“Aww, that’s adorable,” I said to my brother, Trevor. His corgi—a breed of dog that looks something like a collie that shrunk on its first run through the drier—was playfully chewing a blue rubber ball that was just big enough to clog his entire throat.
After contacting my brother for press release photos of the subject with his beloved blue ball, I was disappointed to discover that all he had was gimmick photos.
I set the bag down that held my clothes for the weekend at Mom and Dad’s and hung up my jacket. Trevor was staying the weekend, too, and brought his dog for the stay. Trevor was halfway down the stairs as we talked, poking his head through the wooden railings and staring diligently at the corgi.
“You’ll think it’s cute now,” he said, pointing to the chewed ball and turning toward me slowly. And then, I swore the room darkened while a crisp draft floated between us, chilling the hairs on my spine. And the all normal sounds of the Alber residence went dull as Trevor leaned closer to me. His tone was dark, grating, like he was afraid the dog might hear him.
It’s weird when you know—can absolutely feel in the pit of your gut—that the day you are currently living is one of the worst you’ll ever have. Sure, I was only in seventh grade. Sure, my life had been peaches and dandelions up until that point. But I knew that no single event would ever cause more pain, more suffering, or more deadness inside of a child’s soul than that which I was currently experiencing.
The results of the spelling bee had come in.
What’s wrong with me? I stared down at the paper before me and chewed at my lip as I read Ms. Duffy’s sickeningly joyful purple penmarks for the final time.
“23 out of 25, Nolan. Well done! You’re going to the county spelling bee!”
This is a blog.
I am writing this blog because I like to write, and because I have a lot of stories to tell. Most of the stories that will appear on this blog will be based around small little life moments that snowball out of control — sometimes in a dangerously hilarious way, sometimes in a Hallmark-esque fashion where I’m taught a small little lesson (then forget it in under a week).