Where's Artie?

NOTE: This is a children's story I wrote for my final "exam" in my Creative Writing class.  I hope you like it.

Where's Artie?

Sara Butterfly came in the door of her kitchen and dropped the bag of groceries and the heavy backpack she was carrying on the table. “Phew”, she said as she took off her Nurse’s cap and wiped the sweat off her forehead.  “Here Artie!” she called as she started taking her pet ant’s favorite food out of the grocery bag. Sara waited for the sound of Artie’s pitter-pattering feet. When she didn’t hear them, she went searching for him. Sara looked under her bed. She looked behind the shower curtain. Sara peered under the couch. No sign of Artie. “Where could he be,” Sara said out loud to no one in particular.

Sara continued rushing through the house trying to find her little ant.  As she passed by the front door the flapping of the curtains against the window caught her eye.  Oh, she thought, Artie must have gone out the window!

Grabbing her coat, Sara ran from the house.  She peered under the front porch, but Artie wasn’t there.  She peered in the plastic pool to see if he had gone swimming.  Sara even flew up to the tippy top of the apple tree in her yard, but Artie was nowhere to be found. 

Heading out the front gate, Sara kept searching for Artie.  She called out to Carl Caterpillar as she passed by his house.  “Have you seen Artie?  I came home from work today and he isn’t in the house.”  Carl shook his head and told her he’d help her look.
Carl Caterpillar and Sara Butterfly continued to walk down the street looking for Artie high and low.  Carl looked in the overturned trashcans the garbage men had left on the sidewalk.  Sara hurried to the playground to look for the little ant.  She checked the slides, she checked the swings, and she even checked the merry-go-round, though she knew Artie wasn’t really fond of it.  “He’s not here,” she said to Carl as tears gathered in her eyes.  “Where can he be,” she wailed. 
Carl patted Sara on the back, trying to calm her down.  “There, there, Sara.  I’m sure he’ll show up.  Maybe he’s waiting on your porch right now.”
“Do you think?” Sara asked hopefully. 
“Sure.  I bet he’s just sitting there wondering where you are.”
Sara turned and hugged Carl Caterpillar.  “Thank you Carl.  I’m going to run right home and check.”
Sara flew back home as fast as her wings would take her.  She flitted through the back gate and zoomed to the front porch.
Artie wasn’t there.
With a sigh, Sara opened her front door and trudged into the kitchen.  The sight of Artie’s food sitting on the counter made her burst into tears again.  She picked up the bag of ant kibble and shook a handful into Artie’s bowl.  As the kibble clinked into the bowl, Sara heard something rustling in the backpack sitting on the table.  Sara grabbed the backpack and started to unzip it.  As soon as she had a little opening in the top of the bag, Artie popped his head out. 
A huge smile broke out on Sara’s face.  Sara grabbed the ant from the bag and squealed in delight.  “Artie, what are you doing in my backpack?  I bet you snuck in there this morning when I was getting ready for work.  You scared me to death, you silly ant.” 
Artie the ant peered up at Sara through blinking eyes and gently licked her finger.  Shaking her head in relief, Sara put her ant down on the counter so he could have a bite to eat.

Interviews

I am getting a little irratated with the lacksadasical approach interviewers are taking during interviews lately. As the interviewee, I am expected to bring my A game. I must be professional, courteous, bright, and chipper. The least they could do as an interviwer is read my resume before the interview. I don't expect them to bring their A games, but a solid B might be nice.

Writing assignment for today

My writing instructor asked us to galumph.  To galumph in writing is to take a word from three lists - one containing an item, one containing a character, and one containing a place - and write a paragraph about them.  Below is my version of galumphing...

Scurrying down the beach, a scorpion stops to survey the scene.  To his right is the water; waves crash and roll as the ocean protests the coming of the tide.  To his left is the beach; creatures larger than life walk barefoot, toss footballs, and drape on towels in the midday heat.  A man’s suit lays crumpled in a heap, casting a shadow on the sand.  The scorpion turns and begins to scramble up the tiny swell of sand that marks the start of the sandy beach.  His destination is the cooler air of the shadow under the clothes.  He’ll rest there for a while before continuing on his trek down the beach.  

Until next time.

Candle Dreams

The scent of freshly dried, soft cotton lazily fills the room.  The squatting dimpled candle sitting by my computer has begun to tell me its secrets.   The flame leans in close to me to whisper its dreams and then pulls back sharply with worry.  It tries again.  Bowing forward to get as close to me as possible, it spins tales of firelight and hotdogs dripping grease.  When I smile and say, “A candle can dream, right” it bounces from side to side in excitement.  With a flicker of anticipation, the flame circles around and around in its glass container; looking, searching, for a way to take one step closer to its dream. 

I started my writing class this week.  Above is the first assignment (besides the introduction) that our instructor had us do.  We had to describe a candle.  What do you think?

More to come. 

Some Thoughts

My thoughts for today are as follows:

I was watching America’s Funniest Home Videos today; something I do on occasion when I am flipping through the channels and nothing else is any good.  As usual, the clips shown were little kids doing silly things, animals acting crazy, and grown-ups being idiots.  Now, seeing little kids doing silly things is funny.  Seeing animals acting crazy, is pretty funny.  Sometimes, an adult acting like an idiot is kind of funny.  What’s not funny is when, during the filming of the “funniest” video, the person being filmed gets injured.  They don’t show the injury, but you can always tell when, after the filming stops, the person is bleeding profusely from their cuts or are nursing their concussion.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not talking about videos of little babies that fall on their well padded behinds.  I’m talking about videos like the one I saw today.  The guy, riding his bicycle full-speed, hit a pothole, flew over his handlebars and landed, sliding on his face down the road.  This is not funny.  This is terrible.  You know that guy was picking gravel out of his face for the next week.  You know that guy was going to the hospital for the possible broken bones he received from his stupidity.  Why do people think things like this are funny? 

I believe that plants feel pain.  Mythbusters (and scientist Cleve Backster) hooked up a polygraph to plant leaves and then proceeded to perform experiments on them – touching them, tearing their leaves, burning them, etc.  Interestingly, the polygraph showed a “reaction” to these experiments.  Do I think plants have a brain???  No.  Do I think they are living things that can feel???  Yes.   Now, this whole dialogue is because a lot of people choose to be vegetarians because they can’t stand the thought that an animal is going to die to feed them.  Okay.  I get that.  Now, as you all know, I love animals.  And, I eat meat.  I like the taste of it.  I like the texture of it in my mouth.  I eat beef and pork and chicken and fish and goose and bison and…meat.  Have I ever visited a slaughterhouse?  No.  Am I going to?  No.  It’s bad enough that Ben and I went to the Bison Trading Company a couple weekends ago and visited with the bison…before we went into the store and bought bison hot dogs and bison burgers.  That was a little hard for me.  I knew that the bison I was visiting with would, one day, end up in the cold cases in the back of the store.  It made me realize that I don’t want to know what happens to my “meat” before it’s my meat.  Perhaps I’m just being ignorant.  I think, if I was to learn more about what happens, I won’t eat meat anymore.  But, I also think plants feel pain.  So, if I am going to stop eating meat because I see what happens to animals, I should also stop eating plants because I know what happens to them too.  I guess I could just stop eating everything then, but I think that would probably kill me. 

And, my final thought for the day…

Why the hell do they call it a funny bone?  I looked it up on the internet and the best I could find is that it is called the funny bone because the pain you feel when you hit it is due to your ulnar nerve hitting your humerus.  Humerus…humorous; a bit of a play on words, it seems.  All I know is that it is not funny and even though the internet says it’s a strange, tingly feeling you get when you hit it, I think it hurts.  I hit mine today and was laid out in pain for five minutes. 

Until next time.

This week in history

I am happy that a chapter of the war that has been raging for 10 years is over.  I'm not happy that someone is dead.  It might be Osama Bin Laden, but he is still a human being.  Yes, I am well aware that thousands of other people have lost their lives due to a war that was started by an idea of Osama Bin Laden.  I’m aware that thousands of people were killed on September 11, 2001 due to the people that Osama Bin Laden sent into action.  I know that.  It doesn’t mean that I support the war that has killed so many of our soldiers and so many of their soldiers.  It doesn’t mean I support the war that has killed innocent people that were in the way when our soldiers went to kill their soldiers.  I do support our soldiers.  My dad was in the Air Force and I grew up supporting and following those in the military and, especially, our Commander in Chief, i.e. the President of the United States.  I hope that the end of this chapter also brings about the end of the war in general, but I don’t believe it will.   

It saddens me that our younger generation posts things like, "Dumb, dumb, Arabs".  Not all Arabs are assholes and they shouldn't all be put in the same category.  It also saddens me when I see people posting on Facebook that Osama’s death is just a ploy from Obama to get re-elected.  Really?  If, and it’s a big if, someone knew where Osama was and could have ended this chapter a long time ago and chose to wait until it was politically convenient for whichever President happened to be in office at that time, then I no longer want to be an American.  Sure, I think Obama’s people, and maybe Obama himself, timed the announcement of Osama’s death…no better way to get back at Donald Trump than to interrupt his show during the crucial boardroom moments.  I don’t think they waited until Obama’s poll numbers were down before they put the plan into action for taking out Bin Laden. 

The other thing that bothers me is that people seem to be pissed off that we aren’t being shown pictures of Osama Bin Laden’s body.  I don’t want to see it.  Why does the US Government have to prove anything to me, to us, by showing us a picture?  The guy is dead.  Isn’t that enough?  Interestingly, I think if they had shown us the picture, the same people that are pissed about them NOT showing the picture, would have been the ones that ranted and raved because the picture was too graphic.  Sometimes people let their political views define and direct who they are.  Grow up already. 

Until next time.

Expired

Ben and I disagree on when food should be tossed.  I realize I am a little strict on my ideas about when food will go "bad".  Milk should be tossed no later than the expiration date.  I may even toss it the day before.  I had a bad experience with milk once.  So sue me.  Meat should never be consumed after the expiration date.  Though, the more I live with Ben, the more lenient I get on this particular subject.  I’ve even bought meat a couple days before the “Sell By” date in the supermarket and put it in the freezer.  I know - it scares me too.  Crackers, when they expired in September of 2009, need to be thrown away.  Ben thinks they are fine.  He can’t understand why I would waste perfectly good, unopened crackers.  He thinks I am stuck on the expiration date thing.  It’s really more that I don’t like stale food.  Chips need to be kept in bags that are tightly sealed and, if not consumed within a week, at most, need to be tossed.  Don’t get me started on bread or cereal or any other grain based product.  I’m a food snob - or an expiration snob, whichever you prefer.  I think I take after my father too much in this regard, but I am so completely okay with that.