. . .has a new official follower. Welcome, Deb.
I've mowed the lawn, moved most of the mulch, and done the errands that were set aside for today, and I have a little time to blog. First, I want to put forward a phenomenon I call "the rule of three" and see if anyone else agrees with it. Have you noticed that when you're driving down a relatively lonely road, haven't seen a car in three minutes or more, and a bicyclist or pedestrian suddenly appears at the edge of the road just ahead, that 9 times out of 10, a car coming in the other direction appears, too? And sure enough, the two cars have to do some kind of automotive stop and go dance in order to pass each other without wiping out the biker/walker. If you haven't noticed this, check it out. I swear it's true.
I also want to lay some kudos on my cast for last night's rehearsal, which was pretty darn delightful. Mickey was regal, brave and befuddled; Scott was delighted, daft, and determined; Matt was both kind and clever; Chloe and Jackie (with an occasional appearance by Sarah B) were cute, sweet and simple; Glenn and Matt M., (with an occasional appearance by Pete) were manly, muscular. . .and simple; the Mordreds, including Colleen, Joan, Wayne, Chuck, and, eventually, Derek, were properly despicably humorous (special kudo to Wayne for the look on his face when it was suggested he might eat until he burst). Mary was obsessive, twisted, and loving it; Jess and Sam were loyal without seeming servile; Pete was wonderfully obnoxious; Sarah G. brought new meaning to bounce; and Sarah B. was wonderful, courageous, and pastel without wearing any, (pastel that is). And I know that those who had to miss last night would have been equally swell. (Did you know that in the 20's and 30's that "swell" was an off-color term?) Having said how wonderful you all were, I now instruct you to forget it! You might very well stink at tonight's rehearsal.
I totally finished the second to last chapter of TISHA, and I really liked it. I think I'll post a snippet with a little context. In TISHA AND THE GIANT, tKevin Conley is a 14 year old with a huge crush on Tisha, a senior girl. And because he is always watching Tisha, Kevin realizes that a scary looking man seems to always be watching Tisha, too, when he goes to her soccer games. When thinking about Tisha, the imaginative, comic-book loving Kevin, imagines himself as a comic book hero called the Giant. He assembles a costume and weapons, including a piece of pipe which he calls his mace. Eventually, the Giant realizes that the evil man, who he calls the Lump, is waiting for Tisha along the road where she jogs. So the Giant must go do battle with the Lump, and stealth is an important weapon. Where this snippet picks, the Giant has sneaked up on the Lump and whacked him with the pipe/mace.
I hit him! The Giant thought to himself. I really hit him. He watched the Lump tumble a few feet over the sharp rocks. But suddenly, a big arm and big hand shot out and the Lump grabbed hold of a root and skidded to a stop on the rocky hillside. He had lost his cap, and the side of his head was scraped and running with blood. He was really mad, and he glared at the Giant. “You little putz! You’re dead!”
Looking down at him, the Giant was sure he meant it. As the Lump lumbered toward him, the Giant swung his battle mace again. Whack! into the Lump’s left shoulder it went, and the Lump moaned and fell to his knees. He remained there, his right arm slung over his head to protect himself. “Hey, kid. You gotta stop hittin’ me,” the Lump croaked as the Giant stood above him, still brandishing his mace. Once again the Giant tried to summon up a Giant voice. “Then get in the Lumpmobile, and leave us alone, and don’t come back here anymore,” the Giant said. And then for the first time in a voice that was worthy of at least a little awe, he snarled, “You will never again bother Tisha. These are my orders. I am the Giant! Do you understand?”
Slowly the Lump raised his head and looked at the Giant. His left shoulder looked kind of funny, kind of misshapen even for the Lump, but he didn’t rub it with his right hand. “What the hell’s a lumpmobile, and who’s the Giant. You ain’t no frickin’ giant, kid, but yeh, I understand,” he replied in the evil Lump voice that the Giant had first heard way back on the first Friday of the school year.
“Good,” said the Giant.
“Go to hell,” the Lump snarled back, raised his knife and slashed out.
“No fair using knives,” the Giant shouted, as he saw the shiny blade arcing toward his leg, and he tried to step aside, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. The blade sliced down the side of his left leg, tearing his pant leg and scraping along his skin before it slammed into the hillside. It hurt awful. In a moment, the Lump had pulled the knife from the ground and was raising it again. The Giant decided it was time to run. He turned and bolted up the little hillside toward the road, but his toe caught on a root, and he fell flat on his masked face. The tumble caused his mask to spin around and partially cover his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn’t see anything, so he tore the mask off with his free hand and rolled to his side, just in time to see the Lump rising up over him. Out shot the Giant’s foot and crashed into the Lump’s groin.
The Lump made a sort of oofing noise and tumbled to his knees. He looked pathetic. His face was bleeding, his left shoulder was definitely dislocated, and he was crunched over in agony. But he still held the knife in his right hand.
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