April 16, 2010
The Lull in the Story’s Middle
In his mind’s nose, he could smell the burnt palm fronds from long-gone Lenten Masses.
I zipped my trousers and twisted around to be sure the rear flap was fastened securely — it would be too embarrassing to repeat the incident from last week.
“Never,” Olivier said, his mouth churning the mortar-like dough. “There’s no way I am finished with you yet, for sure. Your pastries are too delicious.”
Everything was going well, at least up to a certain point. I printed some $50 bills on my new HP DeskJet. They were perfect. Then I forgot to trim the eight-and-a-half by eleven paper.
“What is the meaning of this — this — contraband?” the rumrunner shrieked. “I sheltered you, raised you as my own. You repay me by smuggling marijuana in my liquor barrels?”
It all made sense — or would if we lived in someone’s fictional account of the mirror image of a parallel universe.
“Treasure is what I have found,” she whispered as layer upon layer of spun polyester spilled from her open blouse. “If you dream long enough and hard enough, it will happen.”
Ian’s not crazy; he’s mono-polarally challenged.
How else would you expect me to take the news? My boss buys his wife a new luxury car, and here I am still driving the same camper I’ve had since high school.
The first two or three days were pretty bad, and then it got even worse for a few weeks, and after that the next six months became intolerable. Now it’s very good.
“Man’s best friend?” he cried. “The average set of car keys is more loyal than you!”
Dropping to the pavement, I curled into the fetal position to protect my vulnerable soft tissue. It also always helped me to think.
“Trouble? Yep, I seen my fair share of that,” the old woman said in a quiet voice. Her eyes turned remote yet hard. “No reason to go back and revisit bad times. So! You folks need to hear today’s specials again?”
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greatness, MGS.
A lull in a story’s middle can often come as a relief. I’ll take any one of these.
In fact, if I find myself in need of a lull while reading a story, I will just insert one of your lulls.
Thank you, MGS.
Lullaby . . . lullaby . . .
Excellent, Michael. This really gets me going. I have a notebook full of strange lines that pop into my head and overheard comments. It’s my most reliable source of story starts. This “Lull in the Story’s Middle” is great as bits and great as a whole thing. It’s fun to manufacture connections between the lines, and a delight to see it as bright postage stamps caught up in a gust of wind.
MGS doesn’t write enough lately.
MGS should spend more time writing.
Many of my stories are a lull throughout. It’s not as easy as it sounds.