This entry is modeled on "Big Boy," by David Sedaris. For this one, I want you to tell a story about something odd and funny that has happened to you. Like the incident David Sedaris retells, it should be fairly mundane. Avoid a big moral of the story here. Your only job is to tell the story in an amusing way.
Your must contain at least one example of each of the following techniques: parallel structure, assonance and dialogue.
Shoot for between 650 and 750 words. (Sedaris' essay is 713.)
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This story also appears on the website 404words.com, which features "palm-sized stories" of 404 words or fewer. In order to be able to submit the story to this site, I had to trim it down so that it no longer fits my suggested word count range.
Note: The website accompanies the story with what looks to be a pleasant and appetizing latte. It's basically the polar opposite of the coffee I describe in the story. Mine looked more like this:
Capp-oat-ccino
Nick
and I were driving back from a rather disappointing day in Pittsburgh.
It was supposed to have been a weekend, and we were supposed to have
seen a baseball game, but Mother Nature had other plans. Instead, it had
been a day of wandering around in the rain, and eating everything in
sight, which had its merits – but ultimately felt a little lacking
without the baseball.
About
halfway between Pittsburgh and D.C. we stopped in Breezewood,
Pennsylvania, a trucker’s mecca with some of the best rest stops
anywhere. Of particular note is the largest Sheetz gas station I’ve ever
seen. Needless to say, after a two hour drive, on a dark, wet evening, a
stop was in order. This Sheetz seemed likely to stock just the sort of
artificial, sugary cappuccino that I seem to crave only on road trips.
Sure enough: the machine inside had ten flavors of Cappuccino, each
crazier than the next. It seemed unadventurous to select a flavor as
mundane as French Vanilla or Hazelnut. So I pressed the button for the
“Brown Sugar Raisin Oatmeal” Cappuccino. I paid at the counter and
eagerly awaited my first sip.
I
took that sip in the parking lot, which was a good thing – because I
wasn’t expecting to find solid chunks floating in my coffee. Big solid
chunks, which I spat out onto the pavement. Clearly, the milk must have
been curdled. On one level, this was oddly comforting – I hadn’t
previously been certain that machine cappuccino was made with genuine
milk. Apparently it was. However, this didn’t override the fact that I
was now trying my best not to chew on pieces of this milk. I walked back
inside to demand an explanation.
“There are chunks in my coffee. The milk is all curdled,” I said to the matronly cashier, placing my cup down on the counter.
“What kind did you try sir?”
“What?”
“Did you buy the Oatmeal flavor?” she asked, in what I took to be a somewhat judgmental tone.
“Yes. Why?”
It’s Brown Sugar Raisin Capp-OAT-ccino. It has oats in it,” she said, tiredly.
“What? Why?”
“Would you like to try another flavor, sir?”
Adventure
over. I chickened out and filled a new cup with some boring flavor of
cappuccino. Still, no regrets. I’ve already forgotten every cup of
French Vanilla I’ve ever had, but I’m unlikely to forget my first and
last Capp-oat-ccino.
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