Crescent Heights High, 1998

“Where’s your sister? I thought she was with you.” I ask my other near 18 year old daughter as she climbs into the passenger seat of the Aerostar. “She was at band practice! She should be over where the buses are.” Tammy replies as she slams the door. The traffic is never a breeze getting through the stop and go’s. I always get white knuckles when passing through worrying that some sporadic kid will run out from between the parked cars.

“Mum! Mum! Pull over here real quick!” Tammy shouts at me causing my heart to nearly leap out of my chest. I negotiate finding an open spot amidst the clogged mess of yellow buses and fellow vans. Her window rolls down followed by a loud ‘Hey Travis don’t forget my G string when you bring over the Gibson on Thursday!’ She falls back into her seat laughing with closed eyes. “Really?” I say to her, “Was that necessary to shout that for everyone to hear?” Tammy leans into me with a hard nudge, “Oh c’mon mum, we're not seven anymore, besides he knew what I meant!” I see Alicia standing there with her guitar case strapped to her back, talking with some other girls that I don’t remember seeing before. “What did she do to her hair?” Tammy asks glued to the window. “Who?” I ask. “Michelle! She changed it back to blue! I was supposed to change mine to blue!” Tammy says rather annoyed. “Whatever, she’s a --” I lay my horn down to get Alicia’s attention along with my hand waving her over. She glances at me confused then trails over to us. “And by the way, we don’t say that about others. How would you like it if someone said that to you?” I question Tammy. “I’d beat’em up.” She says as her face stays fixated outside.

The side door slides open with Alicia trying to get her things in. “Hurry up, you’re late!” Tammy calls out. “I was about to get on the bus. What’s going on, mum? Why are we being picked up?” Alicia asks. 

“I know, today is a little hectic. I actually need to drop you both off at your dad’s tonight instead of Friday.” Tammy sits up in her seat, “We’re going to dad’s tonight?” I glance over to her with a slight nod while cautiously going through the last school controlled intersection. “I have night classes this semester. Anyways I figure we’d stop by and grab dinner on the way. I don’t know what his plans were but I’d feel awful expecting him to feed you on such short notice.”

“Hey mum, guess what? Today Mr. Sherman said that law school would be my calling, I know its only a couple of months from graduation, but I was thinking Columbia.” Alicia says to me.

“Mr. Sherman is a class act pervert and he was probably hitting on you.” Tammy replies back.

“Shutup Tammy!”

“Ok, ok, you know what Tammy that’s not true. I’ve met him before and I actually think very highly of him.” I say to Tammy while watching my left turning on red.

Tammy laughs under her breath, “Mum, I heard him say you were hot once.”

“Just once?” I ask with mild disappointment.

Alicia leans in from the rear middle seat, “I hope dad doesn’t make us fold laundry all night in the basement while blasting Mike and the Mechanics.” Tammy laughs with a moan of pain, “Mum, you do realize that we were supposed to practice tonight and every other night up until Garage Warz? We only have a month left and we are nowhere near ready!” I crawl to a stop at a red light and try to sit back and breathe a little bit. “Well I just see you girls already as amazing artists!” Upon finishing that I am met with a hug from behind and a kiss on the cheek. Tammy rolls her eyes again, “Mum! Just because you are supposed to say that doesn't mean it's true!"

By the time I pull into the drive thru, the radio is cranked up with my daughters singing along to Sinead O’Connor. “Alright what do you girls want?” Tammy leans over me to get a closer look at the menu. “Aw mum, why didn’t we go to the one over at the Sunridge Mall, they give you more curly fries.” Alicia protests. I grab the steering wheel with one hand to turn back to her, “Well you will just have to deal with it. This one is on the way.”

"Mum, I'll have a number four." Alicia says in a more humble tone.

"The same but can I get a coffee with mine?" Tammy requests sitting back into her seat.

The drive thru lady hands us our food in exchange for a stack of toonies accompanied with a smiling thank you. "So we changed our band name...again." Alicia announces to me. "Ok," I say while pulling onto Edmonton Trail heading north trailing behind some light traffic. "Flunk," Tammy jumps in. "We're called Flunk now," 

"Oh," I give myself an adequate space of time to comprehend what and from whom this inspiration came from. "Well..." I go on to say something about the name, "...please don't 'flunk' senior high over this pursuit." I hear Alicia in the back nearly blow her drink through her nose with Tammy laughing, "Oh mum, thank you for being so cheesy," To which I reply a dry but warm 'you're welcome'.        

"The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music!"

“Let’s start on this end of the table, Dan with the plan! Where are we at with the Indonesian accounts? When can we expect to ….”

Jack sits there counting how many people it will be before his boss gets to him. Do not confuse Jack for the slacker type. He is one who works for the ‘man’ and earns his pay. However, things have been falling out of favor for him recently. With all the good intentions and hard work he puts in, it just never seems to be sufficient enough to avoid what is about to take place.

               

               “No, no, no! That was not what we discussed in that meeting!”

Jack is now only three people away from his turn. He looks around the room in an attempt to find a quick exit. He remembered that the conference room they are in is only three floors below where a maintenance room is located which contains a roof access ladder. He then starts to speculate if 56 floors would be a quick and painless way to die. Jack was never one for pain. He loosens his tie. The bad news will have to be borne. He is next.

               “There is a discrepancy with this date! What? Wrong! Why are you crying? Just fix it! Here, here look at the calendar year and explain your thought...”

His hands start to perspire while they lay flat on the table with his eyes closed. This is it, goodbye. Suddenly his left pocket starts to vibrate.  He peels his head from off the table and reaches into his pocket only to find that his cell phone has a missed call. It is his wife, Emily. He sends her a message,

               

                Jack: Sorry babe, I’m getting burned right now. I will have to call you back, that is if I make it out alive.

               Emily: WE WON!!!!

               Jack: What? What do you mean?

               Emily: BABE WE WON THE LOTTERY!!!

               Jack: I’m in no mood for jokes! I will call you back! I love you.

               Emily: $93,000,000 IS NO JOKE!!!! IT’S ON THE NEWS!!! YOU FREAKIN GENIUS YOUR NUMBERS DID IT!!! GET HOME NOW!!! Oh and uh I love you too ;)

He sits frozen in his chair for a moment lost in his thoughts. Jack is right now a millionaire. He doesn’t even know how to react. His excitement hasn’t quite started just yet.

               “Jack who doesn’t know jack! Maybe if you didn’t text your girlfriend all the time, you could actually get something done! Why did you have the Malaysian shipment scheduled for –”

With that Jack stands up and starts singing an old show tune he heard growing up. His arms are wide open. He pushes his chair back and jumps on the large conference table and proceeds to waltz. He reaches down for his reports and tosses them up and basks in the showering debris.

               “JACK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? GET DOWN FROM THERE!!! ARE YOU INSANE?? SECURITY!! COME QUICK!! I KNEW WE SHOULD'VE HAD YOU DRUG TESTED!”

He does a back flip from off the edge of the table and continues with bravado at the conclusion of his song while at the doorway. The room is silent while he holds on to the last melody of the song and departs. The supervisor stands there with a mixture of mild disappointment and confusion. Someone from the table raises their hand, "Does this mean the meeting is over?"

"Where's Grandpa?"

He waits by the interstate sitting in a lawn chair flapping his gums talking to himself incoherently while rolling his cane across his lap. His knees are shaking with impatience as he watches the 60 mile an hour traffic roar past him. His straw hat blocks the sun from his beet red face, his charred dark skin however gives little contrast to his mocha colored sunglasses and brown blazer. "It's a good thing I wore this suit today, its gonna be a hot one.." He mutters to himself while continuing to move in his chair. A semi blares it's horn going by making him jump in his chair with his cane waving all over. He gives out a high pitched yelp.

His unsettled hand reaches into a cooler beside him and pulls out a Yoo-hoo. While taking it out, a few more cars blast their horns speeding past him. He jumps again making the drink spill over himself, "...they going too fast, umhmm." He says to himself as he attempts to drink the Yoo-hoo again. A swarm of sirens zoom down the interstate this time making him spew his drink out into the air. He starts to shout nonsense at the busy freeway as he gets out of his chair, knocking it over without the help of his cane. His shouts are drowned out by the speeding traffic. "I told you for the last time that you are going too fast!!!"

As he moves over the highway barrier, his hat flies off from the wind of the traffic. Several tires screech and trucks with their trailers slide laterally to avoid the crazy old man who is now in the middle of the interstate. His hands with his cane are waving in the air while shouting for them to slow down. "Old man get out of the road!" A driver shouts at him. "You're gonna get killed!" Another calls out diverting to the left of him slowly. "There are children playing here, SLOW IT DOWN!" The old man cries out manically. "Ain't no kids here grandpa!" A trucker shouts down at him and continues forward.

Many car horns go off at this time as the old man throws his cane at one of the car's windshield. "Easy old man!" A traffic chopper flies in overhead, swerving around the scene. "And that goes for you too! Keep it down! People are trying to sleep!" The old man curses at the helicopter above. "Its rush hour in the middle of the day, what are you doing?" Another disgruntled driver shouts at him. "C'mon! Get outta the way!" A series of state troopers are seen from the distance weaving in and out of the stopped traffic. "That's not for me!" The old man shouts as he clumsily runs back to the shoulder without his cane, followed by a couple of failed side jump attempts over the divider, and finally passing his knocked over chair and through the bushes to hide. The trooper pulls to the side shoulder only to get out and ask, "Where's grandpa?"

Pieces of Something #4

So you know that feeling where you are writing and you get to the point of feeling tired like there is no more that can be said. . . KEEP GOING! Dig further, push and push. Like Natalie Goldberg's book Writing down the Bones, there is so much more you can put out there on paper after you think all is written. It is always those dire moments where we are at our whits end and the voice is dead or the detail isn't fully there. Push yourself to paint the scenery more clearer, describe the emotion of a character with more truth. Don't be afraid of this. You will not spontaneously combust (though, I would hate to be liable for such a promise). Give it your all. Even when you feel there is no more, THERE IS ALWAYS MORE. I think of writing those last moments like the cream of the crop. That is the best part, that is butter! And if those extra ten minutes of writing is the cream, then it is the savory stuff you put on your potatoes or toast that take your tastes buds on a journey. Stick with it, try it out, see where it takes you.

Pieces of Something #3

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Here is something that came to me in the wee hours of the morning. Did you ever think of how your kids would act and talk 15, 20 years down the road? Or how about imagining yourself meeting a public figure, historical figure, celebrity, or a hero - ANYONE like Sacagawea (I know I probably butchered that). With this writing exercise, try to imagine meeting anyone you have ever wanted to meet. Get creative with how they would act and respond to your comments and questions. What could be their interests, favorite food, good book to read while on the John. Try imagining the outcome, and create a fictional means of how you were able to speak to your now-grown-up-son. Maybe you only meant to set the Microwave on HIGH for 30 seconds and the door blew up, shooting out rays of high radiation causing you to warp into the future. How would you speak to them? There are no rules to this, just write it out.

Pieces of Something #2

Hello everyone and welcome back to a sort of creative writing blog designed to help anyone break the ice of the halted inspiration every writer needs to bring to life their words and imagination. I have before you a scene from a really good film about a con man always on the run. This exercise deals with the art of observation. Sure this film has been shot and featured to millions, but from you watching it. . . how would write this scene? How would you explain the characters' reactions and expressions, the atmosphere of the room? There are no rules to this, just write it out. Enjoy!

Pieces of Something #1

So Missy and I the other night were sitting on the couch dead tired after the kids went down for bed. I was about to fall over and succumb to my five-hour coma when she came up with this neat idea of writing words on torn pieces of paper which afterwards goes into a mason jar. We would shake the jar up mixing the papers and then we'd each pick out one. We were given about 10 minutes to write whatever came to our minds from the words we received. The word could be anything like oranges, New Zealand, farting - ANYTHING. It didn't have to make sense, it didn't have to be correct. The important thing was we were in the moment writing. It's a really neat exercise, you'll be surprised with what you can come up with. Try it out!