A Few Words About Milk

37, day nineteen.

This week on the prompt site I wrote for last week (for the first time), the prompt is to write a short piece with the words “The first time I saw.” I choose in this first part of my post to use just one-sound words as well, just like the prompt says to do, to keep on theme. I like theme. Theme is good. I will not lie. My muse, such as it is, tempts me to make this part long, to see if I can. This is not the first time I have done it, though. I did it when I heard them do it on a show. It is not as hard as it seems. It gets less and less hard as you go. No time to waste!

Here is my piece. I wrote ten or more of these. It is hard, but they are short, and I have time. This is the one I like the best:

The first time I saw a milk jar I stabbed it twelve times with a knife. I could not help it. Things are less bad now. I have a room of my own. The cows can’t get me.

It’s Always Important

37, day thirteen.

I found this neat writing prompt challenge thingy called Trifecta, which posts two prompts a week and gets people to link their replies on the Trifecta page. It looked fun and like a good opportunity to get myself out there a little bit. Plus, the word limit is between 33 and 333 words. That fits in line with my recent attempt to pare down my writing.

The challenges are single word based, and Monday’s was to use the word “whatever.” Specifically, the adverbial sense where it is used to show that something is unimportant. The exact details are here. I’m glad it was an adverb. If it had been an adjective I probably would have had to cut out. Keeping to 333 words was hard, but it was satisfying to be forced to cut down what I had written.

Here’s what I came up with:

(Also, apologize for putting up a picture of food and then not talking about food. It still applies! I promise!)

“Are you ready to order yet, Mr. Jensen?”

Patrick Jensen glanced nervously at the server. “I’m sorry, Jessie. I need more time.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Mr. Jensen.”

“You need more time, Jensen?” scoffed Maria Stevens from across the table. “You’ve been staring at that menu for five minutes. Lunch is only an hour, you know, and I want to go over the Sandberg accounts.”

“We have plenty of time. This place has really good food. I have to make sure I know exactly what I want.”

Stevens sighed.

A few minutes later, Jessie came back.

“Are you ready?”

Jensen nodded. He gave the menu one last hard look, then handed it to Jessie. “Just give me whatever. Something good. I trust you.”

Stevens’s mouth dropped open.

“For you, ma’am?” asked Jessie.

“I’ll have the lobster ravioli.” Jessie smiled, took the menus, and walked off.

“Good choice,” said Jensen. “That’s what I wanted. Excuse me a minute? I’ve had to use the facilities since we got here.”

Jessie came back a minute later with Stevens’s cocktail.

“What just happened?” Stevens asked.

“With Mr. Jensen’s order? He does that every time. It’s his thing.”

Jensen came back a bit later, followed by the food.

Jensen took a bite of his crab and avocado spring roll and closed his eyes with delight.

“What was that about?” asked Stevens. “With your order? I have to ask.”

“Remember after the Millington buyout? You asked how I could make such a huge decision? Why I wasn’t nervous?” Stevens nodded. “I was nervous. I hate making decisions, big or small. So this I what I do. With the little things, I figure out what I want, and then I let it go.”

“And that helps?”

Jensen waved down at his $6000 suit.

“Fair enough,” said Stevens. She took a bite of her ravioli.

It was okay.