I've been going through some old computer files and have run across some of my writing from days long past. I thought of editing this before sharing it, but I'm letting it stand as I wrote it at 18.
This autobiographical piece I share with a nod to Lisa:
I tried to console her and tell her it would all work out. She put up a good fight and finally convinced me that it was hopeless. So then I tried to tell her that Dan was a jerk and wasn't worth it anyway. No good--she was stalwart in suggesting his most redeeming qualities. I had no choice but to resort to the inevitable. There was only one last solution--chocolate: the cure-all for any boy problem.
She returned from the grocery store bakery where she had gone looking for discount chocolate with which to drown her sorrows. In her arms she carried a German chocolate cake, bearing, in bold red letters, a birthday greeting for Travis. She set it on the counter and stared at it with an empty expression on her face. I asked about dishing it up and she replied by quoting the sale price of the cake which was pitifully rejected by Travis. A steal. I watched her eyes well up with tears as she stared at Travis' unfulfilled expectation. The rejected cake.
I told her to make a fist and aim for the middle. She would take out her frustrations on brown shortening and dry coconut. She drew back her arm, aimed for the center, and let one fly. Then another, and a smile slid across her face. I joined in and the birthday cake was a rubble of brown crumbs glued together with caramel goo. We both cackled, relishing the destructive power scorned women have over the elements. I was about to demolish the remaining untouched corner of the cake with a harsh blow, but she stopped me.
She wanted to save Dan a piece.
2 comments:
Michelle, You must call me for I have many questions when reading this post!!
Michelle, I think you should become a writer. You had me from the very beginning of the paragraph. That's some good writing.
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