Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Write in the HUMOR genre (04/12/07)
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TITLE: I Fail to See the Humor: Prelude | Previous Challenge Entry
By Delores Baber
04/17/07 -
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5:00 PM It’s time to go home !!! I can’t wait to get there. Traffic, however, was against me. How many flat tires and empty gas tanks can occur on one stretch of the highway? How inconsiderate! How thoughtless! Don’t they know there are folks trying to get home?
6:00 PM Finally, I’m pulling into the driveway. “Lord, just give me the strength to get inside and make it to the recliner.”
6:02 PM As I ease into the recliner my daughter [age 12] skips in, full of youthful energy, and says, “Ready to go buy me those shoes?”
“What? Shoes!? Do you have any idea what kind of day I’ve had! Do you!!! Of, course not. Well let me tell you something, nothing, and I mean NOTHING is getting me out of this chair!”
Looking at me with her beautiful eyes she replied with those three words that can send any parent on a guilt trip, “But, you promised.”
My mind runs back over my morning. What could I have said? Oh, no. I did promise.
I have a bit of a ‘tude by now. Well, actually I passed ‘tude on the interstate. Now I feel I need to be wearing one of those T-shirts that says, “I only have one nerve left and your getting on it!” But promises are promises, so between gritted teeth I replied, “All right, I’m going to take you to get you precious pair of shoes, but we are only going to one store and then we are coming right back. We’re going to buy one pair of shoes and that’s all. Understand?”
My precious daughter is looking at me as though I had just turned into a werewolf.
As I drag myself out of my beloved recliner, every bone and muscle in my body aches, my husband steps into the doorway. “Well, since your going out would you mind dropping off a deposit at the bank?”
“What!!! You want me to make a bank deposit at night! Do you know how dangerous that is? I could be robbed!” I am exasperated with him.
“It’s only ten dollars.”
“Ten dollars? You want me to deposit ten dollars? Surely this can wait till tomorrow.”
“That depends, how much do they charge for bounced checks?”
“Oh, it’s come to that has it. Well alright, give me your stupid $10.00 and I’ll do it, but if I get shot by some thug thinking I’m got a lot of money on me, I hope you never forgive yourself.”
My daughter and I make it to the bank. I explain how dangerous it is to go to a bank at night so I give her the following instructions; “I’m going to get out of the car now and make a deposit. Lock the doors. Under NO circumstances are you to unlock the doors even if a man has a gun to my head. Understand? DO NOT UNLOCK THE DOORS ?”
My daughter nods. I fill out the bank deposit envelop in the car and then bravely run to the night deposit slot and slip it in. I rush back and jump into and relock the door. I breath a sigh of relief. I had made the deposit and lived to tell about it.
“Now we can go get your shoes.” I put the car in gear and as I pull off I look over at my daughter and notice she’s playing with something. “What ya got?”
“Money.”
“Money? Where did you get money?”
“You laid it down while you filled out the envelope.”
“Are you holding a ten dollar bill?”
“Yes maam.”
I turn the car around and pull back into the bank. Now my last nerve has been stomped on and lies dying. I feel drained. No energy left to explode. I want to explode, but the gun powder has been used up. There’s only so much adrenaline my body can produce.
How can I fix this? I can’t leave them a note, because the deposit door won’t open unless I have something to deposit. How can I slip the note in? This was just the beginning of a comedy of errors before I was to see my recliner again that night. . . .unfortunately, I’ve just run out of my allotted words.
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