Since this week was the official beginning of summer, I thought that should probably be the our theme this week. Summer.
Summer of 1978
It’s too hot to move, too hot to breath. We can’t go swimming, we’re banned from the pool. The popsicle man’s already been by, we don’t have a/c, there’s only one way to stay cool. We’re going to have to go watch “Grease” again.Summer of 1984
Arms wrapped around her legs, cheek resting on her knees, she sits on the grassy ledge, under the olive tree, and watches her little brother run up and down the sidewalk. Closing her eyes, she wonders where the button is. The button you push to get your real life started.Summer of 1986
In a few hours, when the sun comes up, she is leaving this place forever. Leaving her home, her family, all of her friends and even her dog – she is taking the cat with her. So why was she in a darkened supply closet, kissing him? For the first time.Summer of 1991
“So, you are leaving work early, to drive through the night, to get to San Francisco by 6am?”
“Right.”
“And you are spending Sunday driving back?”
“Yup.”
“And you are doing this why? It’s a boy, isn’t it?”
“It’s not a boy!”It was definitely a boy.
Summer of 1995
She cocked her head to the side, watching him speak, the words so much nonsense now. Excuses for the lies and betrayal, her fault for not living up to his ideal. Why did she ever think he was worth it? There’s a good chance he’s insane. Good riddance.Summer of 2000
In a backroom, somewhere in Berkeley, she sat on a stool. It only hurt for a second, just like they said it would. The sharp pain that made her eyes water. Then it was over. Except his rubber clad finger which was still up her nose, inserting her new stud.Summer of 2004
She wore next to nothing, she couldn’t stand to in this heat. Upper 90’s outside, it was in the 100’s in her easy bake apartment. She raised the bottle of water over her head and poured. Steam rose from her skin. It was time to move.
Sitting in the sandbox, suffering the sweltering heat. The Six Million Dollar Man in yet another fight against the little green army. No responsibilities except to help Colonel Steve Austin save the world. Just as he’s taken hostage, a sweet, familiar voice informs me that lunch is ready. Hey Kool-Aid!
People talk about remembering their childhoods. I remember getting hit by a car on my bike. Actually, I don’t remember specifically getting hit, but I remember the ambulance. Actually I don’t really remember that either, but I sort of know that it all happened. My memory plays tricks on me.
Lari Anne and I decide to walk to the 7-11 to get some string cheese. We pass by the house of the boy I have a crush on (again). Heís not home. At the 7-11, weíre too hot for cheese. We get Dippiní Sticks instead. Now our tongues are blue.
She sighed. A rather eloquent sigh. Then she folded her hands and bowed her head in whispered prayer.
“Oh Father in Heaven,” she said. “In your infinite wisdom and ubiquitous love, please, smite the Monkee with a pox or other debilitating ailment. Amen”
And then she waited for the miracle.
Summer love sure was a blast. We watched sunsets from the Presidio, poked sea slugs in San Diego, camped in Big Sur, and wrote silly love notes in the snow in Yosemite.
Life happened.
Time slipped.
I hope she is a happy with her life as I am with mine.
oh fun! two new 50 word fiction authors! Hello Cam and Lara! I totally remember Dippin’ Sticks. I’m having a blue tongued flashback now.
Thomas, I wish that our only responsibilities were helping Col. Steve Austin fight the little green army. Except, I want to be the Bionic Woman, of course. Or maybe a Charlie’s Angel. The smart one – Sabrina.
Evildeb is trying to make me smile by posting a Monkee bashing story that is not in keeping with the theme. However, there is a new rule, any story in which there is Monkee bashing does not have to follow the theme.
And I’ll keep writing more summer stories. I must be in a mood.
I forgot to write about summer, ipso facto:
Summer is…puppies.
Summer is…ice cream with sprinkles.
Summer is…butterflies and rainbows.
Summer is…a man on a unicycle with a boufant hairdoo and a can of blue spray paint which he periodically sprays into his mouth as if it were whipped cream.
And a cherry on top.
Jodi – you’re bowing two of my patron saints! When oh when is Bionic Woman coming out on DVD?!? The third season DVD of Wonder Woman has an episode of Shazam on it. When oh when is Isis coming out on DVD?!?
Okay, here’s mine. If you put it in paragraph form it doesn’t count as poetry or song lyrics.
Summertime and the livin’ is sleazy. Kids are humpin’ and the lifeguard is high. One of these whorings you could rise up tingling. Donít spread your ìwingsî or youíll screw up and die. But use a condom and a’nothing can harm you when those baddies and hotties drop on by.
well then you’d love evildeb, her cell phone just rang. Her ring tone? The theme song to the 6 million dollar man.
thx for having me – being ecto’s blog of the week will likely attract all sorts of riffraff…
It has begun. Tents are out. People are lining up with cash in hand. Hot new items. Old standby favorites. Screaming promotions of buy one get three free. All shapes and sizes promote themselves on the flat tables, begging to be chosen, begging to die. It has begun. Firework season.
I read the note. “Hasta la vista, twerp” was how it was signed. Misjudged. Love unrequited. As I drove down the road, the humidity of the summer night fogged out the windows. It didn’t matter; I was driving from memory. Praying for the courage to drive through the sharp turn.
Two Jacks! wow… thank’s to both of you! and i don’t know what i did in this lifetime to deserve a second thomas story, but it must been either really really good, or really wicked.
cam, riffraff is my FAVORITE!