Writing Exercise: Affluenza

Writing Club

April 19, 2016

This prompt was one word: Affluenza.  Write something about "affluenza."  Affluence + Influenza. Of course, the description leans itself to a darker bent.  It was a word I had never heard of before and I wasn't alone.  There's more to the definition, but our group tended towards the meaning as very privileged individuals with wealthy backgrounds struggling to differentiate between right and wrong due to their upbringing.  

Writing Prompt:  "Affluenza"
Time allotted: 20 minutes

-lack of motivation

-feelings of guilt  (not so much with Carl in the story below)

-sense of isolation 
(some of the descriptors that came out of our group's discussion of the word)

A cool chill made Carl open just one eye to confirm that it was Connie, step mommy number 5, barely a decade older than he was, standing in the way of the sun.  Carl lazily waved a hand for her to move to the left.  Her shadow remained. 

“Aren’t you suppose to be in class right now?”  Her perky voice irritated the heck out of him. 

“I’m suspended.  So nope.”  Carl pulled his ball cap over his face, hoping she would walk away.  Her annoying shadow remained. 

What his dad had seen in this one, he had no idea.  She wasn’t even a red head.  All but Carl’s mom had been a red head.  And the worst of it was this one had been Dad’s nurse.  Connie was always in his face nattering about something.  She got Dad back on his feet after his heart attack and playing tennis and eating nothing but lettuce.

If it was going to be a stand off, Connie would be standing all day.  She wasn’t going to change the way Carl rolled.  He had no plans on moving except maybe to flip over and and get a decent tan on his back.

After 5 minutes, he felt the warmth of the sun return.  Good.  There was the creak of the tap.  Connie was going to water her stupid roses.  Why she insisted on doing it herself, Carl couldn’t understand.  They paid a gardener for that. 

A cold spray of water pelted him out of the blue.  Connie had turned the hose on him.  “You are going to get up and do something.” She squeaked like the faucet.  “Go study for god’s sake.  Go make use of that new computer you insisted on and get your project done.” 

Something snapped inside Carl’s head.  He leapt out of the lawn chair and shoved his nuisance into the pool, hose and all.  As he rammed her into the deep end, the hose tangled around her legs.  He almost found it humorous the way Connie was waving her arms and blubbering.  “Glub, Glub!  Swim Mermaid!”

Carl lay back down in his chair and put his cap over his face wishing Connie would just shut up.  Her flailing splashed his t-shirt.  Carl got up and dragged his chair from the pool deck to the lawn.  After a few minutes the noise had settled down.  After his nap, Carl would find out if mermaids could swim.  If not, oh well, maybe step mommy 6 would be better.

All As It Should Be -Writing Club Exercise for January 17

Writing Club Jan 17/17  

 After a bit of a hiatus due to marathon training in the fall, I finally got back to the creative craziness of our writing club.  My laptop has been a bit dusty the last while, and, I, getting rusty.  

With one little prompt and a timer, I love hearing what our group comes up with: the dark, the light and otherwise wild.  I admit, I struggled with this one.  It started with a clear idea of a character: a prissy little girl complete with curls and a ridiculously ruffled dress and the line I wanted to end with.  It took me another hour at home to rough this one out.  I am a bit rusty.  Well, back at it. More writing and reading makes a better writer, the brain is a muscle too.  (Well, not really, but you get the point.)

The prompt we were given: “I told him not to come back too.”

Time allotted: 30 minutes

All As It Should Be

“Green and yellow, I want pea green and sunshine yellow.  I am sure of it,” a three and a half foot Rosa chirped with delight.  Dressed in layers of bright red chiffon and black tulle, her floor length gown swished as she waltzed into the room. 

The man in the top hat and purple tux stared down at the carrot-top child through his pince-nez.  “Why?”  He was startled by her declaration, but had the grace to reply. “Really, I should think that you don’t want any.  A box is a box.  What if they’re empty?  It’s what’s inside that counts.”  

He spoke with an Irish accent and it made the child scowl even though she knew he was Irish.  “Well, I don’t care!” Rosa announced.  “I want what I want.  Besides, no one knows what’s inside them anyways!”

Peering down at her, he exclaimed, “Why, the giver does!  Someone had to have packed each one and wrapped them up with such care.”

Pinks, bright blues, shiny silver, gold, green, all sorts of sizes and all tied up in satin ribbons.  All stacked precariously box on box twenty-two high.  The entire side of the ballroom was covered in a trove of boxes that would make a Princess jealous.  Each with the promise of certain surprise.  What wonders could they possibly contain? 

Rosa stomped her feet restlessly and crossed her pudgy arms.  One short fuse away from a full-on tantrum.  All it would take was a spark and she would blow like Mount St. Helena.  The man in the top hat turned away, better not to face the explosion for then he could claim ignorance.  Taking off his hat in order to fully view the piles of boxes, he began to point and count. 

This made Rosa want to tromp on his toes.  It wasn’t right he choose ignore her, especially when he knew who she was.  It wasn’t fair that he was tall enough that he could reach the top of the pile without a stool.  How dare he stand taller than she, the Queen? 

But the man with the top hat continued to count, remarking to himself that it was a larger sum than last year by three. 

Two boys dressed in matching plaid knickers ran in the door, bumping into the fuming girl, nearly knocking her over.  One lost his beret in the scramble.  Queen Rosa’s ice blue eyes followed them as the rowdy pair chased each other around the large oak table, nearly catching the white tablecloth. 

Queen Rosa wondered if they could take the tablecloth along with them and leave the china tea set as it were.  Probably not.  They weren’t magicians, only magicians could accomplish a feat like that.  Queen Rosa could imagine the sight.  The teapot was boiling over, spilling everywhere, smashing to the ground and all the treats tumbling after it.  Then they’d lose their place on the list.  Get put to the end.  That would suit them well for shoving her.  Their behavior wasn’t proper. 

Next the two boys, the jack and knave, a bit black and blue or better yet to be called Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, slid out across the marble floor and rolled to take a seat in the middle of the room to wait for a gift.  They joked excitedly with each other in expectation, joked and jabbed and then broke out into wrestling over who would be first.  

In a moment, the tussle was over and they were back to joking, eyeing up the little boy in plain gray standing outside the window.  He waved to them and they waved back.

The little Queen had noticed him too, but couldn’t grant an outsider more than a five second glance.  She had found her calm and eruption was no longer imminent. “He’s not invited.  There are no shades of grey permitted.  I told him not to come back too, even if he paints himself a different colour.  It won’t matter.  All it would do was flake off.  It wouldn’t be fair.”  She waved her hand and the curtain was drawn and in her mind the boy ceased to exist.

As the clock struck twelve, the marshal entered the room and with a trumpet and a long line of finery.  People large and small entered in velvets and taffeta to sit at the oak table. There had to be observers or it wouldn’t be a proper spectacle, and of course photos.  Always photos.  All decorum must be followed.

Queen Rosa was placed in the golden seat beside the man with the top hat.  The top hat now properly removed to rest on a coatrack by those Queen Rosa could not see.  The man sipped his tea too loudly in her opinion.  He should drink quietly and yet with all the eyes around the table, Rosa didn’t mention it.  Not with the assembly present and presiding.

The boys sat at the foot of the table as they should be.  Below her.  She wasn’t a rule breaker.

            As the hands on the clock reached opposite ends, the marshal brought out a small bell.  With a ring, presents were brought around to all at the table, big and small.  Before Queen Rosa was placed a one elegant pea green box with a sunshine yellow ribbon.  Ripping off the paper, Queen Rosa gave a long sigh.  Inside the box rested a small silver spoon.

The man in the top hat rose to speak and was greeted with genteel applause.  With a bow, he gladly pronounced, “Entitlement, a gift worthy of the giver, I dare say, or rather the receiver.  Perhaps they’re one and the same.”