I took my nephews to the water park today because . . . hey, why do you need a reason?
Anyway, we were only there an hour or less when the three year old announced he needed to go to the bathroom . . . FAST. I usually try to accommodate the kids when they do that, 'cause I don't want them still soiling themselves when they're my age.
Anyway, my sister tried to take him to a bathroom, but the ladies' room had a line leading out the door and past the snowcone shack. So I grabbed the boy and ran to the nearest men's room. The boy was too short to use the urinals, and told me he wanted to sit down, since he's used to the potty chair*. Unfortunately, there were two stalls, and one of them had a toilet seat that had been used as a fudgin' diaper, and the other . . . well, some dipshit had locked it from the inside and then crawled out under the door.*
I tried to hold my nephew up to the urinal, but I knew that wouldn't work (he'd end up peeing right in his pants, it appeared), so I said, "Fudge it, we're goin' in the sink." I carried him over to the sink and held him over it so he could use it like a toilet . . .
. . . and he did. Except the boy didn't need to pee. He had diarrhea.
Uh huh.
Anyhow, some of it DID end up going in the sink. But most of it ended up going onto me, the floor, and the kid's shorts and underwear.
My sister wondered what was keeping us, so she sent the boy's brother in to check on us . . . and he stepped right in it with his bare feet.
Luckily, we were in a bathroom, so only one or two people saw us, and even luckier, we were at a sink, so I was able to wash myself and the boy's clothes, and wring out the water on the floor enough to wash away the offending substance.
After that, we all hit the showers (which are inconveniently located outside the bathrooms, but what can you do?). A few minutes later, the boy needed to go again, so we ran back, and this time I had his brother go into the locked toilet stall and unlock it for us, and he was able to go to the bathroom as The Thunder God intended.
But after that, we decided we should go home, and befoul the water park no further.
It was a nice sunny day, though.
Rish
*This was my reasoning, at the time anyway.
**Originally, I typed "some motherfucker had locked it," but I thought I'd lighten it just a skoach.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Writing Exercise 9
I've written a bit, but I really have to honor my audiobook commitments. Yesterday, I discovered that three chapters of the superhero book that was due in May were recorded, but somehow disappeared before I could edit them. I woke up early and re-recorded them this morning (something I never do, probably not once since I began this), but felt like I was wasting my time while doing it, since the original recording will probably show up again in a couple of weeks. The lament of the disorganized. Sigh.
But I will try to get some of this on here tonight. I promise.
***
“Miles?” She didn’t mind walking a block or two, but there were plenty of blocks in three miles.
“We aren’t gonna walk there,” Brekkyn said, as though Tanissa was being stupid . . . again. “Look, do you wanna go or not?”
Tanissa didn’t know the answer to that question, but she finally shrugged. Then nodded.
Brekkyn put down her game controller and got a key out of her drawer. “Do you have a scooter?”
“I have a bike at my mom’s house.”
“I wasn’t asking about your mom’s house,” Brekkyn said, putting the key back in the drawer. “Are you up to walking to the bus stop?”
Tanissa considered asking how far that was, but she thought her new friend didn’t look like someone who would walk more than a block or two.
“I don’t have a bus pass. Do I need one?”
“Nope. All taken care of. Look, I gotta put on some sunscreen. Gimmee a minute and we’ll be out of here.”
The way she said it hinted she expected some sort of argument, but Tanissa said nothing, simply waited while the other girl sprayed Coppertone on her arms, neck, and face.
They stepped out of her room. Nobody was in the living room or kitchen.
“Mom, we’re going out!” Brekkyn called.
Her mother’s voice came from the bathroom. “Okay.”
And that was it, the girl just walked out the front door, Tanissa following. She felt a bit guilty, sneaking away like that. But Brekkyn seemed to have a very different relationship with her mother than, well, most did. Tanissa’s mom would want to know where they were headed, who would be there, and when they were coming back.
But Mrs. Manyon looked terrible, maybe she was sick and distracted by her misery. “Is your mom alright?” she asked as they walked through the hall.
“Why? What was she doing?” It sounded suspicious. “In the bathroom, you mean?”
Brekkyn stopped in her tracks, turning around slowly. “Stay here,” she said, and stalked back to her door. As she disappeared inside, Tanissa thought she had it all wrong with her new friend—clearly Brekkyn was concerned about her mother, even if she acted like a brat.
Still, the way she’d marched in there, it was like a prison guard investigating an escape attempt, but that could’ve been a show she was putting on to impress her new friend.
But I will try to get some of this on here tonight. I promise.
***
There
was a hint of desperation in the girl’s voice, and Tanissa gave in. “Yeah, if we’re not buying much, I could
go. Is the mall far?”
“Only
two or three miles.”“Miles?” She didn’t mind walking a block or two, but there were plenty of blocks in three miles.
“We aren’t gonna walk there,” Brekkyn said, as though Tanissa was being stupid . . . again. “Look, do you wanna go or not?”
Tanissa didn’t know the answer to that question, but she finally shrugged. Then nodded.
Brekkyn put down her game controller and got a key out of her drawer. “Do you have a scooter?”
“I have a bike at my mom’s house.”
“I wasn’t asking about your mom’s house,” Brekkyn said, putting the key back in the drawer. “Are you up to walking to the bus stop?”
Tanissa considered asking how far that was, but she thought her new friend didn’t look like someone who would walk more than a block or two.
“I don’t have a bus pass. Do I need one?”
“Nope. All taken care of. Look, I gotta put on some sunscreen. Gimmee a minute and we’ll be out of here.”
The way she said it hinted she expected some sort of argument, but Tanissa said nothing, simply waited while the other girl sprayed Coppertone on her arms, neck, and face.
They stepped out of her room. Nobody was in the living room or kitchen.
“Mom, we’re going out!” Brekkyn called.
Her mother’s voice came from the bathroom. “Okay.”
And that was it, the girl just walked out the front door, Tanissa following. She felt a bit guilty, sneaking away like that. But Brekkyn seemed to have a very different relationship with her mother than, well, most did. Tanissa’s mom would want to know where they were headed, who would be there, and when they were coming back.
But Mrs. Manyon looked terrible, maybe she was sick and distracted by her misery. “Is your mom alright?” she asked as they walked through the hall.
“Why? What was she doing?” It sounded suspicious. “In the bathroom, you mean?”
Brekkyn stopped in her tracks, turning around slowly. “Stay here,” she said, and stalked back to her door. As she disappeared inside, Tanissa thought she had it all wrong with her new friend—clearly Brekkyn was concerned about her mother, even if she acted like a brat.
Still, the way she’d marched in there, it was like a prison guard investigating an escape attempt, but that could’ve been a show she was putting on to impress her new friend.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Live-Writing Exercise 8
I missed both writing and blogging yesterday. I did get a few audiobook chapters recorded and edited, and sort of chose that over writing, but it's not really an excuse. Oh, I do have an excuse, sort of. For the fourth year in a row, I'm entering the "Masters of the Macabre" contest for the Horror Addicts podcast. This year, instead of leaving things to the last minute, I went out to my car (where there are fewer distractions) and wrote the story in my notebook until it was done (actually, I drove somewhere, walked around, then went back to the car and wrote the story in the parking lot, which seems to be really effective to me, especially if I vow not to leave until it's finished).
But writing the story is only half of their twisted contest. The other half is recording an audio version of the story, editing it, and sending it along to them.
Actually, that's way more than half. You see, even with a story as pathetically small as my first year's entry, the recorded version invariably goes way longer than they allow, so I have to start cutting the story down. Of the four I've written, this was the one that had to lose the most, even though I didn't feel the story had that much to it. It only had two characters, one location, and a straightforward plot with very little meat or backstory . . . and yet, it was still almost four times longer than the contest allows.
A smarter man than me (like that Anklevich guy at least claims to be) would have simply said, "Whoops. Guess I won't enter the contest, then." And a better man than both of us would say, "Whoops. Guess I should write a whole new story for this contest, but one that's way shorter." But I'm neither, so I spent hours (HOOOOOUUUUURS) cutting the story down, removing details, combining sentences and paragraphs, finding shorter way of saying the same thing, simplifying dialogue and description, and finally re-recording sections at a quicker pace.
The cutoff for the contest was ten minutes, and the initial recording (this is the pared-down version of the text, remember) was twenty-six minutes long. It was an excruciating process to get it shorter and shorter, and often rewriting and re-recording would end up saving me six or seven seconds at a go. That Anklevich guy would remind me that I could have written four whole stories (four new stories, mind you) in the time it took me to get the tale down to twelve minutes, but I did it. Ahhhh.
Except that the allotted time was ten minutes, not twelve. Mother of Satan, there was no easy way to fix this. So, I tried to cheat. I increased the speed of the recording once, twice, five times, shaving off a few seconds each time, and producing something that sounds like it was recorded--all in one breath--by Rish Outfield from 1987. I realize that, recognize that, and regret that, but as the deadline loomed, and I removed any humor, character development, suspense, or depth from the story, I simply couldn't care anymore. The final product sounds like Alvin telling a scary story starring Simon and Theodore, but it is now exactly ten minutes long, and submitted.
I doubt I'll win, but really, whoever wins, we lose.
***
“In a minute, Mom,” Brekkyn said, and pulled Tanissa with her. They walked across the living room to the main bedroom, which had a big handmade BREKKYN sign, drawn in cartoon fish and bubbles. The setup was the same as her dad’s apartment, except Brekkyn apparently had the big room and her mother had the guest room.
The girl’s bedroom was an overload on the eyes, with pink and purple and red and green on the walls and ceiling, and myriad shelves holding My Little Pony dolls, Bratz, Monster Highs, and Callico Critters. Cutouts from magazines or internet printouts of Disney celebrities and teen heartthrobs covered an entire wall. In a frame was a photograph of a much younger Brekkyn being embraced by Justin Bieber. Hanging from the ceiling were dozens of Bubble Guppies figurines, flying around like fairies on strings.
“Wow,” Tanissa heard herself say.
“Isn’t it great?” Brekkyn beamed. “I painted and did the decorating myself.” Tanissa could tell, as the paint was sloppy and uneven, and there were several dried spots on the carpet.
Brekkyn had her own television in here, as well as several video game consoles, a computer tablet, a robot Zoomer dog, and speakers for her iPod.
“What do you want to do?” Brekkyn asked. “You like Mario Kart?”
“I . . .” Tanissa felt overwhelmed. The amount of entertainment possibilities in this room made her feel, somehow, guilty, as though it was ill-gotten gains. She pointed back at the door, which Tanissa was disturbed to see had a deadbolt on it. “That sign you made of your name. Could you show me how to do that?”
“Of course!” the girl exclaimed, and was thrilled to show her. She had an easel and two different art kits and they spent a few minutes working on a sign that said TANISSA, with basketballs and books and rabbits and a soccer goal and the sun on it. Brekkyn drew a little fish inside the second ‘A,’ but Tanissa didn’t mind. It was nice to create.
Of course, they then spent an hour playing something called Titanfall, which was a violent robot fighting game only boys would like. Tanissa’s cellphone vibrated, and her dad was asking how she was doing.
“That’s your phone?” Brekkyn asked, actually laughing.
“Yeah, it kinda sucks, but ah well.” She was only twelve.
"Do you wanna go to the mall and get a new one?”
Tanissa did, of course, but she was a bit more pragmatic than that. One day, she’d get a new phone, but all she could do was take care of the one she currently had as best she could. She had looked around, seen the things in Brekkyn’s room, and money was apparently not an issue for her family.
“That’s okay,” she said at last.
“Let me at least show you the mall—the clothes stores,the fun little shops. We don’t have to buy anything.”
It sounded like she just wanted to go out, be with her new friend, and she could understand that.
“Maybe later. I didn’t have time to take a shower this morning, and I’d like to at least be able to—”
“You smell fine to me,” Brekkyn said, actually sniffing her.
It was a compliment, but Tanissa didn’t quite feel the need to thank her for it.
"We could go out just for fun, you know? Get some chili fries. You wouldn't have to pay." There was a hint of desperation in the girl's voice, and Tanissa gave in.
But writing the story is only half of their twisted contest. The other half is recording an audio version of the story, editing it, and sending it along to them.
Actually, that's way more than half. You see, even with a story as pathetically small as my first year's entry, the recorded version invariably goes way longer than they allow, so I have to start cutting the story down. Of the four I've written, this was the one that had to lose the most, even though I didn't feel the story had that much to it. It only had two characters, one location, and a straightforward plot with very little meat or backstory . . . and yet, it was still almost four times longer than the contest allows.
A smarter man than me (like that Anklevich guy at least claims to be) would have simply said, "Whoops. Guess I won't enter the contest, then." And a better man than both of us would say, "Whoops. Guess I should write a whole new story for this contest, but one that's way shorter." But I'm neither, so I spent hours (HOOOOOUUUUURS) cutting the story down, removing details, combining sentences and paragraphs, finding shorter way of saying the same thing, simplifying dialogue and description, and finally re-recording sections at a quicker pace.
The cutoff for the contest was ten minutes, and the initial recording (this is the pared-down version of the text, remember) was twenty-six minutes long. It was an excruciating process to get it shorter and shorter, and often rewriting and re-recording would end up saving me six or seven seconds at a go. That Anklevich guy would remind me that I could have written four whole stories (four new stories, mind you) in the time it took me to get the tale down to twelve minutes, but I did it. Ahhhh.
Except that the allotted time was ten minutes, not twelve. Mother of Satan, there was no easy way to fix this. So, I tried to cheat. I increased the speed of the recording once, twice, five times, shaving off a few seconds each time, and producing something that sounds like it was recorded--all in one breath--by Rish Outfield from 1987. I realize that, recognize that, and regret that, but as the deadline loomed, and I removed any humor, character development, suspense, or depth from the story, I simply couldn't care anymore. The final product sounds like Alvin telling a scary story starring Simon and Theodore, but it is now exactly ten minutes long, and submitted.
I doubt I'll win, but really, whoever wins, we lose.
***
The thin woman stood up. “Would you like some fruit juice, girls?”
“No, thank you,” Tanissa said, worried about the lady. She looked ill.“In a minute, Mom,” Brekkyn said, and pulled Tanissa with her. They walked across the living room to the main bedroom, which had a big handmade BREKKYN sign, drawn in cartoon fish and bubbles. The setup was the same as her dad’s apartment, except Brekkyn apparently had the big room and her mother had the guest room.
The girl’s bedroom was an overload on the eyes, with pink and purple and red and green on the walls and ceiling, and myriad shelves holding My Little Pony dolls, Bratz, Monster Highs, and Callico Critters. Cutouts from magazines or internet printouts of Disney celebrities and teen heartthrobs covered an entire wall. In a frame was a photograph of a much younger Brekkyn being embraced by Justin Bieber. Hanging from the ceiling were dozens of Bubble Guppies figurines, flying around like fairies on strings.
“Wow,” Tanissa heard herself say.
“Isn’t it great?” Brekkyn beamed. “I painted and did the decorating myself.” Tanissa could tell, as the paint was sloppy and uneven, and there were several dried spots on the carpet.
Brekkyn had her own television in here, as well as several video game consoles, a computer tablet, a robot Zoomer dog, and speakers for her iPod.
“What do you want to do?” Brekkyn asked. “You like Mario Kart?”
“I . . .” Tanissa felt overwhelmed. The amount of entertainment possibilities in this room made her feel, somehow, guilty, as though it was ill-gotten gains. She pointed back at the door, which Tanissa was disturbed to see had a deadbolt on it. “That sign you made of your name. Could you show me how to do that?”
“Of course!” the girl exclaimed, and was thrilled to show her. She had an easel and two different art kits and they spent a few minutes working on a sign that said TANISSA, with basketballs and books and rabbits and a soccer goal and the sun on it. Brekkyn drew a little fish inside the second ‘A,’ but Tanissa didn’t mind. It was nice to create.
Of course, they then spent an hour playing something called Titanfall, which was a violent robot fighting game only boys would like. Tanissa’s cellphone vibrated, and her dad was asking how she was doing.
“That’s your phone?” Brekkyn asked, actually laughing.
“Yeah, it kinda sucks, but ah well.” She was only twelve.
"Do you wanna go to the mall and get a new one?”
Tanissa did, of course, but she was a bit more pragmatic than that. One day, she’d get a new phone, but all she could do was take care of the one she currently had as best she could. She had looked around, seen the things in Brekkyn’s room, and money was apparently not an issue for her family.
“That’s okay,” she said at last.
“Let me at least show you the mall—the clothes stores,the fun little shops. We don’t have to buy anything.”
It sounded like she just wanted to go out, be with her new friend, and she could understand that.
“Maybe later. I didn’t have time to take a shower this morning, and I’d like to at least be able to—”
“You smell fine to me,” Brekkyn said, actually sniffing her.
It was a compliment, but Tanissa didn’t quite feel the need to thank her for it.
“Is it that you don’t have any money?” Brekkyn asked, leaning closer. “Are you guys super poor or something?”
"No. I . . . Look, I have a little money that I earned, and my dad might give me some, but not enough to buy anything other than a shirt or a pair of sunglasses or a--""We could go out just for fun, you know? Get some chili fries. You wouldn't have to pay." There was a hint of desperation in the girl's voice, and Tanissa gave in.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Live-Writing Exercise: ALSV 7
I got together with Big last night for pizza and conversation, and we managed to record two little things. One of them was an episode of his personal, unedited podcast "The Anklecast," wherein we talked about our story blogging exercises. I told the story of the ultimate fate of my project, which is a lengthy, probably-boring tale.
Ultimately, I decided to stick with this story until it's done, especially since having an audience will make me stick to it more stringently than I would otherwise do. Hopefully, that's good news.
***
Ultimately, I decided to stick with this story until it's done, especially since having an audience will make me stick to it more stringently than I would otherwise do. Hopefully, that's good news.
***
“Your mom and dad get a divorce?”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t a sore spot, exactly, but it was
still disappointing.
“Now you live with your dad?”
Tanissa was sure she had explained
this before. “I live with my mom, in
Arroyo Nuevo, but I’m here for the next couple of weeks.”
“Great. Maybe we’ll become best friends, and you’ll
move here and stay forever.”
Tanissa started to say, “I don’t
think so,” but thought better of it. “Maybe,”
she said.
They got back in the elevator, which Brekkyn seemed to consider a sort of carnival ride.
“There’s a basement room at the bottom of the stairs. The maintenance guy sometimes has stuff there people have left when they move out or forgot in the halls. I told him to save me a kitten or baby if he finds one.” This was yet another random comment from the girl. Tanissa tried to remember if she had ever had an imagination like that, and frankly couldn’t remember.
They went outside and looked around the building, around the block. There were rosebushes lining the whole street, and each girl picked one and put it in their hair. It was a warm day, but a light breeze blew from the west, making everything nice. An ice cream truck drove by, and Brekkyn asked if she wanted anything. “I didn’t bring my money.”
“That’s okay,” the other girl said. “I didn’t either.”
That, for some reason, struck Tanissa as funny, and she was surprised to see a scowl on Brekkyn’s face. “Do you want a ice cream or not?”
The truck was at the stop sign, about to make a turn, so Tanissa said, “Not this time,” and let it drive on. She had had a growth spurt over the last year or so, and seemed to always be hungry, but she didn’t want to go chasing after a Good Humor man only to find out he didn’t deal in IOUs.
“Let’s go to my place,” Brekkyn announced, and turned back the way they’d come. Tanissa would’ve liked to stay outside a little longer, but followed her new friend back to the complex, and to the first floor. Number 4 wasn’t locked, and the girl walked right in, leaving the door open behind her. The air conditioner was blowing in the apartment, so Tanissa went back and closed the door.
The apartment was set up exactly the same as her father’s, and immediately, her eyes went to the massive flat-screen that took up most of one wall. The television was tuned to a talk show, and a rail-thin woman on the couch immediately turned it off.
“Mom, this is Tanissa,” proclaimed Brekkyn. “She’s--”
The girl stopped, looking around suspiciously. Tanissa looked around too, wondering where the fire was. “Have you been drinking coffee again?”
“What, sweetheart?” the woman asked. “No, just Lipton.”
“I smell coffee,” Brekkyn said, looking at Tanissa for approval. “Yuck!”
“I like the smell of coffee,” she said. “I even kind of like coffee ice cream.”
“Don’t make me barf,” Brekkyn said. She squared her shoulders. “Mom, Tanissa is my new friend, from the third floor. Her dad is Mr. Gunn.”
“Who?” Brekkyn’s mother asked, turning to stare at Tanissa. The woman looked ghastly, her hair thinning and messy, her eyes and cheekbones sunken, her bony shoulders stooped. “I don’t know any Mis—“”
“What’s his first name?” Brekkyn asked.
“William,” Tanissa said to the lady. “Sometimes Willy.”
“William,” the girl said. “The fat guy who helped us with the couch.”
Tanissa swallowed down any sign that she didn’t appreciate that description. Especially since Dad had described Brekkyn in much the same way.
“Oh, oh, yes, sorry,” the thin woman said, apologizing to one of them. “N-nice to meet you, Vanessa. Would you like any--”
“Tuh-neesa,” Brekkyn corrected rudely. “We’re gonna play in my room.”
Tanissa didn’t know how the dynamic worked in this house. She was surprised to hear how the younger girl spoke to her mother, but some of her friends had strained relations with their parents, and she’d snapped at her own mother a time or three.
They got back in the elevator, which Brekkyn seemed to consider a sort of carnival ride.
“There’s a basement room at the bottom of the stairs. The maintenance guy sometimes has stuff there people have left when they move out or forgot in the halls. I told him to save me a kitten or baby if he finds one.” This was yet another random comment from the girl. Tanissa tried to remember if she had ever had an imagination like that, and frankly couldn’t remember.
They went outside and looked around the building, around the block. There were rosebushes lining the whole street, and each girl picked one and put it in their hair. It was a warm day, but a light breeze blew from the west, making everything nice. An ice cream truck drove by, and Brekkyn asked if she wanted anything. “I didn’t bring my money.”
“That’s okay,” the other girl said. “I didn’t either.”
That, for some reason, struck Tanissa as funny, and she was surprised to see a scowl on Brekkyn’s face. “Do you want a ice cream or not?”
The truck was at the stop sign, about to make a turn, so Tanissa said, “Not this time,” and let it drive on. She had had a growth spurt over the last year or so, and seemed to always be hungry, but she didn’t want to go chasing after a Good Humor man only to find out he didn’t deal in IOUs.
“Let’s go to my place,” Brekkyn announced, and turned back the way they’d come. Tanissa would’ve liked to stay outside a little longer, but followed her new friend back to the complex, and to the first floor. Number 4 wasn’t locked, and the girl walked right in, leaving the door open behind her. The air conditioner was blowing in the apartment, so Tanissa went back and closed the door.
The apartment was set up exactly the same as her father’s, and immediately, her eyes went to the massive flat-screen that took up most of one wall. The television was tuned to a talk show, and a rail-thin woman on the couch immediately turned it off.
“Mom, this is Tanissa,” proclaimed Brekkyn. “She’s--”
The girl stopped, looking around suspiciously. Tanissa looked around too, wondering where the fire was. “Have you been drinking coffee again?”
“What, sweetheart?” the woman asked. “No, just Lipton.”
“I smell coffee,” Brekkyn said, looking at Tanissa for approval. “Yuck!”
“I like the smell of coffee,” she said. “I even kind of like coffee ice cream.”
“Don’t make me barf,” Brekkyn said. She squared her shoulders. “Mom, Tanissa is my new friend, from the third floor. Her dad is Mr. Gunn.”
“Who?” Brekkyn’s mother asked, turning to stare at Tanissa. The woman looked ghastly, her hair thinning and messy, her eyes and cheekbones sunken, her bony shoulders stooped. “I don’t know any Mis—“”
“What’s his first name?” Brekkyn asked.
“William,” Tanissa said to the lady. “Sometimes Willy.”
“William,” the girl said. “The fat guy who helped us with the couch.”
Tanissa swallowed down any sign that she didn’t appreciate that description. Especially since Dad had described Brekkyn in much the same way.
“Oh, oh, yes, sorry,” the thin woman said, apologizing to one of them. “N-nice to meet you, Vanessa. Would you like any--”
“Tuh-neesa,” Brekkyn corrected rudely. “We’re gonna play in my room.”
Tanissa didn’t know how the dynamic worked in this house. She was surprised to hear how the younger girl spoke to her mother, but some of her friends had strained relations with their parents, and she’d snapped at her own mother a time or three.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Live-Writing Exercise 6
I've not a new quandary, one I'll have to talk to Big Anklevich about today. In the meantime, I've got a couple more pages typed up, and ready to post here. From this point on, though, I'm not sure if I don't prefer the title "Just Your Voice" over "A Lovely Singing Voice." I think I had three or four possible titles in my original draft, and chose the latter because it reminded me of a line Jack Nicholson had in the 1989 BATMAN.
We'll leave it for now, but I really ought to talk to people who have published things on their blogs or websites, only to put them up for sale later, and figure out if all of this will have to disappear at that time, or if it doesn't really matter in the long run. I also spent some time yesterday revising the first four pages, but none of that work shows here.
***
“Do you wanna go on a tour of the building with me?” Brekkyn asked her during a commercial break.
“I guess. I mostly thought I’d read today.”
“That’s funny,” Brekkyn said, and actually laughed. “Not everything in this apartment complex sucks. We can play in the elevator, or there’s a place where you can look in the dumpster at the next building. Sometimes there’s rats there.”
“Yeah?” she responded, still not committing.
“I can show you around, if you want.” And Tanissa could see something in her eyes, a loneliness or an expectation of a refusal, or maybe a close familiarity with rejection. She reminded Tanissa of a mangy dog that’s been kicked once too many times and now can’t trust people, even those who would pet and feed it.
Sure, Brekkyn was overbearing and bossy, but she seemed excited at the prospect of spending time with Tanissa, and it was nice to be liked.
“Alright,” she decided out loud, “I can use a friend.”
It turned out to be a mistake, probably the biggest of her young life.
Brekklyn lived downstairs, in Number 4. She was eleven years old, an only child, and had lived in the building for almost two years. She was from L.A., and had come with her mother, and was easily bored. The building was boring, her life was boring. The only other kids in the building either spoke no English or were five or younger. “There was a boy here in August or September, but they moved. He was kind of obnoxious anyway,” Brekkyn added, seemingly proud of her big word.
“Maybe I’m obnoxious too,” Tanissa warned her.
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
Brekkyn showed Tanissa around the apartment complex, the laundry room (including the broken machine that gave you detergent for free), the maintenance elevator, and the door to the roof, where you had to lift on the handle when turning it, or you would think you were locked in (or out).
After an hour or so, Tanissa said she had to get back, and the girl shook her head. “No, you don’t.”
We'll leave it for now, but I really ought to talk to people who have published things on their blogs or websites, only to put them up for sale later, and figure out if all of this will have to disappear at that time, or if it doesn't really matter in the long run. I also spent some time yesterday revising the first four pages, but none of that work shows here.
***
“Do you wanna go on a tour of the building with me?” Brekkyn asked her during a commercial break.
“I guess. I mostly thought I’d read today.”
“That’s funny,” Brekkyn said, and actually laughed. “Not everything in this apartment complex sucks. We can play in the elevator, or there’s a place where you can look in the dumpster at the next building. Sometimes there’s rats there.”
“Yeah?” she responded, still not committing.
“I can show you around, if you want.” And Tanissa could see something in her eyes, a loneliness or an expectation of a refusal, or maybe a close familiarity with rejection. She reminded Tanissa of a mangy dog that’s been kicked once too many times and now can’t trust people, even those who would pet and feed it.
Sure, Brekkyn was overbearing and bossy, but she seemed excited at the prospect of spending time with Tanissa, and it was nice to be liked.
“Alright,” she decided out loud, “I can use a friend.”
It turned out to be a mistake, probably the biggest of her young life.
Brekklyn lived downstairs, in Number 4. She was eleven years old, an only child, and had lived in the building for almost two years. She was from L.A., and had come with her mother, and was easily bored. The building was boring, her life was boring. The only other kids in the building either spoke no English or were five or younger. “There was a boy here in August or September, but they moved. He was kind of obnoxious anyway,” Brekkyn added, seemingly proud of her big word.
“Maybe I’m obnoxious too,” Tanissa warned her.
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
Brekkyn showed Tanissa around the apartment complex, the laundry room (including the broken machine that gave you detergent for free), the maintenance elevator, and the door to the roof, where you had to lift on the handle when turning it, or you would think you were locked in (or out).
After an hour or so, Tanissa said she had to get back, and the girl shook her head. “No, you don’t.”
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Live Writing Exercise: ALSV 5
I missed typing stuff up yesterday. I did get a couple of pages written in my notebook, but hadn't any time to type it up between work, sleep, and work again. Don't get me wrong, I am happy to have a job, but this project should not exist, and it's going poorly. I'll have to admit that I did take another look in the lost and found at my work today, hoping to be able to tear up all that I've written this past week. But nope, there were just water bottles, various clothes, a couple cellphones, and piles and piles of unclaimed cash. Sigh.
I wish I were a better blogger, or that I did my Rish Outcast more often, since I'd enjoy talking about how much less inspired and fun this story is the second time around. In a way, I imagine it's the difference I'd feel between writing on assignment, for a newspaper or website, and writing for pleasure, doing what I want for as long as I want. I pretty much forced myself to try to rewrite this story, and nobody enjoys being forced to do things. I worry that the story's no good--if it ever was to begin with, and I have even started reconsidering the title, which was one of two or three I had given the story back when it existed in notebook form.
But the work waits . . .
***
The next morning, she awoke early. Dad’s apartment had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a combination kitchen and dining area, and the world’s smallest living room, where he’d put up a little television and a radio that was set to--yuck--the Eighties station. The guest room was clean (though it still had boxes filled with Dad’s stuff in it), and he’d gotten her a teddy bear with “Besties” written on its chest, sitting on the pillow. She knew where he got it, having seen the same bear at the airport gift show when buying her book. She’d pointed it out, joking that they’d misspelled “beastie,” and Dad hadn’t laughed. Now she knew why.
Dad was up, making bacon and toast, already in his work shirt and pants, but no tie or jacket.
“Hey, baby,” he exclaimed when she staggered in. “You sleep okay?”
“You making this for me?”
“For us, yeah. I thought I’d have to leave it for you, if you don’t get up till eleven in the summer.”
She rubbed the corner of her eye. “I went to bed so early, I guess I--“”
And then, the doorbell rang. It was eight-twenty-two in the morning. Dad went over and answered it, finding a plump blond-haired girl there, dressed in pink pants and a purple My Little Pony t-shirt.
“Hello, Mister Gunn,” she said with a smile.
“Hey, there. You, uh, need something?”
“I wanted to see if your daughter wanted to come over and play.”
He looked over at Tanissa, who was making a sandwich out of the toast and bacon, unaware the visitor was for her. “Baby, you’ve got--” Dad began, but the little girl--practically a stranger to him--stuck her head in the door, and said, “Hi!” as thought Tanissa was an old friend.
“Hello.”
“I live downstairs. Do you wanna play?”
“Play?”
“You know, hang out together.”
“Oh.” Dad could tell by her body language that Tanissa was uncomfortable about this, but too polite to say no.
“I gotta go, Tannie,” Dad said, and hurried off to finish getting dressed. “Save me a bacon,” he called from the bathroom.
The little girl came in and stood next to Tanissa, measuring her up.” “Your dad said you were coming. There’s not a lot of kids in the building.”
“I heard a baby crying during the nig--”
“Great, I’m twelve. Your name is Tannie?”
“Tanissa. Dad called me Tannie when I was little, but I kind of hate it.”
“I’m Brekkyn,” said the girl. She had a couple of crooked teeth in the front, and her hair done in easy pigtails that made her look like a much younger kid.
“Like Brooklyn?”
“Yeah, but one’s not my name.” She tossed a look toward the television. “You have any games? Like a Playstation or something?”
“I don’t think so. This is my dad’s place, and he--”
“That’s okay. I have an Xbox and a PS4. I’m in 173, just me and my mom. Hey, kind of like you and your dad.”
“I’m just staying here for a couple of weeks."
The girl made a sound that could have meant anything. “Do you have an iPod or an iPhone or what?”
“Me?” Tanissa asked, suddenly a little embarrassed. Her mother didn’t like cellphones, and Tanissa was stuck with only the most basic of models. Still, it called, texted, took pictures, and played music, and that was good enough for her and her friends at school. “Just a phone. I had to pay for it myse--”
“Do you like your mom or dad better?” Brekkyn asked, very conspiratorially.
“Probably my dad. He doesn’t get mad about stuff. You?”
“I don’t have a dad,” the other girl said. “I’m an orphan.”
Before she could react to that particular comment, Brekkyn had a new question. She looked around the room for a clock “Is it nine yet? My favorite show is on at nine and four on Nick.”
“I don’t know if there’s cable here,” began Tanissa, but the girl interrupted her.
“All the apartments have the same cable here. I made sure before we moved in.” She went over to the coffee table and scooped up the remote control, turning on the television. “Have you seen McKenzee and Cassby: Kid Investigations?”
“No. That’s the show?”
“Yeah. On Channel 23. It’s about these sisters, Cassby and McKenzee Cooperton, and their uncle leaves them a detective agency, and they get all sorts of funny cases. Just about to start.” She changed it from ESPN to her channel, where an awful tween sitcom was playing.
The show sounded terrible, and Tanissa was too old for them, but the visitor plopped herself down on the couch, and patted the seat next to her.
“Look, I just woke up,” Tanissa said, trying to be polite. “I’m not even dressed.”
“I can wait. Still a few minutes before it starts anyway.”
Dad came out of the bathroom then, adjusting his collar. He was in his uniform and looked ready to go. “Well, I’m on my way,” he said. Tanissa crossed the room and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
He looked at her, aware that this was atypical behavior. “You gonna be okay while I’m gone?”
“I think so,” she said. Dad’s gaze went from his daughter to the girl on the couch. He grabbed his keys. “Look, gimmee a call if you need anything. I really appreciate you being understanding about this.”
“No problem,” she said. “But tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.”
“We’ll see,” Dad said, and was out the door. He had forgotten his piece of bacon. No worry, Brekkyn ate it.
“Your daddy seems nice,” Brekkyn said from the couch. “He helped me and my mom move in when we first came here.”
“Yeah, he said something about t--”
Suddenly, the girl stood up. “You have no idea how great it is that you’re living here now. This place has been soooo boring.”
“I’m just staying for a few days.”
The girl wasn’t listening. “There were two boys on my floor when I first moved in. One of them was whiny, and the other was a stupid brat. But when they moved away, I realized there was nobody my age to play with anymore. There are a couple of teenagers on two, but they’re no fun. And everybody else is little kids.”
“Okay,” Tanissa said, and realized she was probably saddled with the company, at least until her show ended. “I’m going to get dressed.”
Brekkyn was waiting for her when she came out, and gave her an excited grin when her program began. It was an inane kids sitcom, about a thirteen and fifteen year old, who took on wacky cases that delighted the studio audience. Tanissa thought it was maybe the stupidest thing she’d ever seen before.
“Oh yeah. There was one where the school mascot got stolen, and one where somebody had taken all these paintings from an art show at the school, and one where the lunchlady was poisoned, but she turned out to just be on vacation.”
Tanissa slowly nodded. She wasn’t a nerd or anything, but she feared she was getting dumber just by watching the show.
I wish I were a better blogger, or that I did my Rish Outcast more often, since I'd enjoy talking about how much less inspired and fun this story is the second time around. In a way, I imagine it's the difference I'd feel between writing on assignment, for a newspaper or website, and writing for pleasure, doing what I want for as long as I want. I pretty much forced myself to try to rewrite this story, and nobody enjoys being forced to do things. I worry that the story's no good--if it ever was to begin with, and I have even started reconsidering the title, which was one of two or three I had given the story back when it existed in notebook form.
But the work waits . . .
***
***
The next morning, she awoke early. Dad’s apartment had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a combination kitchen and dining area, and the world’s smallest living room, where he’d put up a little television and a radio that was set to--yuck--the Eighties station. The guest room was clean (though it still had boxes filled with Dad’s stuff in it), and he’d gotten her a teddy bear with “Besties” written on its chest, sitting on the pillow. She knew where he got it, having seen the same bear at the airport gift show when buying her book. She’d pointed it out, joking that they’d misspelled “beastie,” and Dad hadn’t laughed. Now she knew why.
Dad was up, making bacon and toast, already in his work shirt and pants, but no tie or jacket.
“Hey, baby,” he exclaimed when she staggered in. “You sleep okay?”
“You making this for me?”
“For us, yeah. I thought I’d have to leave it for you, if you don’t get up till eleven in the summer.”
She rubbed the corner of her eye. “I went to bed so early, I guess I--“”
And then, the doorbell rang. It was eight-twenty-two in the morning. Dad went over and answered it, finding a plump blond-haired girl there, dressed in pink pants and a purple My Little Pony t-shirt.
“Hello, Mister Gunn,” she said with a smile.
“Hey, there. You, uh, need something?”
“I wanted to see if your daughter wanted to come over and play.”
He looked over at Tanissa, who was making a sandwich out of the toast and bacon, unaware the visitor was for her. “Baby, you’ve got--” Dad began, but the little girl--practically a stranger to him--stuck her head in the door, and said, “Hi!” as thought Tanissa was an old friend.
“Hello.”
“I live downstairs. Do you wanna play?”
“Play?”
“You know, hang out together.”
“Oh.” Dad could tell by her body language that Tanissa was uncomfortable about this, but too polite to say no.
“I gotta go, Tannie,” Dad said, and hurried off to finish getting dressed. “Save me a bacon,” he called from the bathroom.
The little girl came in and stood next to Tanissa, measuring her up.” “Your dad said you were coming. There’s not a lot of kids in the building.”
“I heard a baby crying during the nig--”
“Yeah, there are little kids, but not our age.”
“I’m thirteen,” Tanissa said.“Great, I’m twelve. Your name is Tannie?”
“Tanissa. Dad called me Tannie when I was little, but I kind of hate it.”
“I’m Brekkyn,” said the girl. She had a couple of crooked teeth in the front, and her hair done in easy pigtails that made her look like a much younger kid.
“Like Brooklyn?”
“Yeah, but one’s not my name.” She tossed a look toward the television. “You have any games? Like a Playstation or something?”
“I don’t think so. This is my dad’s place, and he--”
“That’s okay. I have an Xbox and a PS4. I’m in 173, just me and my mom. Hey, kind of like you and your dad.”
“I’m just staying here for a couple of weeks."
The girl made a sound that could have meant anything. “Do you have an iPod or an iPhone or what?”
“Me?” Tanissa asked, suddenly a little embarrassed. Her mother didn’t like cellphones, and Tanissa was stuck with only the most basic of models. Still, it called, texted, took pictures, and played music, and that was good enough for her and her friends at school. “Just a phone. I had to pay for it myse--”
“Do you like your mom or dad better?” Brekkyn asked, very conspiratorially.
“Probably my dad. He doesn’t get mad about stuff. You?”
“I don’t have a dad,” the other girl said. “I’m an orphan.”
Before she could react to that particular comment, Brekkyn had a new question. She looked around the room for a clock “Is it nine yet? My favorite show is on at nine and four on Nick.”
“I don’t know if there’s cable here,” began Tanissa, but the girl interrupted her.
“All the apartments have the same cable here. I made sure before we moved in.” She went over to the coffee table and scooped up the remote control, turning on the television. “Have you seen McKenzee and Cassby: Kid Investigations?”
“No. That’s the show?”
“Yeah. On Channel 23. It’s about these sisters, Cassby and McKenzee Cooperton, and their uncle leaves them a detective agency, and they get all sorts of funny cases. Just about to start.” She changed it from ESPN to her channel, where an awful tween sitcom was playing.
The show sounded terrible, and Tanissa was too old for them, but the visitor plopped herself down on the couch, and patted the seat next to her.
“Look, I just woke up,” Tanissa said, trying to be polite. “I’m not even dressed.”
“I can wait. Still a few minutes before it starts anyway.”
Dad came out of the bathroom then, adjusting his collar. He was in his uniform and looked ready to go. “Well, I’m on my way,” he said. Tanissa crossed the room and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
He looked at her, aware that this was atypical behavior. “You gonna be okay while I’m gone?”
“I think so,” she said. Dad’s gaze went from his daughter to the girl on the couch. He grabbed his keys. “Look, gimmee a call if you need anything. I really appreciate you being understanding about this.”
“No problem,” she said. “But tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.”
“We’ll see,” Dad said, and was out the door. He had forgotten his piece of bacon. No worry, Brekkyn ate it.
“Your daddy seems nice,” Brekkyn said from the couch. “He helped me and my mom move in when we first came here.”
“Yeah, he said something about t--”
Suddenly, the girl stood up. “You have no idea how great it is that you’re living here now. This place has been soooo boring.”
“I’m just staying for a few days.”
The girl wasn’t listening. “There were two boys on my floor when I first moved in. One of them was whiny, and the other was a stupid brat. But when they moved away, I realized there was nobody my age to play with anymore. There are a couple of teenagers on two, but they’re no fun. And everybody else is little kids.”
“Okay,” Tanissa said, and realized she was probably saddled with the company, at least until her show ended. “I’m going to get dressed.”
Brekkyn was waiting for her when she came out, and gave her an excited grin when her program began. It was an inane kids sitcom, about a thirteen and fifteen year old, who took on wacky cases that delighted the studio audience. Tanissa thought it was maybe the stupidest thing she’d ever seen before.
The two actresses were dubiously cute, but enormously untalented, speaking their lines like they were repeating them from an earpiece, and always waiting two seconds for the laughter after each line.
“Do they, like, ever have to solve real cases, like kidnapping or murder?” she asked.“Oh yeah. There was one where the school mascot got stolen, and one where somebody had taken all these paintings from an art show at the school, and one where the lunchlady was poisoned, but she turned out to just be on vacation.”
Tanissa slowly nodded. She wasn’t a nerd or anything, but she feared she was getting dumber just by watching the show.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
LWE: ALSV 4
I'm having difficulty with this story. I can't get my brain to write it the same way as I did before, and it keeps wanting to do it as a sequel to the first one, showing scenes and scenarios that didn't happen the first time, despite my desire to write it exactly, word-for-word how it was two months back. I began the story earlier than it used to start, and skipped over a scene where Tanissa and her father go out to dinner, but I don't know why.
I will try to remember how something worked the first time, and my brain will say, "Who cares? Let's do it differently. Let them turn left if they used to turn right." That's how I felt they must have written THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN, having just told Spidey's origin a decade before and trying not to cover any of the same ground, even though his is the best origin in comic books. Sigh.
***
They drove together in Dad's new truck--which was a 2007 with an ugly scratch on the tailgate--and she rolled the windows down , sticking her head out so the wind could blow against her. He asked her how she was, how school ended, whether she had a boyfriend, and how her mother was doing. For some reason, being with her dad like this made her feel like a little girl again, when being around her mother always made her feel grown up and desperate to get away.
Suddenly, Dad turned the radio down several notches. “Look, if it’s a real problem, I can call in sick tomorrow, maybe lose my job.”
“No, it’ll be okay, Daddy,” Tanissa said.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, good. ‘Cause I wasn’t really gonna lose my job over this.” He laughed, but it wasn’t really very funny. They got milkshakes and chili dogs from a retro Fifties diner, then went to the apartment complex. It was a big, squat building with four levels, about twenty units, and even an elevator.
“Wow, fancy,” she said, but the elevator had an extra stong orange peel smell that she didn’t find pleasant.
“You know, there’s a kid about your age down on first,” Dad said, as they rose toward the third floor. “Maybe you can play with her.”
“I’m thirteen, Daddy, I don’t play anymore.”
“Okay, maybe you can go club-hopping and out for cocktails with her.”
Tanissa ignored him. “What’s she like?”
“Fat. White. Kinda loud. I helped her mom move a couch when they moved in.” He shrugged. “The mom seemed alright.”
“Okay,” Tanissa said, and yawned. She shouldn’t have been jet-lagged, and though she might lay down for a minute. Her cellphone rang, and she looked at it. “It’s Mama.”
He put on a big smile, reminding her they had a secret. She didn’t tell.
I will try to remember how something worked the first time, and my brain will say, "Who cares? Let's do it differently. Let them turn left if they used to turn right." That's how I felt they must have written THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN, having just told Spidey's origin a decade before and trying not to cover any of the same ground, even though his is the best origin in comic books. Sigh.
***
They drove together in Dad's new truck--which was a 2007 with an ugly scratch on the tailgate--and she rolled the windows down , sticking her head out so the wind could blow against her. He asked her how she was, how school ended, whether she had a boyfriend, and how her mother was doing. For some reason, being with her dad like this made her feel like a little girl again, when being around her mother always made her feel grown up and desperate to get away.
Suddenly, Dad turned the radio down several notches. “Look, if it’s a real problem, I can call in sick tomorrow, maybe lose my job.”
“No, it’ll be okay, Daddy,” Tanissa said.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, good. ‘Cause I wasn’t really gonna lose my job over this.” He laughed, but it wasn’t really very funny. They got milkshakes and chili dogs from a retro Fifties diner, then went to the apartment complex. It was a big, squat building with four levels, about twenty units, and even an elevator.
“Wow, fancy,” she said, but the elevator had an extra stong orange peel smell that she didn’t find pleasant.
“You know, there’s a kid about your age down on first,” Dad said, as they rose toward the third floor. “Maybe you can play with her.”
“I’m thirteen, Daddy, I don’t play anymore.”
“Okay, maybe you can go club-hopping and out for cocktails with her.”
Tanissa ignored him. “What’s she like?”
“Fat. White. Kinda loud. I helped her mom move a couch when they moved in.” He shrugged. “The mom seemed alright.”
“Okay,” Tanissa said, and yawned. She shouldn’t have been jet-lagged, and though she might lay down for a minute. Her cellphone rang, and she looked at it. “It’s Mama.”
He put on a big smile, reminding her they had a secret. She didn’t tell.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Live-Writing Exercise: ALSV 3
It's not that I didn't write today--I did, for nearly an hour--but it was semi-impossible to type it all up today. Still, I will spend a couple of minutes now, so I have something to show for it.
***
***
Tanissa saw her suitcase come out of
the machine. “Can I come here and work
with you?” She’d seen the inner workings
of the luggage department, the conveyor belots, the baggage handlers, the
walkie talkies . . . it was kind of great, actually.
“Sorry, baby, but I can’t. Supervisor’s gotta, I don’t know, obey the
rules more than everybody else.”
“So, what do I do?”
“First do not tell your mother. She’s
mad at me already.”
“Why is she mad at--”
“Please, Tanissa, don’t tell
her. I’m off at five, which means by
five-thirty, I’m all yours.”
“Okay. Don’t worry.”
Tanissa liked her dad more than her mother, so it was easy to agree
to.
She grabbed her suitcase as it
slowly passed in front of her. Dad took
her suitcase from her without a word and steered her toward the exit.
“Second?”
“What?” he asked.
“What’s second?”
“I don’t remember. But you can watch TV, hang out, read a book,
sleep, for three days. The rest of the
time, we’ll hit the town, eat ice cream, go do laser tag, see scary movies,
whatever.”
“Can we go to the beach?” The ocean was only a few minutes away; she’d
seen it from the plane.
“Sure,” he said, then, “I thought
you didn’t swim.”
“Nobody swims at the beach, Dad.”
He didn’t know what that meant, but
simply nodded, and reminded her to send her mother a text to let her know she
had landed alright. “And don’t mention
the other thing.”
“I won’t.”
“Oh,” he remembered, “there might be
a couple of girls in the complex you can play with. I don’t know.”
“Alright,” she told him. “But let’s hit the gift shop. I’ll get a big, boring new book.”
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Live Writing Exercise: ALSV 2
The difficulty of this challenge is not only that I have to write everyday, but I then have to grab my notebook and transcribe what I've written, which takes even more time. Sigh.
***
The divorce hadn’t been overly nasty, but what divorce is sweet and flowery? Dad had moved out, left town, and now lived less than ten minutes from the airport. Tanissa had never seen his apartment. But they’d be together for almost three weeks, and she had been looking forward to it in the days before school let out.
***
The divorce hadn’t been overly nasty, but what divorce is sweet and flowery? Dad had moved out, left town, and now lived less than ten minutes from the airport. Tanissa had never seen his apartment. But they’d be together for almost three weeks, and she had been looking forward to it in the days before school let out.
She
didn’t even know why. She had no friends
in town, and unless one of her friends called and arranged a meeting somewhere,
she’d be hanging out with a guy in his thirties who hated everything her
generation thought was cool.
She mentioned something along those
lines as they waited for her suitcase to show up on the conveyer belt.
“About that,” Dad said, and stiffened
up. “I, uh, got some bad news.”
“What?”
He took his arm from around
her. “I wasn’t able to get this week
off. My vacation starts Monday.”
“What
do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m gonna have to come back
here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.
I’m sorry, I just couldn’t manage it.”
“But I thought you were the boss.”
Dad sighed. “I’m supervisor, not the boss. So, you’re gonna have to be on your own for
three days this week.”
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