Thursday, February 22, 2007

Story Strands (Bob)

So here's the skinny on this. This is a bit of story that never went anywhere. I give it to the forces of Creative Panic to shape it. My hope is that some others will come along, add, edit, or flame this until it's forged into something useful. Or I'll just do it myself.

Bob watched his two children fight non-stop for 30 minutes while he prepared the grill for the Saturday night BBQ. Bob splashed lighter fluid over the charcoals when he heard Bobby Jr's shirt rip. His little darling Susan had ripped her brother's sleeve right off. The two didn't even look up to see if he was mad. They just kept going. “You two stop that now or I'm going to pour this on the both of you and set you on fire.” He tried desperately to sound like he was kidding. They ran a good distance, to the other end of the yard, slapping and snarling at each other the entire way.

Bob was handsome, but not decidedly so. He looked handsome enough to be on cable television. It also turned out that it was the only job he could really do well. He did walk on stuff for HBC. And every other month he made a movie for the Sci-Fi Channel.


SinisterPurpose said...

Bob had the kind of face that people recognized, but not specifically. He heard a lot of don't-I-know-yous, and far fewer aren't-you-the-guy-from-alien-blood-kiss-fours. Bob always cringed when he heard that. He'd been in the first three. He'd had a real solid supporting role that recurred through three movies. He had a huge death scene at the end of three. The guy who's now on his own sitcom and the woman who came up out of pool topless in a big summer blockbuster cried over his corpse. Why couldn't anyone remember. It was a beautiful scene. Even after the alien chewed it's way out of the small of Bob's back, snarled at the two other actors and dripped corn syrup all over Bob's very well maintained ass.

SinisterPurpose said...

Susan and Bobby continued screaming, kicking, and punching each other. Their bleats and high pitched screams echoing through the suburban air. Bob watched them as he threw match after match into his carefully constructed pyramid of charcoals.

"Think about the tax deductions," he softly whispered.

It was night's with his children like this Bob really wanted to settle into bed with a good perscription. But those days of were over.

As his two children ran across the yard in a brutal game of tag, Bob couldn't help but think, "At least they're exercising."

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