Installment 5: Sick feelings all around

As they sat there underneath the plastic awning of the bus stop, shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee, the storm around them grew in intensity.  A clap of lightning followed by a growling roll of thunder caused Martha to cry out and throw herself into Munden’s shoulder. Shocked by this sudden, unsolicited gesture of intimacy, Munden reflexively drew away from her.  The ensuing awkward silence was broken by the sound of a diesel engine roaring up to the stop. Coming to his sense, and realizing that he was about to loose the girl, Munden took Martha’s clammy hand into his and kissed her knuckles.  Martha blushed.  The bus’s double doors opened, and the pair ascended the steps together. As Munden climbed the stairs, he couldn't help but feel the eerie sensation of being watched. He poked his head out of the bus and looked around. Before being admonished by the driver, Munden saw a shadowy figure in a small brimmed hat scanning through a newspaper. The figure cocked his head as if he was looking at Munden, but Munden didn't see any acknowledgement in the man's body language. He walked toward the back of the transit and plopped next to Martha, still feeling the man watching. When Martha asked what was wrong and Munden said "Nothing, nothing at all."

While nothing may have been wrong with Munden, there was certainly something wrong with Sir Percy.  Sir Percy, having gotten an ill feeling earlier that morning, had departed the house shortly after Munden left for the market.  Sir Percy was in search of his own cure for the hairball-induced heart burn he happened to be suffering from.  He had spent the previous evening in the company of a particularly entertaining long haired white Persian kitty, and this morning’s illness was a direct result of the previous evening’s indulgence.  The best cure for hairball-induced heart burn was a particular combination of tuna and parchment.  The fish market dumpster was the place where both these items could be found.  And it was from his perch on the fish market dumpster that Sir Percy watched the aforementioned scene between Munden and Martha play out.  Sir Percy too noticed the man in the small brimmed hat.  And Sir Percy too had a sickening feeling in deep in his gut.  A sick feeling that had nothing to do with his hairball….

HELP!

I am now taking suggestions for where the story should go from here....  Do Martha and Munden go out to an Italian restaurant?  Do I resume telling the story from Sir Percy's perspective?  I would love to hear your thoughts!!

Installment 4: The first date

Munden stood glued to the laminate tile in aisle 9 for several minutes after Martha had left.  He did not notice that he was doing this until a shopping cart crashed into left leg.  This jolted Munden into action, and muttering apologies, Munden made his way out of aisle 9 and toward the check-out registers.  As he walked, his calf began to cramp at the site that was hit by the shopping cart. 

Munden limped out of the store and toward his car when it began to rain hard.  By the time Munden had crossed the parking lot and arrived at his car, his shirt was soaked through and water was sloshing out the sides of his brown loafers.  The outline of his pocket-sized calculator was visible in his shirt’s breast pocket.  Munden fondled the device subconsciously, noting to himself that the device was likely permanently damaged from the water.  While Munden was fumbling in his pockets for his car keys, he noticed a small, round figure two parking spots back screaming and kicking the side of a car.  The figure seemed somewhat familiar to Munden, but he didn’t know why.  As the wind shifted Munden caught bits and pieces of what the figure was yelling at the side of the car.  The voice too sounded strangely familiar, but Munden could still not place it.  Munden stood there, staring at the strange little figure and thinking hard, when the figure suddenly turned towards him and he saw those haunting green eyes from aisle 9.  Recognizing Munden, the round little figure made her way over to him.

“Hi again” Martha said.  “I seem to have locked my keys in the car.  Can you give me a ride?  I have a spare set on my night stand at home.” 

“S-s-sure.”  Munden choked out, as he fervently began looking for his keys.  He shoved his sweaty hand first in his right pants pocket.  His fingers easily extended to the bottom of the pocket, but all he felt were a few loose coins and lint balls.  He giggled nervously as he shoved his hand into his left pants pocket.  Again, all he felt were a few coins and some lint.  No keys.  He giggled nervously again and took a swig of Mylanta. “Haha, must be in the b-b-back pocket.”  But unfortunately for Munden, neither back pocket contained car keys.

“I s-s-s-seem to have lost my keys as well.”  Munden choked out, in between swigs of Mylanta.

“Oh well, I guess we will have to wait for the bus.  The bus stops right on the corner of my street, but I hate riding it alone.  Although, if you would ride with me, it would feel like an adventure rather than a chore, and my mom can drive you back to your house if you want?”  Martha said.

“You l-l-l-live with your mom?”  Munden asked.

“Yes.  Do you have a problem with that?” Martha asked.

“N-n-n-no.”  Munden took another swig of Mylanta.

“Good.”  And with that, Martha turned and began walking toward the covered bus stop.  Munden followed a safe distance behind. 

The plastic covering offered decent protection against the down-pour, but conversation was out of the question due to the noise the rain made when it came into contact with the plastic awning.  Martha sat down on the bench and Munden sat down next to her.  Marth’'s voluptuous figure took up most of the narrow bench so when Munden sat down his shoulder, hip, and knee came into contact with Martha’s body.  Munden felt nervous and waited for Martha to jump up in disgust and go running from the bus stop.  But Martha did not do this.  To Munden’s surprise, she seemed to like the contact.  And so they sat, in comfortable silence, waiting on the bus, shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee listening to the rain on the plastic awning. 

 This was Munden and Martha’s first date and in Munden’s estimation, their best date.

New installment as promised!

Read the new installment and leave your comments - I look forward to incorporating all your fabulous changes!!!

Installment 3: Sir Percival III

Sir Percival III, known as Sir Percy to friends, did not appreciate being called “Fluffy.”  He found the disyllabic word crude and phonetically abrasive.  Sir Percy also found the simplistic descriptor rather insulting as he had lost all his hair in a tragic weather-related accident.  That forsaken night was not a dark and stormy night, but rather a cool and unusually warm one.  Sir Percy had spent a rather pleasurable evening with his special lady friend and was retiring to bed in the hay loft when he heard a loud crack.  The barn began to tremble and all of a sudden Sir Percy felt as though he were on fire.  The pain was unbearable.  Sir Percy recalls dragging himself to a dim yellow porch light, and with his burnt paws extended towards the heavens he recalls uttering "Why God, why!" before expiring on the lonely stoop.

Fortunately for Sir Percy, his cries to the heavens did not go unheard.  Fading in and out of consciousness, Sir Percy recalls human hands reaching for him, gently lifting him, and bringing him indoors.  The kind human who had rescued and rehabilitated Sir Percy was responsible for the misnomer, and although Sir Percy found the name distasteful, he could not begrudge the man who had saved his life.  Sir Percy accepted it as his penance that he must tolerate being called “Fluffy” by his benefactor and roommate, Munden.

While Sir Percy was a rather unusual looking cat, he thought Munden was an even more unusual looking human.  Sir Percy had lived in many places in his five years of life.  He had lived in barns, behind restaurants, and sometimes in animal shelters.  Through these wanderings, Sir Percy had encountered many humans and to him they all looked relatively the same.  Sure they would have varying heights, weights, hair color, and skin color, but for the most part they all had symmetrical physiques and similar mannerisms.  Much like many cats appear to look similar to humans, so many humans appeared similar to Sir Percy.  That is, until he met Ralph Munden. 

Munden’s left shoulder was six inches lower than his right, and slightly hunched forward.  When he walked in public, Munden would pick a spot on the ground ten feet in front of him and focus hard on that spot.  Sir Percy assumed this was to avoid contact with others of his kind.  Munden was not very social, nor did he appear to have many friends.  Sir Percy sympathized with this “lone tiger” approach to life.  When Sir Percy was young, he had tried living with a colony of other feral cats, but he found the social structure too confusing and troublesome to navigate.  It seemed to Sir Percy that every time he attempted a social interaction, whether it was grooming a good-looking female or play-fighting with the kittens, the alpha male, Lord Winston, objected.  After a particularly violent physical confrontation with Lord Winston, Sir Percy left the colony.  It was that very evening that Sir Percy found himself on Munden’s doorstep.    

Since that fateful January night, Sir Percy lived in relative peace with Munden.  They ate their breakfast at 7am, they had dinner at 5:30, and they watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy before retiring for bed.  Sir Percy consistently beat Munden at Jeopardy, but every few weeks Sir Percy let him win.  It seemed the two males were just enough company for one another.  Theirs was a truly symbiotic relationship that went unchallenged for years, until Munden brought her into their lives.  Nothing was ever the same after that; not at all the same.  From day one, Sir Percy never liked Martha Mary Phinkle.  In Sir Percy’s opinion, a woman who wore a large sun hat, stockings with opened-toed shoes, and smelled of wet dog was trouble.  Pure trouble….

 

My Apologies

Dear Readers and Blog Followers,

I am so sorry that is has been months since my last post.  Writing a story online has proven challenging to balance with my other daily responsibilities.  However, I hope some of you are still interested in Munden and Martha and what happens to them.  I am feverishly working on the next installment (which will hopefully be posted later today or first hing tomorrow!) and I eagerly await comments and plot suggestions!!!  For those of you still reading, I thank you for your patience and faithfulness.  For those of you who are new to this blog, I encourage you to read previous posts and leave comments, critiques, poetry, pithy quips, and anything else you see fit. 


Sincerely,
Your Humble Blog Author,
JB

Martha and Munden Meet

Martha Mary Phinkle was as wide as she was tall, and at 23 years of age appeared well into her thirties.  Her mousy brown hair was beginning to gray at the temples, frown lines were evident at the corners of her eyes, and if she didn’t part her hair to the side the keen observer would notice the beginnings of female pattern baldness.  But Munden saw none of this.  All Munden saw were her bright, sparkling, green eyes staring at him over the last remaining bottle of Mylanta. 

Green was Munden’s favorite color.  It reminded him of many things he liked such as chlorophyll, lime Jello, and The Incredible Hulk.  He liked all shades of green: olive, emerald, clover, Kelly, sage, hunter.   Olive green reminded him of the appliances in his mother’s kitchen.  Emerald was his favorite gemstone, although when he thought about it, he really just liked the stone for its color.  Clovers were his favorite plants and sage was his favorite herb.  In elementary school, his favorite science subject was photosynthesis because the teacher covered the room with photos of large green leaves.  While other boys his age collected baseball cards and pictures of sports cars, Munden collected advertisements and photos featuring his favorite color.  But despite his years of observation and appreciation of the color green, he had never seen the shade he now encountered in aisle 9 of the Piggly Wiggly. 

Munden was confused.  He wanted to talk to the woman, but he was also very uncomfortable for two reasons: one, he needed the Mylanta for his heartburn which was now searing through his lower esophagus and two, he was always nervous around women.  When he was twelve, he had an unfortunate collision in the cafeteria with Patty Brown, the most attractive girl in school.  Munden had just gotten his lunch tray and was staring lovingly at the shining, jiggling mound of bright green lime Jello when he collided head-on with Patty Brown.  Needless to say, parts that were private were touched, Patty screamed, Munden turned bright red and dropped his tray, the whole school laughed, the Jello landed in Patty’s hair, and Munden never voluntarily spoke to a woman since.  Now the only co-ed conversations he willingly took part in were with his mother and her bridge club friends. 

Martha looked from the bottle, to Munden, then back to the bottle, then rested her eyes on the yellow-stained laminate flooring.  With her eyes fixed on the upper corner of the square of flooring, she said, “Mmm, last bottle?”

“Yeah.”  Munden shifted his weight.

“I, uh, well, I really needed this for my dog, Scratches.  You see, he got into the trash, and well, it’s really been a disaster.”

Mylanta for a dog, this was a new one.  Munden was not sure how to proceed, so he just nodded his head.  He swallowed back some reflux.  Martha saw this and hesitated.

“Well, I guess I could get the Pepto-bismal instead.”  Martha said.  There were several rows of the product on the shelf.  Turning around, Martha grabbed a bottle.  “Cherry flavored.  Hmm, Scratches should like that!”  And she smiled.

Muden turned beet red.  Muttering thanks he grabbed the Maylox and was turning to leave when Martha spoke.

“My name’s Martha, by the way.”  She extended her hand.

“M –M-M-Munden,” He gulped.  “Ralph M-M-Munden.”  He shook her hand awkwardly.  Martha’s hand was small and sweaty.  This didn’t bother Munden, as his was cold and clammy.  It felt odd, but good, to have Martha’s hand secured in his.  Munden swallowed some more reflux.

“Very nice to meet you Ralph, I hope to see you again soon.”  And with that, Martha turned and walked to the cash register, clutching the Pepto-bismal in her left hand.  Munden remained in the middle of aisle 9, staring stupidly after her.

Knitting Needles and Stephen King Novels - First Installment

Dr. Ralph Munden of the Mathematics department was going through a divorce; a rather nasty, expensive divorce.  It wasn’t that his wife of ten plus years had cheated on him, nor because he had cheated on her, nor because he was gay.  He was divorcing her because she killed his cat, Fluffy. 

-------

Fluffy was not fluffy. In fact, Fluffy had no hair at all.  He was not a sphinx, but rather the victim of a tragic electrical accident.  On a stormy January day, in 1979, the stray cat searched for shelter from the hail and rain, when he charged into an old wooden shed.  Unfortunately, the tin roof of the dry, wooden shed attracted lightning as efficiently as a lightening rod.  He was lucky to escape with his life.

Fluffy adopted Dr. Munden shortly after his accident, when Dr. Munden was just Munden.  Ralph Steven Munden had no money; he had no girlfriend.  His only hobby, besides writing his thesis entitled “Sines of Calculus; Signs of Life,” was reading Stephen King novels.   

            One afternoon in February of 1979, through the machine gun fire of rain and the thudding inside his head, Munden heard a noise.

“Rheeeew…rheeeew” he heard.  He shook his head, making sure the noise wasn’t coming from in there.

But he heard it again, “Rheeew…rheeew…rheeeeeeeeew.” 

He walked to the back door.  Peering out his window, Munden saw a bald, burned cat shivering on his stoop; trying to shelter itself from the storm.  Red blemishes polluted its skin.  The pitiful, repulsive thing paralyzed Ralph Munden.  He wanted to walk away; pretend he hadn’t heard it, hadn’t seen it.  He commanded his legs to turn around.  And yet, Munden found himself picking up the ball of reddish-yellow infection and pain.  The smell of burnt flesh followed him as he brought the thing inside.

That was the first time Munden had ever shared his living space with another organism, until he met Martha Phinkle four years later.

A new plan

I woke up today thinking about the history of publishing as I am sure each one of you did as well.  In the hay day of British novels, it was customary to publish the novel in serial installments.  For example, Charles Dickens' Great Expectations was published in weekly serial editions for 36 weeks!  Given this information, I wondered if one could write a full length novel online by publishing it in serial editions.   The limited web search that I performed courtesy of Google search and Guinnessworldrecords.com seems to indicate that only a few brave, previously well published souls have succeeded.  (Please note: There are many amateur writers that have blogs and websites on which they publish serial installments of stories.)

So, I thought I would try publishing my own story in serial installments but with a twist!

What is the twist you ask?  Well, I will tell you....

While I do not plan on posting anything nearly as long as the first installment of Great Expectations, I will post the start of a story, and I will add to it as inspiration strikes (a write-as-you-publish approach!).  If the anvil of inspiration happens to strike you, my dear blog followers, please leave a comment containing plot suggestions, character suggestions or any criticism/critique that you have!  I will then incorporate these ideas into the story as it unfolds.  I hope this interactive storytelling will be a rewarding experience for all!!!

And now, let the narrating commence!

I or She?

Today's question:

Do you prefer to read stories told in first person (Ex: "I saw Miss Chambers strangle her maid!") or do you prefer to read stories told in third person omniscient (Ex: Mr. Spellman saw Miss Chambers strangle her maid.") and why?

Paper or Plastic?

Today's question:


Do you prefer to read books (actual, physical paper ones) or do you prefer your Kindle (or other comparable portable electronic device) and why?

Day 1 - First question EVER!

Today's question is as follows:

Do you read for leisure, and if so, what type of literature do you leisurely read?

These times they are a'changing

This blog was developed to learn more about the average American reader.  This is a brave new world for a writer as the nature of what and how Americans read is changing every second.  Not only do Americans seem to have less time in their day for leisure reading, but physical books are becoming virtually obsolete as gadgets like the Ipad and Kindle soar in popularity.  And what about public libraries?  Will I live to see a day when communities no longer have libraries?! Given these rapidly evolving circumstances surrounding the future of American literature, this blogger believes it is imperative to try and document these changes.   Each day I will post a question pertaining to how or why or what we read and I look forward to reading everyone's creative responses! 

*Comments left as poems, haiku, sonnets, or other forms of creative expression are greatly encouraged.