A Few Beginnings to Kick-Start Your NaNoWriMo Journey
Paragraphs for Pennies
I wonder if God must have been having a bad day when he decided to make caster sugar and salt look exactly the same. I imagine the person who invented the label-maker must have had the same thought before the idea hit them for the label-maker. I can only imagine, too, that this was after tasting their salty Mars-bar slice. Memory is a fickle thing, but one never forgets such harrowing moments in one’s cooking endeavours. You must be thinking this story is about me trying to find a label-maker — and you’d be right, but I consider myself of above-average intelligence. I already have masking tape and a black marker to make my own labels. No, this story is about spiting God.
At first, the library seemed to be my sort of place. A refuge of the mind, or a needle full of adrenaline for the soul. When someone lit the nonfiction section on fire, though, it became a place solely of metaphors, hyperboles, and an unnecessary number of crime novels. The fiction survived, while the facts receded into ash.
“Hey Mary!” I yelled, pointing at the dog sprinting alongside the jogger. “It’s a cocker spaniel.”
Mary turned to look, and shook her head.
“A sausage dog,” she said.
That was not the first time Mary corrected me, but it was the first time she corrected me and made me hungry at the same time.
Jimmy was standing on the roof when I arrived home. When I asked him what he was doing, he said, “I’m fixing a hole.”
I then proceeded to remind him that we lived on the ground floor of the apartment block. In his laughter, he fell of the roof. So now I’m trying to get the paramedics to stop laughing.
Peter kicked a loose pebble; it clattered off into the bush to disappear in the underbrush. “Do you ever think,” he started, “That we’re going to die one day?”
“Yes Pete,” I said. “How do you think rational people get through life without thinking that?”
“Great,” he said. “But what about if I’m going to die in one day?”