A Detective Story

Here's another exercise meant for little kids; i think this one goes from kindergarte n to fourth grade! The challenge was to write a detective story, so here we are.

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Another terrific meal. I had just finished my last bite of mashed potatoes many minutes ago, but the lingering flavor was still tickling reminders of a meal well had. I looked over at Adam, "Mmm. Still lovin' that meal, man."

He nodded. "That was some meal, wasn't it! I love meals."

It was actually a grade-a, home cooked, full-on, squared-up meal; mashed potatoes, fried ham, green beans with little bits of garlic and bacon cut up. "Got to looove the meals" I replied with a shake of my head and a smack of the lips.

There was only one thing that could really make this moment any better, one last saving throw to put the perfect cap on a delicious three-courser like was just had: some sort'a sweetness, a dessert maybe.

Suddenly it occurred to me, I've got it! The popcorn! Yes, popcorn, but not just any popcorn, "gourmet" popcorn. Straight up outta some freaking mobsters-in-Vegas movie or something, where everything is of the utmost quality. Sure, it was probably a gimmick, but just as anything in life the responsibility of te experience is half on the object, and half with the experiencer. This was gourmet popcorn, and I was going to treat it as such.

"Dude." I raised my eyebrows and looked over at Adam saying one sentence, "The popcorn."

He looked over. "The wha? The popcorn?"

"Dude. The Gourmet popcorn." he still looked lost, so I continued. "From the store, earlier? Remember?"

A look of confusion came over his face for a moment, but then he sort of shook it off and stared back at the television. "I do'nt remember no popcorn, man."

"You'll see." I grinned and stood up, not to let any naysayers get between me and my mission.

I walked through the squared doorway that connected the livingroom to the kitchen, and opened looked around for a second. Where would I have put a gourmet treat after coming back from the store? Instinctually, i walked over to the corner cupboard where we usually put things like chips, snacks and whatever, and opened the door. Nothing caught my eye, just the same stale cracker jacks and wheat thins that had always been there. New box of Tobasco sauce, i remember putting that there, but no popcorn. Hmm.

I opened the doors next to the cabinet, without any luck. The cereal shelves came up empty, it wasn't with the breads or Hamburger Helpers. Where the heck had I put it? The frantic red haze of a lost-item started raising up from deep inside as I tore open each cabinet door with more and more force. I looked in places that I knew had no hope of contianing my sought-after gourmet treat: above the oven, under the sink; I was even opening silverware and junk drawers after the buildup of a few frantic minutes. Where the heck had it gone?

Just then, I heard the click-clicking of prancing paws on the kitchen tile. Joshua! Did I leave them out, and the dog had taken them? I shot a glance at Joshua, and he stopped in his tracks, his bulgins pit-bull eyes sinking back with with his head sinking low. He slowly backed up and ran back the way he had come, tail utterly still.

"Joshua!" I shouted as I started running after him, up the stairs into the bedroom hallway. He ran behind Scott's bedroom door and under the bed as I came tearing in after him. Scott was in his armchair, reading.

"Dude, what the hell? What'd Joshua do this time?" He put his open book down on his lap

"My popcorn!" I managed to get out between breaths. I really should get into better shape.

Scott laughed. "Joshua stole your popcorn? Good! You shouldn't be eating that stuff, anyway."

My eyes locked with Scott's; I'd forgotten about his slant towards political activism. I said it slowly, with anger, "What do you mean, Scott."

He closed his book, still keeping a finger from the hand holding it to save his spot. "Dude, do you know how much pollution is generated from popcorn factories each year? The pesticides used, the damage to the soil? Popcorn isn't like normal corn, dude, it doesn't treat the ground the same way. It's genetically motified simply to pop, it's a freak of nature, you can't evne use it for cornmeal! It's bad news, man. Popcorn is bad news, it's bad business, and it's going to be the end of our civilization if something isn't done about it."

Ah-ha, so it was all coming together. "You bastard!" I screamed as I jumped a few menacing steps closer to his armchair, arms raising. "You think you're so 'high and mighty' with your activismating! That was gourmet popcorn you smug son of a bitch!"

Scott's eyes widened as he jumped up onto his chair like some fifties housewife who'd seen a mouse. "I don't know," he stammered, "i don't know what you're talking about, man! I swear! I didn't do nothin'!"

He jumped from his armchair to his bed as I continued towards him. "Where is it! It would have been the perfect meal," i pleaded, seeing that anger was getting me nowhere. "THe perfect meal."

Adam came through the door. "What the hell, I can't hear The Practice over all the commotion, guys."

"He took my popcorn!" My voice squeaked embarrassingly.

"Dude, still with the stupid popcorn/" Adam shook his head. "Did you check the car? Maybe it fell out of the bag or something."

Hmm, that was something I hadn't thought of. I started to breath easier though my heart was still beating fast. "Well, well yeah. I suppose." I shot another angered glance in Scott's direction. "I guess you're off the hook, for now. I'm gonna check the car, and then I'll be right back here." It was an empty threat really, I was over being mad.

I walked out of the room while Adam shrugged exaggeratedly to Scott his own look of confusion. The car, right! Like the world's gourmet popcorn had simply fallen out of the bag, and nobody noticed. Was worth a shot, though.

I walked into the garage, the garage door was still open, we had forgotten to close it when coming in. I opened the back rear door where we had stored the groceries, and began searching around. It didnt' help that Adam hadn't cleaned his back seat in months, Mountain Dew cans and Arby's bags littered the floor.

I batted the trash around angerly as it was becoming obvious that there was no gourmet popcorn to be found. Just then, I heard the door open again. I stood up too quickly and smacked my head against hte roof of the car. It was Adam, holding a piece of paper.

"Dude, you are such a stoner." he was smirking and waving a piece of paper around, it appeared to be a receipt.

I rubbed my head, one eye closed wincing at the bump developing. "What are you talking about."

"Dude, this is the receipt from earlier. I don't see anything about no popcorn on here. You never bought any!"

I stopped rubbing my head, and it all came back to me. That's right! I had saw the popcorn on the shelf, and was going to buy it, but...but I had put it back! Incase I had found something better later on. Damnit! I meant to come back and get it later, but I freaking forgot!

"Oh, shit....yeah, yeah that's right." I gained my composure and walked past Adam towards the door to the house.

"Well," i shrugged, "we still got some pudding or something, right?" I let the door close behind me.

THe End

Writing for Pets

Was getting a little too picky about where to start in this book, so I am starting on the first section, first exercise! This is, um, a kindergarten-level writing exercise, called Writing For Pets. I have chosen to cast my pet as a hero in a short story.

Without further ado, I give you: Fishy Fred, the Hero:
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Days, it'd been days and still nothing! Fred didn't even know what a day was, but he could feel the certain many-dayness pangs in his fishy belly. It was light, and nothing. It was dark, still nothing! Light, dark, how long had it been? "Damn my fishy memory!" he thought to his self. It was true, a fish's memory only holds out for a few days at the most, and then it is absorbed into the void.

What if he was already in a void, maybe he had never had any food! Maybe things were just as they were, as they always would be; the pain may be normal! The dayish feeling may just be what it was like to feel, he had no way of knowing, really. Still, he held on to that kernel of memory, the hope of a truth that may forever escape his days forth.

He had to believe, he had to! Food was real! Memories were real! The movements outside of his world would return, they must return! And that, down in the corner, he forced a glance at the most disturbing detail of his current ordeal: his green was browning.

The green corner that he had always gone to for comfort, the only detail that was constant in this godforsaken existence, it was changing. The green was browning, the luscious green of his corner was becoming no longer. Maybe it was natural, perhaps it had and would again do this over and over, but something about it was just, unnatural. Oh, how he longed for the green again, for anything steady in this world, for the green, for some food, for some pudge-blurred movement on the outside!

Then, it happened. The vibrations, the noise and the rumble, slam! it went as the water around him reverberated, sending additional waves of chill down his invertabrit bones. That noise, it was somehow familiar. And then, wait! There it is! The movement is back, the movement is back! Oh good God, Fred was filled with excitement, he went up to the boundary of air, took a big gulp as his body involuntarily convulsed with excitement! He slapped the boundary, and felt the delayed ripples of splashter massage his body into a momentary calmness.

"Hey, Fred's happy we're back! I heard him splashing." The boy kicked off his shoes and put his bags down as he walked towards the fish's bowl.

"Haha, poor thing! I bet he's hungry." The girl's face was momentarily pouty until contorting into a grimace of effort as she tried to kick off her untied shoes.

The boy walked up to the fish bowl and grabbed the food pellets. He heard another splash and as his gaze journeyd back to the bowl, he noticed that one of their plants wasn't looking too well.

"Ack, I don't think we'd watered the plants in a bit even before we left! Could you fill up that pitcher? They could use the moisture."

The girl sighed, "Sure, just let me get situated for a second, alright?"

And that my friends, is how Fred saved the torture that is a thirsty plant.

The ENd