Remember the seven cardinal sins? You’re given the serious task of adding a new one to the list — another trait or behavior you find particularly unacceptable, for whatever reason. What’s sin #8 for you? Why?
I am Cupcake
from today until the world melts
you will put no food above me.
You will consume me with love, lust and passion
You will not set me aside for fear of GMO, or for fear of my calorie count.
You will know the wrath of Cake if you refuse to serve me in all ways such as at Holidays, Weddings, Funerals and Breakfast.
If you don’t walk with me in one hand and one of my brothers and sisters in the other a plague of Vegans will descend upon your house and take all the good stuff from your kitchen cupboards, your man caves and those drawers you think nobody looks into.
I’m a writer with a wild imagination, I judge a movie in part by how good the popcorn was, I love to have manicures and always get my nails done in shades of pink.
When I go to the symphony I have been known to wear my rock and roll clothes and sometimes I go Steampunk.
Homeless people asking me for change or sleeping in the doorway at my work don’t bother me but if you walk into me when you’re on the phone I’ll rip your liver out and feed it to my dog.
So I guess I have mini adventures, its hard to pick one interesting moment over another.
Like in Vegas I used to wait for my Mom and Sister to toddle off and I’d zip out of the casino to Freemont Street and I’d buy a deep fried snickers bar.
I’d cruise on back in my pink cats eyes sunglasses (it was dark out but I LOVE those shades) buzzing on a sugar high all the way back to the casino.
I’d win a little money and a few hours later I’d be back at the same place buying a deep fried twinkie.
To combat the sugar rush I’d buy some popcorn and go staggering back vowing to never eat that much junk food in one night again…oh but I did.
Now you might not think that’s a big adventure, but I do.
It involved pink cats eyes sunglasses, deep fried candy, gambling and drunk people everywhere.
And once I sat in this theatre where you can get free refills on popcorn- I added jelly beans to the popcorn, stretched my legs out and I don’t remember what the movie was- but that popcorn.
Ooo la la.
When I was in my twenties I had a bad reaction to the non-drowsy allergy medicine I was taking and my heart started racing so fast they pumped drugs into me to slow it down and when it didn’t they put me in the Cardiac Care Unit and basically waited for what was supposed to be a heart attack.
The crash cart was in my room with me.
I didn’t have a heart attack, it took a couple of days for my heart to go back to normal.
What I remember was that Little Richard was on TV and I was so glad because I love Little Richard. It took my mind off the fact a medical staff were waiting for my heart to stop.
That was pretty exciting.
By that I mean in a You’re Riding In A Roller Coaster and your seat belt breaks scary ( which did happen to me.)
So I could pick one of lots of moments I would consider fun and exciting.
But I’m afraid if I call it, nothing exciting will ever happen to me again.
So I’m going to keep my fingers crossed and hope things stay interesting.
The folks here in Keelan weren’t concerned with this and that or what was on the news
or the horrors the world had in store
for other people.
We still aren’t.
But you puzzle us.
Nobody ventures out of Keelan
except for you
We think you’re up to no good.
So step aside fromt that door
and let’s see what’s on the other side.
Devin Quinn handed over the key.
I put it in the lock, put my shoulder against the door and turned the key…
The door swung open.
Devin Quinn hung back
I stepped over the threshold
” Damn that door is open. See that Murphy? “
The two cemetery workers were almost done with their shift and were walking back to the maintenance building when they saw the gate and the heavy metal door at the Keelan Family mausoleum was wide open.
Murphy the groundskeeper pushed the door shut. ” I’ll work on the lock in the morning.” he told his co-worker Aran.
Murphy pushed the door open one more time and took a quick peek just to make sure that nobody was in there.
Nobody except for the Keelans were in there and of course Devin Quinn- the last of the Keelans who just passed a few years ago.
His casket encased in granite was in the center of the room and both men thought just for a second there the top moved just a little.
Trick of the light they thought to themselves.
A trick of the light in a room filled with darkness.
The last time I think I did anything particularly clever I was 14 or maybe 15 years old.
I was failing at every single class in school and managed to talk my way into staying in regular classes and not get myself bounced into Special Education.
Basically I said if they did that to me I’d quit school.
So they let me stay in regular classes and I started to do well and then I hit the honor roll and then I got accused of cheating.
So I would go into my math classes and goof off so the best I would do is pass the tests at a C or D. I chose to sacrifice my math grade because I truly and with the passion of million white hot suns HATED math.
I got sympathy for that because “girls’ were supposed to struggle with math.
I could bomb at Nuclear levels at math which was acceptable- nobody talked about putting me in Spec Ed for that.
Come to think of it, I was writing a lot back in those days and I even won awards and that is the only reason I wasn’t forced marched into classes with students who were even more challenged then I was.
Once I got into Highschool I either got A’s or F’s.
You know who cared?
Since then I can’t say I’ve done anything really clever, haven’t been bailed out of dire situations, haven’t scored any big wins in the game of life.
Most of the time I’m just glad to not get noticed on a day to day basis. I’m not sure, but I think writing sort of cancels that one out.
It’s odd, part of me has been ready to fade into obscurity and another part of me goes out and writes, hits the enter button on my laptop and sends my thoughts out to the interwebs where they will float around until the Interwebs are no more.
So writing I suppose is the way I’ve dealt with life jamming lemons down my throat.
I’ve lost people I cared about, my nephew died a young man, I suffer from depression and at times all I can manage is to get to work, come home and walk the dog.
I manage to write though even on my worst days.
There could be less interesting ways to make something out of lemons I suppose.