All because of a cheeseburger
I want to share a story written by a wonderfully creative Lyudmila Snezhanova in my Creative Writing Club, which is a free project for people who share my passion for writing. Lyudmila wrote an incredible but also hilarious piece on a highly challenging but also fun prompt:
"My dad gave me three life rules to live by: 1. (fill in the blank), 2. (fill in the blank) and 3. (fill in the blank). The first two were easy, but the third one proved difficult all because of a cheeseburger. Let me explain."
Below is her wonderfully-crafted story. Enjoy!
My dad gave me three life rules to live by: 1. Take time to snuggle your pets, they love you so much and are always happy to see you, 2. Don't pick a weak man, and 3. Don't feed or beat other people's children. The first two were easy, but the third one proved difficult all because of a cheeseburger. Let me explain.
In fact, I am sitting now at a McDonald's restaurant with a green crayon that I've just stolen from the kid's Happy Meal stand and a folded note with the three rules. I wonder how on earth I’ve ended up making amendments to my dad's pep talk!
Well, I've always been a daddy's girl. Contrary to Mum, he wasn't so eloquent as to give me daily pep talks that I was unable to digest. Instead, he would snuggle me, tickle my armpits till I rolled with laughter or put me on his shoulders to horse-ride him and 'feel superior to the plebs'.
Of course, since I've grown up and started living on my own I've always been cherishing my childhood fond memories and carrying the Daddy Rules note close to my heart. Actually, I am twenty-four now and it's been only a year.
However, I can proudly boast of my achievements! Though I loathe taking care of others, I was kind-hearted enough to keep the perky parrot that flew into my open window from god-knows-where and I do snuggle him daily, in a way it is ever possible to snuggle something so squeaky and prickly. I call him Perky, Perky the parrot 'cause he ... or she? Er… sorry, I can't tell you a bird's sex - well, let it be "it", "it is a bird"! Um... What did I want to tell you? Never mind.
Picking a strong man was the easiest thing to do - I just joined WeGym and picked the most built-up one sweating and wearing glasses, and smiling at everyone, and talking on his wireless iPhone XS Max headset which unmistakably meant he was strong physically and mentally, and morally, and financially.
So, today I’ve dropped at McDonald's - as most young childless and careless wives do, ordered a cheeseburger and a cappuccino and indulged in reading endless messages on social sites. And you know what? Hardly had I had a sip and a bite when a blonde curly little angel toddled by my side and pulled my arm with the cheeseburger down opening his mouth wide and going to bite off my so carelessly accessible breakfast - my cheeseburger!!!
Time stopped. Shivers went down my spine.
"Where are this boy's parents? Why aren't they looking after him? Why are they still feeding him on breast milk or vile lumpy semolina and don't feed their already-toddler properly? I mean, if he's ready to consume cheese and meat they should let him do that!"
"Okay, okay, he's about to bite - what shall I do?" I thought, frantically. "If I shook him off he would fall and hurt himself - look how clumsily unstable he is! They would think I’d beaten the kid! The administrator would press the button under his desk and call the police. The police would press charges against me. And I wouldn't be able to press oranges and drink my fresh-squeezed orange juice in the morn. And the juicer buzzing sound wouldn't attract Perky the parrot. So, I wouldn’t be able to press Perky's beak or nudge it or tickle its wingpit... Because I’d be charged with child abuse and consequently pressed between the walls of a prison cell! Alas. I’d have to feed on lumpy semolina myself... yack! … What shall I do - beat the kid or feed the kid?" I was caught between a rock and a hard place.
The instant dragged… And so it happened - my hand with the cheeseburger helplessly went hanging down like a broken twig, seized by the boy’s sticky fingers, submitting to the inevitable. The inevitable that would lead you to the place or a person you least expected to be led to.
The blonde curly little angel pierced his first little teeth in the cheeseburger and I heard my own voice saying gently, "There you go, bunny, take another bite!" In the next instant his dad, who’d been standing by the counter, swirled round the food court and picked up his curly angel, stammered his apologies and, in a while, picked up me. Or was it I who picked him up? Anyway, we laughed and exchanged our phone numbers and later on calls, but that’s another story...
"My dad gave me three life rules to live by: 1. (fill in the blank), 2. (fill in the blank) and 3. (fill in the blank). The first two were easy, but the third one proved difficult all because of a cheeseburger. Let me explain."
Below is her wonderfully-crafted story. Enjoy!
✽✽✽
My dad gave me three life rules to live by: 1. Take time to snuggle your pets, they love you so much and are always happy to see you, 2. Don't pick a weak man, and 3. Don't feed or beat other people's children. The first two were easy, but the third one proved difficult all because of a cheeseburger. Let me explain.
In fact, I am sitting now at a McDonald's restaurant with a green crayon that I've just stolen from the kid's Happy Meal stand and a folded note with the three rules. I wonder how on earth I’ve ended up making amendments to my dad's pep talk!
Well, I've always been a daddy's girl. Contrary to Mum, he wasn't so eloquent as to give me daily pep talks that I was unable to digest. Instead, he would snuggle me, tickle my armpits till I rolled with laughter or put me on his shoulders to horse-ride him and 'feel superior to the plebs'.
Of course, since I've grown up and started living on my own I've always been cherishing my childhood fond memories and carrying the Daddy Rules note close to my heart. Actually, I am twenty-four now and it's been only a year.
However, I can proudly boast of my achievements! Though I loathe taking care of others, I was kind-hearted enough to keep the perky parrot that flew into my open window from god-knows-where and I do snuggle him daily, in a way it is ever possible to snuggle something so squeaky and prickly. I call him Perky, Perky the parrot 'cause he ... or she? Er… sorry, I can't tell you a bird's sex - well, let it be "it", "it is a bird"! Um... What did I want to tell you? Never mind.
Picking a strong man was the easiest thing to do - I just joined WeGym and picked the most built-up one sweating and wearing glasses, and smiling at everyone, and talking on his wireless iPhone XS Max headset which unmistakably meant he was strong physically and mentally, and morally, and financially.
So, today I’ve dropped at McDonald's - as most young childless and careless wives do, ordered a cheeseburger and a cappuccino and indulged in reading endless messages on social sites. And you know what? Hardly had I had a sip and a bite when a blonde curly little angel toddled by my side and pulled my arm with the cheeseburger down opening his mouth wide and going to bite off my so carelessly accessible breakfast - my cheeseburger!!!
Time stopped. Shivers went down my spine.
"Where are this boy's parents? Why aren't they looking after him? Why are they still feeding him on breast milk or vile lumpy semolina and don't feed their already-toddler properly? I mean, if he's ready to consume cheese and meat they should let him do that!"
"Okay, okay, he's about to bite - what shall I do?" I thought, frantically. "If I shook him off he would fall and hurt himself - look how clumsily unstable he is! They would think I’d beaten the kid! The administrator would press the button under his desk and call the police. The police would press charges against me. And I wouldn't be able to press oranges and drink my fresh-squeezed orange juice in the morn. And the juicer buzzing sound wouldn't attract Perky the parrot. So, I wouldn’t be able to press Perky's beak or nudge it or tickle its wingpit... Because I’d be charged with child abuse and consequently pressed between the walls of a prison cell! Alas. I’d have to feed on lumpy semolina myself... yack! … What shall I do - beat the kid or feed the kid?" I was caught between a rock and a hard place.
The instant dragged… And so it happened - my hand with the cheeseburger helplessly went hanging down like a broken twig, seized by the boy’s sticky fingers, submitting to the inevitable. The inevitable that would lead you to the place or a person you least expected to be led to.
The blonde curly little angel pierced his first little teeth in the cheeseburger and I heard my own voice saying gently, "There you go, bunny, take another bite!" In the next instant his dad, who’d been standing by the counter, swirled round the food court and picked up his curly angel, stammered his apologies and, in a while, picked up me. Or was it I who picked him up? Anyway, we laughed and exchanged our phone numbers and later on calls, but that’s another story...
Uh… my frothy coffee’s got cold, the folded note’s in my hand... I bite the crayon tip contemplating a tad, unfold the Daddy Rules note and scribble in an ostentatiously curly handwriting the fourth rule to abide by in the future: 4. Never get distracted by social sites, phone messages or TV shows while eating. Pay attention to your meal and thoroughly enjoy it.
That’s Immanuel Kant’s rule, not my dad’s - hopefully it won’t hurt him.
Prompt credit: "642 Tiny Things to Write About"
Image credit: Photo by freddie marriage on Unsplash
That’s Immanuel Kant’s rule, not my dad’s - hopefully it won’t hurt him.
✽✽✽
Prompt credit: "642 Tiny Things to Write About"
Image credit: Photo by freddie marriage on Unsplash
Did you like this story? Here is another one by Lyudmila: "Don't Judge Abook."
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