[stylist] A FIVE random word challenge for you all to have funwith.

[Mary-Jo Lord]

Chris,

This is hilarious!  I love the characters.  I think my favorites are Anaik
and George.  LOL!   

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Chris Kuell
Sent: Friday, June 15, 2012 10:30 AM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] A FIVE random word challenge for you all to have
funwith.

Here's my response to the 5 random word challenge.

1. reunion 2. attention 3. light 4. rule 5. admit



Hawaiian Wedding Song

By Chris Kuell

This is a story about a boring wedding, a hungry dog, and an amazing girl. 
It's admittedly(5) a little bit weird and meandering, and uses quite a few
vocabulary words when simpler ones would do just fine, but it's got a good
ending, so stick with it.

Our story starts in a smokey bowling alley, in a nowheres-ville town in a
somewhat average state. A dark-haired guy wearing a green bowling shirt with
Paulo embroidered over one side ran into this tall, inattentive skinny girl
named Deidre. Paulo worked as an independent garbage man, and did quite well
for himself, all things considered. Deidre was good at lawn darts and drag
racing, but she was terrible at math, so she didn't notice when Paulo upped
his bowling score to 218 when he really bowled a 74, and modified her score
to a more than respectable 181-the best she'd ever done.

As they talked, they discovered that they both liked pickles, holding their
breath underwater, the movie Godzilla and a band called Counting Crows. She
thought he was great, and he wasn't very picky, so it was a match made in
heaven.

After only twenty-two and a half months, the wedding bells were ringing at
the Church of the Homely Orphan, and the guests had assembled at the Crooked
Creek Country Club on what could best be called a fairly average golf
course.

The gathering consisted primarily of old men and women in goofy looking
suits and dresses. Their hair was all different shades of gray, including
one with light(3) blue highlights that matched exactly the owners gray-blue
1953 Fairlane. One woman with kind of greenish skin wore a hat that looked
like she'd made it herself from a dead badger.

There were a handful of kids at the reception, a four-year-old named Oscar
who ate a meatball that had fallen on the floor, a red-headed girl named
Moxie that had a big, ugly scab on her arm, A bratty little girl who kept
crying because her diaper hadn't been changed in nearly fourteen hours, and
a buck-toothed kid named Darrell who stuck his butter knife halfway up his
nose. And one more, over in the corner, trying to attract the attention(2)
of a waitress with bacon-wrapped scallops and make her come over by using
her undeveloped telekinetic powers. This girl was known as Anaik, which in
old-world Dutch means-dog breath.

Anaik was in 8th grade at Mortar Block Middle School, and although she was
very good at sports-she didn't like to participate. She preferred to dream
about which super-power she'd most like to have-flying, or
indestructibility? She was a rule(4) follower, was very good at making
balloon animals, once drank four energy drinks in a row-and regretted it.

Anaik liked to carve little dogs with Elvis faces and sell them to a man who
traded them to wide-eyed tourists in Memphis for $19.99. She could stand on
her head for more than twenty minutes, and once ate a live fly just to watch
her big sister puke.

Anaik found Paulo and Deidre's wedding reception dreadfully boring. That's
what people from England say, stuff like dreadfully boring, and since Anaik
planned on going to England some day-after all, they speak English there, so
there'd be no language barriers-she practiced the phrase in her mind.

Anaik's parents were as old as some of the other geezers at the party, even
knew several from a bowling league reunion(1) last summer, but still, they
talked about them. "A face like the bottom of a well-used suitcase." "His
back is crooked as a Washington Politician." They told Anaik to to go play
with the other kids, but she figured she got enough of the freak show when
they went to the state fair last summer. Suddenly, a dog barked, a waitress
screamed and threw a plate of cheese balls. A dog, a big dog-yellow-brown
with long hair and a serious face-plowed from between the waitress's legs
and made a bee-line for the food table.


   *   *   *   *

The dog who ran between the waitresses legs and started the entire
cataclysmic event which followed was named George. George was a mutt, with
parts of him being golden retriever, boxer, black lab and cocker spaniel. 
But, he also had a grandmother who was a bloodhound, and an uncle who was
half wolf-so he was a dog with skills and knowledge only dreamed of by
preppy, pure-bred dogs. George was strong enough to pull not one but two
little kids on a sled. He was fast enough to snatch moths right out of the
air and eat them for a late-night snack. He was so loyal, he once sat
outside a police station for 72-hours while he waited for his master to be
released on bail.

Eight years ago, George had been in the Saint Auschwitz Animal Shelter, on
his way to be euthanized, when Tom Reynolds, a plumber with a love of chili
and high-powered rifles, came in the shelter.

"Where you going with that dog?" he asked the man wearing a lab jacket,
sporting a graying ponytail and carrying a loaded syringe.

"He's gonna fly the stairway to heaven, man," said Jerry Spinelli, the guy
with the needle, a convicted crack dealer from New Orleans who found Jesus
while serving a fifteen year sentence in San Quentin.

"No," Tom shouted. "Let him go. I'll take him."

George couldn't believe his luck. As soon as Jerry the executioner let him
off his leash, his Wolf-blood blasted through his veins. Without thinking or
pausing to sniff, he leaped over the counter, bit Tom the plumber on the
hand as he bent to pet him, and crashed right through the center of the
glass from door.

Once outside, George ran for it, pausing only momentarily to shake off the
broken shards of glass in his fur next to a portly woman pushing a baby
stroller.

A few days later, George met Willie as he stumbled home from an afternoon at
the pool hall, and he knew he'd found an owner. George and Willie were
inseparable for the next seven years, until the day just a week earlier when
Willie didn't get out of bed. George barked, licked Wilie's grubby face, but
Willie just didn't get up. Half a day later, Willie was smelling pretty
funky.

George waited for two more days before figuring out that he better strike
out on his own. He raided garbage cans for food, slept under people's back
porches and yearned for some of Willie's babback ribs.

George was running through the woods at one of the places where the silly
humans hit those little white things with sticks, when he smelled something
savory and delicious. His bloodhound senses tripped on to high alert. Tomato
sauce. And cheese. And pasta. Stuffed shells, like they make at the church
dinners every other Tuesday night. And meatballs. And some kind of
fish-haddock, maybe? Didn't matter. It meant there was food, and he was
going to get some.

He found the door to the building where the food was, and waited. It wasn't
long before one of the dusty humans came out to drink from the burning
sticks some of them like, and George raced inside. He followed the scent of
the food-down a carpeted hallway, through some swinging doors into a room
full of people. Part of him wanted to run away, but the smell of the
food-was it roast beef? - was irresistible. George barked a warning, ducked
his broad head and charged around a guy in flip-flops with a beer in one
hand and a white stick in the other, right at a lady holding a flat tray of
something that smelled absolutely delicious.

   *   *   *   *   *

Anaik, like most of the people at the reception, turned her head to find the
spot where she'd heard the dog bark. She watched the pretty waitress toss
her tray of food as the big dog bowled her over. She saw as if in slow
motion how the dog grabbed one of the cheese balls as it dropped, chewing
and swallowing in one swift movement as he escaped the falling waitress and
made for the stuffed shells.

Anaik cringed as the silver platter the waitress was carrying hit a bald man
in the back of the head, causing hymn to throw his drink into the eyes of a
prune-faced woman who screamed as the ice cubes bounced off her face and
down the shirt of the man next to her. Somehow, the ice made it down into
this poor guy's underwear, which made him kick out. Unfortunately, his foot
connected with the leg of the table the eight-layer wedding cake was on,
causing the cake to tumble on top of Darrel, the kid who could stick a
butter knife up his nose, and who was standing near the cake hoping to dip
his finger in to take a taste.

Little did Darrell know, but the cake had peanut butter in the frosting. 
Darrel was allergic to peanuts. Horribly allergic to peanuts. Tragically
allergic to peanuts.

As Darrell's throat swelled and one of the old geezers who claimed he took a
CP R class back in 1972 tried to perform a tracheotomy with the same butter
knife Darrell had stuck up his nose, Anaik made her way over to the food
table.

A Canadian woman with one leg noticeably shorter than the other began to
screech like a wild turkey on hot asphalt, "Cujo! I swear by Christ-it's
Cujo!" While the people screamed and danced and some wet themselves, the dog
jumped up, put his front paws on the table and buried his snout in the
pasta. Before you could sing, "Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" the
big dog had polished off the shells and had moved on to the meatballs. When
that tray was half-gone, he took a break, returning to the floor and licking
the sauce from his chops.

Anaik stared at the dog and thought-have you had enough, or would you like
to try the fish?

George burped, then turned to look around and focused on the girl in the
colorful dress. Her eyes were a light(3) chocolate brown, and held something
deeper than these other humans who seemed to be screaming and crying when
they could be eating this fabulous chow. "Is the fish good?" he thought
back.

"A little over-cooked in places, but the batter was quite splendid," Anaik
said with her mind. "Shall I get you a plate, or would you rather stick your
face in another tray full of food?"

"I see no need to dirty another plate," he told her. "Why don't you just
grab the whole tray? Throw a few slabs of roast beef on top-don't spare the
gravy. We can go outside and play for a while, then chow down on the
vittles. Do you have a Frisbee?"

Anaik grabbed the half-full tray of fish, forked on a few of the juicier
pieces of roast beef and added a pound or so of the twice-roasted
potatoes-which were her favorite.

While Darrel's grandmother held the man who had performed the unauthorized
tracheotomy on her grandson, effectively causing his expiration, in a
jujitsu choke-hold and ignoring his attempts to tap out, the DJ blasted the
amplifier, Elvis crooning out, "U-a, si-la. Pa-a ia me o-e. Ko a-lo-ha
ma-ka-mea e i-po. Ka-'u ia e le-i a-e ne-i la. Now that we are one, Clouds
won't hide the sun, Blue skies of Hawaii smile On this, our wedding day."

Anaik smiled and walked alongside George toward the door  with a tray full
of food under one arm. In the hallway, she kicked off her uncomfortable
shoes and proceeded barefoot through the front door, across the blacktopped
parking lot and into the cool, stiff grass.






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