I hope you are doing well. I’ve been really busy with my new friends. They took me to Silver Falls last week, and yesterday they took me up to the Governor’s office while he was away. My friends said that Mr. Governor would be honored if I sat in his office chair. And so I did! My friends took pictures, and they helped me paper clip it to the back of this letter.

I miss you a lot, and I promise to come home someday, but I wanna see more of the world before I stand in your front lawn and watch cars go by.

Love,

Your Garden Gnome Ithamar

It was a routine surgery, but it still required utmost patience in preparation.  The surgeon wired the thread through the needle in the sewing machine, and inserted the spool at the top. She checked to make sure the machine was plugged in, and switched on the built-in light. Pressing her foot on the peddle, she moved Teddy’s broken arm underneath the needle.

The machine growled to life, and the needle went up and down and up and down until Teddy had sixteen stitches. Fortunately, Teddy wouldn’t need any physical therapy, but his best friend Kyle would have to be careful with his right arm. It wouldn’t take much to ruin the sixteen stitches in green fur.

I found a bike in one, with empty stalls. The stalls may or may not have had curtains. What does a coffee shop need dressing rooms for? If you whisper the password with your order, will they give you a costume to try on? Is it frappuchino? No place seems to serve them, and Starbucks doesn’t have back rooms.

Of course we never talk. I can’t march backwards to save my life, let alone memorize a bunch of random coordinates on drill sheets. (What do I look like, a TomTom?) This sets me at the bottom of the totem pole. The only other people in band who get less respect are the other flute players in my section, and of course, the guys in color guard.

Nobody’s real sure about the color guard guys. Most years, there’s never more than two. Any guy who joins color guard instantaneously loses his man card. What straight guy would dance with purple flags with girly choreography in those gay costumes? At least, we all hope they’re gay. It would just be…gag worthy on those practices in the hot sun, with girls more than comfortable cooling off in as little coverage as they’re allowed.

Anyway, we started out by learning how to turn. Toe-heel-toe-heel. It actually seems pretty simple, simple enough to get your hopes up. Then they get everyone one in your section in a line, and they march, yes, march to mark off the distance between each freshman. Then they teach you how to march to the beat, and no matter how many times you try, you can’t seem to get it right. Unless of course, your one of the  lucky kids that went to the other middle school. There they at least teach you how to march in a parade. By the end of a hot-stinky-two-mile-long death march, you’d definitely know how to step on beat.

I’d whine more, but I have to get up bright and freakin’ early for my second day of band camp. Someone please shoot me.

“INCOMING!”

“Where’s all the spermy ones?”

“I love the spermy ones!”

“It’s not over til the 5th.”

“It just hit my eye!”

“One hit my cheek. Ew.”

“Don’t open your mouth.”

I can’t stand your blue eyes, blue as the water in the pool you lifeguard every day. I especially can’t stand the shape of your legs, but I’d hate them even if you let yourself go. So don’t.

I want you to quit. I want you to leave without giving your notice. You’re possibly the worst person I’ve ever worked with. But if you do quit, I’m afraid I’ll have to make you quit your next job so our boss could hire you back. I’d miss you.

Seriously though, move. I’ve have work to do.

“Susie! You’re doing outside trashes.” “Carl! You have drains.” “Mike! You have windows.” “Louise, you have menu houses.” In a more mumbled voice, Bill glanced down and read. “And I have everything else.”

As the proud team-leader he was, Bill headed over to the drive-thru window, drawing the envy of all his fellow employees. He put on his headset with a flourish. Bill snapped to attention when he heard a faint beep, followed by the rumble of a customer’s engine. “Welcome to Burger Princess!”

“Uh yes. I’d like the Happy Cow Shake with a Fat-Cow Burger.

“Would you like some mad potato fries with that sir?”

“Uh…sure.”

 Bill grinned. Only one more suggested sale and he would break his personal record. He already left his fellow employees in the dust weeks ago. Soon enough that manager would notice him. Soon enough he’d have his promotion to manager-in-training. No one would laugh at him then. Deftly he punched in each piece of the order, then read it off. “One Happy Cow Shake, one Fat-Cow Burger, and one Mad Potato fry. Would you like to super-size that order?”

“Sure….” The customer paused.

Sweat trickled down Bill’s jaw. “Sir?”

The customer replied, “I think I forgot my wallet. Sorry. I’ll be back later.” He drove off.

Unfortunately, the customer also forgot to come back.

When Bill went on his break, he went to the lockers with his head hanging. He towed each foot to one of the empty folding chairs, and collapsed in it. Bill ignored the looks of the other employee on break. Pulling off his baseball cap, he stared at the logo. Could Bill possibly move on? Would he have to quit this lousy job and get one that actually paid his rent? What would his father think? The very father who owned the franchise wouldn’t necessarily get angry over this…but he would be severely disappointed.

“No. Not even sure why we had to have it here of all places.” Susan sighed tiredly fiddling with her menu. Smokin’ Hogs Diner filled the top half of the menu cover in gaudy patriotic colors. None of the menu items had low fat or reduced cholesterol. She couldn’t even tell if they were organic.

“They’re even fifteen minutes late.” Tom glanced at his watch, holding the menu at arm’s length. His cuff-linked sleeves peeked out from the satin suit coat. He took a moment to adjust the folds of his collar.

“You look over-dressed.” She said with a snicker.

“What about you? The bus boy seems interested in that necklace of yours.”

“He’s probably just staring at my chest.” Susan rolled her eyes. Her eyebrows shot toward the ceiling when she heard a conversation drawing closer behind her.

“Oh look honey! There they are!” A sweet, melancholy voice chimed. Flowery sleeves of a blouse materialized into the candle light a moment later.

Both Tom and Susan fought the urge to sag in disappointment. “Hello mom.”

“What about me?” A lower voice came from the shadows.

“Hello dad.”

Their parents sat down and opened their menus, humming tunes discordant with one another. Each gave their orders to the waitress.

“I’ll have the shrimp—“ Their father began.

“You sure honey? The shrimp will give you—“ Their mother interrupted.

“Ahem! I’ll have the shrimp gumbo, with or without gas.”

Both Tom and Susan gave their orders without event. The waiter evaporated into the shadows, carrying the menus with him.

Their mother was the first to speak. “So…you’re probably wondering why we’re eating together again.”

Her grown children nodded. She glanced at the man she married with somewhat sad eyes.

He spoke up next. “We’re getting a divorce.”

“Finally.”