, May 25, 2009
ahem.
I would like to share with you all some sayings I found...gasp...on the internet. these quotes are superb. they will make you smile. and if they don't...well, they'll make you waste 2 and a half minutes staring at the computer. but hey. life is short.
(just for your information, I can't vouch for any of the people who said these things...they're just random quotes, people, don't give me a hard time for it.)
*******************************
"Remember: Don't Insult the Alligator till after you cross the river." -Unknown
"Why does Sea World have a seafood restaurant?? I'm halfway through my fish burger and I realize, Oh man....I could be eating a slow learner." - Lyndon B. Johnson.
"When I die, I want to go peacefully like my Grandfather did, in his sleep -- not screaming, like the passengers in his car." - Unknown.
"I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals." - Winston Churchill.
"42.7% of all statistics are made up on the spot." - Unknown
"I do not like broccoli. And I haven't liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I'm President of the United States and I'm not going to eat any more broccoli." - George Bush.
*******************************
that was amazing. yay for me. clapity clap clap.
goodbye and have a nice life.
(just for your information, I can't vouch for any of the people who said these things...they're just random quotes, people, don't give me a hard time for it.)
*******************************
"Remember: Don't Insult the Alligator till after you cross the river." -Unknown
"Why does Sea World have a seafood restaurant?? I'm halfway through my fish burger and I realize, Oh man....I could be eating a slow learner." - Lyndon B. Johnson.
"When I die, I want to go peacefully like my Grandfather did, in his sleep -- not screaming, like the passengers in his car." - Unknown.
"I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals." - Winston Churchill.
"42.7% of all statistics are made up on the spot." - Unknown
"I do not like broccoli. And I haven't liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I'm President of the United States and I'm not going to eat any more broccoli." - George Bush.
*******************************
that was amazing. yay for me. clapity clap clap.
goodbye and have a nice life.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
the truth...
about my brother. well. many people don't actually know this. but. he's an ogre. yup. you'd better believe it.
you don't want to meet him in a dark alley. or anywhere else for that matter.
what truths have you been withholding from the general populace? leave them in the comments section and rach and i will decide on the best. and there probably won't be a prize. but you can feed Toby. try it. it's fun.
you don't want to meet him in a dark alley. or anywhere else for that matter.
what truths have you been withholding from the general populace? leave them in the comments section and rach and i will decide on the best. and there probably won't be a prize. but you can feed Toby. try it. it's fun.
Monday, May 18, 2009
part 18 {lib}
The Zangler's house appeared to be asleep as Eliana crossed the street. She was about to knock on the door when she heard a loud thumping coming from the other side. Curiously, she opened the door, sticking her head around the corner. She could only bite her lip in an effort to keep from laughing at the sight that met her eyes. A very frustrated Addison was scrambling over a couch with a colander in one hand and a fly swatter in the other.
"He's loose!" Addison panted, without turning around. He fell off the back of the couch. "The lemur! Help me catch him!"
Eliana saw a flash of white fur as Addison ran into the kitchen. She followed him, but couldn't help laughing out loud when she saw the little furry ball perched on top of the refrigerator, surveying Addison with disdain.
"Distract him," Addison whispered.
"Um, ok. What's his name?" Eliana whispered back.
"Gregory."
"Gregory?" Eliana exclaimed.
The lemur turned to look at her, and Addison sprang forward, slamming the colander down on top of the fridge. "Perfect!" He grinned. "Thanks. I've been chasing him since 6:30."
"Sure," Eliana answered. The lemur was banging it's head repeatedly against the colander, which Addison was holding down.
"Hand me the kennel, will you?" He gestured with his head toward a tangerine plastic pet carrier on the table. Eliana brought it over and Addison reached under he colander to grab the angry lemur. "Ah!" he shrieked as Gregory bit him. Together, they wrestled the struggling animal into the cage, slamming the door shut and latching it.
"Whew! what a work-out," Addison said, collapsing onto the couch a moment later.
"Where's Hayden?" Eliana wondered.
"Still asleep."
"Yeah, I would be too if I was calling people at two in the morning," Eliana answered ruefully.
"I got up early," Addison said. "I couldn't wait to see Gregory. Unfortunately, he escaped pretty quickly."
The two rested for a moment, and the phone suddenly rang.
"I've got it," Eliana said, picking it up. "Zangler residence, how can I help you?"
"Ah, very good," a boy's voice said. "I would like a pickle and butter sandwich on rye, some strawberry jello, and a quart of wasabi chick-peas sent up to my room. Also, please make sure Gregory has his raisins, and a shot of rum."
Eliana was speechless. Was this guy for real?
-----
Yes, we're still here! Bear with me as I get back into the swing of this remarkable work. As Ernestine Ulmer so brilliantly stated, "Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first." The truth will set you free.
Cheers.
p.s. The hamster's name is Toby.
"He's loose!" Addison panted, without turning around. He fell off the back of the couch. "The lemur! Help me catch him!"
Eliana saw a flash of white fur as Addison ran into the kitchen. She followed him, but couldn't help laughing out loud when she saw the little furry ball perched on top of the refrigerator, surveying Addison with disdain.
"Distract him," Addison whispered.
"Um, ok. What's his name?" Eliana whispered back.
"Gregory."
"Gregory?" Eliana exclaimed.
The lemur turned to look at her, and Addison sprang forward, slamming the colander down on top of the fridge. "Perfect!" He grinned. "Thanks. I've been chasing him since 6:30."
"Sure," Eliana answered. The lemur was banging it's head repeatedly against the colander, which Addison was holding down.
"Hand me the kennel, will you?" He gestured with his head toward a tangerine plastic pet carrier on the table. Eliana brought it over and Addison reached under he colander to grab the angry lemur. "Ah!" he shrieked as Gregory bit him. Together, they wrestled the struggling animal into the cage, slamming the door shut and latching it.
"Whew! what a work-out," Addison said, collapsing onto the couch a moment later.
"Where's Hayden?" Eliana wondered.
"Still asleep."
"Yeah, I would be too if I was calling people at two in the morning," Eliana answered ruefully.
"I got up early," Addison said. "I couldn't wait to see Gregory. Unfortunately, he escaped pretty quickly."
The two rested for a moment, and the phone suddenly rang.
"I've got it," Eliana said, picking it up. "Zangler residence, how can I help you?"
"Ah, very good," a boy's voice said. "I would like a pickle and butter sandwich on rye, some strawberry jello, and a quart of wasabi chick-peas sent up to my room. Also, please make sure Gregory has his raisins, and a shot of rum."
Eliana was speechless. Was this guy for real?
-----
Yes, we're still here! Bear with me as I get back into the swing of this remarkable work. As Ernestine Ulmer so brilliantly stated, "Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first." The truth will set you free.
Cheers.
p.s. The hamster's name is Toby.
Friday, April 17, 2009
fyi
I am not dead. I just want you to know, because rumors have been going around (I think circulated by Rach) that I fell off the face of the earth in a horrible accident involving a time warp and a polka-dotted apron. It's simply not true. I'm very much alive. I happen to be involved in this thing called life. Ever heard of it? Yeah, well, it would seem that this "life" stuff is pretty time consuming. So I just want to say that I'm sorry I'm neglecting this at the moment. It IS on my list of things to do...it's just near the bottom. But the next section will come. I promise.
In the meantime, go catch tadpoles, or make popovers, or microwave a marshmallow.
I must return to life...where I am currently chilling with three butterflies by the names of Elmo, Chico, and Fabio. Have a fantabulous day.
p.s. Ok, I admit that when the spell-checker said that "fantabulous" was spelled incorrectly, I double checked my spelling before realizing that it's not actually a word. How embarrassing...
In the meantime, go catch tadpoles, or make popovers, or microwave a marshmallow.
I must return to life...where I am currently chilling with three butterflies by the names of Elmo, Chico, and Fabio. Have a fantabulous day.
p.s. Ok, I admit that when the spell-checker said that "fantabulous" was spelled incorrectly, I double checked my spelling before realizing that it's not actually a word. How embarrassing...
Saturday, April 4, 2009
part 17 {rach}
“Wow, that’s quick.”
“Yeah, I know.”
There was a pause. Eliana yawned.
“So, is that all you wanted to tell me?” she asked after a moment.
“Oh. Yeah. I’ll let you go. You probably want to get to bed.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Eliana yawned again.
“You can come over tomorrow and meet him if you want.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Yawn.
Eliana received another phone call at 7am the next morning. This time it was Mrs. Zangler. “Eliana, is that you?”
“Oh, hi Mrs. Z,” Eliana said. “You need something?”
“I was going to ask you a favor, dear,” Mrs. Zangler said. “I know you’ve really been enjoying yourself at the Ward and all…but would you mind staying home to entertain a…um…guest of mine?”
“The junior Prime Minister of Thailand, perhaps?” Eliana asked, grinning.
“How did you know?” Mrs. Zangler asked.
“Hayden told me.”
“But…he just found out last night…around midnight!”
Eliana laughed. “I know.” She said.
There was a pause as the gears turned in Mrs. Zangler’s head. Then, “Oh my. I’m so sorry dear. Did he wake you up?”
“It’s no problem,” Eliana said, laughing, “and I’d be glad to stay home with your guest.”
“Oh good,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Percival will be so delighted, I’m sure.”
“Percival?” Eliana asked politely.
“Yes, he’s our guest. Percival Hendrickson Harold Puddenplip the Third.”
“Ooookay…” Eliana said, trying to think of something nice and polite she could say to that. Nothing was coming to mind.
“He got in about an hour ago,” Mrs. Zangler continued, “and decided to take a nap. Long flight, I suppose. But Hayden will call you when he wakes up. Is that satisfactory?”
“Perfectly,” Eliana said, smiling.
“Very good. Talk to you later, dear.”
Only two minutes after Eliana hung up the phone, it rang again. I seem to be suddenly very popular, she mused, glancing at the cell phone. Addison’s name was on the screen.
“Hello?”
“He has a lemur!!!!!”
Eliana blinked. “Excuse me?”
“He has a lemur!” Addison repeated. “Percival has an ALBINO LEMUR!!!”
**********************************************
the quote of the day was said by George Bernard Shaw: "I often quote myself. It adds spice to my conversation." I should start doing that...oh wait, I already do! :D
goodbye.
“Yeah, I know.”
There was a pause. Eliana yawned.
“So, is that all you wanted to tell me?” she asked after a moment.
“Oh. Yeah. I’ll let you go. You probably want to get to bed.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Eliana yawned again.
“You can come over tomorrow and meet him if you want.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Yawn.
Eliana received another phone call at 7am the next morning. This time it was Mrs. Zangler. “Eliana, is that you?”
“Oh, hi Mrs. Z,” Eliana said. “You need something?”
“I was going to ask you a favor, dear,” Mrs. Zangler said. “I know you’ve really been enjoying yourself at the Ward and all…but would you mind staying home to entertain a…um…guest of mine?”
“The junior Prime Minister of Thailand, perhaps?” Eliana asked, grinning.
“How did you know?” Mrs. Zangler asked.
“Hayden told me.”
“But…he just found out last night…around midnight!”
Eliana laughed. “I know.” She said.
There was a pause as the gears turned in Mrs. Zangler’s head. Then, “Oh my. I’m so sorry dear. Did he wake you up?”
“It’s no problem,” Eliana said, laughing, “and I’d be glad to stay home with your guest.”
“Oh good,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Percival will be so delighted, I’m sure.”
“Percival?” Eliana asked politely.
“Yes, he’s our guest. Percival Hendrickson Harold Puddenplip the Third.”
“Ooookay…” Eliana said, trying to think of something nice and polite she could say to that. Nothing was coming to mind.
“He got in about an hour ago,” Mrs. Zangler continued, “and decided to take a nap. Long flight, I suppose. But Hayden will call you when he wakes up. Is that satisfactory?”
“Perfectly,” Eliana said, smiling.
“Very good. Talk to you later, dear.”
Only two minutes after Eliana hung up the phone, it rang again. I seem to be suddenly very popular, she mused, glancing at the cell phone. Addison’s name was on the screen.
“Hello?”
“He has a lemur!!!!!”
Eliana blinked. “Excuse me?”
“He has a lemur!” Addison repeated. “Percival has an ALBINO LEMUR!!!”
**********************************************
the quote of the day was said by George Bernard Shaw: "I often quote myself. It adds spice to my conversation." I should start doing that...oh wait, I already do! :D
goodbye.
Monday, March 23, 2009
part 16 {lib} (i was feeling drastic)
Eliana woke up at 1:00 AM. Her cellphone was blaring obnoxiously; Addison must have played with it on the way home. Eliana picked it up to turn off the alarm, but was surprised to see that it was Hayden calling. She flipped the phone open.
"Hayden?" she asked.
"Hey! Are you awake?" Hayden asked, obviously energetic.
"No. Goodbye," Eliana answered.
"Wait!" Hayden said. "I have to tell you something!"
"At 1:00 in the morning?" Eliana asked, pulling on her echidna-shaped slippers.
"It'll only take a sec. So, here's the deal. My great-aunt Thelma is flying in from Thailand tomorrow."
"That's great, Hayden," Eliana replied, walking downstairs. She still failed to see how this news couldn't have waited until the next morning.
"Yeah, but it gets better. She's bringing someone with her."
"Who?"
"The Prime Minister's son!" Hayden answered, barely containing himself.
Eliana paused, her hand on the refrigerator door.
"Hayden, are you feeling ok?" she asked, finally, opening the door and pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
"Of course. Why?" Hayden asked.
"Oh, just wondering," she answered sarcastically, grabbing a couple fig newtons. "Why in the world would your great-aunt be bringing the prime-minister's son with her from Thailand? That doesn't sound weird to you?"
"You fail to remember that my great-aunt Thelma is in the secret service. This is her mission! And she and the kid are going to be staying with us," Hayden answered.
"Good grief! I did forget!" Eliana answered, choking on a fig newton. "That's insane. Hayden, stuff like that doesn't happen to people like us."
"I know," Hayden answered. "Apparently, the Prime Minister's son has spent most of his time in an American boarding school, and he's coming back to visit some friends. Aunt Thelma is taking him to their house, but they'll be stopping over in between."
"Wow. I guess this guy is pretty important, huh?" Eliana asked.
"Yup. The Prime Minister would only entrust him to the best: Aunt Thelma. He might be a little spoiled, by the way," Hayden went on.
"Uh oh. What do you mean?" Eliana asked.
"Well...He's our age, and he's had everything he's ever wanted since he was born. At least, Aunt Thelma hinted as much when she called a couple minutes ago."
That would explain why Hayden was calling her at this hour. In Thailand it was probably broad daylight.
"So when are they coming?" Eliana asked.
"Oh, tomorrow," Hayden answered.
Maybe this is extreme. Maybe not. This is only stress-relief after all. :) And:
"Everyone should be able to do one card trick, tell two jokes, and recite three poems, in case they are ever trapped in an elevator." Lemony Snicket's advice holds true for all of us.
"Hayden?" she asked.
"Hey! Are you awake?" Hayden asked, obviously energetic.
"No. Goodbye," Eliana answered.
"Wait!" Hayden said. "I have to tell you something!"
"At 1:00 in the morning?" Eliana asked, pulling on her echidna-shaped slippers.
"It'll only take a sec. So, here's the deal. My great-aunt Thelma is flying in from Thailand tomorrow."
"That's great, Hayden," Eliana replied, walking downstairs. She still failed to see how this news couldn't have waited until the next morning.
"Yeah, but it gets better. She's bringing someone with her."
"Who?"
"The Prime Minister's son!" Hayden answered, barely containing himself.
Eliana paused, her hand on the refrigerator door.
"Hayden, are you feeling ok?" she asked, finally, opening the door and pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
"Of course. Why?" Hayden asked.
"Oh, just wondering," she answered sarcastically, grabbing a couple fig newtons. "Why in the world would your great-aunt be bringing the prime-minister's son with her from Thailand? That doesn't sound weird to you?"
"You fail to remember that my great-aunt Thelma is in the secret service. This is her mission! And she and the kid are going to be staying with us," Hayden answered.
"Good grief! I did forget!" Eliana answered, choking on a fig newton. "That's insane. Hayden, stuff like that doesn't happen to people like us."
"I know," Hayden answered. "Apparently, the Prime Minister's son has spent most of his time in an American boarding school, and he's coming back to visit some friends. Aunt Thelma is taking him to their house, but they'll be stopping over in between."
"Wow. I guess this guy is pretty important, huh?" Eliana asked.
"Yup. The Prime Minister would only entrust him to the best: Aunt Thelma. He might be a little spoiled, by the way," Hayden went on.
"Uh oh. What do you mean?" Eliana asked.
"Well...He's our age, and he's had everything he's ever wanted since he was born. At least, Aunt Thelma hinted as much when she called a couple minutes ago."
That would explain why Hayden was calling her at this hour. In Thailand it was probably broad daylight.
"So when are they coming?" Eliana asked.
"Oh, tomorrow," Hayden answered.
Maybe this is extreme. Maybe not. This is only stress-relief after all. :) And:
"Everyone should be able to do one card trick, tell two jokes, and recite three poems, in case they are ever trapped in an elevator." Lemony Snicket's advice holds true for all of us.
just to lyk
hey all, it's rach. thanks for so faithfully reading this amazingly insane story!!
just to let you know, we have reached the end of the story...or, at least, what we've written of it. the rest will not be copied from a Word document, it will come straight from our brilliant minds. a fresh work of genius.
so that was just to let you know...
goodbye.
just to let you know, we have reached the end of the story...or, at least, what we've written of it. the rest will not be copied from a Word document, it will come straight from our brilliant minds. a fresh work of genius.
so that was just to let you know...
goodbye.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
part 15 {rach}
“How’s it going with Mom?” Addison asked.
“Very fascinating,” Eliana admitted. “Her patients are very…”
“Unusual?” Hayden suggested.
Eliana grinned. “Yeah,” she said, “big time.”
“I can’t believe Mom can put up with all those looneys—”
“Addison…” Eliana warned.
“Okay fine,” Addison corrected himself. “I can’t believe she can put up with all those mentally disturbed people, and still not be willing to have an intelligent, clean and friendly pig around the house!”
Hayden laughed out loud, realizing where Addison was going. “Having a pig for a pet is slightly…unconventional, Add,” he said.
“Yeah, and so is having a snake sweater,” Addison retorted, sticking his tongue out like a five year old.
Eliana laughed. “I think having a pig for a pet is kind of cool. In a weird, eccentric sort of way, of course.”
“I’ll talk Mom into it one of these days, you just wait and see,” Addison said. “She’s getting lonely in the shed.”
“Your mom?” Eliana asked, her face a picture of innocence.
“No, Ursula,” Addison said, not at all catching on to the joke. “Poor little thing, cooped up in there with no one to play with.”
“That’s how I feel about being grounded, but no one ever pitys me like that,” Hayden said.
“When you get grounded, Hayden, it’s usally for a reason,” Addison returned.
“Yeah, like that time you put the spaghetti noodles up the—”
“Hey, I was young then!” Hayden cried.
“You were not, you were like fourteen,” Addison replied. “The only reason you get grounded is because you do stupid stuff like with the spaghetti noodles. Ursula’s never done anything wrong! She’s just a poor, unloved, rejected little animal who’s never known what it’s like to have a family.”
“Check please!” Hayden yelled, throwing his hands in the air in mock disgust. “End of conversation. This is getting too weird.”
“Hayd, we’re at a psychiatric ward. Things are going to get weird.”
Hayden laughed. “Come on, lets go eat lunch before we’re needed again.”
The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully, if you disclude a man with a pet ink pen and a woman who couldn’t stop singing. Eliana drove home with the Zanglers around six, grabbed some leftovers from the fridge and crashed on the bed, exhausted from a long day.
*******************
to quote some random Anonymous person, "Never underestimate the power of human stupidity." oh yeah. :)
goodbye.
“Very fascinating,” Eliana admitted. “Her patients are very…”
“Unusual?” Hayden suggested.
Eliana grinned. “Yeah,” she said, “big time.”
“I can’t believe Mom can put up with all those looneys—”
“Addison…” Eliana warned.
“Okay fine,” Addison corrected himself. “I can’t believe she can put up with all those mentally disturbed people, and still not be willing to have an intelligent, clean and friendly pig around the house!”
Hayden laughed out loud, realizing where Addison was going. “Having a pig for a pet is slightly…unconventional, Add,” he said.
“Yeah, and so is having a snake sweater,” Addison retorted, sticking his tongue out like a five year old.
Eliana laughed. “I think having a pig for a pet is kind of cool. In a weird, eccentric sort of way, of course.”
“I’ll talk Mom into it one of these days, you just wait and see,” Addison said. “She’s getting lonely in the shed.”
“Your mom?” Eliana asked, her face a picture of innocence.
“No, Ursula,” Addison said, not at all catching on to the joke. “Poor little thing, cooped up in there with no one to play with.”
“That’s how I feel about being grounded, but no one ever pitys me like that,” Hayden said.
“When you get grounded, Hayden, it’s usally for a reason,” Addison returned.
“Yeah, like that time you put the spaghetti noodles up the—”
“Hey, I was young then!” Hayden cried.
“You were not, you were like fourteen,” Addison replied. “The only reason you get grounded is because you do stupid stuff like with the spaghetti noodles. Ursula’s never done anything wrong! She’s just a poor, unloved, rejected little animal who’s never known what it’s like to have a family.”
“Check please!” Hayden yelled, throwing his hands in the air in mock disgust. “End of conversation. This is getting too weird.”
“Hayd, we’re at a psychiatric ward. Things are going to get weird.”
Hayden laughed. “Come on, lets go eat lunch before we’re needed again.”
The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully, if you disclude a man with a pet ink pen and a woman who couldn’t stop singing. Eliana drove home with the Zanglers around six, grabbed some leftovers from the fridge and crashed on the bed, exhausted from a long day.
*******************
to quote some random Anonymous person, "Never underestimate the power of human stupidity." oh yeah. :)
goodbye.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
part 14 {lib}
“Alright,” Bernice answered, shuddering as she closed the paper bag. She smiled weakly at Eliana. “It was very nice to meet you, dear. I’m sure we shall be great friends. Goodbye, Doctor.” She gulped. “I shall do my very best with the plant.” Rising, she put the paper bag into her purse, zipped it shut, and patted it firmly. “Until next week.” She opened the door and walked out, tripping over her heels.
“You can see that certain plants are very distressing to her,” Mrs. Zangler said. “But she’s getting much better. She used to live in her house and never go out because there were too many plants she didn’t like. Now she goes all over town, and even conducts nature walks! I’m very pleased with her progress,” she added.
“I’m sure psychiatry can be a very rewarding profession,” Eliana answered. “Who’s next?”
“Well, I usually get lunch around this time. If you want, you could join Hayden and Addison downstairs,” Mrs. Zangler answered.
“What are they doing here?” Eliana asked, surprised.
“Oh, I set up an internship for them downstairs, in the PT ward,” Mrs. Zangler answered cheerfully. “They should have their lunch break about now.”
A few minutes later, Eliana was wandering through the hallways of the PT ward. She stopped at the secretary’s desk.
“Hi, I’m here to find Hayden and Addison Zangler. They’re interning here,” Eliana explained. The secretary smiled pleasantly.
“I believe they’re in the break room,” she answered. “It’s down the right hallway, second door on the left.”
“Thank you,” Eliana said. She followed the woman’s directions and found herself in a bright, cheery kitchenette. Hayden was blocking her view of Addison, but she could tell they were having an interesting conversation.
“If you had just listened to Dr. Kitchener, this wouldn’t have happened,” Hayden said, chuckling.
“Easy for you to say. I was stuck. Ah! The ice is melting down my shirt!” Addison yelped.
“What is going on?” Eliana asked, laughing. Her friends turned around.
“Well,” Hayden answered, grinning, “Add hasn’t quite learned to listen to the doctor’s orders.”
“I got stuck!” Addison protested. He was holding a Ziploc bag full of ice to his left eye. “We were going through Mr. Quadrangle’s reps and I got caught between the door and Mr. Quadrangle’s fist. He got me right in the eye.”
“A real shiner,” Hayden added helpfully. Eliana stifled a laugh.
As the hilarious (but unadmirable) Oscar Wilde stated: "Be Yourself; everyone else is already taken." I don't see how you could argue with that.
Ciao.
“You can see that certain plants are very distressing to her,” Mrs. Zangler said. “But she’s getting much better. She used to live in her house and never go out because there were too many plants she didn’t like. Now she goes all over town, and even conducts nature walks! I’m very pleased with her progress,” she added.
“I’m sure psychiatry can be a very rewarding profession,” Eliana answered. “Who’s next?”
“Well, I usually get lunch around this time. If you want, you could join Hayden and Addison downstairs,” Mrs. Zangler answered.
“What are they doing here?” Eliana asked, surprised.
“Oh, I set up an internship for them downstairs, in the PT ward,” Mrs. Zangler answered cheerfully. “They should have their lunch break about now.”
A few minutes later, Eliana was wandering through the hallways of the PT ward. She stopped at the secretary’s desk.
“Hi, I’m here to find Hayden and Addison Zangler. They’re interning here,” Eliana explained. The secretary smiled pleasantly.
“I believe they’re in the break room,” she answered. “It’s down the right hallway, second door on the left.”
“Thank you,” Eliana said. She followed the woman’s directions and found herself in a bright, cheery kitchenette. Hayden was blocking her view of Addison, but she could tell they were having an interesting conversation.
“If you had just listened to Dr. Kitchener, this wouldn’t have happened,” Hayden said, chuckling.
“Easy for you to say. I was stuck. Ah! The ice is melting down my shirt!” Addison yelped.
“What is going on?” Eliana asked, laughing. Her friends turned around.
“Well,” Hayden answered, grinning, “Add hasn’t quite learned to listen to the doctor’s orders.”
“I got stuck!” Addison protested. He was holding a Ziploc bag full of ice to his left eye. “We were going through Mr. Quadrangle’s reps and I got caught between the door and Mr. Quadrangle’s fist. He got me right in the eye.”
“A real shiner,” Hayden added helpfully. Eliana stifled a laugh.
As the hilarious (but unadmirable) Oscar Wilde stated: "Be Yourself; everyone else is already taken." I don't see how you could argue with that.
Ciao.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
part 13 {rach}
“Um, no, I guess…daisies have always been my favorite flower.”
Bernice de Viliano gave Eliana a peculiar look. “Oh,” she said, “well, they are a bit common, but I must agree with you, they are lovely specimens nonetheless. They have a very simple beauty, don’t you agree?”
“Oh, to be sure,” Eliana said, nodding her head emphatically.
“Very good,” Miss de Viliano ejaculated, smiling widely.
“Yes, very good,” Mrs. Zangler repeated. “Now, let’s get down to business, Bernice. I would like you to hold something for me.” She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a small paper bag. “Hold out your hand,” she said, and Miss de Viliano complied. Mrs. Zangler poured out about a dozen small, black seeds.
Miss de Viliano cringed, making a face. “These are dihydrondicatle Popenlamusted seeds!” she exclaimed. “Oh, take them back, quickly, take them back.”
“I want you to take them home with you, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said quietly.
“I couldn’t possibly!!” Miss de Viliano cried. “You know how much I loathe this specific species!”
“And that’s why I want you to have them,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Take them home, plant them in a nice pot with good, healthy soil, and watch them grow. Make friends with them, Bernice. It will do you good.”
Miss de Viliano’s lip quivered. “Are you absolutely, positively serious?”
“Yes I am,” Mrs. Zangler said, smiling. “It’s an order from your psychiatrist.”
“But how can I make friends with…with a Popenlamusted plant? Especially one that is dihydrondicatled? It’s absolutely impossible. You know my aversion towards them, Ophelia.”
“Think of it this way, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said. “These plants are lonely! They’re hardly ever grown in captivity, and they’re usually eaten by the wildlife everywhere else. You could give this plant life!! You could give it friendship, love, and a reason to thrive! This is your assignment for this coming week—please try to be kind to it?”
Miss de Viliano sighed. “I can try,” she said, pouring the seeds back into the paper bag.
“Very good, Bernice, I’m proud of you,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Please bring the plant in for your appointment next week. I’ll see you then, alright?”
***************************
to quote the random internet find Douglas Adams, "Flying is learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss." how profound. (?)
goodbye.
Bernice de Viliano gave Eliana a peculiar look. “Oh,” she said, “well, they are a bit common, but I must agree with you, they are lovely specimens nonetheless. They have a very simple beauty, don’t you agree?”
“Oh, to be sure,” Eliana said, nodding her head emphatically.
“Very good,” Miss de Viliano ejaculated, smiling widely.
“Yes, very good,” Mrs. Zangler repeated. “Now, let’s get down to business, Bernice. I would like you to hold something for me.” She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a small paper bag. “Hold out your hand,” she said, and Miss de Viliano complied. Mrs. Zangler poured out about a dozen small, black seeds.
Miss de Viliano cringed, making a face. “These are dihydrondicatle Popenlamusted seeds!” she exclaimed. “Oh, take them back, quickly, take them back.”
“I want you to take them home with you, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said quietly.
“I couldn’t possibly!!” Miss de Viliano cried. “You know how much I loathe this specific species!”
“And that’s why I want you to have them,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Take them home, plant them in a nice pot with good, healthy soil, and watch them grow. Make friends with them, Bernice. It will do you good.”
Miss de Viliano’s lip quivered. “Are you absolutely, positively serious?”
“Yes I am,” Mrs. Zangler said, smiling. “It’s an order from your psychiatrist.”
“But how can I make friends with…with a Popenlamusted plant? Especially one that is dihydrondicatled? It’s absolutely impossible. You know my aversion towards them, Ophelia.”
“Think of it this way, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said. “These plants are lonely! They’re hardly ever grown in captivity, and they’re usually eaten by the wildlife everywhere else. You could give this plant life!! You could give it friendship, love, and a reason to thrive! This is your assignment for this coming week—please try to be kind to it?”
Miss de Viliano sighed. “I can try,” she said, pouring the seeds back into the paper bag.
“Very good, Bernice, I’m proud of you,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Please bring the plant in for your appointment next week. I’ll see you then, alright?”
***************************
to quote the random internet find Douglas Adams, "Flying is learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss." how profound. (?)
goodbye.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
part 12 {lib}
“I’m sure it’s very difficult,” Mrs. Zangler sympathized. “But we need to find some ways to help you let go.”
“But I—don’t—want—to,” Mr. Blumbergen wailed.
Mrs. Zangler tried a different tack. “How do you feel when you think about Charlie?”
“Horrible,” Mr. Blumbergen answered, calming down. “Just horrible.”
“But Charlie loved you, didn’t he?” she continued.
“Of course. Ever since I brought him here from the Billabong twenty-three years ago. He was so attached to me.”
“Well, Charlie would certainly want you to stop crying and missing him, then. He would want you to be happy and go on with your life, don’t you think?” Mrs. Zangler went on.
“I guess so,” Mr. Blumbergen replied, doubtfully.
“I have a partial solution for you, Mr. Blumbergen. I think you should take this lizard home with you,” Mrs. Zangler told him, pulling a small glass jar from her purse. Inside was a rainbow-striped rubber lizard. “What do you think of this, Mr. Blumbergen?” Mrs. Zangler asked. The man peered through the glass at the obnoxiously colored rubber toy.
“It’s very nice,” he said, with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
“How would you like to take this lizard home with you until next week? You could consider him a kind of substitute for Charlie,” Mrs. Zangler went on. Mr. Blumbergen bit his lip.
“Nothing can replace Charlie,” he said firmly, but his eyes were watering a little, Eliana thought.
“Certainly not!” Mrs. Zangler answered indignantly. “But we can enjoy other things, along with the memory of Charlie, can’t we?”
“I suppose,” Mr. Blumbergen sniffed.
“Good, good. Now you just take him home with you and treat him the same way you treated Charlie when he was alive. Come back next week and we’ll see how things are going, all right?”
“All right,” Mr. Blumbergen agreed, dabbing his eyes with a large white hankie.
“You have a nice day now,” Mrs. Zangler said, handing him the jar. Mr. Blumbergen took it, opened the door, and walked out, mumbling in reply to Eliana’s farewell.
Mrs. Zangler sighed, wrote some things on her clipboard, and turned to Eliana.
“Well, dear, you can see that this isn’t always the easiest job. Mr. Blumbergen has been coming here for the past few months, as Charlie was getting older. And then Charlie finally died, and he’s been such a wreck. To be honest, this is the best I’ve seen him since that day.” Sighing again, Mrs. Zangler removed the straw hat she had been wearing. “Let’s see, who’s next … Ah, Miss de Viliano. She’s such a lovely lady; I think you’ll enjoy her very much. I should inform you, though, that she has something of an obsession with plants, jungles, forests, and all things related. She should be here any minute.”
“This is fascinating,” Eliana answered. “I had no idea that people had such … well, weird problems.”
“Yes, well, we get all kinds,” Mrs. Zangler answered. A buzzer sounded on her monitor. She pressed a button and said, “Yes, Gertie?” The receptionist’s voice came through.
“Miss de Viliano is here, Doctor,” said Gertie.
“Thank you, please send her in,” Mrs. Zangler answered. A few moments later, the door opened and a tall, dark-haired woman entered. Eliana was at once struck by the imposing air of the lady, as well as her somewhat absurd outfit. Miss de Viliano was dressed in a coat that strongly resembled the old carpetbag Eliana had seen in her grandmother’s attic. Her skirt was an iguana green pattern of vines, with monkeys, chameleons, and caterpillars interspersed. Her stockings were white with pine trees and her shoes were six inch heels with beaded leaves. To crown it all, on her dark nest of hair was a forest green plush hat with enormous red flowers sewn on it.
“Hello, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said, extending her hand. Miss de Viliano took it and smiled widely.
“Delighted to see you, Doctor,” she replied, her voice deep and elegant. “I saw the most delightful Poculius bush outside your office, I had no idea that you knew the species!”
Mrs. Zangler seemed surprised. “Indeed, I did not know there was such a marvelous specimen in our flower beds! You must show it to me!”
“Do you like Poculious bushes?” Miss de Viliano asked, turning to Eliana.
“Er, I don’t know,” Eliana answered honestly. “I’ve never seen one.”
“Bernice de Viliano III,” the woman said, extending her hand. Eliana shook it, noticing that her nails were painted bright orange with green vines.
“Eliana Vostras. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m simply delighted, Miss Vostras. Or can I call you Eliana? That’s so much nicer, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course,” Eliana answered politely.
“Splendid, splendid! And you must call me Bernice. I know we shall be wonderful friends,” she paused. “That is, unless you like the prehistoric species deciduous Algamonicus Venti.”
“The wha--” Eliana began.
“The prehistoric species deciduous Algamonicus Venti. I have a particular aversion to that plant, and I really couldn’t be in your company if you liked it. But I’m sure you don’t. Do you?”
As Lauren Myracle (another random person I dug up) profoundly states, "You should eat a waffle! You can't be sad if you eat a waffle!" I could not agree more. What a profound truth.
“But I—don’t—want—to,” Mr. Blumbergen wailed.
Mrs. Zangler tried a different tack. “How do you feel when you think about Charlie?”
“Horrible,” Mr. Blumbergen answered, calming down. “Just horrible.”
“But Charlie loved you, didn’t he?” she continued.
“Of course. Ever since I brought him here from the Billabong twenty-three years ago. He was so attached to me.”
“Well, Charlie would certainly want you to stop crying and missing him, then. He would want you to be happy and go on with your life, don’t you think?” Mrs. Zangler went on.
“I guess so,” Mr. Blumbergen replied, doubtfully.
“I have a partial solution for you, Mr. Blumbergen. I think you should take this lizard home with you,” Mrs. Zangler told him, pulling a small glass jar from her purse. Inside was a rainbow-striped rubber lizard. “What do you think of this, Mr. Blumbergen?” Mrs. Zangler asked. The man peered through the glass at the obnoxiously colored rubber toy.
“It’s very nice,” he said, with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
“How would you like to take this lizard home with you until next week? You could consider him a kind of substitute for Charlie,” Mrs. Zangler went on. Mr. Blumbergen bit his lip.
“Nothing can replace Charlie,” he said firmly, but his eyes were watering a little, Eliana thought.
“Certainly not!” Mrs. Zangler answered indignantly. “But we can enjoy other things, along with the memory of Charlie, can’t we?”
“I suppose,” Mr. Blumbergen sniffed.
“Good, good. Now you just take him home with you and treat him the same way you treated Charlie when he was alive. Come back next week and we’ll see how things are going, all right?”
“All right,” Mr. Blumbergen agreed, dabbing his eyes with a large white hankie.
“You have a nice day now,” Mrs. Zangler said, handing him the jar. Mr. Blumbergen took it, opened the door, and walked out, mumbling in reply to Eliana’s farewell.
Mrs. Zangler sighed, wrote some things on her clipboard, and turned to Eliana.
“Well, dear, you can see that this isn’t always the easiest job. Mr. Blumbergen has been coming here for the past few months, as Charlie was getting older. And then Charlie finally died, and he’s been such a wreck. To be honest, this is the best I’ve seen him since that day.” Sighing again, Mrs. Zangler removed the straw hat she had been wearing. “Let’s see, who’s next … Ah, Miss de Viliano. She’s such a lovely lady; I think you’ll enjoy her very much. I should inform you, though, that she has something of an obsession with plants, jungles, forests, and all things related. She should be here any minute.”
“This is fascinating,” Eliana answered. “I had no idea that people had such … well, weird problems.”
“Yes, well, we get all kinds,” Mrs. Zangler answered. A buzzer sounded on her monitor. She pressed a button and said, “Yes, Gertie?” The receptionist’s voice came through.
“Miss de Viliano is here, Doctor,” said Gertie.
“Thank you, please send her in,” Mrs. Zangler answered. A few moments later, the door opened and a tall, dark-haired woman entered. Eliana was at once struck by the imposing air of the lady, as well as her somewhat absurd outfit. Miss de Viliano was dressed in a coat that strongly resembled the old carpetbag Eliana had seen in her grandmother’s attic. Her skirt was an iguana green pattern of vines, with monkeys, chameleons, and caterpillars interspersed. Her stockings were white with pine trees and her shoes were six inch heels with beaded leaves. To crown it all, on her dark nest of hair was a forest green plush hat with enormous red flowers sewn on it.
“Hello, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said, extending her hand. Miss de Viliano took it and smiled widely.
“Delighted to see you, Doctor,” she replied, her voice deep and elegant. “I saw the most delightful Poculius bush outside your office, I had no idea that you knew the species!”
Mrs. Zangler seemed surprised. “Indeed, I did not know there was such a marvelous specimen in our flower beds! You must show it to me!”
“Do you like Poculious bushes?” Miss de Viliano asked, turning to Eliana.
“Er, I don’t know,” Eliana answered honestly. “I’ve never seen one.”
“Bernice de Viliano III,” the woman said, extending her hand. Eliana shook it, noticing that her nails were painted bright orange with green vines.
“Eliana Vostras. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m simply delighted, Miss Vostras. Or can I call you Eliana? That’s so much nicer, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course,” Eliana answered politely.
“Splendid, splendid! And you must call me Bernice. I know we shall be wonderful friends,” she paused. “That is, unless you like the prehistoric species deciduous Algamonicus Venti.”
“The wha--” Eliana began.
“The prehistoric species deciduous Algamonicus Venti. I have a particular aversion to that plant, and I really couldn’t be in your company if you liked it. But I’m sure you don’t. Do you?”
As Lauren Myracle (another random person I dug up) profoundly states, "You should eat a waffle! You can't be sad if you eat a waffle!" I could not agree more. What a profound truth.
Monday, March 9, 2009
characters
One of our dedicated readers has asked for a list of characters to help keep things straight. I'd be happy to oblige.
the Vostras family:
Eliana Vostras is the main character. duh.
her mom is Alexandra Vostras
her dad is unnamed :)
the Zangler family:
Hayden and Addison Zangler are also main characters. duh.
thier mom is Ophelia Zangler
thier dad is George Zangler
Hayden has a snake named Elliot, and Addison is hoping to be able to keep Ursula the potbellied pig.
other less-important characters:
Mrs. Cornwallis - Addison's history teacher
Mrs. Xymena Kirk - Ursula's former owner
Colleen and Georgiana Thorndike - slightly irritating schoolmates
Mr. Hogland - the hero in Mrs. Vostras's novels
Mr. Beckman - a slightly crazy homeroom teacher
Mr. Rodney Vendetta - the Zanglar's grouchy neighbor
Mr. Blumbergen - one of Mrs. Zangler's patients; he's going through withdrawl from his pet lizard Charlie
Miss Bernice de Viliano - one of Mrs. Zangler's patients; she's obsessed with botany
that's it so far. any questions?
the Vostras family:
Eliana Vostras is the main character. duh.
her mom is Alexandra Vostras
her dad is unnamed :)
the Zangler family:
Hayden and Addison Zangler are also main characters. duh.
thier mom is Ophelia Zangler
thier dad is George Zangler
Hayden has a snake named Elliot, and Addison is hoping to be able to keep Ursula the potbellied pig.
other less-important characters:
Mrs. Cornwallis - Addison's history teacher
Mrs. Xymena Kirk - Ursula's former owner
Colleen and Georgiana Thorndike - slightly irritating schoolmates
Mr. Hogland - the hero in Mrs. Vostras's novels
Mr. Beckman - a slightly crazy homeroom teacher
Mr. Rodney Vendetta - the Zanglar's grouchy neighbor
Mr. Blumbergen - one of Mrs. Zangler's patients; he's going through withdrawl from his pet lizard Charlie
Miss Bernice de Viliano - one of Mrs. Zangler's patients; she's obsessed with botany
that's it so far. any questions?
part 11 {rach}
“Yeah, but it has to be the right type of weird,” Eliana said, playing along. “It can’t be just any old eccentric acting goofy. Being weird takes talent.”
Hayden laughed. “But seriously,” he said, “what do you think about the job? You want to do the internship?”
“I guess it would work,” Eliana mused. “I’m still working at the gym, but that’s only for a few hours after school. I’m sure Gary would let me have the week off, I’d just have to ask.” She grinned and winked at Addison. “And I’ve always wondered what goes on at your mom’s work. You said there’s a man who’s really scared to learn another language?”
The conversation proceeded likewise, while Ursula sat contentedly on Addison’s lap. The pig soon drifted off to sleep, snoring rhythmically. Addison stroked her head while he talked, unconsciously rubbing behind her ears.
Eliana smiled to herself. A pig, she thought. Who would’ve guessed?
Eliana called Gary that night, and he seemed pretty okay with her taking the week off. “I’ve got a new kid who’s been begging for a job,” he had said to her. “Maybe I’ll give him a try while you’re away.”
So on Monday morning, Eliana was knocking on the Zangler’s door at 6:30am. Mrs. Zangler opened the door, seemingly very awake. She was wearing a floral shirt and a large, straw hat. “’Morning, deary,” she said, stepping to the side to let Eliana in.
“I like your… shirt,” Eliana said, glancing at the bright red and pink flowers.
“Oh I just wear this for Mrs. Kibbledoffer,” Mrs. Zangler explained, laughing. “She’s slightly obsessed with forestry. And the hat,” she said, glancing up at the wide brim that shaded her face, “is in honor of Mr. Blumbergen. His pet lizard died last week, and he’s having withdrawal. He says straw hats and pickle jars comfort him, so I thought I’d try to help out.”
“How very thoughtful,” Eliana said genuinely.
“Why thank you, deary,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Come on into the kitchen, I’m almost ready to leave. But you’d better be quiet dear, Mr. Zangler is still sleeping. He was up late last night trying to fix the garbage disposal.”
“Really?” Eliana asked, sitting down on one of the stools by the kitchen island. “What happened to it?”
“The wooden salad tongs got stuck again, and Hayden turned it on while they were down there.” She chuckled at the memory. “There were woodchips clean across the kitchen. Here, have a glass of tomato juice.” Mrs. Zangler handed Eliana a cup and a bottle of juice. “So, dear, are you ready for the life of a psychiatrist?”
Eliana smiled, pouring the juice into her cup. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “I guess we’ll know soon, though, won’t we?”
Mr. Blumbergen was Mrs. Zangler’s first patient. Eliana sat to the side of Mrs. Zangler’s desk and prepared to watch her work. Mr. Blumbergen was middle aged, with graying brown hair and a large nose. His fingers twitched nervously as he sat in the chair across from Mrs. Zangler.
“Good morning Mr. Blumbergen!” Mrs. Zangler cried enthusiastically. “How was your weekend?”
“Not too good,” Mr. Blumbergen said, his eyes flitting around fretfully. “My neighbor bought a new weed whacker.”
“And is there a problem with that?” Mrs. Zangler asked.
“It reminds me of Charlie,” the man said, sniffing loudly.
“Charlie was his lizard,” Mrs. Zangler explained to Eliana.
Mr. Blumbergen seemed to realize for the first time that Eliana was in the room. He stared at her without blinking, looking confused.
“Oh, I’ve forgotten to introduce you!” Mrs. Zangler exclaimed. “Mr. Blumbergen, this is my friend and neighbor, Eliana Vostras. She is interning with me this week, and will be staying with me to watch how I work.”
“Glad to meet you,” Eliana said politely.
“Hmmph,” Mr. Blumbergen huffed, impolitely.
“Now, back to business,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Have you talked to your neighbor about his weed-whacker?”
“Yup,” Mr. Blumbergen said. “I told him I couldn’t stand to listen to it.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said to buzz off. He said he was allowed to weed whack his yard, just so long as it was after nine in the morning.”
“Well, he is right, you know,” Mrs. Zangler said.
Mr. Blumbergen sniffed. “But I can’t stop thinking about Charlie,” he said. “Every time in hear the hum of that weed whacker, I’m reminded of my sister in Venezuela. And that reminds me of her unusual toaster oven, which reminds me of those huge Asian elephants, which reminds me of my laptop, which makes me think of Charlie!” Mr. Blumbergen sniffed again, and Mrs. Zanger handed him a tissue.
Eliana was utterly confused.
***************************************
I must again quote the esteemed Oscar Wilde, especially since I am required to do a biography on him for literature. as he so bravely put it, "I have nothing to declare except my genuis." My sentiments exactly.
*blink blink* wait a minute. wait a minute! I just realized something. Mr. Wilde spelled genius wrong. how preposterous!! he must have been a fake. I am utterly disgusted. well, the one comforting thing is that we all know that I am *much* smarter than he is. yes.
goodbye.
Hayden laughed. “But seriously,” he said, “what do you think about the job? You want to do the internship?”
“I guess it would work,” Eliana mused. “I’m still working at the gym, but that’s only for a few hours after school. I’m sure Gary would let me have the week off, I’d just have to ask.” She grinned and winked at Addison. “And I’ve always wondered what goes on at your mom’s work. You said there’s a man who’s really scared to learn another language?”
The conversation proceeded likewise, while Ursula sat contentedly on Addison’s lap. The pig soon drifted off to sleep, snoring rhythmically. Addison stroked her head while he talked, unconsciously rubbing behind her ears.
Eliana smiled to herself. A pig, she thought. Who would’ve guessed?
Eliana called Gary that night, and he seemed pretty okay with her taking the week off. “I’ve got a new kid who’s been begging for a job,” he had said to her. “Maybe I’ll give him a try while you’re away.”
So on Monday morning, Eliana was knocking on the Zangler’s door at 6:30am. Mrs. Zangler opened the door, seemingly very awake. She was wearing a floral shirt and a large, straw hat. “’Morning, deary,” she said, stepping to the side to let Eliana in.
“I like your… shirt,” Eliana said, glancing at the bright red and pink flowers.
“Oh I just wear this for Mrs. Kibbledoffer,” Mrs. Zangler explained, laughing. “She’s slightly obsessed with forestry. And the hat,” she said, glancing up at the wide brim that shaded her face, “is in honor of Mr. Blumbergen. His pet lizard died last week, and he’s having withdrawal. He says straw hats and pickle jars comfort him, so I thought I’d try to help out.”
“How very thoughtful,” Eliana said genuinely.
“Why thank you, deary,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Come on into the kitchen, I’m almost ready to leave. But you’d better be quiet dear, Mr. Zangler is still sleeping. He was up late last night trying to fix the garbage disposal.”
“Really?” Eliana asked, sitting down on one of the stools by the kitchen island. “What happened to it?”
“The wooden salad tongs got stuck again, and Hayden turned it on while they were down there.” She chuckled at the memory. “There were woodchips clean across the kitchen. Here, have a glass of tomato juice.” Mrs. Zangler handed Eliana a cup and a bottle of juice. “So, dear, are you ready for the life of a psychiatrist?”
Eliana smiled, pouring the juice into her cup. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “I guess we’ll know soon, though, won’t we?”
Mr. Blumbergen was Mrs. Zangler’s first patient. Eliana sat to the side of Mrs. Zangler’s desk and prepared to watch her work. Mr. Blumbergen was middle aged, with graying brown hair and a large nose. His fingers twitched nervously as he sat in the chair across from Mrs. Zangler.
“Good morning Mr. Blumbergen!” Mrs. Zangler cried enthusiastically. “How was your weekend?”
“Not too good,” Mr. Blumbergen said, his eyes flitting around fretfully. “My neighbor bought a new weed whacker.”
“And is there a problem with that?” Mrs. Zangler asked.
“It reminds me of Charlie,” the man said, sniffing loudly.
“Charlie was his lizard,” Mrs. Zangler explained to Eliana.
Mr. Blumbergen seemed to realize for the first time that Eliana was in the room. He stared at her without blinking, looking confused.
“Oh, I’ve forgotten to introduce you!” Mrs. Zangler exclaimed. “Mr. Blumbergen, this is my friend and neighbor, Eliana Vostras. She is interning with me this week, and will be staying with me to watch how I work.”
“Glad to meet you,” Eliana said politely.
“Hmmph,” Mr. Blumbergen huffed, impolitely.
“Now, back to business,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Have you talked to your neighbor about his weed-whacker?”
“Yup,” Mr. Blumbergen said. “I told him I couldn’t stand to listen to it.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said to buzz off. He said he was allowed to weed whack his yard, just so long as it was after nine in the morning.”
“Well, he is right, you know,” Mrs. Zangler said.
Mr. Blumbergen sniffed. “But I can’t stop thinking about Charlie,” he said. “Every time in hear the hum of that weed whacker, I’m reminded of my sister in Venezuela. And that reminds me of her unusual toaster oven, which reminds me of those huge Asian elephants, which reminds me of my laptop, which makes me think of Charlie!” Mr. Blumbergen sniffed again, and Mrs. Zanger handed him a tissue.
Eliana was utterly confused.
***************************************
I must again quote the esteemed Oscar Wilde, especially since I am required to do a biography on him for literature. as he so bravely put it, "I have nothing to declare except my genuis." My sentiments exactly.
*blink blink* wait a minute. wait a minute! I just realized something. Mr. Wilde spelled genius wrong. how preposterous!! he must have been a fake. I am utterly disgusted. well, the one comforting thing is that we all know that I am *much* smarter than he is. yes.
goodbye.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
part 10 {lib}
“Let’s just say I had an interesting day at work,” she answered. She then related everything that had happened that afternoon. “I guess she couldn’t wait to get rid of Ursula,” Eliana finished.
“She did mention something about leaving for Guatemala at four o’clock in the morning,” Addison remembered. “To tell the truth, I kind of have Ursula on trial. Mrs. Kirk said that when she gets back from Guatemala she’ll come and visit to see how Ursula is doing, and if she’s happy, I get to keep her.”
“And if she’s not?” Hayden asked.
“Then she goes back to Mrs. Kirk,” Addison answered.
“Well, I foresee that happening anyway,” Hayden said. “Mom barely let me keep Elliot, and he doesn’t run free.”
“True. But don’t worry about it. I’ll just set my persuasion skills to work and I’m sure Mom will relent. In the mean time, I think Ursula will sleep in your room, Hayd.”
“And you can sleep in the garage,” Hayden answered sweetly.
Eliana laughed. “How about the shed?” she suggested. “For Ursula, not Addison,” she clarified.
“Yeah, I guess that’s where she can stay for tonight,” Addison agreed. The three were silent for a few minutes.
“How’s your mom’s book coming?” Hayden asked finally.
“All right, I think. I talked to her about it a little when I got home from school. She said she somehow got Mr. Hogland locked in a closet with an eggplant and she’s not sure how to get him out, but otherwise, she’s moving ahead. She promised to let us read it before sending it to her editor.”
“Not to change the subject or anything, but my mom was saying that their having internships at the office next week, if you’re interested,” Hayden told her.
“Your mom’s psychiatry office?” Eliana asked.
“Yeah. It’s super fun to go there after school,” Addison answered. “She’s got the most interesting patients. There’s this one man who only speaks Polish because he’s afraid of learning another language. And then there’s the lady who only wears floral patterns because of some jungle obsession dealio. It’s fascinating,” he finished, his voice full of enthusiasm.
“It does sound interesting,” Eliana agreed.
“And we all know that you like weird stuff,” Hayden said.
As the oft quoted Lemony Snicket so profoundly put it: "If you are allergic to a thing, it is best not to put that thing in your mouth, particularly if the thing is cats." I quite agree. I'm sure it's the same with hedgehogs.
Have a fabulous life.
“She did mention something about leaving for Guatemala at four o’clock in the morning,” Addison remembered. “To tell the truth, I kind of have Ursula on trial. Mrs. Kirk said that when she gets back from Guatemala she’ll come and visit to see how Ursula is doing, and if she’s happy, I get to keep her.”
“And if she’s not?” Hayden asked.
“Then she goes back to Mrs. Kirk,” Addison answered.
“Well, I foresee that happening anyway,” Hayden said. “Mom barely let me keep Elliot, and he doesn’t run free.”
“True. But don’t worry about it. I’ll just set my persuasion skills to work and I’m sure Mom will relent. In the mean time, I think Ursula will sleep in your room, Hayd.”
“And you can sleep in the garage,” Hayden answered sweetly.
Eliana laughed. “How about the shed?” she suggested. “For Ursula, not Addison,” she clarified.
“Yeah, I guess that’s where she can stay for tonight,” Addison agreed. The three were silent for a few minutes.
“How’s your mom’s book coming?” Hayden asked finally.
“All right, I think. I talked to her about it a little when I got home from school. She said she somehow got Mr. Hogland locked in a closet with an eggplant and she’s not sure how to get him out, but otherwise, she’s moving ahead. She promised to let us read it before sending it to her editor.”
“Not to change the subject or anything, but my mom was saying that their having internships at the office next week, if you’re interested,” Hayden told her.
“Your mom’s psychiatry office?” Eliana asked.
“Yeah. It’s super fun to go there after school,” Addison answered. “She’s got the most interesting patients. There’s this one man who only speaks Polish because he’s afraid of learning another language. And then there’s the lady who only wears floral patterns because of some jungle obsession dealio. It’s fascinating,” he finished, his voice full of enthusiasm.
“It does sound interesting,” Eliana agreed.
“And we all know that you like weird stuff,” Hayden said.
As the oft quoted Lemony Snicket so profoundly put it: "If you are allergic to a thing, it is best not to put that thing in your mouth, particularly if the thing is cats." I quite agree. I'm sure it's the same with hedgehogs.
Have a fabulous life.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
part 9 {rach}
“Well, back in ’87…”
Mr. Vendetta’s story was interrupted by a piecing shriek from the house. “Excuse me,” Mr. Zangler cried hurriedly, rushing into the house with Hayden and Eliana right behind him. Mr. Vendetta was left in a cloud of smoke.
As Eliana entered the house, she was again reminded of the meal Mrs. Zangler was preparing. She wrinkled up her nose and followed the sound – and the smell – to the kitchen.
Mrs. Zangler was standing on the kitchen counter, gripping a cupboard door as if her life depended on it. “GEORGE!!” she screamed, inching back on the counter and trying not to loose her balance.
“For goodness sake, Ophelia,” Mr. Zangler cried, “what’s the matter?”
Mrs. Zangler tried to catch her breath. “A pig!!” she sputtered. “A dirty, smelly, fat little pig just ran through my kitchen!”
Eliana and Hayden glanced at each other, both confused. “Uh, Mom… a pig?” Hayden asked.
Mrs. Zangler narrowed her eyes and began to climb off the counter. “I am not crazy, young man,” she said. “There was an honest-to-goodness pig running through my kitchen. What I want to know is which one of you brought him in here?” Her eyes went back and forth from Eliana to Hayden to her husband and back again.
Addison’s head popped around the corner. “Uh, mom?” he said quietly.
“What is it, Addison?” Mrs. Zangler snapped.
Addison hesitated. “Actually, pigs aren’t dirty or smelly. They’re some of the cleanest animals alive. And they’re smart, and they make great pets…”
All eyes turned to Addison.
“If you mean to tell me,” Mrs. Zangler began, looking as if she was going to blow her top, “that you brought that creature into this house expecting to keep it as a pet--”
“But mom, she’s a nice pig!” Addison protested.
“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Zangler cried at the top of her lungs. She had snapped. “Addison Frederick Zangler, you find that pig and get him out of this house right now!”
“It’s a she, not a he,” Addison said quietly. “Her name is Ursula.”
Mrs. Zangler’s face was turning from a deep shade of red to an alarming purple. Addison took the cue, hurrying out of the kitchen calling, “Ursula!”
“I just don’t get what’s so gross about a pig,” Addison said. He was sitting on the front porch with Hayden and Eliana, holding the potbelly pig on his lap.
“Pigs do have a pretty big reputation,” Hayden commented.
“But it’s all false!” Addison retorted. “Pigs are clean, smart and wonderful pets.”
“But what about the way they eat?” Eliana asked.
“So what?” Addison replied. “Hayden eats like that sometimes. But pigs clean up after themselves, unlike some people.”
“Gee, thanks a lot,” Hayden muttered. “But what about the phrase ‘sweating like a pig’?”
“It’s a bunch of bologna,” Addison said. “Pigs don’t have sweat glands – that’s why they roll in the mud.”
Hayden sat in sulky silence, defeated.
“Where did you get the pig, Add?” Eliana asked, having enough foresight to see that it would be wise to change the subject.
“Some lady gave him to me,” Addison replied. “She was just walking down the street with Ursula on a leash. I said I liked her pig, and she asked if I wanted to keep her.”
“And you said yes,” Hayden said, rolling his eyes.
“Did this lady, by any change, have an interesting name?” Eliana asked.
“Yeah,” Hayden said, thinking. “Like, Exelmira Fitzpatrick or something.”
“Xymena Kirk, maybe?” Eliana asked.
“That’s it!” Addison agreed. “How’d you know?”
***********************************************************
to quote the highly esteemed Mr. Walt Disney, "We allow no geniuses around our Studio. " I have no idea what that means, but it sounds good. I wholeheartedly agree.
goodbye.
Mr. Vendetta’s story was interrupted by a piecing shriek from the house. “Excuse me,” Mr. Zangler cried hurriedly, rushing into the house with Hayden and Eliana right behind him. Mr. Vendetta was left in a cloud of smoke.
As Eliana entered the house, she was again reminded of the meal Mrs. Zangler was preparing. She wrinkled up her nose and followed the sound – and the smell – to the kitchen.
Mrs. Zangler was standing on the kitchen counter, gripping a cupboard door as if her life depended on it. “GEORGE!!” she screamed, inching back on the counter and trying not to loose her balance.
“For goodness sake, Ophelia,” Mr. Zangler cried, “what’s the matter?”
Mrs. Zangler tried to catch her breath. “A pig!!” she sputtered. “A dirty, smelly, fat little pig just ran through my kitchen!”
Eliana and Hayden glanced at each other, both confused. “Uh, Mom… a pig?” Hayden asked.
Mrs. Zangler narrowed her eyes and began to climb off the counter. “I am not crazy, young man,” she said. “There was an honest-to-goodness pig running through my kitchen. What I want to know is which one of you brought him in here?” Her eyes went back and forth from Eliana to Hayden to her husband and back again.
Addison’s head popped around the corner. “Uh, mom?” he said quietly.
“What is it, Addison?” Mrs. Zangler snapped.
Addison hesitated. “Actually, pigs aren’t dirty or smelly. They’re some of the cleanest animals alive. And they’re smart, and they make great pets…”
All eyes turned to Addison.
“If you mean to tell me,” Mrs. Zangler began, looking as if she was going to blow her top, “that you brought that creature into this house expecting to keep it as a pet--”
“But mom, she’s a nice pig!” Addison protested.
“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Zangler cried at the top of her lungs. She had snapped. “Addison Frederick Zangler, you find that pig and get him out of this house right now!”
“It’s a she, not a he,” Addison said quietly. “Her name is Ursula.”
Mrs. Zangler’s face was turning from a deep shade of red to an alarming purple. Addison took the cue, hurrying out of the kitchen calling, “Ursula!”
“I just don’t get what’s so gross about a pig,” Addison said. He was sitting on the front porch with Hayden and Eliana, holding the potbelly pig on his lap.
“Pigs do have a pretty big reputation,” Hayden commented.
“But it’s all false!” Addison retorted. “Pigs are clean, smart and wonderful pets.”
“But what about the way they eat?” Eliana asked.
“So what?” Addison replied. “Hayden eats like that sometimes. But pigs clean up after themselves, unlike some people.”
“Gee, thanks a lot,” Hayden muttered. “But what about the phrase ‘sweating like a pig’?”
“It’s a bunch of bologna,” Addison said. “Pigs don’t have sweat glands – that’s why they roll in the mud.”
Hayden sat in sulky silence, defeated.
“Where did you get the pig, Add?” Eliana asked, having enough foresight to see that it would be wise to change the subject.
“Some lady gave him to me,” Addison replied. “She was just walking down the street with Ursula on a leash. I said I liked her pig, and she asked if I wanted to keep her.”
“And you said yes,” Hayden said, rolling his eyes.
“Did this lady, by any change, have an interesting name?” Eliana asked.
“Yeah,” Hayden said, thinking. “Like, Exelmira Fitzpatrick or something.”
“Xymena Kirk, maybe?” Eliana asked.
“That’s it!” Addison agreed. “How’d you know?”
***********************************************************
to quote the highly esteemed Mr. Walt Disney, "We allow no geniuses around our Studio. " I have no idea what that means, but it sounds good. I wholeheartedly agree.
goodbye.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Part 8 {lib}
“Really, George,” Mrs. Zangler was saying, “I don’t understand what happened to the sauce.”
“I just hobe you followebd the recibe this tibe, Ophelia,” Mr. Zangler answered. Eliana quickly realized he had a large wooden clothespin on the end of his nose, which was distorting his speech.
“Hi Mrs. Zangler, hi Mr. Zangler,” Eliana called. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Hello, dear! Would you take this platter out to Hayden? He’s grilling the hotdogs,” Mrs. Zangler replied.
“You want one of these?” Mr. Zangler asked, offering her a clothespin. Eliana shook her head, laughing, and pulled the sliding glass door open. The patio was blanketed in smoke from the grill, and Eliana could hear Hayden coughing somewhere within its depths.
“Hayd? You ok?” she asked, making her way over to where he was grilling.
“Yeah,” he coughed. “The grill is a little smoky, that’s all.”
“Sure,” Eliana answered, skeptically. “I hope you didn’t burn the hotdogs,” she teased.
“Well, I’m still kinda getting the hang of this grilling thing,” Hayden admitted sheepishly. “A few of them are—shall we say—slightly well done?”
He opened the grill, releasing new puff of smoke, and displaying several charred, blackened hotdogs as well as a number of normal ones. He was piling them onto the platter Eliana was holding when they heard someone calling over the fence.
“Uh oh,” Hayden murmured. “What did you say, Mr. Vendetta?” he said, louder.
“I said that you were going to get the fire department over here, with all that smoke,” a loud voice answered. Leaning over the fence was Mr. Vendetta, an older man with thick glasses and an enormous straw hat, which he was vigorously fanning.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Hayden apologized. “It’s starting to clear out now.”
“What are you doing fooling around with that grill anyway, young ‘un?” Mr. Vendetta asked.
“Well, I’m just starting, you know, Home Ec. and all, and I was just--,” Hayden started saying.
“What’s going on, Rodney?” Mr. Zangler asked, walking over.
“Well, the young ‘un here doesn’t seem to know that he’s polluting the air with all this improperly managed smoke,” Mr. Vendetta answered.
“He’s learning how to grill, Rodney,” Mr. Zangler explained. “Don’t worry, the smoke will be cleared out soon. I suggest you go inside and eat your dinner, like everyone else.”
“I’m not hungry!” Mr. Vendetta answered indignantly. “Now, young ‘un, you need to turn the gas down. And move the racks over a little bit.”
Hayden, bewildered, followed his instructions, while Mr. Zangler watched, holding back a laugh.
“Now stick those ‘dogs on the grill, that’s right, horizontally, and close it for three minutes. Did I ever tell you about the time I almost grilled a raccoon, George?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Mr. Zangler answered, looking as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear that story.
As Olin Miller, some random guy, so excellently stated, “Writing is the hardest way of earning a living, with the possible exception of wrestling alligators.” We could not agree more and hope this deepens your appreciation of what we are trying to do here.
“I just hobe you followebd the recibe this tibe, Ophelia,” Mr. Zangler answered. Eliana quickly realized he had a large wooden clothespin on the end of his nose, which was distorting his speech.
“Hi Mrs. Zangler, hi Mr. Zangler,” Eliana called. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Hello, dear! Would you take this platter out to Hayden? He’s grilling the hotdogs,” Mrs. Zangler replied.
“You want one of these?” Mr. Zangler asked, offering her a clothespin. Eliana shook her head, laughing, and pulled the sliding glass door open. The patio was blanketed in smoke from the grill, and Eliana could hear Hayden coughing somewhere within its depths.
“Hayd? You ok?” she asked, making her way over to where he was grilling.
“Yeah,” he coughed. “The grill is a little smoky, that’s all.”
“Sure,” Eliana answered, skeptically. “I hope you didn’t burn the hotdogs,” she teased.
“Well, I’m still kinda getting the hang of this grilling thing,” Hayden admitted sheepishly. “A few of them are—shall we say—slightly well done?”
He opened the grill, releasing new puff of smoke, and displaying several charred, blackened hotdogs as well as a number of normal ones. He was piling them onto the platter Eliana was holding when they heard someone calling over the fence.
“Uh oh,” Hayden murmured. “What did you say, Mr. Vendetta?” he said, louder.
“I said that you were going to get the fire department over here, with all that smoke,” a loud voice answered. Leaning over the fence was Mr. Vendetta, an older man with thick glasses and an enormous straw hat, which he was vigorously fanning.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Hayden apologized. “It’s starting to clear out now.”
“What are you doing fooling around with that grill anyway, young ‘un?” Mr. Vendetta asked.
“Well, I’m just starting, you know, Home Ec. and all, and I was just--,” Hayden started saying.
“What’s going on, Rodney?” Mr. Zangler asked, walking over.
“Well, the young ‘un here doesn’t seem to know that he’s polluting the air with all this improperly managed smoke,” Mr. Vendetta answered.
“He’s learning how to grill, Rodney,” Mr. Zangler explained. “Don’t worry, the smoke will be cleared out soon. I suggest you go inside and eat your dinner, like everyone else.”
“I’m not hungry!” Mr. Vendetta answered indignantly. “Now, young ‘un, you need to turn the gas down. And move the racks over a little bit.”
Hayden, bewildered, followed his instructions, while Mr. Zangler watched, holding back a laugh.
“Now stick those ‘dogs on the grill, that’s right, horizontally, and close it for three minutes. Did I ever tell you about the time I almost grilled a raccoon, George?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Mr. Zangler answered, looking as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear that story.
As Olin Miller, some random guy, so excellently stated, “Writing is the hardest way of earning a living, with the possible exception of wrestling alligators.” We could not agree more and hope this deepens your appreciation of what we are trying to do here.
Friday, February 27, 2009
part 7 {rach}
“Umm, I’d have to talk with my parents,” Eliana said. Was this lady off her rocker? A pig… as a pet?
“I’ll give you my number,” Mrs. Kirk said, pulling a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse. “Think it over, talk to your parents and get back to me, alright?”
Eliana smiled, looking a bit confused, and nodded, accepting the paper that Mrs. Kirk proffered. “Have a nice day,” she said as the petit lady walked out the door.
Eliana’s cell phone rang at quarter of five.
“Keep the noise down, Ellie,” her manager Gary called from his office. “I’m trying to concentrate on these fitness reports.”
“Sorry, sir,” Eliana replied, pulling the phone out of her purse. “Hello?” she whispered into the receiver.
“Hey, it’s me,” Hayden said.
“Hi, what’s up?”
“Can you come over and have dinner with us tonight?” Hayden replied.
“I’m sure that’s fine,” Eliana said. “Any special reason?”
“Mom picked up some tongue at the store yesterday – yes, I said tongue. But everyone here refuses to eat it. So she wants you to come over and try it out. You’re the only one who can eat stuff like that without gagging.”
“Umm, sounds fine,” Eliana said.
Hayden laughed. “I’m grilling hotdogs too,” he said, “so you won’t starve if the tongue tastes like leather.”
“Alright, I’ll come over after work,” she said, smiling. “Later!”
Eliana left work at 5:03pm. The ride home was short, and she stopped in a home before going over to Hayden’s house.
“Mom, can I have dinner with the Zanglers?” Eliana called from the kitchen. She dropped the backpack on a chair and ran upstairs to change.
“Sounds fine with me,” Mrs. Vostras called back from her office. “We were just going to have leftover honeyed liver.”
Eliana changed quickly, started the coffee maker for her dad and then headed across the street to the Zangler’s house. Addison answered the door for her.
“Hold your breath,” he said, eyes wide, as she stepped inside. “The tongue smells like a rotten fish stick that got doused in Worcestershire sauce and left to decompose in a dump.”
Eliana laughed. “It can’t be that bad, Addison. Probably just a little bit-” She stopped mid-sentence as a smell wafted past her nose.
Addison giggled at the face she made. “You look like a-”
“Don’t say it,” Eliana gagged, plugging up her nose. “I have no idea where you get these wacky descriptions, but they’re a bit too graphic for me.”
“I think ‘em up while I’m falling asleep,” Addison replied.
“Good for you,” Eliana muttered, peeking into the kitchen. Mrs. Zangler was standing in front of the over, wearing big purple oven mitts and a bright yellow apron. A large platter of something rested on the stove, wisps of steam curling up into the air. It looks like pork tenderloin, Eliana thought, minus the pleasant aroma. How on earth can something smell so horrible?
**This section is dedicated to the one and only Andy-the-hula-hooper...he was the inspiration for this section, and is a veritable expert on potbellied pigs. (except for the fact that he knows, like, nothing about them) aaaaaanyways, kudos to Andy for the exceptional advice and inspiration, I'll have your million dollars for you next December. :D
as always, 5 comments are required in order for the next section to be publisized.
to quote the famous and all-wonderful Spot Conlon, "I say that what you say... is what I say." soooo profound. don't you just love it?????? (go brooklyn :D)
“I’ll give you my number,” Mrs. Kirk said, pulling a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse. “Think it over, talk to your parents and get back to me, alright?”
Eliana smiled, looking a bit confused, and nodded, accepting the paper that Mrs. Kirk proffered. “Have a nice day,” she said as the petit lady walked out the door.
Eliana’s cell phone rang at quarter of five.
“Keep the noise down, Ellie,” her manager Gary called from his office. “I’m trying to concentrate on these fitness reports.”
“Sorry, sir,” Eliana replied, pulling the phone out of her purse. “Hello?” she whispered into the receiver.
“Hey, it’s me,” Hayden said.
“Hi, what’s up?”
“Can you come over and have dinner with us tonight?” Hayden replied.
“I’m sure that’s fine,” Eliana said. “Any special reason?”
“Mom picked up some tongue at the store yesterday – yes, I said tongue. But everyone here refuses to eat it. So she wants you to come over and try it out. You’re the only one who can eat stuff like that without gagging.”
“Umm, sounds fine,” Eliana said.
Hayden laughed. “I’m grilling hotdogs too,” he said, “so you won’t starve if the tongue tastes like leather.”
“Alright, I’ll come over after work,” she said, smiling. “Later!”
Eliana left work at 5:03pm. The ride home was short, and she stopped in a home before going over to Hayden’s house.
“Mom, can I have dinner with the Zanglers?” Eliana called from the kitchen. She dropped the backpack on a chair and ran upstairs to change.
“Sounds fine with me,” Mrs. Vostras called back from her office. “We were just going to have leftover honeyed liver.”
Eliana changed quickly, started the coffee maker for her dad and then headed across the street to the Zangler’s house. Addison answered the door for her.
“Hold your breath,” he said, eyes wide, as she stepped inside. “The tongue smells like a rotten fish stick that got doused in Worcestershire sauce and left to decompose in a dump.”
Eliana laughed. “It can’t be that bad, Addison. Probably just a little bit-” She stopped mid-sentence as a smell wafted past her nose.
Addison giggled at the face she made. “You look like a-”
“Don’t say it,” Eliana gagged, plugging up her nose. “I have no idea where you get these wacky descriptions, but they’re a bit too graphic for me.”
“I think ‘em up while I’m falling asleep,” Addison replied.
“Good for you,” Eliana muttered, peeking into the kitchen. Mrs. Zangler was standing in front of the over, wearing big purple oven mitts and a bright yellow apron. A large platter of something rested on the stove, wisps of steam curling up into the air. It looks like pork tenderloin, Eliana thought, minus the pleasant aroma. How on earth can something smell so horrible?
**This section is dedicated to the one and only Andy-the-hula-hooper...he was the inspiration for this section, and is a veritable expert on potbellied pigs. (except for the fact that he knows, like, nothing about them) aaaaaanyways, kudos to Andy for the exceptional advice and inspiration, I'll have your million dollars for you next December. :D
as always, 5 comments are required in order for the next section to be publisized.
to quote the famous and all-wonderful Spot Conlon, "I say that what you say... is what I say." soooo profound. don't you just love it?????? (go brooklyn :D)
Monday, February 23, 2009
Part 6 {lib}
The class scurried out in a confusion of slamming books, shuffling feet, and dropped pencils.
Eliana and Hayden had history class immediately after homeroom, and they walked together to Mrs. Cornwallis’s class.
“I hope she hasn’t decided to start the sculpting classes today,” Hayden said swinging his textbook.
“Hopefully we’ll learn something normal,” Eliana replied. “But then again,” she said, considering, “Mrs. Cornwallis’s class can hardly be classified as “normal.””
“Agreed,” Hayden laughed, as they entered History class. Mrs. Cornwallis was writing dates up on the blackboard as the students took their seats.
“Good morning, class,” she said, smiling. Her eyes took them in over the rims of her sparkly red glasses. “I’m sure you’re all just as excited as I am to be learning about Teddy Roosevelt and the many fascinating things he did throughout his lengthy and significant career.”
She almost sounds like the textbook, Eliana thought absently.
“However,” Mrs. Cornwallis was saying, “We have focused more on Roosevelt’s early presidency for the past three weeks. Starting today, we will be studying the area of prehistoric reptilian animals and how they affected Roosevelt’s presidency and decisions.”
Hayden raised his eyebrows, but the class was only mildly surprised. Mrs. Cornwallis was well known for her eccentric views on education.
“To begin, let’s brainstorm a little. Who can give me some ideas of how prehistoric reptilian animals affected Roosevelt?” Mrs. Cornwallis asked brightly.
Her students exchanged uncertain glances with each other. The room was dead quiet.
“Brandon, how about you? What might be some affects of prehistoric animals on the President?”
Brandon shook his shaggy hair back out of his eyes. “Uh…none?” The class burst into laughter. Mrs. Cornwallis was not amused.
“Hayden?”
“Well,” Hayden began. He fumbled for an answer. “They were very…ah…strong! And aggressive! And so Roosevelt was inspired by their example and … uh… used their tactics in defeating his enemies?”
“Not bad,” Mrs. Cornwallis said. “Anyone else?” No one raised their hand. “Very well. Open your books to page 376 and read along with me. The first reptile we will learn about is the apatosaurus…”
School was over at 2:00, and Eliana was unlocking her car door at 2:05, after dropping off an extra credit project for Mr. Beckman and leaving a note for Mrs. Cornwallis about the sculpting class. She arrived at work as usual, at 2:25. She had worked at Walk-It-Off Gyms for the past year as a receptionist. Her manager, Gary, was marking something on a clipboard when she walked in.
“Eliana, on time as usual, good to see you. Don’t forget to mark your hours on your time sheet. Tom! Can we move those dumbbells to Room 3? Sammy, how about a cup of coffee? A cinnamon prune cappuccino would be great right about now.” He hurried off to assist a customer and Eliana shoved her backpack under the desk. Her job as a receptionist, while unglamorous, provided ample time for her to complete her homework.
She had just settled down to reading her history chapter when a tiny, skinny old woman stalked into the lobby. Silver hoop earrings swung back and forth beneath her white hair, which was in braid straight down her back. She carried a bright red, leather handbag and wore smart black sweat-suit.
“Maybe you can help me, young lady,” the woman said, pushing wisps of snowy hair behind her ears.
Eliana looked up, smiling pleasantly. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
“My name is Mrs. Xymena Kirk and I’ve been coming here for three years, attending programs and stuff. Well, when I started I was 120 pounds. Then I lost a ton and was only 80 pounds. Well, that was last year! I’ve been coming faithfully since then and I haven’t lost an ounce!” Mrs. Kirk finished.
“Well, Mrs. Kirk, you could speak to a councilor about your present condition, or I could give you some pamphlets. But personally, Mrs. Kirk, I think you look fabulous,” Eliana dared to say. Mrs. Kirk smiled shrewdly.
“You’re a clever girl, you know that? Sweet of you to say so.”
“No, Mrs. Kirk, I’m absolutely serious. You are terribly fit! I have your record here on the computer, tracking all your progress and you’ve never missed a session and are typically ahead of you class. I wouldn’t be worried about your weight.” If she loses anymore, she’ll practically disappear, Eliana couldn’t help thinking.
“Well, that’s nice of you.” Mrs. Kirk appeared to be lost in thought. Suddenly, she perked up. “Say, do you like pigs?”
“Excuse me?” Eliana asked, astonished.
“Pigs! Do you like them?”
“Well—sure, I guess so,” Eliana answered, uncertainly.
“Because my friend is looking for someone to take her pig, Ursula. She can’t take care of her anymore and she’s looking for a responsible person to give Ursula to,” Xymena Kirk explained.
As the brilliant and esteemed Lemony Snicket so poignantly puts it, "Miracles are like meatballs, because nobody can exactly agree on what they are made of, where they come from, or how often they should appear."
There must be five comments on this section before Rach will post the next one, and they must be longer than four and a half words. They must say something beyond "LOL." or "Funny." If you need help, look at Caleb's very acceptable comment on the previous section.
[My aversion to purple forces me to change the background yet again. I hope this will not cause any discord.]
Goodbye.
Eliana and Hayden had history class immediately after homeroom, and they walked together to Mrs. Cornwallis’s class.
“I hope she hasn’t decided to start the sculpting classes today,” Hayden said swinging his textbook.
“Hopefully we’ll learn something normal,” Eliana replied. “But then again,” she said, considering, “Mrs. Cornwallis’s class can hardly be classified as “normal.””
“Agreed,” Hayden laughed, as they entered History class. Mrs. Cornwallis was writing dates up on the blackboard as the students took their seats.
“Good morning, class,” she said, smiling. Her eyes took them in over the rims of her sparkly red glasses. “I’m sure you’re all just as excited as I am to be learning about Teddy Roosevelt and the many fascinating things he did throughout his lengthy and significant career.”
She almost sounds like the textbook, Eliana thought absently.
“However,” Mrs. Cornwallis was saying, “We have focused more on Roosevelt’s early presidency for the past three weeks. Starting today, we will be studying the area of prehistoric reptilian animals and how they affected Roosevelt’s presidency and decisions.”
Hayden raised his eyebrows, but the class was only mildly surprised. Mrs. Cornwallis was well known for her eccentric views on education.
“To begin, let’s brainstorm a little. Who can give me some ideas of how prehistoric reptilian animals affected Roosevelt?” Mrs. Cornwallis asked brightly.
Her students exchanged uncertain glances with each other. The room was dead quiet.
“Brandon, how about you? What might be some affects of prehistoric animals on the President?”
Brandon shook his shaggy hair back out of his eyes. “Uh…none?” The class burst into laughter. Mrs. Cornwallis was not amused.
“Hayden?”
“Well,” Hayden began. He fumbled for an answer. “They were very…ah…strong! And aggressive! And so Roosevelt was inspired by their example and … uh… used their tactics in defeating his enemies?”
“Not bad,” Mrs. Cornwallis said. “Anyone else?” No one raised their hand. “Very well. Open your books to page 376 and read along with me. The first reptile we will learn about is the apatosaurus…”
School was over at 2:00, and Eliana was unlocking her car door at 2:05, after dropping off an extra credit project for Mr. Beckman and leaving a note for Mrs. Cornwallis about the sculpting class. She arrived at work as usual, at 2:25. She had worked at Walk-It-Off Gyms for the past year as a receptionist. Her manager, Gary, was marking something on a clipboard when she walked in.
“Eliana, on time as usual, good to see you. Don’t forget to mark your hours on your time sheet. Tom! Can we move those dumbbells to Room 3? Sammy, how about a cup of coffee? A cinnamon prune cappuccino would be great right about now.” He hurried off to assist a customer and Eliana shoved her backpack under the desk. Her job as a receptionist, while unglamorous, provided ample time for her to complete her homework.
She had just settled down to reading her history chapter when a tiny, skinny old woman stalked into the lobby. Silver hoop earrings swung back and forth beneath her white hair, which was in braid straight down her back. She carried a bright red, leather handbag and wore smart black sweat-suit.
“Maybe you can help me, young lady,” the woman said, pushing wisps of snowy hair behind her ears.
Eliana looked up, smiling pleasantly. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
“My name is Mrs. Xymena Kirk and I’ve been coming here for three years, attending programs and stuff. Well, when I started I was 120 pounds. Then I lost a ton and was only 80 pounds. Well, that was last year! I’ve been coming faithfully since then and I haven’t lost an ounce!” Mrs. Kirk finished.
“Well, Mrs. Kirk, you could speak to a councilor about your present condition, or I could give you some pamphlets. But personally, Mrs. Kirk, I think you look fabulous,” Eliana dared to say. Mrs. Kirk smiled shrewdly.
“You’re a clever girl, you know that? Sweet of you to say so.”
“No, Mrs. Kirk, I’m absolutely serious. You are terribly fit! I have your record here on the computer, tracking all your progress and you’ve never missed a session and are typically ahead of you class. I wouldn’t be worried about your weight.” If she loses anymore, she’ll practically disappear, Eliana couldn’t help thinking.
“Well, that’s nice of you.” Mrs. Kirk appeared to be lost in thought. Suddenly, she perked up. “Say, do you like pigs?”
“Excuse me?” Eliana asked, astonished.
“Pigs! Do you like them?”
“Well—sure, I guess so,” Eliana answered, uncertainly.
“Because my friend is looking for someone to take her pig, Ursula. She can’t take care of her anymore and she’s looking for a responsible person to give Ursula to,” Xymena Kirk explained.
As the brilliant and esteemed Lemony Snicket so poignantly puts it, "Miracles are like meatballs, because nobody can exactly agree on what they are made of, where they come from, or how often they should appear."
There must be five comments on this section before Rach will post the next one, and they must be longer than four and a half words. They must say something beyond "LOL." or "Funny." If you need help, look at Caleb's very acceptable comment on the previous section.
[My aversion to purple forces me to change the background yet again. I hope this will not cause any discord.]
Goodbye.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
part 5 {rach}
“We’ll see,” Mr. Vostras said. “Eliana, tell your teacher that I would be most delighted to join your class. But I would like more information, so you may have her call. Not during my yoga classes, though, make sure you tell her that.”
“Sure, Daddy,” Eliana said.
“Good. Now run along.” Mr. Vostras turned back to his artwork and began to clean some paintbrushes.
The three children climbed back down the stairs and Eliana said goodbye to her friends at the door. “See you tomorrow!” she called as they headed across the street to their own home.
Eliana awoke early on Friday morning. I wonder why they always say “bright and early”, she wondered. Whenever you get up early, it’s not even bright outside. She rummaged through her drawers and donned a short-sleeved shirt and her gym shorts. Her backpack, which she had packed the night before, was sitting by the front door waiting for her. Eliana slipped downstairs quietly – Mr. and Mrs. Vostras were still asleep – and grabbed a protein bar from the pantry. Tossing her backpack over her shoulder and grabbing the car keys, she headed out the door.
Eliana was always early to her classes. She would arrive at the same time as her homeroom teacher, Mr. Beckman, and set everything up at her desk. Two pencils, one black pen, one red pen, a ruler, and eraser and a stapler. Then Eliana would pull a small clipboard out of her backpack and write out that day’s to-do list while she waited for her classmates. That was how she did thing every morning.
Just as the bell was ringing, seventeen other teenagers poured into Eliana’s homeroom. Each one took a seat at a desk, hurrying to get everything ready while chatting amongst themselves. Hayden took his seat at the other side of the room, smiling at Eliana. She crossed her eyes, making him laugh.
“Quiet everyone!” Mr. Beckman barked. The class came to order immediately. Everyone knew that when Mr. Beckman spoke, he meant business.
“Emma, take that candy bar off your desk. Donald, loose the sunglasses. Is everyone ready to begin?”
The entire 11th grade class at Gregson High School leaned forward, pencils at the ready. Mr. Beckman inhaled deeply, then began rattling off the day’s assignments. Pencils scribbled frantically. One kid in the front row nearly had a heart attack because the lead on his pencil broke and he didn’t have a spare one ready.
When he finished speaking, Mr. Beckman took a long breath, his arms crossed. “Who would like to recite back to me the happenings of third period?” he asked.
Almost everyone raised their hands. “Brandon?” Mr. Beckman said, calling on a lanky boy with long brown hair that practically covered his entire face. Brandon was one of the few students who had not raised his hand. Everyone at Gregson High School knew that if you raised your hand, Mr. Beckman would NOT call on you. Brandon, being fairly new, had not yet discovered this, and simply thought that Mr. Beckman needed to get his eyesight checked.
“I think we’re supposed to pick up some type of folder at the office,” Brandon mumbled.
“Only partially correct, young man,” Mr. Beckman said, “but you must be specific! You are to pick up a folder containing your science report assignments for the coming semester. And you are to pick this folder up at Mrs. Daxtroperdip’s office, not the principal’s office, do I make myself clear?”
The class nodded.“DISMISSED!” Mr. Beckman yelled at the top of his lungs, making Brandon jump.
By the way, I require AT LEAST five comments before my wonderful partner Libby will post the next section.
And, to quote the famous and brilliant Mr. Mark Twain, "Denial is not simply a river in Egypt." Very profound. I utterly agree with him.
Goodbye.
“Sure, Daddy,” Eliana said.
“Good. Now run along.” Mr. Vostras turned back to his artwork and began to clean some paintbrushes.
The three children climbed back down the stairs and Eliana said goodbye to her friends at the door. “See you tomorrow!” she called as they headed across the street to their own home.
Eliana awoke early on Friday morning. I wonder why they always say “bright and early”, she wondered. Whenever you get up early, it’s not even bright outside. She rummaged through her drawers and donned a short-sleeved shirt and her gym shorts. Her backpack, which she had packed the night before, was sitting by the front door waiting for her. Eliana slipped downstairs quietly – Mr. and Mrs. Vostras were still asleep – and grabbed a protein bar from the pantry. Tossing her backpack over her shoulder and grabbing the car keys, she headed out the door.
Eliana was always early to her classes. She would arrive at the same time as her homeroom teacher, Mr. Beckman, and set everything up at her desk. Two pencils, one black pen, one red pen, a ruler, and eraser and a stapler. Then Eliana would pull a small clipboard out of her backpack and write out that day’s to-do list while she waited for her classmates. That was how she did thing every morning.
Just as the bell was ringing, seventeen other teenagers poured into Eliana’s homeroom. Each one took a seat at a desk, hurrying to get everything ready while chatting amongst themselves. Hayden took his seat at the other side of the room, smiling at Eliana. She crossed her eyes, making him laugh.
“Quiet everyone!” Mr. Beckman barked. The class came to order immediately. Everyone knew that when Mr. Beckman spoke, he meant business.
“Emma, take that candy bar off your desk. Donald, loose the sunglasses. Is everyone ready to begin?”
The entire 11th grade class at Gregson High School leaned forward, pencils at the ready. Mr. Beckman inhaled deeply, then began rattling off the day’s assignments. Pencils scribbled frantically. One kid in the front row nearly had a heart attack because the lead on his pencil broke and he didn’t have a spare one ready.
When he finished speaking, Mr. Beckman took a long breath, his arms crossed. “Who would like to recite back to me the happenings of third period?” he asked.
Almost everyone raised their hands. “Brandon?” Mr. Beckman said, calling on a lanky boy with long brown hair that practically covered his entire face. Brandon was one of the few students who had not raised his hand. Everyone at Gregson High School knew that if you raised your hand, Mr. Beckman would NOT call on you. Brandon, being fairly new, had not yet discovered this, and simply thought that Mr. Beckman needed to get his eyesight checked.
“I think we’re supposed to pick up some type of folder at the office,” Brandon mumbled.
“Only partially correct, young man,” Mr. Beckman said, “but you must be specific! You are to pick up a folder containing your science report assignments for the coming semester. And you are to pick this folder up at Mrs. Daxtroperdip’s office, not the principal’s office, do I make myself clear?”
The class nodded.“DISMISSED!” Mr. Beckman yelled at the top of his lungs, making Brandon jump.
By the way, I require AT LEAST five comments before my wonderful partner Libby will post the next section.
And, to quote the famous and brilliant Mr. Mark Twain, "Denial is not simply a river in Egypt." Very profound. I utterly agree with him.
Goodbye.
Monday, February 16, 2009
part 4 {Libby}
“It’s not nice,” Addison corrected. “It’s brilliant! Who would have thought that such a seemingly simple picture could have such a profound meaning! And not only that, but the conclusions to be drawn from such a work of art are abysmal!” he finished enthusiastically. Mr. Vostras smiled appreciatively.
“So, what are you going to do with it?” Hayden asked, still studying the painting intently.
“I plan to enter it in the “Paint-a-Story” contest at the art gallery downtown,” Mr. Vostras answered, surveying his work with satisfaction.
“Well I’m sure it’ll win something,” Hayden said, encouragingly.
“Even if it’s the “Most Original Idea” award,” Eliana teased. Mr. Vostras just laughed.
“I suppose it is a little different. But still, I think I have a chance.”
“Definitely,” Addison agreed, emphatically.
“Speaking of art,” Eliana said, “What do you think of this sculpture, Dad?” She placed the bust of Teddy Roosevelt on her father’s desk. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“A mustachioed Tibetan antelope?” he guessed, finally. The three teens burst into laughter.
“Teddy Roosevelt, actually,” Hayden managed, gasping. Mr. Vostras started to laugh too.
“Whose rendition?” he asked.
“My history teacher, Mrs. Cornwallis’s,” Addison explained. “She was wondering if you could come into our class and help with sculpting.”
“Wait a second. Let me see if I got this right. Your history teacher has taken up sculpting unflattering busts of our presidents and wants me to instruct her class in proper sculpting technique?”
The three looked at each other.
“That’s basically it,” Addison confirmed.
“So … what happened to teaching history in history class?” Mr. Vostras asked.
“I don’t really know. Mrs. Cornwallis said we were having a combined class with the art class.”
“Interesting idea. I’ve only dabbed around in sculpture anyway, you know,” Mr. Vostras answered, rummaging under his desk. “Ah! Here it is.” He placed a plaster bust next to Teddy Roosevelt. “Of course, I made this awhile ago,” he said, dusting the bust off. It was a fat, buck-toothed gopher holding an apple in it’s paws.
“At least it looks like what it’s supposed to be,” Hayden remarked.
“Maybe you could teach us to sculpt gophers!” Addison suggested. Mr. Vostras contemplated that idea.
“I don’t know how that would tie in with the history aspect though.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure there’s something in history that has to do with gophers!” Addison insisted.
We wanna hear from you, people! What do you like? What do you hate? What brings you the same amount of joy that a bag of gummy worms would bring? Leave us a comment...or we'll go on strike.
I leave you with a wise saying of J.R.R. Tolkien: "Never laugh at live dragons."
“So, what are you going to do with it?” Hayden asked, still studying the painting intently.
“I plan to enter it in the “Paint-a-Story” contest at the art gallery downtown,” Mr. Vostras answered, surveying his work with satisfaction.
“Well I’m sure it’ll win something,” Hayden said, encouragingly.
“Even if it’s the “Most Original Idea” award,” Eliana teased. Mr. Vostras just laughed.
“I suppose it is a little different. But still, I think I have a chance.”
“Definitely,” Addison agreed, emphatically.
“Speaking of art,” Eliana said, “What do you think of this sculpture, Dad?” She placed the bust of Teddy Roosevelt on her father’s desk. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“A mustachioed Tibetan antelope?” he guessed, finally. The three teens burst into laughter.
“Teddy Roosevelt, actually,” Hayden managed, gasping. Mr. Vostras started to laugh too.
“Whose rendition?” he asked.
“My history teacher, Mrs. Cornwallis’s,” Addison explained. “She was wondering if you could come into our class and help with sculpting.”
“Wait a second. Let me see if I got this right. Your history teacher has taken up sculpting unflattering busts of our presidents and wants me to instruct her class in proper sculpting technique?”
The three looked at each other.
“That’s basically it,” Addison confirmed.
“So … what happened to teaching history in history class?” Mr. Vostras asked.
“I don’t really know. Mrs. Cornwallis said we were having a combined class with the art class.”
“Interesting idea. I’ve only dabbed around in sculpture anyway, you know,” Mr. Vostras answered, rummaging under his desk. “Ah! Here it is.” He placed a plaster bust next to Teddy Roosevelt. “Of course, I made this awhile ago,” he said, dusting the bust off. It was a fat, buck-toothed gopher holding an apple in it’s paws.
“At least it looks like what it’s supposed to be,” Hayden remarked.
“Maybe you could teach us to sculpt gophers!” Addison suggested. Mr. Vostras contemplated that idea.
“I don’t know how that would tie in with the history aspect though.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure there’s something in history that has to do with gophers!” Addison insisted.
We wanna hear from you, people! What do you like? What do you hate? What brings you the same amount of joy that a bag of gummy worms would bring? Leave us a comment...or we'll go on strike.
I leave you with a wise saying of J.R.R. Tolkien: "Never laugh at live dragons."
Friday, February 13, 2009
Part 3 {rach}
The three children trooped through the kitchen up the stairs to Mr. Vostras’s office. Eliana knocked lightly on the door.
A voice called from within the office. “I told you, Alexandra, I don’t want any more honeyed liver! I’m in the middle of an abstract art crisis!”
Eliana poked her head through the door. “It’s me, Daddy,” she said.
“Oh, hello dear,” Mr. Vostras said. “Come on in, I could use your help.”
Eliana opened the door wider and stepped into the office. Hayden and Addison walked in behind her.
“Oh, you brought the boys too,” Mr. Vostras said. “How nice. They can help me out. Come here, boys, and give me a hand with this poster. It’s a bit to big for me to move by myself without smearing the purple lighthouse.” Mr. Vostras turned towards the children his extra-large easel, which held on it a piece of poster board that was nearly ten feet across.
“Wow,” Hayden murmured.
The painting was of a few different things, actually. In the foreground, there was a small girl sitting in a stroller. She had a little guinea pig sitting in her lap, and she was eating some type of seafood with a blissful expression on her face. A little bit behind her and to the right, there stood a giant bear. He was standing on his hind legs with a vicious snarl, looking straight at the little girl. Above him was a very eerie-looking sunset surrounded by angry clouds, and all the way in the top left-hand corner was, as Mr. Vostras had said, a purple lighthouse. It was rather bulky and extremely large, with lime green stripes down the sides. At the very top of the lighthouse, a man stood on a balcony, flying a kite.
“Seems a bit sinister, Daddy,” Eliana remarked.
“Not when you know the story behind it,” Mr. Vostras said. “You see, this little girl is really the grand-niece of Thorgunna, who, as we all know, is the wife of Leif Ericson. She’s eating a customary dinner for her culture while playing with her pet in the park. That bear symbolizes addiction. The little girl is so addicted to her Terkon Derf – that’s the stuff she’s eating – that she’s about to be gobbled up by her own addiction. But do you see the man on the lighthouse? That’s Benjamin Franklin. He’s going to hand the bear that kite, and the bear will momentarily forget his prey and play with the kite. We all know that addiction and kites go hand in hand. Anyways, then the bear will get shocked when an electric current from the lightning travels down the kite string. So, as you can plainly see, the portrait is not sinister at all. It is a depiction of the greatness of our founding fathers, and how easily they could conquer things such grizzly bears and addiction.” Mr. Vostras ended his emphatic speech with a wide grin, and Eliana almost thought he might give a bow. “Very nice, Daddy,” she said with a genuine smile.
More to come..........
to quote the esteemed Dr. Krunklehorn, "Barium Cobolt Einstein Kool-Aide!!!!!!" :D
A voice called from within the office. “I told you, Alexandra, I don’t want any more honeyed liver! I’m in the middle of an abstract art crisis!”
Eliana poked her head through the door. “It’s me, Daddy,” she said.
“Oh, hello dear,” Mr. Vostras said. “Come on in, I could use your help.”
Eliana opened the door wider and stepped into the office. Hayden and Addison walked in behind her.
“Oh, you brought the boys too,” Mr. Vostras said. “How nice. They can help me out. Come here, boys, and give me a hand with this poster. It’s a bit to big for me to move by myself without smearing the purple lighthouse.” Mr. Vostras turned towards the children his extra-large easel, which held on it a piece of poster board that was nearly ten feet across.
“Wow,” Hayden murmured.
The painting was of a few different things, actually. In the foreground, there was a small girl sitting in a stroller. She had a little guinea pig sitting in her lap, and she was eating some type of seafood with a blissful expression on her face. A little bit behind her and to the right, there stood a giant bear. He was standing on his hind legs with a vicious snarl, looking straight at the little girl. Above him was a very eerie-looking sunset surrounded by angry clouds, and all the way in the top left-hand corner was, as Mr. Vostras had said, a purple lighthouse. It was rather bulky and extremely large, with lime green stripes down the sides. At the very top of the lighthouse, a man stood on a balcony, flying a kite.
“Seems a bit sinister, Daddy,” Eliana remarked.
“Not when you know the story behind it,” Mr. Vostras said. “You see, this little girl is really the grand-niece of Thorgunna, who, as we all know, is the wife of Leif Ericson. She’s eating a customary dinner for her culture while playing with her pet in the park. That bear symbolizes addiction. The little girl is so addicted to her Terkon Derf – that’s the stuff she’s eating – that she’s about to be gobbled up by her own addiction. But do you see the man on the lighthouse? That’s Benjamin Franklin. He’s going to hand the bear that kite, and the bear will momentarily forget his prey and play with the kite. We all know that addiction and kites go hand in hand. Anyways, then the bear will get shocked when an electric current from the lightning travels down the kite string. So, as you can plainly see, the portrait is not sinister at all. It is a depiction of the greatness of our founding fathers, and how easily they could conquer things such grizzly bears and addiction.” Mr. Vostras ended his emphatic speech with a wide grin, and Eliana almost thought he might give a bow. “Very nice, Daddy,” she said with a genuine smile.
More to come..........
to quote the esteemed Dr. Krunklehorn, "Barium Cobolt Einstein Kool-Aide!!!!!!" :D
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Part 2 {Rachel}
She was standing in a group of teachers and, from what Eliana could hear, they were discussing the lack of respect that students had for the cafeteria meatloaf. Eliana tapped Mrs. Cornwallis on the shoulder. The woman turned around, looking at Eliana over the top of her red sparkly glasses. “Yes, deary?” she asked, flashing her biggest smile.
“Do you want Mr. Roosevelt back?” she asked, smiling politely at the other teachers around her.
Mrs. Cornwallis looked slightly disturbed. “Eliana, dear, If you’ll remember from chapter 17, section 5 of our history books, Mr. Roosevelt is dead. He’s been gone since 1919. Perhaps you should ask Addison to help you study. I’m sure he’d do just fine with that.”
“Oh, actually I meant this Mr. Roosevelt,” Eliana replied, holding up the bust.
“Oh, yes, of course!” Mrs. Cornwallis said, laughing aloud. “How silly of me! Actually, you may keep it for now,” she said, as if she were doing Eliana the highest favor.
“Actually, I-”
“Oh, not for keeps, dear, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Cornwallis interrupted. “Take it home to your dear daddy and ask him if he’d be willing to teach our class a little about modeling clay. The art class is joining us next Friday, and I thought it would be perfect to combine art and history, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but my dad doesn’t really do much sculpting any-”
“Marvelous!” Mrs. Cornwallis interjected. “Now you be a good girl and run back to your seat. And mind that you don’t break Teddy!” Mrs. Cornwallis then turned away from Eliana, and the teacher’s group moved in closer, picking up where they left off.
+++++
“Hey Add!” Addison turned to see his brother pushing through the crowds of people towards them.
“Hey Hayd,” Addison said, giving his brother a high five. “Nice game.”
“Thanks,” Hayden said, wiping his forehead. “If Jake hadn’t have made that last shot, we’d have been sunk for sure. Where’s Eliana?”
“Right here!” Eliana called, pushing through a group of teenagers. She carried Teddy under her arm. “I missed it, did you win?” she asked.
Hayden nodded. “It was close, though. Jake made the winning shot.” He glanced down at the sculpture she was holding with raised eyebrows. “Um, what’s that?”
“A bust,” Eliana replied, switching arms.
“Of who?” Hayden asked, squinting at the face. “It looks like a giraffe with antlers.”
Addison grinned. “Mrs. Cornwallis isn’t too good at sculpting, I guess,” he said.
“She said it’s supposed to be Teddy Rosevelt.” Eliana said. “Here, Add, hold him for a second.” She handed off the statue and began digging in her purse.
“What are you looking for?” Hayden asked.
“This,” she said, handing him a small bag. “Congratulations on the game.”
Hayden opened the bag and grinned when he saw what was inside. “Wow… is this one of those ones from the Billabong?” he asked. Eliana nodded.
“What is it?” Addison asked.
Hayden reached into the bag and pulled out what looked to be a long, skinny, neck warmer. “It’s for Elliot!” he said.
“What???” Addison cried.
“It’s a snake sweater,” Eliana said.
Addison rolled his eyes and Hayden laughed. “Thanks, Ellie,” he said. “It looks like just the right size. I might not even need a heat lamp now!”
Eliana laughed and Addison tugged at his brother’s arm. “Let’s get out of here before someone sees you holding that thing,” he said.
{Libby}
“Teddy Roosevelt was bad enough. And now a snake sweater? What is the world coming to?” Addison lifted his hands in mock despair.
“Well if you were worried about people staring at you, they certainly are now,” Eliana pointed out. Addison quickly resumed a casual pose, causing his brother to start laughing again.
“Let’s get out of here already,” Addison said again.
“Ok, ok! We’re going! Hayd, did you drive here?” Eliana asked.
“Nope, Mom dropped me off straight after my dentist appointment. Can you give us a ride?”
“Of course!” The boys lived conveniently across the street from Eliana and often car-pooled.
The drive home was uneventful. Addison insisted on listening to classical music, as usual.
“It’s proven that if babies listen to classical music they develop more quickly mentally and are more advanced than those who listen to say, rock music.”
“But Addison, we aren’t babies!” Hayden said, exasperated. “I think it’s too late.” Addison grumbled something and Eliana changed the station.
Eliana parked the car in front of her house. The lights were on both upstairs and down.
“Hey, you guys wanna come in and see dad’s latest?”
“Sure!”
“I think Mom finished the plot for her new novel too. She might give you a preview.”
Eliana’s mom was chewing on a pencil and sitting at her computer. She hardly ever wrote by hand, but apparently chewing on a writing implement helped her to think.
“Hey Mom,” Eliana said, glancing at the computer screen. “How’s it going? I brought Hayd and Addison in to see Dad’s painting.”
“Hi guys! I’m so glad you arrived,” Mrs. Vostras answered. She looked up at the three of them through her cat-eye reading glasses. “I need your opinion on the new plot.” Mrs. Vostras had been writing a sci-fi series about a PE teacher for a few years now. She was working on her fifth book.
“So Mr. Hogland has to defend the school from martians,” she was saying. Eliana went into the kitchen and returned with a plateful of chocolate-chip cookies. She passed them around as Mrs. Vostras finished, “And so the principal really is carrying on illegal business deals over the border and Mr. Hogland figures it out by using his bugged running shoes to intercept the frequency used by the principal’s contacts.”
“Wow. Sounds … complex,” Hayden commented, taking another cookie.
“The only part I don’t get is why Mr. Hogland is so worried about the principal’s dog,” Addison said. “Why doesn’t he just get rid of it?”
“Because the dog food is so suspicious. That’s what tips Mr. Hogland off in the first place.”
Addison nodded, comprehending.
“Sounds good, Mom,” Eliana said. Mrs. Vostras pinned her dark brown hair up with a few bobby pins.
“I’m going to start on it, now that I’ve gotten your opinions. Go on up and bother Mr. Vostras,” she said, laughing. “And take whatever that hunk of plaster is with you.”
“Don’t worry Mom, Teddy Roosevelt is going back to Mrs. Cornwallis just as soon as possible.”
To be continued...leave us a comment and let us know what you think!
ps. We hope your eye strain is alleviated by the background change, but don't get used to it. Genius requires constant change. You better believe it.
“Do you want Mr. Roosevelt back?” she asked, smiling politely at the other teachers around her.
Mrs. Cornwallis looked slightly disturbed. “Eliana, dear, If you’ll remember from chapter 17, section 5 of our history books, Mr. Roosevelt is dead. He’s been gone since 1919. Perhaps you should ask Addison to help you study. I’m sure he’d do just fine with that.”
“Oh, actually I meant this Mr. Roosevelt,” Eliana replied, holding up the bust.
“Oh, yes, of course!” Mrs. Cornwallis said, laughing aloud. “How silly of me! Actually, you may keep it for now,” she said, as if she were doing Eliana the highest favor.
“Actually, I-”
“Oh, not for keeps, dear, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Cornwallis interrupted. “Take it home to your dear daddy and ask him if he’d be willing to teach our class a little about modeling clay. The art class is joining us next Friday, and I thought it would be perfect to combine art and history, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but my dad doesn’t really do much sculpting any-”
“Marvelous!” Mrs. Cornwallis interjected. “Now you be a good girl and run back to your seat. And mind that you don’t break Teddy!” Mrs. Cornwallis then turned away from Eliana, and the teacher’s group moved in closer, picking up where they left off.
+++++
“Hey Add!” Addison turned to see his brother pushing through the crowds of people towards them.
“Hey Hayd,” Addison said, giving his brother a high five. “Nice game.”
“Thanks,” Hayden said, wiping his forehead. “If Jake hadn’t have made that last shot, we’d have been sunk for sure. Where’s Eliana?”
“Right here!” Eliana called, pushing through a group of teenagers. She carried Teddy under her arm. “I missed it, did you win?” she asked.
Hayden nodded. “It was close, though. Jake made the winning shot.” He glanced down at the sculpture she was holding with raised eyebrows. “Um, what’s that?”
“A bust,” Eliana replied, switching arms.
“Of who?” Hayden asked, squinting at the face. “It looks like a giraffe with antlers.”
Addison grinned. “Mrs. Cornwallis isn’t too good at sculpting, I guess,” he said.
“She said it’s supposed to be Teddy Rosevelt.” Eliana said. “Here, Add, hold him for a second.” She handed off the statue and began digging in her purse.
“What are you looking for?” Hayden asked.
“This,” she said, handing him a small bag. “Congratulations on the game.”
Hayden opened the bag and grinned when he saw what was inside. “Wow… is this one of those ones from the Billabong?” he asked. Eliana nodded.
“What is it?” Addison asked.
Hayden reached into the bag and pulled out what looked to be a long, skinny, neck warmer. “It’s for Elliot!” he said.
“What???” Addison cried.
“It’s a snake sweater,” Eliana said.
Addison rolled his eyes and Hayden laughed. “Thanks, Ellie,” he said. “It looks like just the right size. I might not even need a heat lamp now!”
Eliana laughed and Addison tugged at his brother’s arm. “Let’s get out of here before someone sees you holding that thing,” he said.
{Libby}
“Teddy Roosevelt was bad enough. And now a snake sweater? What is the world coming to?” Addison lifted his hands in mock despair.
“Well if you were worried about people staring at you, they certainly are now,” Eliana pointed out. Addison quickly resumed a casual pose, causing his brother to start laughing again.
“Let’s get out of here already,” Addison said again.
“Ok, ok! We’re going! Hayd, did you drive here?” Eliana asked.
“Nope, Mom dropped me off straight after my dentist appointment. Can you give us a ride?”
“Of course!” The boys lived conveniently across the street from Eliana and often car-pooled.
The drive home was uneventful. Addison insisted on listening to classical music, as usual.
“It’s proven that if babies listen to classical music they develop more quickly mentally and are more advanced than those who listen to say, rock music.”
“But Addison, we aren’t babies!” Hayden said, exasperated. “I think it’s too late.” Addison grumbled something and Eliana changed the station.
Eliana parked the car in front of her house. The lights were on both upstairs and down.
“Hey, you guys wanna come in and see dad’s latest?”
“Sure!”
“I think Mom finished the plot for her new novel too. She might give you a preview.”
Eliana’s mom was chewing on a pencil and sitting at her computer. She hardly ever wrote by hand, but apparently chewing on a writing implement helped her to think.
“Hey Mom,” Eliana said, glancing at the computer screen. “How’s it going? I brought Hayd and Addison in to see Dad’s painting.”
“Hi guys! I’m so glad you arrived,” Mrs. Vostras answered. She looked up at the three of them through her cat-eye reading glasses. “I need your opinion on the new plot.” Mrs. Vostras had been writing a sci-fi series about a PE teacher for a few years now. She was working on her fifth book.
“So Mr. Hogland has to defend the school from martians,” she was saying. Eliana went into the kitchen and returned with a plateful of chocolate-chip cookies. She passed them around as Mrs. Vostras finished, “And so the principal really is carrying on illegal business deals over the border and Mr. Hogland figures it out by using his bugged running shoes to intercept the frequency used by the principal’s contacts.”
“Wow. Sounds … complex,” Hayden commented, taking another cookie.
“The only part I don’t get is why Mr. Hogland is so worried about the principal’s dog,” Addison said. “Why doesn’t he just get rid of it?”
“Because the dog food is so suspicious. That’s what tips Mr. Hogland off in the first place.”
Addison nodded, comprehending.
“Sounds good, Mom,” Eliana said. Mrs. Vostras pinned her dark brown hair up with a few bobby pins.
“I’m going to start on it, now that I’ve gotten your opinions. Go on up and bother Mr. Vostras,” she said, laughing. “And take whatever that hunk of plaster is with you.”
“Don’t worry Mom, Teddy Roosevelt is going back to Mrs. Cornwallis just as soon as possible.”
To be continued...leave us a comment and let us know what you think!
ps. We hope your eye strain is alleviated by the background change, but don't get used to it. Genius requires constant change. You better believe it.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Part 1
“Addison, stop playing with the window!” Eliana said, rolling her eyes at the boy in the passenger seat.
“I’m just trying to measure the span from the vertices to the focal point of the glass,” Addison replied, ignoring the command.
“You can’t have vertices on a window pane, Add, it has to be a cube for that.” Eliana reached down into her purse and pulled out a cell phone. It was decorated with Strawberry Shortcake stickers and glittery rhinestones. “Give Hayden a call and tell him we’re going to be a bit late,” she said.
“But we’re only approximately 7.9 miles from the school,” Addison protested. “I would estimate that we’ll be there in another 10 minutes, given the speed limit on this road.”
“Which shows you know nothing about driving. Would you just do it? We have to stop at the Billabong to get something.”
“Can’t you do it later? The game starts in fifteen minutes!”
“Nope,” Eliana said, pulling into the shopping center. Addison dialed his brother’s number, mumbling something Eliana couldn’t hear.
“Hayden? Is that you?” he asked, his eyebrow lifted quizzically. “What’s going on? Sounds like a party. Oh, got it. Ok, we’re going to be a couple minutes late. Mkay, bye.”
Eliana and Addison arrived at the school just as the game began. They made their way through the crowd of high schoolers and over-enthusiastic parents to seats high in the bleachers. Addison disappeared after begging a dollar off of Eliana, insisting that he was dying of thirst. Eliana sat down hard on the metal bench, squinting to find Hayden among the basketball players.
Addison returned with an extra large root beer and three gigantic chocolate chip cookies.
“Where’s Hayd?” he asked, reluctantly handing Eliana a cookie.
“He’s sitting with the players over there,” Eliana replied. “See, the one with the Gatorade.”
“I thought we’d be late for sure, what with your stop at the Billabong,” Addison commented. “What’d you get there anyways?”
“A gift for Hayden,” Eliana returned. “It’s the championship game and all, so I thought I’d get him a little something,”
“But what if he looses?”
Eliana shrugged. “Who cares? He worked hard all year to get to this game, so I think he deserves something special.”
“I guess so,” Addison said, “but I hope it’s not another one of those graphing calculators. You know he stinks at math, and a calculator… oh boy, here they come.” Addison rolled his eyes and tried to slide under his bench. Eliana looked down the row and saw Colleen and Georgiana Thorndike coming towards them.
“Sit up, Add, and don’t be rude,” she said, pulling Addison up by the arm.
“Why don’t you try telling that to them?” he asked, sitting down with a sulky expression.
“Hey girlfriend!” Georgiana called, sitting her large self down next to Eliana. Colleen took a seat on the other side, next to Addison.
“Hi Georgiana,” Eliana said, trying to look pleasant.
“Oh please, call me Georgie,” the fat girl said, flinging the end of her purple and orange scarf around in a circle.
“You’re Addison, right?” Colleen asked, and the boy nodded with a grimace.
Colleen smiled widely, displaying two big front teeth. “Isn’t he just absolutely adorable, Georgie, dear? I would just love to have a little brother just like him.”
“So how come you’re here at the game?” Addison asked, trying to change the subject. Fourteen year old boys rarely like to be called “adorable”, especially by a bunch of his older brother’s friends.
“We came to see Hayden, of course!” Georgiana gave a fake laugh. “He’s the best on the team, and everyone says that if they win, it will be because of him. Everyone’s here to see Hayden.”
“I wouldn’t say everyone,” Eliana said.
“Well that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Colleen asked, as if that made her point.
Eliana looked confused.
“Well, we have to go, don’t we Georgie?” Colleen said, standing up and nudging her sister. “It was great talking to you! Come over and see us some time!” And with that, the two girls waddled off down the row, tripping over people and stepping on feet.
Addison relaxed visibly, letting out a sigh of relief. “I thought Colleen Thorndike was going to smother me with all that fake friendliness!”
“Sh, Add, someone will hear you,” Eliana answered, distractedly. The game had finally begun.
“Don’t particularly care if they do,” Addison retorted airily. His condescension was lost on Eliana, who had stopped listening and was concentrating on the game. A moment later, she turned to give Addison a Cheshire cat grin.
“Look who’s coming, Add. One of your friends, I believe?” Addison peered around her and saw Mrs. Cornwallis, their history teacher. He was a favorite with her, due to his good grades in that subject.
“Well hello there,” Mrs. Cornwallis said, smiling at Addison and Eliana. “Mind if I join you?” Mrs. Cornwallis sat down between the two, settling her large handbag at her feet. She was wearing a tan skirt and jacket, and probably the only person in the auditorium wearing high-heels.
“How are you, Mrs. Cornwallis?” Addison asked.
“I’m very glad to see you two!” she declared emphatically. “You’re just the two to tell me what you think of my new project. I brought it with me!” Smiling excitedly, Mrs. Cornwallis hefted her bag onto her lap. Her blonde bun bounced on her head every time she turned to one of them.
“Eliana, dear, hold this please. Oh, not that way, dear, right side up. There we are.” She adjusted the bust of Teddy Roosevelt Eliana was holding. “Now, Addison, dear, you take a look at these hand outs. Wonderful aren’t they? Now my idea is to…” Eliana turned back to the game, the bust sitting in her lap. Addison was doing his best to look attentive, but discussing history at a basketball game was not high on his list of priorities at the moment. Mrs. Cornwallis explained how the students would model their own statues of Roosevelt while she read to them from a history book.
“Actually, you should talk to Eliana about the modeling deal. Her dad is an artist, you know,” Addison interjected, eagerly seizing the opportunity.
“Is he?” Mrs. Cornwallis asked, turning to Eliana.
“I’m sorry, what Mrs. Cornwallis?” Eliana asked, confused.
“Your father, dear. An artist?”
“Oh, yes.”
“How perfectly marvelous! He can help us with the sculpting!” Mrs. Cornwallis beamed at her students.
“Well, he is more of a painter, as a matter of fact,” Eliana said, glancing back at the court as the crowd cheered. Another basket. Come on, she thought.
“Not to worry, dear. I’ll have it all taken care of! Thanks for the help, Addison, dear. I’ll see you in class,” Mrs. Cornwallis smiled again, then picked up her bag and hurried on her way. It was another five minutes before Addison remarked,
“If you’re interested in giving that thing back to Mrs. Cornwallis, I’d suggest doing it before she leaves.”
“What? Addison, did you say something?” Eliana asked.
“Yeah. You’re still holding Teddy Roosevelt.”
“Oh my goodness! I’d better go find Mrs. Cornwallis,” Eliana said, picking up the bust. “I’ll be right back.”
It took her a few moments to locate the enthusiastic history teacher, who was on the other side of the room.
To be continued...
“I’m just trying to measure the span from the vertices to the focal point of the glass,” Addison replied, ignoring the command.
“You can’t have vertices on a window pane, Add, it has to be a cube for that.” Eliana reached down into her purse and pulled out a cell phone. It was decorated with Strawberry Shortcake stickers and glittery rhinestones. “Give Hayden a call and tell him we’re going to be a bit late,” she said.
“But we’re only approximately 7.9 miles from the school,” Addison protested. “I would estimate that we’ll be there in another 10 minutes, given the speed limit on this road.”
“Which shows you know nothing about driving. Would you just do it? We have to stop at the Billabong to get something.”
“Can’t you do it later? The game starts in fifteen minutes!”
“Nope,” Eliana said, pulling into the shopping center. Addison dialed his brother’s number, mumbling something Eliana couldn’t hear.
“Hayden? Is that you?” he asked, his eyebrow lifted quizzically. “What’s going on? Sounds like a party. Oh, got it. Ok, we’re going to be a couple minutes late. Mkay, bye.”
Eliana and Addison arrived at the school just as the game began. They made their way through the crowd of high schoolers and over-enthusiastic parents to seats high in the bleachers. Addison disappeared after begging a dollar off of Eliana, insisting that he was dying of thirst. Eliana sat down hard on the metal bench, squinting to find Hayden among the basketball players.
Addison returned with an extra large root beer and three gigantic chocolate chip cookies.
“Where’s Hayd?” he asked, reluctantly handing Eliana a cookie.
“He’s sitting with the players over there,” Eliana replied. “See, the one with the Gatorade.”
“I thought we’d be late for sure, what with your stop at the Billabong,” Addison commented. “What’d you get there anyways?”
“A gift for Hayden,” Eliana returned. “It’s the championship game and all, so I thought I’d get him a little something,”
“But what if he looses?”
Eliana shrugged. “Who cares? He worked hard all year to get to this game, so I think he deserves something special.”
“I guess so,” Addison said, “but I hope it’s not another one of those graphing calculators. You know he stinks at math, and a calculator… oh boy, here they come.” Addison rolled his eyes and tried to slide under his bench. Eliana looked down the row and saw Colleen and Georgiana Thorndike coming towards them.
“Sit up, Add, and don’t be rude,” she said, pulling Addison up by the arm.
“Why don’t you try telling that to them?” he asked, sitting down with a sulky expression.
“Hey girlfriend!” Georgiana called, sitting her large self down next to Eliana. Colleen took a seat on the other side, next to Addison.
“Hi Georgiana,” Eliana said, trying to look pleasant.
“Oh please, call me Georgie,” the fat girl said, flinging the end of her purple and orange scarf around in a circle.
“You’re Addison, right?” Colleen asked, and the boy nodded with a grimace.
Colleen smiled widely, displaying two big front teeth. “Isn’t he just absolutely adorable, Georgie, dear? I would just love to have a little brother just like him.”
“So how come you’re here at the game?” Addison asked, trying to change the subject. Fourteen year old boys rarely like to be called “adorable”, especially by a bunch of his older brother’s friends.
“We came to see Hayden, of course!” Georgiana gave a fake laugh. “He’s the best on the team, and everyone says that if they win, it will be because of him. Everyone’s here to see Hayden.”
“I wouldn’t say everyone,” Eliana said.
“Well that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Colleen asked, as if that made her point.
Eliana looked confused.
“Well, we have to go, don’t we Georgie?” Colleen said, standing up and nudging her sister. “It was great talking to you! Come over and see us some time!” And with that, the two girls waddled off down the row, tripping over people and stepping on feet.
Addison relaxed visibly, letting out a sigh of relief. “I thought Colleen Thorndike was going to smother me with all that fake friendliness!”
“Sh, Add, someone will hear you,” Eliana answered, distractedly. The game had finally begun.
“Don’t particularly care if they do,” Addison retorted airily. His condescension was lost on Eliana, who had stopped listening and was concentrating on the game. A moment later, she turned to give Addison a Cheshire cat grin.
“Look who’s coming, Add. One of your friends, I believe?” Addison peered around her and saw Mrs. Cornwallis, their history teacher. He was a favorite with her, due to his good grades in that subject.
“Well hello there,” Mrs. Cornwallis said, smiling at Addison and Eliana. “Mind if I join you?” Mrs. Cornwallis sat down between the two, settling her large handbag at her feet. She was wearing a tan skirt and jacket, and probably the only person in the auditorium wearing high-heels.
“How are you, Mrs. Cornwallis?” Addison asked.
“I’m very glad to see you two!” she declared emphatically. “You’re just the two to tell me what you think of my new project. I brought it with me!” Smiling excitedly, Mrs. Cornwallis hefted her bag onto her lap. Her blonde bun bounced on her head every time she turned to one of them.
“Eliana, dear, hold this please. Oh, not that way, dear, right side up. There we are.” She adjusted the bust of Teddy Roosevelt Eliana was holding. “Now, Addison, dear, you take a look at these hand outs. Wonderful aren’t they? Now my idea is to…” Eliana turned back to the game, the bust sitting in her lap. Addison was doing his best to look attentive, but discussing history at a basketball game was not high on his list of priorities at the moment. Mrs. Cornwallis explained how the students would model their own statues of Roosevelt while she read to them from a history book.
“Actually, you should talk to Eliana about the modeling deal. Her dad is an artist, you know,” Addison interjected, eagerly seizing the opportunity.
“Is he?” Mrs. Cornwallis asked, turning to Eliana.
“I’m sorry, what Mrs. Cornwallis?” Eliana asked, confused.
“Your father, dear. An artist?”
“Oh, yes.”
“How perfectly marvelous! He can help us with the sculpting!” Mrs. Cornwallis beamed at her students.
“Well, he is more of a painter, as a matter of fact,” Eliana said, glancing back at the court as the crowd cheered. Another basket. Come on, she thought.
“Not to worry, dear. I’ll have it all taken care of! Thanks for the help, Addison, dear. I’ll see you in class,” Mrs. Cornwallis smiled again, then picked up her bag and hurried on her way. It was another five minutes before Addison remarked,
“If you’re interested in giving that thing back to Mrs. Cornwallis, I’d suggest doing it before she leaves.”
“What? Addison, did you say something?” Eliana asked.
“Yeah. You’re still holding Teddy Roosevelt.”
“Oh my goodness! I’d better go find Mrs. Cornwallis,” Eliana said, picking up the bust. “I’ll be right back.”
It took her a few moments to locate the enthusiastic history teacher, who was on the other side of the room.
To be continued...
on a random summer day...
A little girl named Rachel went to play at her friend Libby's house. After exhausting their stock of macaroni necklaces and Popsicle-stick crafts, they decided to attempt the daring feat of unleashing their creative genius upon the literary world; to shock and amaze those who have never experienced true artistic talent. So here it is: the work of two geniuses who sit at their computers eating Poptarts and attempting to change the world, one chapter at a time. Get ready for an adventure that you won't get on TV.
We reached for the stars and achieved our goal, but don't expect to be that lucky. Read our masterpiece and feel inspired.
As Oscar Wilde, a genius like ourselves, so winningly put it: "I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying." We find the same is true for us.
Goodbye.
We reached for the stars and achieved our goal, but don't expect to be that lucky. Read our masterpiece and feel inspired.
As Oscar Wilde, a genius like ourselves, so winningly put it: "I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying." We find the same is true for us.
Goodbye.
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