Slice of Life: Day 4: I Could Tell Them...

I could tell them it was from the weed torch (see previous post)…at least I’d be greeted with a guttural Tim the Tool Man Taylor grunt.

I could tell them I got drunk and tried to use my arm for a S’more…but I don’t drink.

 

I could tell them I was juggling with flaming sticks…at least I’d get praised for trying something new.

 

I could tell them I ran into a burning building and saved a cat and her litter of kittens…at least I’d get my picture in the daily news. Local Writer Saves Cats.

 

I could invest in their sense of wonder and fantasy and tell them I flew too close to the sun. 

 

I could tell them I was on the golf course and got struck by lightning. But my shanks go so far off the grid I’d be out of the storm’s path.

 

I could tell them I was driving along, saw someone standing by their car, smoke curling up from their hood, and helped them out by reaching way down under the hood and singeing my skin on the carburetor. But they know I know nothing about cars. Do carburetors even get hot? 

 

I could tell them that this is what burning calories look like.

 

I could tell them I dropped the curling iron. But this isn’t the 80s, and I don’t have hair. 

 

Or…

 

I could tell them the truth. I could say to them I was simply trying to boil pasta. 

 

I kind of wished I saved the cats.

rg