Anyone interested in adding a paragraph or two for a wildly random story? I'll start. I was lost. Every direction I turned looked the same. Trees, snow, cold, swirling, spinning, suddenly I saw lights faded in the distance. There were letters, was it real? The letters in neon flashed,"...FLE HO..." in the distance. I lowered my head and made my way like a hungry man in a blizzard whose only goal in life was to make his way to a FLE HO restaurant, a miracle in sight, if only I could ignore the pain of trudging again through the grinding snow. As I drew closer, letters on the FLE HO sign became clearer, and other blurry letters came through. I could see what looked like, "AFFLE HOU E" blinking against the night sky. Suddenly the thought of my family and pancakes and biscuits and gravy flooded my mind. Then...
I ramped off some unseen bump, clinging precariously to my half-moon hubcap-style sled (1970's retro) and went soaring through the air and crashed right through the big front window of the Waffle House to crash-land against a few (fortunately unoccupied) tables that had chairs stacked upside-down on top (until I set it all skittering across the tiled floor). I did my best to look dignified as I wobbled my way toward my feet and snow fell off me in a cascade. It took a while, and the room wouldn't stop spinning, but I caught sight of a few shocked faces goggling at me. There were only a few diners at this late hour, probably fortunate or I might have killed someone. A waitress strode toward me and helped me somewhat steady myself. The room was beginning to slow down a bit but my last meal wanted to make a return visit. And theeeennn... (Oops! Didn't notice you said 'trudging' above. my bad!)
"That was a helluva stunt," a man said. He was dressed in a red, white, and blue jumpsuit and leaning against the wall with an easy smile. I shrugged. "I just got tired of trudging," I told him. He grinned and took a deep swig from a hip flask I hadn't noticed before. "Still a helluva stunt," he said. "Always nice to see someone follow in my footsteps." Then he mimed tipping a cap to me and strolled out the door into the snow. "Who was —?" I said. "Are you okay?" the waitress said as she approached. She started fussing over me and inspecting me for serious injuries with the practiced eye of one who has raised young boys. "You're just a regular Evel Knieval, aren't you?" My eyes popped wide, and I turned to look out the window. My new friend was nowhere to be seen; he hadn't even left a single footprint in the snow. --- And then...
The saucer sled was like crumpled tinfoil. It would never glide again. I made a quick mental note to reimburse the little brat I had taken it from, but hey, I had a pressing need for it at the time. Cold wind and a powdering of fresh snow swirled in through the window I had smashed. I stepped out of the melting snow and the ever-expanding puddle, sat down at a table far enough away so it wouldn't get engulfed, and orderd a stack of 'cakes. Boisenberry. Little sprinkle of powdered sugar on top. As the fat man in the once-white apron behind the counter started clattering things around and sweating even more, I sarted to assess the mistakes I had made over the last few hours. Boy there were some real doozies! As my mind was occupied with that, my hand reached of its own accord into my pocket and pulled out the little rectangle of paper, glossy on one side. That side had her picture on it, looking as innocent and sweet as a puppydog who just peed on the rug but you don't know it yet. It took a moment to tear my eyes away—that face always affected me that way. It was an addiction no 12 step program was gonna cure me of. But my hand flipped the picture over and the other side came into focus. Blue ballpoint, in a flowing script that belonged to that perfect face. I read over it again, as if the words weren't already burned into my retinas. As I was occupied with my own thoughts a couple of guys came up from the back with a big sheet of plywood and started nailing it up over the broken window. Suddenly it shattered to pieces and a bobsled flew in, smashed a few more tables, and came to a stop against the far wall... (That's an implied 'And then')
...with its front skis buried about three feet up from the floor. It was a fairly pathetic sight watching the driver try to throw the sled into reverse to become unstuck. Then I noticed a lock of the driver's platinum blonde hair peeking from under the back of the helmet. Could that be her? In a moment of exasperation the driver yanked her helmet off and flipped her hair, creating an image reminiscent of a Prell Shampoo commercial that had been stuck in my head since I was a child. That perfect face! I tried to climb over the growing pile of debris toward her but slipped and stepped on a rake, which snapped into my face like a giant mousetrap, rendering me nearly unconscious. As I attempted to regain my composure, I stumbled again and fell head first into a large aluminum garbage can, knocking it over and beginning deafening "BANG! CLANG! BANG!" sounds as it rolled across the floor with my legs still sticking out from the top, coming to rest with a thud against a large pile of bags of flour, which burst and blew a huge cloud of white powder into the air. This brought back terrified memories of being stuck in a blizzard, but I gained comfort when I looked into my clenched fist and realized I had been able to save the picture of that beautiful face. I wondered who put the "eau" in the word "beautiful" when a mere "u" would work. Then...
She snatched the picture from my hand, uncrumpled it a little, glared at me, and said "How did you get this picture? I wrote on the back of it for my husband in class yesterday, and then I couldn't find it. Then I remembered you stumbling up to my desk with all those stupid questions about sine curves and the quadratic equation. Did you forget I'm your English teacher?" I stammered a few times. I could never speak right near her, everything came out jumbled. Just then the waitress brought my stack of 'cakes and set them on my table, so I motioned Mrs Sussuruss to join me. I tried to invite her, but I think I said something about gravitaional rotation or something instead. Not sure. She just stood glaring at me, so I sat down and stuffed a huge forkful of dripping pancake into my mouth, trying not to turn red. I was saved from my embarrassment by a growling sound. Everyone turned, because it came from inside the restaraunt. At a table nearby a huge mass of fur shifted, slowly rose to it's hind legs, and beady little eyes stared out directly at me. "Guh-guh... Grizzly Adams?" I managed. As long as I wasn't talking to her I could do better. "No," Suzy said. That was her first name—Suzy Sussuruss. We sometimes called her Sassafrass. "It's my husband, George. Well, people do sometimes call him Grizzly, because he looks so much like him. Especially when he wears all the furs like now. They also sometimes call him Squib, but I've never been able to figure out why and he won't tell anyone." and then...
... because he couldn’t be bothered reading any of the posts before his, he had to wing it. It was a miserable day anyway, but then...
