Homer Simpson: King of the half-assed plan.
"But Marge, the winner gets to be the President's 'Food Contest Czar! You know it's been a lifetime dream of mine to rule over things!"
"Your dream was to survive being swallowed by a whale, and you did that on our cruise to the Bahamas last year!"
"It is what it is, Marge."
"Well, they are low in calories. It might even be a diet...OK, Homie."
Homer was determined to become the Springfield Pickle-Eating Champion. For two weeks he ate nothing but an endless chain of pickles.
"Hmmmmmmm. Pickles." (Slobbering)
The contest was a breeze. Born without the voice that says things like, "Danger" and "Don't be an idiot," Homer cruised past the other contestants, most of whom were either homeless and/or crazy.
Mayor Quimby congratulated Homer. "I, errr, present this pickle trophy to Homer Simpson. Your, errr, service to the town of Springfield is remarkable. I've been authorized by President Obama to pronounce you...National Food-Contest Czar!"
The Simpsons were jetted to the White House. The President greeted Homer in the Oval Office.
"Homer, your achievement is remarkable. Your story, inspiring."
"Great. Now what should I rule first? Alabama? Mexico?"
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Jacob was late getting home from work one evening. He had called ahead and let his mother know that she needed to bring the children to the house and get them settled for the night. It was days like this that the guilt set in and he didn't know how he would get through the night, let alone another week. Sometimes he felt like there was a chain around his neck a mile long.
Walking through the door, he heard the TV on in the living room. He followed the noise until he came upon the scene of his two little girls all shinny and clean snuggled up together on the couch. He smiled at the picture they made. And he felt a pang that he would not be able to share these moments with Rachel.
The television caught his attention, and he was at once exasperated. There on the screen was Homer Simpson, with his fat belly hanging out of his tee shirt, drinking beer with his buddies and lamenting life's sorrows. Walking into the girls vision he asked "Girls, where is your Nana at?" grabbing the remote, he changed the channel. His smallest Lacy jumped up from the couch with her arms stretched out and flung herself at him. "She's in the Potty daddy, and we were watching cartoons." Again he sighed and looked into his little girls eyes "You know you girls are not supposed to watch those cartoons, they are only for adults." On the couch his other daughter had been watching with detachment. "Oh daddy, what's the big deal anyways. Nana says that just as long as we know that its not OK to act like that, its OK to watch it." Setting Lacy down, he plopped next to Julie his older and know it all child. Pulling her into his lap he planted a kiss on the top of her head and changed the subject. "You smell like you have been eating pickles for dinner." She smiled at him, and he thought how, maybe with their hugs, and little girl smiles, he might, just might, be able to get through this all and be the father he needed to be.
Bravo, Sharon! Very creative - and thoughtful.
366 words, though. Keep chopping that extraneous stuff until you've got a tight story.
Still, thanks for posting!
How does this work, do you just post four words in the comments section?
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