April's Real Blog

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

YAAAH

Since my booth in Gordo's Garage an' Grill (that day abt 2.5 wks ago) was by the window, I tried 2 climb out of it 2 escape more of the flashbacky stories abt Mike, but the friggin' things don't open. Mike was all, "Formerly little sis, sit tite, U won't want 2 miss this next one I've got planned 4 U." And I sed, "Liz! Can't we pls, pls, pls have a story that doesn't have Mike in it?" Liz shook her head sadly and Mike just laffed and sed, "April, what a CARD U R, a Joker, get it? Ha, ha, ha!" I stared @ him like he's a mental patient, and Dad sed, "Mike, that one was really old when I was, well, yung." And Mike looked dejected. 4 just a sec, tho. Then he started w/the thot bubbling.

1st thot bubble had Mom sitting and reading a book as Mike stalked behind her w/a v. demented look on his face. Next thot bubble had him screaming "YAAAH" just behind her, w/his eyes screwed shut, his mouth wide open, his teeth showing, and his fingers curled on hands raised over his hed, causing Mom 2 bug out her eyes, splay her hands, have motion signs on ea side of her hed, floaty hair, and her mouth shaped like a boomerang. 3rd panel was Mom, with drops of sweat coming off the front of her face and back of her hed, saying "Michael.. Don't U ever sneak up on me like that again!" Mike looked v. pleased w/himself. Last panel had him with smug, half-opened eyes, saying, "U really don't have eyes in the back of yr head.... Do you, Ma?" And Mom looked sad.

I sed, "OMG, Dad! If I'd dun that 2 Mom, she wda sent me out 2 the ravine and told me 2 play in a flood!" Dad sed, "U're such a Martian princess, with the things U say! But U C what I mean, Mike really was a stinker! That's Y, when yr mom complained about having 2 clean--how'd she put it--the NEVER ENDING MESS--along w/cooking and wiping 'dirty noses,' well I reminded her 'you're the one who wanted kids in the 1st place!'" Liz sed, "Dad! That's horrible. Dad shrugged an' sed, "Don't worry, 1st I sed, 'Take it easy. Kids R a lot of work. They're part of life... U have 2 accept these things." I asked Y he didn't just pitch in more, and Dad sed, "Weren't U listening? She was the one who wanted kids!" I sed, "U didn't hafta help cuz U didn't want us?" Dad was all, "Not @ all. I didn't want Mike and Liz. By the time U came along, I wanted U, but yr mother didn't. Funny how these things go!" Dad's fone rang, so he answered it and was all, "Sorry, El, I got distracted. I'll B rite back." He hung up and told us "I was helping w/yr Grandpa Jim. I went out 2 buy sum bottled water, but then I remembered I wanted 2 look over Gordo's books. Then I saw U all, and I got a little sidetracked. I'd better get back B4 yr mother unhinges that jaw at me!" And then he was off.

Anthony asked, "Michael, did U really believe that yr mother had eyes on the back of her hed? Or was it an xxcuse 2 sneak up on her?" Mike was like, "I believed it! Y wdn't I!" I sed 2 Anthony, "Just remember the phrased 'painfully literal.' That'll xxplain abt 90% of Mike's reaction 2 things." Anthony pulled a little notebook from his back pocket, wrote down, "Michael Patterson. Painfully literal." Then put the notebook back into the pocket.

I sed, "I think I know what's happened. I died and went 2 hell. This is my version of eternal damnation. Damn U, Jean-Paul Sartre!"

Dunc, I lucked out. Stone Season is being added 2 the grade-11 CanLit unit NEXT year. I totally dodged that bullet!

Apes

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8 Comments:

  • At 7:14 AM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    No, sweetie, you're not in Hell; that would be far less of a torment than what you're going through now. I also doubt Satan wants your family hanging around riuining the place's rep.

     
  • At 12:19 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    April,

    Formerly little sis. I don’t what you mean by “dodged that bullet” with respect to Stone Season being added to the grade 11 CanLit unit not until next year. As a Patterson and as my sister, you will be expected to answer details of Stone Season from random passersby, who realize who you are and your relationship to me. They will say to you, “Excuse me, formerly little sister of the great author, Michael Patterson, can you tell me why in Stone Season, when Sheilagh Shaughnessy steps onto the train in Montreal, her ticket is for Bodner Saskatchewan, and not Alberta? What was your brother’s motivation for changing the setting of the sod farming industry? Does he think Albertan sod farms are for better or for worse than the sod farms in Saskatchewan?”

    You can expect to be peppered with those kinds of questions from your classmates, your teachers, and from random people on the street. There is no bullet to be dodged. Besides, you promised me you would read my book when it was a best seller. Well, April, that time has come. It’s time to take a bullet for your brother, and really for yourself too. From the fan mail which has come in, it is clear to me that if there were a book to kill people dead, Stone Season is that book.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 12:35 PM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    Or, for that matter a book to make the living envy the dead.

     
  • At 12:48 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    Dreadedcandiru2,

    Amazon supervillain catfish. It is rare when you say something intelligent, but this may be one of those occasions. If those dead had read Stone Season, I am sure the living, who had not read Stone Season, would envy them. I am not so sure about the living who had read
    Stone Season versus the dead who had read Stone Season. There might be some envy there, because the dead would not have had the opportunity to read some other work of a lesser value afterwards. However, I would think the living, who might have a greater opportunity than the dead to read my next, not-yet-completed, novel Breaking the Windjammer, may be able to dredge up a little envy from the dead, who had only read Stone Season. I will have to ask my publisher, Reiner and Browne, if they have any statistics on the matter.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 12:50 PM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    april, u know i usedta think ur ‘rents were a whole lot bettah than my dad, but this biz of “ur the 1 who wanted kids in the 1st place!" is like givin’ me majour flashbacks of convos my mom & dad had. xxcept of course the big diff is “kid” & not “kids”.

    az 4 ur bro, i dunno wut 2 think. that phrase, “eyes in the back of the head” wuz pretty ez 2 figger out sum1 has good hearin’ & not rilly eyes, but i think u learn that faster wen ur an only child nsteada havin’ a noisy youngah sister i guess. ur bro’s story didn’t say wut ur sis wuz doin’ @the tyme while ur mom wuz readin’. my mom always sed the only tyme she gotta relax wen i wuz growin’ up wuz wen she wuz @work or wen i wuz asleep. my guess iz ur sis wuz asleep, & mebbe the follow-up story iz how that “yaaah!” of ur bro’s woke up ur sis. i dunno. is that the story that happed aftah?

    neway, i gotta say, i rilly like the hot pink lipstick ur wearin’ today. wen we were @mr. singh’s & u sed u always wunted 2 try sumthin’ hot pink, cuz ur mom is like rilly strict ‘bout that kinda stuff, it wuz rilly ez just 2 buy it & give it 2u. it didn’t cost much & it wuz kinda funny how nervous u were puttin’ it on. i guess wutevah rules keep ur hair in a bun or a hair clip all the tyme don’t apply 2 lipstick, @least not now, while ur bizzy in ur blog talkin’ ‘bout ur bro wen he wuz little. u seemed rilly xxcited aftah u tried it on & the lipstick stayed on ur lips. wen i got home, all mom sed 2 me wuz, “i’m not washin’ that outa ur skool shirt.” did ur mom say nethin’? i guess not, since ur wearin’ it on ur lips 2day. oh, it duz wash outa guys' skool shirts, just in case u were worried ‘bout that.

    r we studyin’ the french or the history in our free period? eva told me she wunts 2 study w/us, but i think she mainly wunts 2 talk ‘bout how she’s mad @duncan. u mite wanna avoid tellin’ her how u talk 2 duncan every nite. i don’t think he’s been writin’ eva.

     
  • At 12:59 PM, Blogger howard said…

    April,

    Sometimes it is good to use your Blog as a means of releasing pent-up anger. It’s very therapeutic. I know that if I were trapped at the Country Kitchen, whom you have so cleverly called “Gordo's Garage an' Grill” for hours listening to your sister or brother rattle out thought balloon after thought balloon of stories about your brother acting like a brat when he was 5 (or 6), while your father and Anthony Caine made comments, I probably would be fit for mental institution. Although, it is painful to have to read your brother’s stories, I prefer to concentrate on your excellent method of dealing with this traumatic event. It is inspirational that you have survived, and apparently with limited mental scarring.

    Love,
    Howard Bunt

     
  • At 9:32 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    sorry it took me so long 2 post, every1. i hadta work @ lilliput's after school, and then jeremy an' i went 2 another open-mic nite. we had so much fun!

    mike, yr book is not a bestseller rite now. i don't hafta read it as yet.

    howard, yeah, that was a pretty bad day. it was bad enuf getting thru it, but since i've been writing abt it, i feel as if it's a day that just went on and on 4evs.

    dc2, i guess i shd b gr8ful i'm not really in hell?

    apes

     
  • At 12:45 AM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    2 april’s real blog readers, april wunted me 2 share my open-mic nite poem. it’s kinda personal & april sed she liked it, so don’t make fun me if u think it stinks, eh? this is it:

    you've been gone-
    days-hours-weeks
    telling your brother’s stories
    i’d given up hope
    thought you'd
    hopped a plane to winnipeg
    i expected
    a post card
    a telegram
    but there you stood
    rumpled
    w/ your unruly hair in a hair clip-
    gangly in your
    "hello"
    you want a butter tart-
    all i need is a smile
    the hand you weave into mine is
    dirty
    you smell of
    cinnibuns &
    coffee &
    your family
    instead of a kiss i get
    "let me get a butter tart"
    i begin to protest
    a tart appears in your other hand
    "join me"
    and you give me
    my smile.

     

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