Sunday Night Laughter

I must continue to interrupt this story for some other important business.

Actually, I was thinking about how much life has changed within the last few months. My family had quite the scare with my dad's brain surgery to remove his tumor last December. But he has pulled through really well, and continues to amaze everyone with his progress, especially after losing mobility in his left arm and leg.

But something even more amazing has happened. My dad now laughs more than ever.

He has always been a laugher. My brothers and sisters and I loved watching comedy movies with him because he would laugh 'til his eyes watered and a coughing fit ensued.

I think the tumor must have been located on the funny part of his brain because now he will laugh at little things, such as my mom saying "plank you" instead of "thank you."

I don't remember what started it Sunday night but just before bed, we were all gathered together, and the laughter began. And it didn't stop, and it didn't stop. The more my dad laughed, the more we all laughed. And our sides hurt. And our faces were red. And we wanted to stop but we couldn't.

My dad was sitting uncomfortably on the floor, holding his side because it hurt so much. He kept saying, "We gotta stop. It hurts so bad..."

Well, that didn't work so well. I was then stupid enough to say something else that made the laughter continue. And then... I tried... I really tried. I kept my mouth straight, thinking that if I was serious, eventually the laughter would die down.

But then I looked at my mom. Her face was so red... and her eyes were squinted. She was clearly trying to stop laughing. But just the look on her face got me going again. And it continued...

Somehow we got everyone to simmer down. Everyone held their sides. My poor dad.

But, I am thankful for the moment. Laughter, truly the best medicine and vice (if it can be called that) in the world.

A Series of Very, VERY Important Letters

Sorry, I must interrupt this story for a bit of important business...

Dear Hickory Kist,
Sorry I spilled Dr. Pepper all over your floor... and I mean all over. Okay, so it was only by the fountain drinks. But now it's a sticky mess.
Sincerely,
A very sorry customer
Ps. The sandwich was delicious. Mmm.

Dear guy with white shoes,
Sorry I spilled Dr. Pepper all over your pants. I hope I did not get your white shoes. But thank you very much for providing floor clean-up help.
From,
A cute girl (You should have gotten my number...)

Dear Mrs. Triple T lady,
I am 26 yrs. old. Not 10. Jujube is definitely not my mom. But thanks for asking.
From,
A very confused customer

Dear Spanish Fork,
I'm sorry for almost killing myself due to the white truck blocking my view of the road. However, you'll be glad to know that I am fine, Jujube is fine, and I did not make a terrible mess all over Main Street.
Sincerely,
A very careful driver

Dear Pier 1 Imports,
I would like a job as a copywriter in your home office. You'll be pleased to know I have super great references and an incredible portfolio. Please call me soon.
Sincerely,
A very talented writer

Dear economy,
Shape up and deal with it like a man. This is no time to pout and cry. Come on. You can pull through.
From,
One who cares

Dear future home,
I'm coming. And after being at Triple T, I really hope you have a fireplace. I would really like to roast marshmallows while watching a sappy love story.
From,
Your future occupant

Child's Fire Part 2

Brita looks at Mr. Hanning who again makes a gesture with his hands. Brita takes a deep breath and begins.

It was the pickle. Johny’s pickle. The one with hair and greese all over it.

Johny made Vicky stick it in her mouth. Said if she didn’t, he would pull her pants down when she wasn’t payin’ attention. Vicky’s afraid of everyone seein’ the big, ugly scar ‘cross her back leg. Says if anyone sees it, they won’t play with her anymore. I didn’t know what she was talkin’ about. I’ve seen it. It is ugly. Grotesque, my mommy would say. But I’m still her friend.

But when Johny threatened her, she shoved almost the whole pickle in her mouth. Had her eyes closed the whole time. Squinted like the sun was right in front of her face. She held it there for thirty seconds. I counted. Then she spat it out. She said she thought she swallowed a chunk.

I didn’t need Johny to threaten me. If Vicky was going to do a dare, so would I. I left it in my mouth longer, just to show I could. Johny said he was going to suck all the grease off it just to see what would happen. We wanted to look at the pickle afterward. See if all the grease was really gone. And the hair too. But, when Johny spat it out, the dog picked it right up and swallowed it whole.

This is how it started?

Yes.

What happened to Vicky and Johny after?

I don’t know. I saw them once… with the mean lady. They were sad. I waved to them, but I don’t think they saw me.

Pause. Brita holds very still. She’s scared but knows she must answer the questions.

Tell me about the fire, the first fire.

Fire is fire. My mommy says stuff like that all the time. Food is food. Money is money.

I think fire is pretty, but now I know fire is bad. Mommy was right. I used to like fire. I would take a can of hairspray and an empty milk carton out on the back porch, spray hairspray in the carton, stick a match in. Vicky always ran home to tell her mom. She hates doing anything grown-ups tell kids is bad. I never got hurt. Well, except the time Johny was dumb and plugged the carton with my finger. My finger hurt and got…

Mr. Hanning and Mr. Strong shift in their seats. Knowing time is short, Dr. Scott stops Brita’s story.

I understand, Brita. But can you tell me about the one that killed your mother?

Brita sighs, loudly this time.

I remember hearing Beep, Beep, Beep. The smoke alarm. I don’t know how it started. I know it was me, but I don’t know how I started it.