So I was rummaging through my computer's hard drive and stumbled across this old story. I believe it was from English class last year, although I have no idea why we would ever have to write a story like this. But it just goes to show you that I have too much time. I must admit I used to crack myself up back in the old days, so be sure to read the entire thing.
My Story About Nothing In Particular
The story you’re about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. For instance, if a character’s legally given birth name is Esteban Izquierda Garcia, then he will now be known as Bob. Such extremes have been taken due to intense legal action cracking down upon high school student’s papers everywhere. This story is not to be retransmitted, rebroadcast, or redistributed in any way without the express written consent of Acme, Inc. To do so is to place oneself outside of the bounds of the legally binding contract written by the lawyers of Acme, Inc, causes oneself to be liable to the distributors of the literature, and may place oneself in a position of undesirable standing.
The following takes place between 9 a.m. and 10 a.m. (EST). Bob was awakened suddenly from his livid nightmare of him falling through nothingness by the sound of his alarm clock piercing the cold morning air. It had been twelve long weeks since Bob left his family in the Netherlands to come to Antarctica to study penguins. But what worried him today was the fact that it had been much too long since their last airdrop. The lack of supplies had started to have its effect on the men and was present in their attitude, behavior, and actions. Why had it been so long since they last received word from Amsterdam? The men would not speak of it openly in public in case it might frighten the women, but there were grumblings of communism.
Communism was on the minds of every scientist that worked at the camp. “Ich hoffe, daß es nicht Kommunismus ist,” was overheard quite frequently from the men as they patrolled the coasts keeping a sharp eye out for penguins. Their worst fear was slowly being realized. Communism cares for none. It conquers quickly. None escape. The men could only assume that in their absence their motherland had become prone to outside forces and the prevailing influences had become too powerful for them to overcome. For our younger audiences this means that scientists left the country, evil communism comes in, country adopts communism, scientists are sad. What else could describe the random disappearances of the once frequent aircraft over the icy tundra known as Base 3? What else would cause someone to write about these poor forsaken scientists who read into everything too much? Only communism leaves a trail like that. All of the indisputable evidence was there. All that was missing were the planes.
Bob knew what he had to do. He was going to find a way to get supplies for the men even if he died trying. But the more Bob thought about it, he didn’t want to die trying because then that wouldn’t get anyone anywhere. He now realized the harsh reality that he, too, read into things too much. There was only one option: success. Bob rummaged the room for his trusty walrus-head quarter from 1967. He had carried it with him since college and had used it to make every important decision in his life. It was the reason he was here studying penguins and not pursuing being a doctor back in the Netherlands. He found the quarter under his bed and stowed it away in his coat pocket. As he turned to leave the room he paused briefly in the doorway and wondered why he had just spent fifteen minutes looking for his decision-making-quarter. He shrugged it off and galloped downstairs following his nose to the breakfast table. He ate heartily that day but in silence as well. He told no one of his plan to help but rather stuffed himself full to prepare for the dangerous journey that lay ahead. When he had finsished he stood up, put on his warmest coat, and traipsed out the door. He only looked back when he thought he heard someone calling his name. He was disappointed to only see a penguin squawking something that inaudibly sounded like “Bob”. He turned and walked away from the camp, his arms folded tight against his body to protect himself from the frigid elements. He made his way up the steep hill that lay just outside of Base 3. As he reached the top and looked down onto the other side his eyes saw what no other Dutch scientist had ever seen before: the rare Antarctic red-haired spotted penguin! But it was what was right behind the penguin that caught our hero’s attention. There, basking in the limited sunlight, was a Wal-Mart. As Bob ran down the hill his heart leaped for joy as he noticed it was a 24-hour store and to top it all of it was having a sale. The doors opened for him as he rushed inside and was coldly (haha, get it?) greeted by a man in a blue vest. He passed up the free smiley face sticker and quickly ran through the store. He jogged along as he saw all the supplies he could use. He now started skipping because he had just noticed the men’s clothing department was having a sale on t-shirts and shorts. By now he was leaping from aisle to aisle gazing at all the wonders that lay on the shelves before him. Unfortunately, it is now 10 a.m. and this story must be finished in time for the next story that comes after it. Stay tuned for scenes from next week’s all new “My Story About Nothing In Particular.”
In next weeks “My Story About Nothing In Particular” Bob gathers up all he can lay his hands on from the newly found Wal-Mart. But tension starts to mount between our protagonist and the employees. Bob may be overstaying his welcome. Is 24-hours too long for a single store to remain open? Will Bob get the supplies back to Base 3 in time? What will happen to that rare red-haired spotted penguin spotted outside the store? Tune in next week as special guest star Sam Walton joins the epic adventure. This has been a production of Too Much Time Ind.
posted by eric at 11:03 PM
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