[original fiction] Friday Morning Muse
Well, I kind of gave up trying to edit this ol' short story of mine cause of laziness, so I thought it was time to introduce it to the wide world of the interweb, so here it is.
Title: Pin Up, Friday morning muse
Author: bombasticduck
Rating:PG-13-ish (honestly I have no idea)
Summary: Based on a poem by Billy Collins, about a lonely mechanic trying to follow his dream and with a little help from a pin up girl.
A/N: Not beta'd, expect glaring offenses to the english language. But if you do see one of these foul ups, it would be nice if you pointed it out. And btw does anyone know if there is a community that you can post your original fiction to?
I
When I was in my early twenties, a bit older than your brother is now, I worked at my Uncle's auto shop. The hours were long, the word strenuous, and the shop was always sweltering hot, no matter the season. But it paid money, that was all that really mattered in the end.
I told all my buddies that I was saving my money for a nice vintage car, but it was all a bluff. I was really saving my money for art school. And if I even told them that it would only further cement my image as a day dreamer, a pansy man. Now don't get me wrong, my buddies were not horrible guys, they just thought like every other guy of the era, and I was different from them. They already thought I was a bit off, always staring into space when I had nothing to do, thinking up stories and adventures.
You see that girl in my picture on the wall? The one with her skirted lifted by the wind and her dog playful and mischievous by her ankles, and she is in that painting over there, sitting on a work table next to the small white dog with the smirk and mischief in her eyes. Well, when it all boils down to it, it started with her. She was my catalyst and my muse. She convinced me to follow my dreams, well she really convinced me to not to give up my dreams for at the time I was seriously thinking of giving up and just taking over uncle's shop, I was tired of the secrecy and lies. And I was tired of my Uncle's pressuring for my definite answer, but you want to know the funny thing about that time, I only needed one more check from him and then I would be set, but I just couldn't take it anymore, so I quit painting for a few weeks and just used the money I got form uncle for food or for charity. But she gave me a push to get over myself and do what I love. You see, she is Miss March from an old pin up calendar from Uncles' shop.
Hmm…what was that? How did she convince me to chase my dreams?
Well…she told me to.
Now don't give me that look young man, I am not going crazy in my "old" age.
Still don't believe me?
Fine then, let me tell you a story. My story I'm telling you today little squirt started off with my mind wandering, twisting through paths in no ordered fashion. I want to say this before I get into it, that this story is completely true, you will doubt me in the beginning as you are doing now, but in the end I think you will believe me.
II
It was a slow friday morning in the shop, no customers have come in yet, and all I really had going was a simply oil leak in a rusty old car that didn't need to be fixed for a while. But I did it anyway because I was the first one in.
So I just started tinkering with the engine, and my mind wandered, and I started to do what I do best, to daydream as I work. I was just gazing into space, dreaming up quests, castles, and nefarious villains. When I do this I usually stare at a fixed point in space. And today I was facing the wall with all the tools, and when I finally came back into focus I noticed I was staring at Miss March from our calendar.
I started to drag my eyes over her picture. I noticed the slender curve of her legs, exposed in a playful gust of wind. My eyes traced lazy swirls around her face, she fascinated me, she was delicate feminine helplessness personified (and later I found out how very wrong I was about that). She was trapped in a moment, never to fall and never to be saved.
She is a respite from the endless parade of broken cars and rusted metal. She is a flash of color in this greasy oil pit, even when she looks about to topple she has an air of youthfulness and vibrancy, I itched to paint her, but I gave up on painting and I had a job to do, to find where this damn oil is leaking from, so I looked down, focusing on my work.
Spurt
Well…I knew where it was leaking from now.
As I wiped the oil off my face I heard a distinctly female giggle. I spun around to try to see who was laughing at me, and why did it sound like a girl. But no one was in sight, the shop was empty as school in the summertime. It was just me and Miss March. So I went back to working on the engine.
"Yoo hoo! Honey, over here!"
I whipped around to see who was calling me, but just as before, no one was there. So once again I went back to my engine, but this time I was distracted and I couldn't concentrate on the job.
"Oi! Look up you silly head!"
Well, I looked up, and I just stared.
For miss March was now waving her hand at me and giggling.
"Bwah?....Okay, I must me going crazy. Calendar pictures do not talk, let alone giggle and wave."
I then realized talking to myself really did not boost my confidence in my sanity. So I gave the offending calendar one last baffled glance and then pointedly looked down at my work.
"You're not crazy sweetie! Come on, you're the one with the active imagination, why can't I be talking to you?"
I tried to ignore the voice, but she just kept on talking.
So I though to myself, 'she is just a piece of paper, she is just a piece of paper,' trying to ignore her. It didn't really work.
"Oh honey, you can't ignore me forever. And look at it this way, there is no one around you to accuse you of being insane, so come on over and have a bit of a chat with me, for I am getting a bit bored here talking to myself."
I rolled my eyes, "God forbid you are bored."
"See! You just acknowledged my existence. Now we just need to start communicating, and we should be all set, wow we sound just like a dysfunctional couple," she said cheekily.
"Now look here you, you are not supposed to be talking or…being…all annoying like, you're a piece of paper," I barked as I glared at the snickering pin up girl.
"Hey! Not that is just not nice! I haven't insulted you or called you annoying…even though I could and you are rather annoying at the moment yourself."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes I can," she narrowed her eyes at me, and put her hand on her hips, a picture of female indignation.
What she did next totally threw me for a loop. She moved towards me in her picture, and griped the sides of the picture. She lifted up one stocking covered leg and made to go over the edge of the picture like it was a fence. I just stood there shocked as her leg went through the picture and appeared in the real world in all its stocking glory.
She then pulled the rest of her body out of the picture, till she was standing on the table in front of her calendar, smirking down at me.
I was dumbstruck, how can a person in a picture come out of her picture?
"Yip, yip," her little dog barked, still in the picture.
"Oh be quiet Clarence, I take you out for a walk later," she admonished.
"You named your dog Clarence?"
"Yeah, I think it is a nice name. Why, do you have a problem with that?" She asked tilting her head and giving me a mock glare.
"No, it is a nice name, just not for a dog, what I have a problem with is that I am talking to a girl that was a few minutes ago in a picture on a calendar, cause it is just not possible!"
This could not be happening to me, I must me dreaming, or…or…something.
"Anything is possible honey," she said coyly as she hopped down from the table.
Huh, she was shorter than I thought she would be.
She then started to walk towards me, but I immediately stepped backwards, and who can blame me? If some strange girl just came out of a picture and started to advance on you, would you just stand there?
"John! I am not going to eat you! So stop backpedaling, it makes you look kind of stupid. I only came out for a bit of fun….and to help you with something, which will in effect help me as well," she crossed her arms and gave me a "look."
"How…how do you know my name? And don't call me stupid, and stop looking at me like I am an idiot."
"It has been March for what, two weeks now? So I have listened to you and the other grease monkeys chatter for many a day, and you are really not presenting a good case in the idiot argument."
"We do not chatter," I said indignantly. Men do not chatter, we converse…..like men.
"Whatever you say John dear, so aren't you going to ask me what I want to help you with?" She said with a saccharine smile and a smirk in her eyes.
I still looked like a slightly twitchy deer caught in a pair of headlamps. This just can't be happening; I am really starting to question my sanity here.
Before I knew it, she was standing right in front of me waving her hand in front of my face.
"Helloooo! Anybody home? Am I going to have to send for a search party?"
"You are going to have to excuse me for a moment, I am still a bit frazzled because YOU JUST CAME OUT OF A CALENDAR!"
She raised her eyebrow at me, a smile was tugging at her lips, she then levered herself onto the work table.
"Now, now, there is no need to be snippy," she said as she arranged her skirt to cover the appropriate areas.
"No need…No need to be snippy! I have a perfectly legitimate excuse woman! You're a talking picture, pictures don't talk!" She can not be serious!
"On the contrary, pictures and paintings do talk, it is just that no one listens, well that is a bit of a lie, artists listen." She said thoughtfully chewing on her cheek.
"What do you mean by that?"
Now she must be crazy, no artist on earth has ever said anything about a picture talking to him, or if they had they are either on drugs or now reside in a mental institution.
"Well, let's put it this way, a picture talks to the artist before it is painted or captured by a camera. Except artist mistake it as their "muse" talking to them, but in actuality it is the picture itself talking to him or her, because a picture wants to be painted or captured, or basically exist."
"Now wait a minute, your telling me that paintings talk so they can become real," I said incredulously.
"Yep, that pretty much covers it, so…do you get why I am here?" she asked impatiently as she swung her legs back and forth.
"You…want me to paint you?" I was flabbergasted, this snarky woman in a blue skirt wanted me to paint her, BECAUSE SHE WAS THE PAINTING, JUST NOT IN EXISTENCE YET!
"Yep, or are you to cowardly to paint?" she asked in a bored tone as she examined her nails.
"Cowardly? What in god's name to you mean by that?" Who was she to call me a coward?
"Well, you gave up the thing you loved because you feared the repercussions from your family and friends. You almost have all the money and you definitely have the talent, because I saw you doodle on that part request form a few days ago, and by the way that was a beautiful parrot you drew there. But that is neither here nor there, what my point is that you are just a big coward , your dreams are in your grasp, but noo you have to conform to your family's views on what you should be doing. But look at you, since you gave up painting your miserable! Do you want to doom your self to a life of unhappiness just because you're scared?" She said passionately balling her fists into her skirt.
I was taken back by her passion and fervor, but she did have a point, for these last few weeks were horrible and I really didn't know why, but now that I think about it, it is probably because I haven't touched a paint brush.
"Well…I kind of see your point. But I have a question for you, why do you want to be painted? You had a perfectly good picture in the calendar." I asked.
She snorted, "Because that is not me, do I look like a damsel in distress that can't even control a small dog? No, the artist of the calendar didn't hear me right at all, he brushed off my suggestions and he got me all wrong, so in effect that isn't me up there, it is a different girl entirely, ….so I want you to do it, because you would get me right."
"So let me get this straight, the artist didn't listen to you and depicted you his way, so how does that affect you? Does it mean you don't exist?"
"Basically, it is a bit of an existential crisis. Well…at least he got Clarence right, but he made me look like a fifties Barbie doll, incapable of anything" she said sadly with a small frown and a faraway look in her eyes.
I can't believe that artist didn't listen to her, as I spend more and more time with I can see that the picture doesn't reflect who she is at all, I couldn't stand this bastardization of this strong woman before me.
"I will do it on one condition."
"You will!" she looked at me with such hope in her eyes that it made my heart hurt, but then she frowned and asked, "What is the condition?"
"Tell me your name," I said with a small smile as I watched her sag with relief that she would finally exist as she should.
"My name is Danielle. And I have a question of my own to ask."
"And what would that be?"
"Will you finally get over yourself and go to art school?" She asked while snickering at my shocked expression from her brashness.
"Well, since you asked in such a nice way, I will grant your question an answer. I…"
"Oi! John!" yelled a gruff voice from behind me.
I spun around and there was my Uncle Jerry with my fellow mechanics and cousins Ben and Jack.
"Um….yeah?" I asked as I shifted to try to cover Danielle from their view.
"Did you fix that leaky engine yet? Or is that too complicated for you," he sneered.
"Yeah, one of the wires was loose," I aid as I pointed to the engine, "I was just about to get a replacement wire."
"Uh…good. Here is your check." He stuffed a piece of paper in my hand and swiftly walked out of the room.
"Oh look, little Joanna finally fixed an engine!" My cousins sneered as they looked at me like I was gum on there shoes.
"Oh look! Little Beni and Jackie can speak in unison, oh wait…do you even know what that means?" As I said sarcastically while thinking, 'Why haven't they said anything about Danielle yet, she is a very pretty girl , they should be accosting her right now.'
My cousins glared at me, and faster than I could see they both pushed me into the table, they then spun on their heels and left.
I rubbed my now aching hip as I looked at the check in my hand.
"Well, Danielle, this looks to be about enough to send me to art school," I said as I turned around.
And then I just stopped. She wasn't there any more. I looked up at the calendar, and she was there, standing stock still.
Oh, I guess I was dreaming all of that. I was crestfallen, the most interesting thing to happen to me in ages was just a silly day dream.
I then looked up again at the calendar, and just stared at her for a bit.
She winked at me and wiggled her fingers in a little wave.
My face nearly spilt with the force of my huge smile, I wasn't dreaming, she really did exist!
I winked back and then spun on my heels and walked out of the room determinedly .
I went up to my Uncle and tapped him on the shoulder.
"What do you want?" he barked.
"I quit, I am going to enroll in an art school, see you later," I said then I turned around and walked out of there as fast as possible.
I heard his enraged yell as I dashed to catch the bus that would take me back home to my apartment.
The minute I got home I bolted to my art workshop. I haphazardly set up a canvas and grabbed a whole bunch of paints from the nearby dresser.
And then I started to paint, first came the outline of a feminine figure seated at the worktable, and then came the familiar blue skirt, and then her angular face complete with her trademark smirk, and finally I added the black in Clarence's eye as he sat faithfully by his owner.
"Hello again Danielle, I think you came out right his time."
III
Well, she is the reason why I went to Bridgeport Art School and I then after many years of hard work and hard times I started to illustrate novels and it is all because of her, and she is also the reason why my Uncle stopped talking to me but that is another thing entirely.
So do you believe me?
Kind of! What kind of answer is that!?
Well, take a good look at her picture sonny, stare at her long and hard, what do you see?
She winked at you? By jolly I think she did, so do you believe your old grandpa now?
Is that a yes I hear? Now, now there is no need to swat me.
So Chris, still don't want to learn how to tap dance because "people" might laugh? No? Good, now why?
Yeah, you got it there, never give up your dreams no matter what people say, good so you got the moral of the story, well one of them at least.
Hmmm…what was that? What was the other moral?
Well, always listen to a woman, you don't have to agree with her, but at least give her a chance to express herself and get herself right.
-The end-
A/N: yeah I know it is kinda weird, but oh well, I had fun writing it. And any constructive criticism would be great.
Title: Pin Up, Friday morning muse
Author: bombasticduck
Rating:PG-13-ish (honestly I have no idea)
Summary: Based on a poem by Billy Collins, about a lonely mechanic trying to follow his dream and with a little help from a pin up girl.
A/N: Not beta'd, expect glaring offenses to the english language. But if you do see one of these foul ups, it would be nice if you pointed it out. And btw does anyone know if there is a community that you can post your original fiction to?
I
When I was in my early twenties, a bit older than your brother is now, I worked at my Uncle's auto shop. The hours were long, the word strenuous, and the shop was always sweltering hot, no matter the season. But it paid money, that was all that really mattered in the end.
I told all my buddies that I was saving my money for a nice vintage car, but it was all a bluff. I was really saving my money for art school. And if I even told them that it would only further cement my image as a day dreamer, a pansy man. Now don't get me wrong, my buddies were not horrible guys, they just thought like every other guy of the era, and I was different from them. They already thought I was a bit off, always staring into space when I had nothing to do, thinking up stories and adventures.
You see that girl in my picture on the wall? The one with her skirted lifted by the wind and her dog playful and mischievous by her ankles, and she is in that painting over there, sitting on a work table next to the small white dog with the smirk and mischief in her eyes. Well, when it all boils down to it, it started with her. She was my catalyst and my muse. She convinced me to follow my dreams, well she really convinced me to not to give up my dreams for at the time I was seriously thinking of giving up and just taking over uncle's shop, I was tired of the secrecy and lies. And I was tired of my Uncle's pressuring for my definite answer, but you want to know the funny thing about that time, I only needed one more check from him and then I would be set, but I just couldn't take it anymore, so I quit painting for a few weeks and just used the money I got form uncle for food or for charity. But she gave me a push to get over myself and do what I love. You see, she is Miss March from an old pin up calendar from Uncles' shop.
Hmm…what was that? How did she convince me to chase my dreams?
Well…she told me to.
Now don't give me that look young man, I am not going crazy in my "old" age.
Still don't believe me?
Fine then, let me tell you a story. My story I'm telling you today little squirt started off with my mind wandering, twisting through paths in no ordered fashion. I want to say this before I get into it, that this story is completely true, you will doubt me in the beginning as you are doing now, but in the end I think you will believe me.
II
It was a slow friday morning in the shop, no customers have come in yet, and all I really had going was a simply oil leak in a rusty old car that didn't need to be fixed for a while. But I did it anyway because I was the first one in.
So I just started tinkering with the engine, and my mind wandered, and I started to do what I do best, to daydream as I work. I was just gazing into space, dreaming up quests, castles, and nefarious villains. When I do this I usually stare at a fixed point in space. And today I was facing the wall with all the tools, and when I finally came back into focus I noticed I was staring at Miss March from our calendar.
I started to drag my eyes over her picture. I noticed the slender curve of her legs, exposed in a playful gust of wind. My eyes traced lazy swirls around her face, she fascinated me, she was delicate feminine helplessness personified (and later I found out how very wrong I was about that). She was trapped in a moment, never to fall and never to be saved.
She is a respite from the endless parade of broken cars and rusted metal. She is a flash of color in this greasy oil pit, even when she looks about to topple she has an air of youthfulness and vibrancy, I itched to paint her, but I gave up on painting and I had a job to do, to find where this damn oil is leaking from, so I looked down, focusing on my work.
Spurt
Well…I knew where it was leaking from now.
As I wiped the oil off my face I heard a distinctly female giggle. I spun around to try to see who was laughing at me, and why did it sound like a girl. But no one was in sight, the shop was empty as school in the summertime. It was just me and Miss March. So I went back to working on the engine.
"Yoo hoo! Honey, over here!"
I whipped around to see who was calling me, but just as before, no one was there. So once again I went back to my engine, but this time I was distracted and I couldn't concentrate on the job.
"Oi! Look up you silly head!"
Well, I looked up, and I just stared.
For miss March was now waving her hand at me and giggling.
"Bwah?....Okay, I must me going crazy. Calendar pictures do not talk, let alone giggle and wave."
I then realized talking to myself really did not boost my confidence in my sanity. So I gave the offending calendar one last baffled glance and then pointedly looked down at my work.
"You're not crazy sweetie! Come on, you're the one with the active imagination, why can't I be talking to you?"
I tried to ignore the voice, but she just kept on talking.
So I though to myself, 'she is just a piece of paper, she is just a piece of paper,' trying to ignore her. It didn't really work.
"Oh honey, you can't ignore me forever. And look at it this way, there is no one around you to accuse you of being insane, so come on over and have a bit of a chat with me, for I am getting a bit bored here talking to myself."
I rolled my eyes, "God forbid you are bored."
"See! You just acknowledged my existence. Now we just need to start communicating, and we should be all set, wow we sound just like a dysfunctional couple," she said cheekily.
"Now look here you, you are not supposed to be talking or…being…all annoying like, you're a piece of paper," I barked as I glared at the snickering pin up girl.
"Hey! Not that is just not nice! I haven't insulted you or called you annoying…even though I could and you are rather annoying at the moment yourself."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes I can," she narrowed her eyes at me, and put her hand on her hips, a picture of female indignation.
What she did next totally threw me for a loop. She moved towards me in her picture, and griped the sides of the picture. She lifted up one stocking covered leg and made to go over the edge of the picture like it was a fence. I just stood there shocked as her leg went through the picture and appeared in the real world in all its stocking glory.
She then pulled the rest of her body out of the picture, till she was standing on the table in front of her calendar, smirking down at me.
I was dumbstruck, how can a person in a picture come out of her picture?
"Yip, yip," her little dog barked, still in the picture.
"Oh be quiet Clarence, I take you out for a walk later," she admonished.
"You named your dog Clarence?"
"Yeah, I think it is a nice name. Why, do you have a problem with that?" She asked tilting her head and giving me a mock glare.
"No, it is a nice name, just not for a dog, what I have a problem with is that I am talking to a girl that was a few minutes ago in a picture on a calendar, cause it is just not possible!"
This could not be happening to me, I must me dreaming, or…or…something.
"Anything is possible honey," she said coyly as she hopped down from the table.
Huh, she was shorter than I thought she would be.
She then started to walk towards me, but I immediately stepped backwards, and who can blame me? If some strange girl just came out of a picture and started to advance on you, would you just stand there?
"John! I am not going to eat you! So stop backpedaling, it makes you look kind of stupid. I only came out for a bit of fun….and to help you with something, which will in effect help me as well," she crossed her arms and gave me a "look."
"How…how do you know my name? And don't call me stupid, and stop looking at me like I am an idiot."
"It has been March for what, two weeks now? So I have listened to you and the other grease monkeys chatter for many a day, and you are really not presenting a good case in the idiot argument."
"We do not chatter," I said indignantly. Men do not chatter, we converse…..like men.
"Whatever you say John dear, so aren't you going to ask me what I want to help you with?" She said with a saccharine smile and a smirk in her eyes.
I still looked like a slightly twitchy deer caught in a pair of headlamps. This just can't be happening; I am really starting to question my sanity here.
Before I knew it, she was standing right in front of me waving her hand in front of my face.
"Helloooo! Anybody home? Am I going to have to send for a search party?"
"You are going to have to excuse me for a moment, I am still a bit frazzled because YOU JUST CAME OUT OF A CALENDAR!"
She raised her eyebrow at me, a smile was tugging at her lips, she then levered herself onto the work table.
"Now, now, there is no need to be snippy," she said as she arranged her skirt to cover the appropriate areas.
"No need…No need to be snippy! I have a perfectly legitimate excuse woman! You're a talking picture, pictures don't talk!" She can not be serious!
"On the contrary, pictures and paintings do talk, it is just that no one listens, well that is a bit of a lie, artists listen." She said thoughtfully chewing on her cheek.
"What do you mean by that?"
Now she must be crazy, no artist on earth has ever said anything about a picture talking to him, or if they had they are either on drugs or now reside in a mental institution.
"Well, let's put it this way, a picture talks to the artist before it is painted or captured by a camera. Except artist mistake it as their "muse" talking to them, but in actuality it is the picture itself talking to him or her, because a picture wants to be painted or captured, or basically exist."
"Now wait a minute, your telling me that paintings talk so they can become real," I said incredulously.
"Yep, that pretty much covers it, so…do you get why I am here?" she asked impatiently as she swung her legs back and forth.
"You…want me to paint you?" I was flabbergasted, this snarky woman in a blue skirt wanted me to paint her, BECAUSE SHE WAS THE PAINTING, JUST NOT IN EXISTENCE YET!
"Yep, or are you to cowardly to paint?" she asked in a bored tone as she examined her nails.
"Cowardly? What in god's name to you mean by that?" Who was she to call me a coward?
"Well, you gave up the thing you loved because you feared the repercussions from your family and friends. You almost have all the money and you definitely have the talent, because I saw you doodle on that part request form a few days ago, and by the way that was a beautiful parrot you drew there. But that is neither here nor there, what my point is that you are just a big coward , your dreams are in your grasp, but noo you have to conform to your family's views on what you should be doing. But look at you, since you gave up painting your miserable! Do you want to doom your self to a life of unhappiness just because you're scared?" She said passionately balling her fists into her skirt.
I was taken back by her passion and fervor, but she did have a point, for these last few weeks were horrible and I really didn't know why, but now that I think about it, it is probably because I haven't touched a paint brush.
"Well…I kind of see your point. But I have a question for you, why do you want to be painted? You had a perfectly good picture in the calendar." I asked.
She snorted, "Because that is not me, do I look like a damsel in distress that can't even control a small dog? No, the artist of the calendar didn't hear me right at all, he brushed off my suggestions and he got me all wrong, so in effect that isn't me up there, it is a different girl entirely, ….so I want you to do it, because you would get me right."
"So let me get this straight, the artist didn't listen to you and depicted you his way, so how does that affect you? Does it mean you don't exist?"
"Basically, it is a bit of an existential crisis. Well…at least he got Clarence right, but he made me look like a fifties Barbie doll, incapable of anything" she said sadly with a small frown and a faraway look in her eyes.
I can't believe that artist didn't listen to her, as I spend more and more time with I can see that the picture doesn't reflect who she is at all, I couldn't stand this bastardization of this strong woman before me.
"I will do it on one condition."
"You will!" she looked at me with such hope in her eyes that it made my heart hurt, but then she frowned and asked, "What is the condition?"
"Tell me your name," I said with a small smile as I watched her sag with relief that she would finally exist as she should.
"My name is Danielle. And I have a question of my own to ask."
"And what would that be?"
"Will you finally get over yourself and go to art school?" She asked while snickering at my shocked expression from her brashness.
"Well, since you asked in such a nice way, I will grant your question an answer. I…"
"Oi! John!" yelled a gruff voice from behind me.
I spun around and there was my Uncle Jerry with my fellow mechanics and cousins Ben and Jack.
"Um….yeah?" I asked as I shifted to try to cover Danielle from their view.
"Did you fix that leaky engine yet? Or is that too complicated for you," he sneered.
"Yeah, one of the wires was loose," I aid as I pointed to the engine, "I was just about to get a replacement wire."
"Uh…good. Here is your check." He stuffed a piece of paper in my hand and swiftly walked out of the room.
"Oh look, little Joanna finally fixed an engine!" My cousins sneered as they looked at me like I was gum on there shoes.
"Oh look! Little Beni and Jackie can speak in unison, oh wait…do you even know what that means?" As I said sarcastically while thinking, 'Why haven't they said anything about Danielle yet, she is a very pretty girl , they should be accosting her right now.'
My cousins glared at me, and faster than I could see they both pushed me into the table, they then spun on their heels and left.
I rubbed my now aching hip as I looked at the check in my hand.
"Well, Danielle, this looks to be about enough to send me to art school," I said as I turned around.
And then I just stopped. She wasn't there any more. I looked up at the calendar, and she was there, standing stock still.
Oh, I guess I was dreaming all of that. I was crestfallen, the most interesting thing to happen to me in ages was just a silly day dream.
I then looked up again at the calendar, and just stared at her for a bit.
She winked at me and wiggled her fingers in a little wave.
My face nearly spilt with the force of my huge smile, I wasn't dreaming, she really did exist!
I winked back and then spun on my heels and walked out of the room determinedly .
I went up to my Uncle and tapped him on the shoulder.
"What do you want?" he barked.
"I quit, I am going to enroll in an art school, see you later," I said then I turned around and walked out of there as fast as possible.
I heard his enraged yell as I dashed to catch the bus that would take me back home to my apartment.
The minute I got home I bolted to my art workshop. I haphazardly set up a canvas and grabbed a whole bunch of paints from the nearby dresser.
And then I started to paint, first came the outline of a feminine figure seated at the worktable, and then came the familiar blue skirt, and then her angular face complete with her trademark smirk, and finally I added the black in Clarence's eye as he sat faithfully by his owner.
"Hello again Danielle, I think you came out right his time."
III
Well, she is the reason why I went to Bridgeport Art School and I then after many years of hard work and hard times I started to illustrate novels and it is all because of her, and she is also the reason why my Uncle stopped talking to me but that is another thing entirely.
So do you believe me?
Kind of! What kind of answer is that!?
Well, take a good look at her picture sonny, stare at her long and hard, what do you see?
She winked at you? By jolly I think she did, so do you believe your old grandpa now?
Is that a yes I hear? Now, now there is no need to swat me.
So Chris, still don't want to learn how to tap dance because "people" might laugh? No? Good, now why?
Yeah, you got it there, never give up your dreams no matter what people say, good so you got the moral of the story, well one of them at least.
Hmmm…what was that? What was the other moral?
Well, always listen to a woman, you don't have to agree with her, but at least give her a chance to express herself and get herself right.
-The end-
A/N: yeah I know it is kinda weird, but oh well, I had fun writing it. And any constructive criticism would be great.