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Stories on this page:
Taco and a Movie!
The Ultimate Shot!
Taco and a Movie
It all started with a simple suggestion. "Let's go Christmas shopping and then see that new movie," said Dan as we walked toward our cars after school one day.
"Sure, why not?" I replied.
As I started to pull out of the packed parking lot Mel ran up to the car and asked if I could pick him up at the 500 wing in a couple of minutes. "Sure," I reply as I pull out of the lot with all the presence the van posseses. No one dares pull in front of me. Stopping at Dan's house one minute away I asked why are we at your house.
"I don't know, let's just go in your car."
"Sure, why not?" I reply as I pull back onto the street on the way to the 500 wing to pick up Mel. As it turned out, Mel and Carl needed a ride so they piled in and we headed for Mel's house. Mel had to watch his brother so he couldn't go shopping and Carl had to go home too but he decided he wanted to see the movie with Dan and I. "Sure," I said, "We'll call you."
Then it was off to the store for Christmas shopping with Dan. We decided what we wanted and got each other the presents accordingly with a $5.00 limit of course. We also picked up gifts for our loved ones and friends. The 25 cent sodas were a treat even though it was 20F outside. We then headed for home to arrange the movie deals by 4:30 but had to stop at the Taco Bell Express at the Quik Chek for the fiesta after four deal. After finishing our tacos we realized we were late, yet well fed.
Reaching home around 4:50 we quickly exchanged gifts and started calling our friends to finalize the movie plans before leaving. Stan agreed to pick up the tickets ahead of time and Dan and I told him to buy six and he could return them if we didn't get all the people to come. After many phone calls and call backs we found that only Stan, Dan, Carl, and I would be able to go. Ok then, away we go to pick up Carl with a quick stop at Mel's house to give him his newly acquired Christmas present. Picked up Carl at 5:15, movie starts at 5:30 at a theatre 20 minutes away that none of us were sure how to get to.
Deciding to get at least one more person we proceded to Gary's house, only to find he was working and couldn't go with us. Fine, 5:25 and we still have to get gas, not too bad, who wants to see the previews anyway?
At 5:35 we finished at the gas station and were on our way to the theatre. Is that the exit, whew, yup. The traffic wasn't that bad until we got to the exit we were told to take off 287 south. Then we made an average speed of 2 mph. After passing two separate accidents we saw the shopping plaza of the theatre on our right. Quick, turn! Of course there was a divider after we turned and to make the required left turn we drove around the scenic driveway of an insurance agency. Finding the entrance to the plaza, we found it was not the plaza we were looking for. Quick, how do we get out?
I drove around back and found a break in the line of trees separating the plaza parking from the parking lot nextdoor. As it turned out, the break in the trees included a curb and a bush that the van promptly took care of. Finding ourselves in a hotel parking lot with all of its exits seemingly sealed with lines of cones we headed toward the valet parking entrance. Sure enough, the valet looked at me expectantly as I pulled up. I smiled and kept driving.
After leaving the hotel we found the second right for the second plaza; quick, take it! However, the devious divider was back and the neccessary left turn into the plaza after the light was missed. After turning around with a school bus bearing down on us we retook the road and made the turn into the plaza. Driving toward the theatre we grabbed a spot and jumped out at 6:00, only one half hour late. Faithful Stan who had been looking from the movie every five minutes or so came out, gave us our tickets, and we proceded to watch the last 50 minutes of the movie. It was hilarious.
After the movie, Stan suggested we go to an eatery he knew of. We agreed and decided to follow him there. Just incase we lost him, Stan told us what exit off 287 to take. Great, let's go!
Due to the lack of pick-up on the van we promptly got separated by two cars on the highway. Questions of "Is that Stan?", "Where is he?", and "Oh shoot, is that the exit?" filled the car as we drove along the highway in a highspeed chase of sorts. Deciding that was indeed the exit, we took it.
"Is that Stan still on the highway?"
"Maybe, no, wait, he's three cars in front of us!"
Following Stan onto another road we merged into traffic one car behind his. After following for what seemed like a long time we began to doubt if we were indeed following Stan. When Stan turned onto a side street with no sight of the eatery in question, we began to worry. When Stan pulled up at a house and looked out his car window with a surprised expression on his face, we realized we had not been following Stan for 5 miles but some terrified stranger. Pulling back onto the main road we stopped at another eatery to collect our thoughts and maybe a burger.
In the restaurant we got food and sat down. Dan decided we should ask where Stan's eatery is so we could meet him there after we ate. I approached the attendent and posed my question:
"Excuse me, do you know where the Hoagie Hut is?"
'shake of the head' 'point to the left'
"Yes, what are you looking for?"
"Uhh... The Hoagie Hut?"
"Hold on, I'll get someone else."
Manager walks up:
"Yes, what are you asking for?"
"I just wondered if you knew where the Hoagie Hut is? It's another eatery around here."
"Uh, no, I don't know any Hoagie Hut, but I believe the woman with the red hair and black coat may know, ask her."
A little taken aback after this suggestion I said:
"Ask the woman with the red hair and the black coat."
Deciding to go along with the manager I headed over to a perfect strangers table.
"Excuse me miss, I was told you could tell me where the Hoagie Hut is?"
"Eh? Hoagie Hut... no... are you sure you don't mean Texas Weiner?"
"Um, yes, it was definitely the Hoagie Hut," I replied trying to hold in a smile.
"What's that you say?" put in the woman's husband, "Hoagie Hut? No, we don't have any of those around here!"
"Yes, well. Thank you for your time."
I sat back down at our table. Dan and Carl were trying not to laugh as was I so we decided to leave as soon as possible. Unfortunately the exit we chose led us into playland. Unable to find an exit from playland we were forced to reenter the restaurant and use the original way we came in. As we were leaving the woman with the red hair and black coat stopped us and asked me if I had ever found the Hoagie Hut. Considering it had only been five minutes, I replied "I hadn't but thank you anyway" and raced for the car.
After spending countless seconds perusing your page a certain tidbit of
information embedded itself forcefully in my cerebral region. Either that or
it was that damn thumbtack in my hat again. Oh well. What interested me
most was the mention of ducks. You see, I have a veritable plethora of
duck-related parables, allegories, narratives, and stories to report to you.
As such, I will begin.
It all began five years ago, when I took the liberty of providing a home for
two white call ducks. "Quack," said the ducks. From chicken wire and wooden
stakes I built a home for them, complete with an inground pond and winter
chalet. The ducks showed their appreciation by saying, "Quack." Over and
over again, "Quack." Boy, those ducks sure were nice. They would eat
duckweed (green stuff that floats on top of the stream) and quack a lot.
They would go down to the stream for a quick swim and then come back at
night. Very nice ducks, indeed. Then one night one duck didn't return. The
other duck was quite sad. That was, until he was eaten my a neighbor's dog.
So we needed new ducks. The replacement ducks were no longer white, but
instead a strange, psychadelic green-black color. "Honk," said the ducks.
What? Ducks aren't supposed to honk. But these ducks do. Oh well. Anyway
these ducks aren't so nice. They tend to bite often, and even though they
don't have teeth (big ones, anyway) they can pinch pretty hard. And they
honk. I mean, what's the deal with that?
So that's my duck experience. They don't huddle around any liquified food
products to keep warm, at least as far as I know. However, when it gets
really cold, they come inside the house and swim around in the bathtub.
Really. Just in case you wanted to know.
Thanks go to Leigh Nelson (who wrote it, duh!)
This story takes place in a school cafeteria, much like any school cafeteria.
There were kids eating, talking, goofing around, and basically doing what
any students would do in a school cafeteria. However, unbenounced to anyone
in the room, a milk carton was planning something. A devious plan was forming
in its cardboard head; a plan that would leave its mark all over one unsuspecting
table. The students at this table were acting as they usually did, talking,
goofing around, having fun, when the milk carton put its plan into action.
One student under the mental command of said milk carton picked up the carton
and found that is was 3/4 full. Finding this fact intriging he began to balance
it between the two adjacent tables he was sitting at. All enjoying a good
balancing trick, three other table-sitters joined in. Soon the milk carton was
sitting in between the two tables, being held up by pressure from each side,
just where it wanted to be. Suddenly, a fourth student, not knowing the
milk carton's evil intentions, slammed one table from the end as hard as he
could! The ensuing pressure against the milk carton forced its two sides together.
The lack of space inside the newly squished milk carton left no place for
the enclosed milk to go except out. The resulting plume of milk, spread in
a fan-like design, attained a sight of several feet above the table before deciding
to return to whence it had come.
One student remarked that "I saw the milk
go up and knew it had to come back down, so I ducked. It landed all over my
legs and notebook, but boy was it funny!" Another said later that "I couldn't
see at first, but then I saw the plume above the person's head who was sitting
next to me. I'm just glad I didn't get sprayed."
There was milk all over the table and two of the students. The milk carton's
plan had worked, or so he thought. His diabolical plot to get the students
in trouble was doomed to fail, for no one save the six students at the table
had seen the blast. It was as if an invisible shield had saved the fiasco
from ever being uncovered. The only outsider to even suspect what had happened
was the janitor who approached a table covered with chocolate milk surrounded
by six hysterically-laughing kids. After removing the squished milk carton
from between the tables and swabbing up the milk the janitor left amid many
exclaims of thanks, left to form his own conclusions...
The Ultimate Shot
This story takes place on an island in Maine, an island where my family and
I sometimes go for a vacation or a quick game of
Ultimate Croquet. For you see,
this island has multiple large hills and plush grass, the perfect area for
a game of Ultimate Croquet. On this particular day I was playing with my brother,
uncle, cousin, and a friend. We had the perfect course: with a porch-step jump,
a bucket leap, a driveway stumper, and a stumped wicket. This story deals with
the stumped wicket. A stumped wicket is a wicket that is kept on top of a
stump. Therefore one must hit the ball up the side-tilt of the stump and through
the wicket. The skill lies in, not only getting the ball up the stump's side, but
then getting it to roll through the wicket.
At this certain wicket I was getting frustrated. I was behind in the game and
this one wicket was just making me mad. No matter what I did I couldn't get
the ball to go through it. I went over, around, and clinked off its edge, but not
through it. Finally, after getting my ball lost under the house twice, I ended up
by the garage. I told everyone that I was going to hit the ball through the
wicket or just forget about it. I thought I would just hit the ball away and
sort of sulk around, but oh no... I sighted the ball to the wicket, wound up,
and let fly with the mallet. My ball sped over the ground toward the stump, hit a clump
of grass or root, launched itself into the air, sailed gracefully through the wicket,
landed on the other side of the stump, and rolled into some weeds. The ball
had not touched the stump or the wicket, yet had flown through a 5in by 5in
space of air to gain me another turn. Let me tell you, if my cousin, uncle, brother, and
friend had not been there to see it too, I wouldn't have believed my own eyes.
Now that was a shot!
Hey? What am I doing here? LET ME OUT! You can't keep me here
forever you ------ -------!!! Oh... its you... figures... Ever wonder why
ducks eat cheese? I know the answer. 42. That's right, 42 is the ENTIRE
reason why ducks eat Velveeta cheese. Whats that? You don't know what I'm
talking about? Let me explain....: You see, humans are only the FOURTH
most intelligent species on the planet. Mice are third, cows place
second, and ducks are numero uno. Ducks, being so intelligent, prefer to
spend time pondering the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and
Everything. (They already know that the answer is 42, of course) So they
had no time to make their favorite food, Velveeta cheese. They began to
starve, but then saw that the cows made Velveeta cheese, but did not eat
it, and therefore had plenty to spare. The ducks helped themselves to it
and the cows, immediately outraged, came chasing after them. Now no
matter how smart the ducks were, they were physically no match for the
cows. So they ran, using their superior speed to their advantage. The
cows chased them all the way to New Jersey (the story began in Minnesota,
I forgot to mention that earlier...) and upon getting there a few of the
ducks decided to settle down. My ancestors were among those ducks.
Anyway, when the ducks got to the beach on New Jersey, they were
cornered. They ran under the cows and back to Minnesota, more settling
down here and there secretly along the way. The cows, at the beach,
decided that if they DID catch the ducks, they would want weapons, so
they picked up some extra-sharp seashells at the seashore which were sold
to them by a girl named Susan who is completely unimportant to the rest
of this story. The cows chased after the ducks, and eventually split up
into smaller groups, as the ducks did, too. By now many of the cows have
reverted to animal intelligence and have grown obese. The ducks have
remained nimble and intelligent and have spread out throughout the US,
most seeking employment in government services. In fact, 97% of the FBI
is made up of ducks, and the same is true of 98% of the CIA. However, a
few cows kept chasing, and a few ducks kept running, and if you stay up
at night until 12:42, and you are very quiet, you may just see a herd of
ducks running down the street chased by cows. And if you do, say hi for
me. And do the ducks a favor.. throw them some cheese.....
A Kwakky Little Duck