Prompt #122
Brush your teeth
Good morning!
What can I tell you,
I’m growing old. And older. Every night when I get into bed, I can hardly believe another day has gone by, leading inevitably to that last day which will one day arrive, bidden or not.
Have a great day!
Where was I?
So, something that happens to many of us as we grow older, is that we find that our peer group has done the same. Those folks we used to clown around with—where did they go? Oh, here they are! We just hardly recognized them what with the leg thing, and the eye thing, and the shoulder thing. It’s not any surprise to learn that old people really do spend an ungodly amount of time talking about their health. It’s so palpable! What else is there to talk about? The past??
This is leading to something (a prompt, to be specific), I promise you—if you’re still with me.
At a dinner party recently, the conversation went straight to the same old, same old. Mostly, we talked about our brains, our lack of brains, diminishing brains, forgotten memories, not remembering what we did that very afternoon…. you get the point. You should have been there! SUPER fun conversation! (No, really, my friends are hilarious and fun. I’m very lucky to have such pals to pal around with.) Well, later, we all got a message from Jeannnie (Jeannie, who won’t read this, because she doesn’t remember I have a Substack). And that message was a link to some guy who suggested we keep our brains alive by knocking down new pathways. And his big idea for this knocking down business was to suggest we brush our teeth with the OTHER HAND. That was it! That’s all it takes! Youthful brain, be mine!
(We all tried it, save for Jeannie, who….forgot.)
Okay, so here’s where we get to the prompt. Remember the poem where that guy (yes, THAT guy) says he “took the less traveled” path—but in the very end, you find out he actually did not, he only tells people he did? Well, this prompt is all about actually taking the other path, the other road, the other advice, and so on. This is about doing the other thing! Brushing your teeth with the other hand! Take that, poet guy!
TODAY’S PROMPT
Write a story where a character is on their regular path.
But today….that character chooses another way to go.
For example, your character always heads out the door for a walk and when they reach the sidewalk they always go left. Have them turn right.
Your character never drinks after 7 pm. But tonight…
Your character never goes to the neighborhood potluck. But what the hell, there’s nothing in the fridge…
Your character hates to travel, but suddenly must go to (???) because (???).
Your character always shops at the same little deli. Today, it’s closed and they must go to the other one across the street.
YOU WILL THINK OF SOMETHING.
You can always write about brushing your teeth with the other hand, see how that goes.
See you next week!
For the new people in the back: Try to stick to 400 words or fewer.
Also, since today is my birthday (!!!) and I’m off to do all the super fun things, my comments on your stories may not be terribly prompt…
Everyday Harriet the Spy ate a tomato and mayo sandwich for lunch and then cake and milk at 3:45 pm and everything turned out fine, but that kind of behavior in a kid today would land her in the school psychologist’s office before she knew what hit her.
Is that because self-imposed routines may be symptomatic of a disorder that can be treated leading to a better life? Or is it because late-stage capitalism requires square pegs in square holes conforming to the routines set by our oligarch overlords?
This new guy was hired recently. I don’t know how, exactly, he got the job. He’s what I would call a real weirdo. Recognize, of course, that in my book, that’s an extremely high compliment. The square pegs around here would disagree. And I get it. We are the customer service department. It’s generally understood that you can’t be flying your weirdo flag while you’re talking someone out of discontinuing their patronage of our services or, worse yet, calling the Attorney General’s Consumer Protection Unit. The consensus is that weird doesn’t work in this job.
Tuesday, our supervisor asked me what I thought of the new guy. I said that he was a breath of fresh air. He sighed and said, “He doesn’t follow the script.” Then things got bad. He said that I do follow the script and so I was assigned to mentor this guy and, if, after a week of mentoring, he still didn’t follow the script, they’d fire him while he’s still on probation.
Wednesday, I listened while he answered his first call. Instead of following the script, he started talking about the caller’s cat which he could hear mewling in the background. They discussed their cats for a while and then he told her I was listening and asked me about my cat. So, I talked about my cat. The three of us had cat-chat for 20 minutes and the call ended without any discussion about her complaint. Still, she responded to the post-call survey, giving us both 5 stars and declaring that she’d wholeheartedly recommend our services to others.
Things carried on this way through Thursday. We didn’t answer many calls, but we got more than one five-star review.
First thing Friday morning, he was fired and I was reprimanded.
Monday promises to be a surprise.
It was back when we used to sail all over. We'd regularly go to the edge of the known world.
The guys would say, 'Time to turn round, skipper. We don't like the look of what's going on behind that froth and bellow.'
But one time we reached the edge early Sunday morning, the guys rummed from their big night. Rummed and snoring. I was alone on the quarterdeck, apart from Polly, who doubled as cabin person and ship's cat. Polly, although small, could walk on her hind legs and always carried a pistol. I thought Polly was full of shit, but sailing the Seven Seas you meet all sorts, there's got to be give and go.
As light broke Polly realised we were getting closer.
'You're not planning anything rash, are you skipper?'
I noticed eyes showing concern, a paw drawing closer to the piece.
I re-focused to the froth ahead, decided the bellow was less daunting than previously and shouted, 'Full speed ahead.'
At least I did that in my head, I was worried about Polly and the gun. Still, we had reached the point, no turning back.
Truth? It was an anti-climax. After some mist and a bit of chop, the seas calmed and it was easy sailing. Polly had taken a bad turn as the froth hit her and was out cold on the deck.
The rest of the crew began to stir. A few gathered round, heads sore, tongues like alpaca's hats.
'Looks like we gone beyond the edge of the known world, skipper. That's against union rules.'
They laid down their spikes and their compasses. I'd steered the vessel single handed since midnight so that didn't bother me. But when Polly came round, and approached me, pistol drawn I knew the game was up. I wheeled the ship.
As we headed back to the froth, the bellowing became deafening. Perplexed looks troubled the faces of Polly and the rest of the crew.
'No you don't. Turn round. We don't like the look of what's going on behind that froth and bellow.'
'For christsakes. It's the known world. You used to like it there.'
A dozen heads shook before they grappled me to the hold. They set me free when we reached Bali Ha'i. We stayed there, settled to new lives, relished the Happy Talk.