It’s So Easy to Misplace Things

I used to have many special possessions that have gone missing over the years. I wish I had them back, but I’m pretty sure I never will. They’re gone forever. I do, however, have some theories about where they are. I’m around 98% sure I’m right.

I used to have a dark green, 1949 Chevy Pickup Truck with a silver knob on the floor you stamped on with your foot to start the engine. I’m pretty sure the Libyans have it.

I used to have a sparkly rhinestone tiara that I wore to my eighth grade graduation party along with a powder blue, full-skirted dress that was fun to dance in (plus dyed-to-match flats). I’m pretty sure Lady Gaga paid a mint to add this outfit to her wardrobe.

I used to own an adorable Beagle named Katie who did not come back indoors after a quick foray outside one rainy night in Peoria, Illinois. I’m pretty sure she’s currently acting as mascot on a gun boat running drugs out of the Dry Tortugas.

I used to have nice brown eyebrows, greatly admired by all. I’m pretty sure they’ve escaped onto the face of the Northern Barred owl who lives in the swampy part of my pine woods.

I used to have a stock of home-grown, home-canned tomatoes in 48 Mason jars (quart size) that have been steadily reducing in number each time I look. I’m pretty sure those little elves who helped that damn shoemaker in the fairy tale are behind the theft. Little tiny footprints with pointed toes. Dead giveaway.

What did you used to have?

16 responses to “It’s So Easy to Misplace Things

  1. At forty six Darla lost her family in the way one loses inhibitions after drinking a swag of stiff martinis. Altogether skipping any stage of euphoria, her brain went straight to confusion before diving into the metaphorical coma that left her feeling dead inside.
    At first there was the shock of her father’s sudden death. The revelation of his terminal cancer should have prepared Darla’s family for what was imminent. Despite this, her mother, sister, brother and she failed to grasp the gravity of what, within a few short weeks, would blindside them. The sadness of her father’s death, however, paled in comparison to the series of contortions that would later emerge and metastasize within her family as the months, then years passed.
    Who could have imagined that Darla’s long-estranged sister would stand in solidarity with her in a failed crusade to awaken their mother to her new reality? A sister whose early childhood bond would, in adulthood, turn into a chasm that kept them emotionally distant; whose presence at holiday parties only magnified their differences. Neither of them could have expected that their brother Jonny, best known among friends and family for playing guitar, and an obsession for all things Rolling Stones, would, with their mother’s silent blessing, one day betray them for his own selfish ends in the way a con cunningly steals your wallet while openly burning a smile into your eyes.

  2. Eddie –

    I used to have a little dog named Eddie. My mom never really liked Eddie. Mostly I think because Eddie had the habit of doing his business in little-used areas of our house, like behind the sofa, or under Ma’s dresser. Despite that, my Eddie was certainly a cute and loveable little pooch. As Dad would say, “Not every dog can be blessed with bladder and bowel control.” Actually, now that I think about it, Eddie also had stomach issues and threw up a lot too. He was also prone to unprovoked biting. But, in spite of these few shortcomings, we all loved our little Eddie.

    I always knew Eddie was special, but we all realized just how special he was when, one day while I was at school, Mom said army men came by the house, noticed Eddie’s resolute patriotism, and drafted the little guy to be a special K9 courier. Mom said that Eddie had been immediately shipped off to France and was, at that very moment, bravely carrying messages from trench to trench and across no-man’s-land to help General Pershing capture the town of Verdun.

    We never saw Eddie again, although we found traces of him for weeks. I can only assume that he fell in love, married a poodle, and was living happily on a vineyard somewhere in the Bordeaux region of France. At least that’s what Mom said. I’m sure she’s right.

  3. CW101 – Weekly Quiz
    Eddie Story

    1. Compare and contrast Eddie to other famous dogs, such as Adolph Hitler’s “Blondi,” or Kim Jong-un’s “Pupper Jong-un.”

    2. Do you view Eddie as a sympathetic character? Explain why, or why not.

    3. How do you feel about entrusting dogs with sensitive information? In your opinion, would a dog commit a traitorous act for a Pupperoni?

    4. Do you believe the Army actually inducted Eddie, or is it more likely he’s in a shallow grave in a wooded area along a deserted section of interstate?

    5. Was it an oversight on the part of the author not to have mentioned the shovel the mother character keeps in the trunk of her car?

    6. Is it morally objectionable for parents to lie to their children? Give examples to support your position.

    7. Did you ever believe the starving children of Japan would want your spinach? How did you feel when you found out, like you, they preferred starvation?

    8. Do you think the author had a creative reason for mixing “Mom” and “Ma” in reference to the mother character, or is this simply poor writing resulting from a lack of attention to detail?

    9. If you had plenty of money, would you be willing to send all of it to the author to learn more about Eddie? Why not?

  4. Archival News Clipping
    Le Papier Du Neux

    Hero Dog Addresses Armistice Celebration
    Bordeaux – 11, Novembre, 1936

    American-born war hero “Eddie,” known to his comrades in arms as “Eddie le Poo,” was the featured speaker at this year’s celebration of the end of the Great War. The brave little dog, who makes his home in the Boux-Wine section of Bordeaux, delivered his remarks, along with a 57 gramme bowel movement, to a crowd of more than 100 residents. Eddie expressed concern over the ability of fixed defenses, such as the Maginot line, to deter modern “lightening war,” which is likely to be used should the Hun attack France in the future. Upon completion of his remarks, Eddie was greeted by a round of anal inhalation followed by a well-deserved nap in the sun. The local Gendarme reports that no one was bitten in this year’s event.

  5. Coming Home

    A quarter mile up the main road from the driveway stood the trusted way-marker of my youth, the ancient billboard. Its message, now barely legible behind yards of tangled kudzu, had no-doubt produced a small monthly stipend for some long-forgotten crofter who allowed it to grace the unplowable ground between his field and the roadway.

    Beneath the giant edifice, which was supported by two electric poles, one in apparent use, the other dangling its wires as fishing line in a sea of weeds, were the crooked remains of three long-extinguished lamps. Impulsively, I reached towards the dash and turned the switch. The twin pools of light on the road ahead turned yellow and dried away in the approaching darkness.

    Seeking calm, I did the same with the ignition. Instantly, the two-ton behemoth ceased its bark and made no sound other than cracking gravel beneath the tires as it coasted to a stop alongside the road, exactly at the intersection of the driveway.

    It was just past sundown and the white mist that seems only to know the periods between night and day was already coalescing in the low spots that dotted the fields on each side of the long driveway. I found this strangely comforting and decided to take a seat on the hood of the silent car. It was early fall, and the air held the faint smell of a distant wood fire that had no-doubt been built against the chill that made the heat from the engine welcome.

    At the end of the driveway, some three-hundred yards distant, was the shrouded outline of the old farmhouse. Its white clapboards, gray, and green trim, black, in the dwindling light of the passing day.

    A single yellow beacon, no more than a forty-watt porch light, suggested the possibility of life. I imagined the conversations we had beneath that light, the security of my extended family, and the loving playfulness of my little dog Eddie. Like those carefree days of my childhood, Eddie, too, vanished one day, as the beloved trappings of childhood often do. I always supposed the world needed Eddie more than I did, just as the world ultimately needed the adult to supersede the child.

    As the steel beneath me grew cold, I hopped down and took a final look at the tiny yellow lamp which seemed to grow further far away as the darkness settled in. It was time, as it had been for Eddie, to move on.

  6. I misplaced my back pocket. Couldn’t find it no matter were I looked. Didn’t matter, night or day, hot or cold, up or down, never was it found. Still looking.

  7. Good one, Oscar.

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