semi-fiction

#52 My Evil Twin

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Editor’s note: This writing prompt (along with a whole lot of life) brought on a month long bout of writers block. When I was talking about the prompt with my sister Alyssa she suggested that some people in the world find some of the nicest people the worst. She gave me this idea.

# 52 Write a short story in which you are the villain.

There are people who like giving gifts and there are people who like receiving gifts. Then there are people like me who get no joy in giving gifts and feel like they have contracted ebola, avian flu, and mad cow disease when they receive gifts. I hate getting gifts because I immediately feel like I owe this person. I’m not just talking about when your friend give you a fifty dollar sweater when you made them a birthday card by crossing out Merry Christmas on an unused Christmas card. I’m talking about the niceties of someone holding the door open for me. That’s right, I hate it when someone holds the door open for me because I suddenly feel that I need to follow them around all day and hold the door open for them. I try to time entering and leaving buildings so I am not near any people so there is no temptation to go down that niceness spiral. My wife says that this line of thinking would make villains out of do-gooders. I couldn’t agree more! My sister-in-law Heather Bakke is the greatest super-villain in the world. I made the mistake of letting it slip that I liked penguins. Every time she sees a penguin she thinks of me. “Oh, I saw this article on penguins I thought I’d send it to you.” Great, now I have to send her an article on squirrels. That’s what I could do but I don’t because I can’t stand having to send gifts. Why can’t I just be left alone? If I want to find an article on penguins I’ll look it up myself. How would she like it if people started sending her tons of squirrel stuff constantly? I suppose it would make her day. What a sick freak! She lives to find stuff to brighten peoples day. “Oh, in 1999 you mentioned that you like lemons. Here is a stick of lemon flavored gum that I ordered on eBay.” Heaven help the friend of hers that finds themselves in some obscure outpost of the world. “Oh, I heard that your job sent you to Mongolia. I’ve heard that HP sauce is the perfect compliment to yak meat, here are a few bottles to share with your new tribe! Also, I thought you might miss listening to the radio so I taped a few hours of Kool 108. Enjoy!” That is how evil she is. Move to the other side of the planet and you still can’t escape her. Her students must hate her. Ugh…. Heather Bakke is the WORST!!!

#33 Life is a highway!

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saturn

#33 Tell the true story of a dramatic moment in your life, but weave in one secret and one lie.  
When I left Alaska I had all my ducks in a row.  I had a plan on what I was going to do and when I was going to do it.  When I got back to Minnesota I subbed for two years in Buffalo.  It seemed that while I was in Alaska, the market for social studies teachers had not changed. I had kind of thought that having five years of experience in one place would at least get me in the door for some interviews.  While I was subbing, I spent a lot of time filling in for special education teachers. The special ed teachers at the high school really took me under their wing.  They were constantly telling me that I was good with the kids and it was obvious I enjoyed what I was doing.  A few of them mentioned that I should go back to school and get licensed to teach special ed.  Finally, I decided to take their advice and in the summer of 2008 I started driving to St. Cloud for summer school. (This was that magical summer when gas cost $4.00 a gallon)  My partner in this mission was my 1995 Gold Saturn.  I LOVED this car.  I loved that it was a Saturn, I loved that it was gold, I loved that it was pretty reliable.  Heck, I even liked my license plate that said “HBT” we said that it stood for Heather Bakke’s Taxi.  My friends Shawn and Sue called it Golden Boy.  Golden Boy was the mythical perfect teenage boy that my dad always talked about in his classes. My car was the mythical perfect car! My car had almost 300,000 miles on it. I joked that the car was starting to fight off death, both side mirrors were gone, if you were in stop and go traffic you had to turn on the heat, and then the dome light disconnected from the ceiling.  It was hanging by the wires and kind of resembled a chandelier. It seemed to me that all of the scars were just cosmetic, until the 90 degree day in June when my beloved Saturn died at the side of the road.  I called a tow truck and was towed back to St. Cloud.  They told me that it would cost $80 to run a diagnostic to see what was wrong.  The guy told me that it probably wasn’t even worth $80.  I was in denial and sunk $80 in to the Saturn to delay what was truly inevitable.  I can’t even remember what was wrong with it, but it would have cost more to fix the car than it was worth.  I called my parents and asked them to come and get me and to bring several garbage bags to pack up all my stuff that was in the car.  I was so sad about my car, but I was even sadder when I thought about the fact that I had a good thing going in Alaska.  I was stupid to walk away from a guaranteed job and I was never going to find anything as good as I had up there.  Thankfully, the years healed many of those feelings.  I finished my special education license, became a special education teacher, and found a great job.  But, every time I see a gold Saturn driving down the road I get a little sad, wishing I still had my Golden Boy/Taxi.

#24 & #25 Why Squirrels? Who is this Heather Bakke?

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#24 Pick a small object to be given one day to your great-grandchild.  Write a letter to that child explaining why you have chosen this object.  

Dear great-grandchild,
I never thought that I would have children.  By some miracle I did.  Then to go on to become a grandmother and a great-grandmother was nothing less than pure bliss.  As you get older and your parents talk about Grandma Heather it will probably be difficult to remember me.  I understand this feeling.  My middle name, Lena, came from my great-grandmother.  I have no memories of her. But growing up, I would hear stories about her.  I guess I was a very fussy baby and would cry all the time.  Grandma Lena, the story goes, was the only person who could calm me down.

One of the stories that you probably heard about me was how I liked to collect squirrels.  I would get asked all the time, “why squirrels?”  Here is the explanation: After I graduated from Bethany I transferred to Gustavus Adolphus College.  The campus was covered with many beautiful trees. (This was before a tornado destroyed many of them in 1997) These trees were filled with many squirrels. One night as I was leaving the dining hall, I noticed a squirrel perched on top of the garbage can and it was eating an ice cream sandwich.  It wasn’t just eating it.  The squirrel was holding the ice cream like he was a person.  He was even using his tiny paws to peel away the paper.  I stood there watching the squirrel and I thought, “any animal that loves ice cream has got to be worth noticing.” I told many people this story but it piqued the interest of my friend Sue.  Sue and I decided that we were going to keep tabs on the squirrels.  We even talked about naming them. Sue and I started leaving squirrel information in each other’s mailboxes.  One article talking about how squirrels had short attention spans so Sue said that squirrels spent their lives thinking, “Where did I put that nut???”  Sue was an art major and she used her creative eye to make me a squirrel ornament.  She called it a “Burgundy Squirrel-shaped medallion,” this was a play on the words of a David Wilcox song that we both listened to constantly.  My collection of squirrels grew in the hundreds but it all started with this wire squirrel.  I hope that you treasure it as much as I did.

Love,
Grandma Heather Lena

David Wilcox’s Lyrics to Burgundy Heart-Shaped Medallion
If I had a spell of magic
I would make this enchantment for you
A burgundy heart-shaped medallion
With a window that you could look through
So that when all the mirrors are angry
With your faults and all you must do
You could peek through that heart-shaped medallion
And see you from my point of view

#25  Describe yourself in the third person-your physical appearance and personality-as though you were a character in a book.  

When Heather Bakke talked, people listened.  This had not as much to do with the importance of her words, but the volume of her speech.  This is not to say that she didn’t have important things to say, they were just buried in a thick layer of joking and Simpson’s quotes.  After hearing her cackle a block away you would catch up to her and be startled that such a booming voice came out of such a small person.  She was short and stocky but the look suited her.  Heather always joked that “smiling was her favorite.”    She was always smiling.  Unless she was thinking.  If Heather was thinking, she would get a pained expression on her face.  Many times when she was deep in thought people would ask her if she was o.k.  Thankfully, the smiling won out.  When Heather smiled you couldn’t see her eyes.  This was a Bakke trait.  Their family photos contained only glimpses of eyeballs but lots of cheeks and smiles. When you could see her eyes, you noticed that they were hazel green.  She had friendly eyes, except when she was glaring at you with her “teacher look.”  This look could send a shiver down your spine.  Heather’s auburn hair was starting to gray, giving up the fact that even if she wished that she was still 19, she was in fact in her forties.  Her fashion sense?  Two words: paisley Birkenstocks.  Heather could be the life of the party but had it in her to be     quiet too.