- I apologise in advance for anything I might say that might offend anyone; last night was really fun!
It could have gone this way:
The Eyssels have been insisting we join them for dinner for a long time a last night my husband finally announced he had the time.
Dinner was fine. We drank some wine and ate too much, especially of the Nutella cheesecake. It was extremely sweet, but Mr Eyssel insisted I eat a number of slices. My husband only smiled indulgently as I failed to refuse a second and third slice.
As dinner was drawing to an end, a fierce wind came up, followed by hail. Worried about our new car, my husband and I dashed for the car keys to move it to safety, but it seemed my husband held back just enough that I ended up being the one running outside into the wind and hail.
Icy bits pelted me and the wind beat at me. A small branch had fallen next to the car next to the driver’s door, but as I tried to remove it, it broke in my hands. As I struggled with the branch, I was starting to shiver from the cold as my husband and the Eyssels merely watched. I suppose they didn’t even realise how much the hail hurt or how I struggled to get the branch out of the way.
We waited out the rest of the storm over some very strong coffee. A few spots hurt from the hail and I suppose I’ll be bruised in the morning.
We got home late and I immediately went to bed. My intention was to read a bit before sleeping, but my husband kissed me and told me ‘good night.’ I felt obliged to drink my sleeping pill.
After I had turned off my bedside light, I remembered something. I turned around and asked my husband whether the dogs have had their medication. The light from the movie he was watching flickered across his face and he assured me he’ll take care of it. As the darkness started to pull me under, I saw him smile. I often talk to him for a few minutes during that half-drugged time before I finally fall asleep and he was probably anticipating another night of embarrassing revelations from me.
Or maybe this is more accurate:
The Eyssels have been inviting us to dinner for a while now, and finally hubby got around to making a date for last night.
Dinner was fun. We drank some nice red wine, ate too much and hubby got drunk on some Nutella cheesecake. I don’t get it: he doesn’t drink alcohol at all, but instead he gets funky in the head from sugar. When Mr Eyssel offered us a second helping of the sweet sensation, I protested, but hubby – being the sugar junky he is – accepted another piece. It kicked him right in the brain and he sat and smiled happily as I struggled to convince Mr Eyssel I didn’t need another piece. Of course I lost the battle, but I’m not sure whether it had been Mr Eyssel or the lots and lots of sugary-sweet gooey Nutella that finally convinced me to indulge in a second and third slice.
Just then a nasty wind started to blow, followed by hail. Or pretty new car was parked outside in the open, and hubby and I immediately dashed for the car keys to get The Enterprise to safety. Yes, we named it after the Star Trek starship, but unlike Kirk, we won’t get a new one after we’ve wrecked ours.
I was the first to reach the keys and, after seeing hubby’s sugar-induced non-evil clownish grin, I ran outside.
Hail bloody hurts. Granted, it’s pieces of ice falling from the sky, but I didn’t realise even relatively itsy-bitsy pellets could bruise like that! To make matters worse, a smallish branch had blown up against the driver’s side door. Making matter even worser, the piece I pulled on broke off in my hand! There I stood, yelping as the hail pelted me, with a dumb one-leafed twig in my hand and hubby and the Eyssels grinning at me from the safety of the porch. Granted, they couldn’t see my epic struggle with the branch, but at least they could have cheered me along a bit more. You know: “Lizzy, Lizzy, she’s our gal! If she can’t do it no-one can!” I wouldn’t even have required pom-poms from them.
After The Enterprise has been safely tucked beneath the porch roof, we went in to wait out the storm with some absurdly strong coffee. I felt kind of bouncy from the caffeine and I was planning on reading a bit – or a lot – after we got home.
Though we left soon after, it was already late when we got home. Armed with Eddings I crawled into bed, but somehow hubby thought I was getting ready to sleep. After all, he was pooped, for he didn’t have any of those awake-for-a-week coffee. He drank rooibos tea, which is stimulant-free.
He lightly kissed me on the forehead and told me: ‘goodnight’ and now I felt too bad to tell him I’ll probably bounce till tomorrow morning. So I took my sleeping pill and hoped the drug will win the fight with the coffee.
As the coffee finally lay bruised and battered in the corner and the sleeping drugs victoriously dragged me down to sleep, a thought occurred to me. I turned to hubby and asked him if the doggies have had their medicine. Smiling at me, the light of the movie he was watching playing over his face, he told me he’d take care of it. As I turned around, he was still smiling, probably wondering what dumb things I’m going to try and discuss with him in that time just before sleep takes me, but after the pill had turned off my brain for the night!
I could probably have turned the small little tale into a romance, drama, supernatural horror or even a sci-fi story. It’s all in how the information is presented. Deciding on the tone is important and incredibly fun! But that’s also the problem I’ve had with some stories, especially the movie Australia. It starts out with a tone that’s much like that of a fluffy romance, then turns into a western, takes a turn at being a war-drama and finally ends with some moralistic yap-yap about the injustice to the Aborigines. Am I allowed to call the native (as such) Ausies that? And I really hate the injustice, but the movie didn’t start out as a call for justice. It just blundered into it and it was annoying as can be – and poor old Hugh Jackman, after hours of Australia, didn’t even have a name! He was just the Drover!
On the other hand – to use another movie as an example – The Mummy managed to blend comedy and horror perfectly. What could have been a gory, bloody mess of a horror turned out to be a fun, funny movie with a surprisingly sexy mummy. The difference with Australia? It presented the entire movie in the same tone and that made it a cohesive narrative.
Now I bet I can turn most stories into different genre-tales. I suppose some of you might have done this during some creative writing classes, but unfortunately I have to make it up as I go. Probably de-colonizing the English language as I go (okay, that’s a debate for another time, and also a supremely dumb one). Heh-heh! Either way, I love twisting and manipulating language into doing what I want from it, and I’ll gladly take up any challenge anyone throws at me. Maybe you’ll win. But maybe you won’t…