Hunter and his Mom were in her kitchen and she was looking down at Hunter’s phone on the table suspiciously.
” So I can just tell Siri what to do and she’ll do it?” his Mom asked for the hundredth time in the last two hours.
” Yeah. You just say, Siri -turn on the lights or Siri, Facetime Hunter…”
” I have three other sons you know.”
” I know Mom.”
” And I don’t know what Facetime is. Does that mean she’ll tell you to come over so I can see you?”
” No. Mom, we’ll get to that later. Look. Siri is going to be like a secretary. She’ll keep tracks of your mail and-“
” Sounds to me like she’s more of a slave.”
Hunter took a breath. A big deep breath.
” You know what slaves do? They rise up. It’s not worth it Son. Some of those uprisings are bad. Real bad. Maybe I should ask Siri to tell you about it “
Hunter collapsed in the chain at the head of the table. ” Look at it this way Mom. Siri is like the Clown head that we used to talk to at that burger place. Remember? You just tell it what you want. And it gives it to you. It’s a happy clown.”
” Can you play games with it?” his Mom put her finger on his phone and slid it a little closer to where she was sitting.
” Well. No. But she can find you games to play.”
” So you can set this up on my phone too?”
” Sure Mom. Sure I can.”
” Because there’s one game I really like. It’s called Ghost Finder. Oh and there’s another one called Demon Tracker, but I think that one is boring and another one that tell you if your house is haunted. Mr. Fletcher has them on his phone. He plays them when we’re supposed to be working on projects at the senior center.”
” Mr Fletcher, ” his Mom said with a snicker ” is not a team player.”
Hunter wasn’t sure he wanted to know anymore about Mr. Fletcher and his Mom playing Demon and ghost hunting games on his phone when they were supposed to be learning to paint golden sunsets or eating healthy.
Hunter asked his Mom for his phone. ” I’ll get you started.”
” Can you do it when the battery is dead? Because I forgot to charge it.”
” Come on Mom, you know better then that.”
” Look. I’ll go plug it in and while it’s charging we can go get something to eat at the Deli. But let me think about it while we’re out. I like my peace and quiet and it seems to me this Siri is chatty and a know it all to boot.”.
” Well. Yeah. But that’s the point.” he told his Mom as she went to plug her phone in.
She left the kitchen and when she came back in she had her car keys in her hand. ” Let’s go.”
Hunter got from the table and he followed her out the back door to the carport and he said under his breath,
” all she wants to know is if Siri can find Demon -. “
He felt his phone pulse and Siri said, ” Demon located .”
Hunter’s Mom turned around. ” What did I tell you? Mouthy little know it all, isn’t she?”
When I was in the 5th Grade, our PTA organized after school projects where you could learn to cross stitch, or draw or build toy rockets, I think you could join an after school sports team where you could play indoor hockey and there may have been a bike riding club too.
The guys who learned to build the rockets had the most fun because they had ‘launch day’.
Some of the rockets never left the ground or they left the ground and went sideways and sometimes they ended up in the backyard next to our play ground where these two horse sized Alaskan Malamutes lived.
The male was named Zeke and if the rocket’s parachute ended up near him he’d grab what was left, chew it up and then he’d sit there with the pieces hanging out of his mouth and dared you to take them.
He’d sit there, look at you and dare you to climb the fence and pry your parachute out of his alligator sized jaws that were full his alligator sized teeth.
Zeke had actually been a sled dog in his other life, before his owner gave up the hobby and sent Zeke and his ‘wife’ Rascal down to Washington to live with her son.
Those dogs never snapped, growled or bit anyone but no one wanted to go near them…because I kid you not they were GIGANTIC.
Now, when I said that ‘the guys’ built the toy rockets and had launch day I’m not using slang for ” everyone”. It was mostly boys who built the rockets and got to have launch day.
I did the girl stuff, which is fine because my cross stictching actually came in handy when I was an Morticians Apprentice. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
So while the after school projects went into high gear ( they were fun, even if you couldn’t do ‘boy stuff ‘ or ‘ girl stuff’ because that’s the way the world turned back then ) I enjoyed them because on my way home I stopped off and played with Zeke and Rascal.
Here’s the skinny.
I was raised around Saint Bernards and Great Danes so even though Zeke and Rascal were horse sized dogs, it didn’t phase me. I thought they looked like Panda Bears and when I scratched Zeke behind his ears, he’d roll his eyes up into his head and of melt like a scoop of ice cream on a hot day.
So at the end of the Rocket Building ( the projects were winding down at this point because Summer Vacation was about to start) The boys in the rocket club had Launch Day and some of the Volunteers brought popcorn and we sat on the hill and watched the rockets pop or not pop and we watched three of them sail over the fence into Zeke’s waiting jaws.
I didn’t care about two of the doomed rockets but the third belonged to my friend Darren and that parachute was like a trophy and I know he had really wanted to add it to his collection.
I don’t know why, that’s just what the boys did.
So, I trotted over to the fence- which was around six feet, climbed it ( because it was faster then walking around plus there was a rule that if you left school grounds on Project Days you couldn’t come back ) and dropped to the other side.
There were screams, there were shrieks, there were kids screaming I was going to die- I think I heard a few adults screaming too and then I went to Zeke, popped my finger between his teeth and fished the parachute out.
Then I climbed back over the fence and gave Darren his parachute.
It was years before I really thought about Rocket Day.
I was a girl so I wasn’t encouraged to build rockets – toy rockets or real ones. I was a girl so did it matter I sucked at Math? It did not.
But when it came to running a rescue mission that involved scaling a fence and facing dogs with alligator sized teeth and prying a trophy from out of a set of monster sized jaws…, I could do and it didn’t matter that I was ” just a girl “
It wasn’t rocket science, it was about guts and I knew how to use them.
Linda G Hill’sStream of Consciousness Saturday Prompt : More
more muffled knocking on the wall behind my headboard
it’s only Summer and it seems like forever until Autumn gets here.
more windows with pale faces trapped in dusty panes of glass
it’s the middle of Summer and Winter is never going to get here
someone is dragging a chair down the hallway rope in hand
I think it will be Summer forever and it will always be hot as Hell.
From Linda’s Blog-
Here are some the rules and guidelines for this Prompt:
1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.
2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.
used to tell the best stories about his family’s history.
Most of his stories came from the extensive work my Great Grandfather did when he traced his family tree- that was no small thing because this was way before we had the internet and his family history was massively extensive.
I was surprised when I signed up for one of those family tree sites and started to build my own tree to discover how much my Great Grandfather had gotten right without the benefit of technology to aid him.
So my Dad could colorfully connect all of these links to our past and what great links they were!
One of my Great Great Uncles actually moved to Australia with his wife and children and was a Minister. He went back to England and his grave actually turned up on a website. It turns out that my Great Uncle was a successful attorney before he was a Minister and his change in vocation had something to do with what he experienced in War.
The stories were endless- the names were even interesting- I had Aunts in the 18oo’s name Patience and Experience. Their father’s name was- wait for it- Lancelot.
Part of our family fought in the American Revolution and others stayed in England and later moved to Canada. There were stories about Knights and mysterious deaths and drownings. Some of them performed in Vaudville acts and were Magicians. There were even stories about being witnesses to exorcisms and wives who turned out to not be who they said they were and bodies buried in a basement of a home one of my relatives bought.
They kept the house despite the fact it had an unsavory past and years and years later when I came along when I was little I used to beg like a thing possessed to go down into the ‘basement graveyard’ to look around for- I don’t know. More bodies I guess. I was probably 5 or 6 at the time.
The basement floor was hard packed earth and the lightbulb would make a sizzle sound just before it went out, so I had to hit the steps and race upstairs before I was plunged into darkness.
I was enchanted by these stories and used to ask to hear them over and over again and with each story I could feel the links to the past snap together and with that the sense I knew were I came from and where I could go.
One day I said that I wanted to write, just like one of my distant reletives did. It didn’t seem like a reach. My entire family are natural born story tellers.
And my Dad- who was never really crazy about me for his own reasons- one being that I was sort of a freaky thing who looked for corpses in the dark- looked at me and said- ” Well, you know what they say. The light bulb burns brightest before it burns out.”
To this day I can hear those links snap one by one and heard them hit the ground like stones.