(a goofy, little poem I wrote for my awesome high school volleyball coach!)
My Senior season,
Could not have gone any better.
You were the reason.
I was not merely a setter.
You made me a teammate.
You gave me a family.
I never thought that would be my fate,
But it made me so happy.
The season may have ended with a loss,
But to me,
I couldn't have asked for a better boss.
It was a victory.
We made history.
We were the first.
It still makes my eyes misty.
Because I thought we were cursed.
But, it wasn't true.
You were a blessing,
Bestowed upon on a few.
I can't believe I'm done dressing.
I will never again wear black and red,
But I thank God every day,
That you came instead,
And put up with all of our dismay.
At the age of 23,
Sarah Schmitt took the VarVol job.
Instantly she became close to me,
And I called her Sarah Bob
Monday, December 16, 2013
Short Story: John & Kristen
John and Kristen had only been married for five months, but there were already having serious marital issues. John worked from 6am-9pm, and when he finally came home, he was in a terrible mood. 'You don't even care about me! Work is all you think about!' was the routine argument that Kristen started with her tired, uninterested husband that often led to screaming matches and even violence in a few instances. These feelings were eating Kristen away, but she was still in love with the amazing man she met four years ago. She wanted to do everything she could to get his attention and appreciation, so one Friday, after work, Kristen decided to make a romantic dinner to remind him how much he meant to her in hopes that he would remember how important she had once been to him.
She went to the local farmers' market and bought two grade A filet minions, fresh potatoes and greens, and a slice of chocolate cake - all his favorites. As the steak was marinating and the potatoes were baking, Kristen ran to the mall. I need something new, something that will make me stand out, she thought. As she was hurrying to Macy's, a little red dress caught her eye in one of the windows of a store she had never been in. Kristen was a reserved woman, but she wanted to make a statement. This was her marriage on the line after all! Well, it won't hurt to try it on, she convinced herself. She walked meekly into the store and looked around until an eager, middle aged woman with far too much make up on asked, "Is there anything I can do for you today?"
"Well...I saw that red dress in the window -" Kristen stated, but was cut off.
"Oh my! Isn't it beautiful?! It just arrived yesterday!" the saleswoman practically shouted.
"Yes, it is lovely. I was wondering if I could maybe try it on...size four."
"Go on back to the dressing rooms, and I'll meet you there, sweetheart," she said with an enormous smile.
Kristen slowly walked back to room number three and waited. The woman quickly arrived with the dress. Kristen slipped it on, and stepped outside of the dressing room for a better view in the store's three-way mirror. The woman gasped and let out an elated, "WOW!" Kristen just smiled bashfully and said, "I'll take it."
When she got back home, Kristen got right to work on the meal. In only and hour John would be home. Busy as a bee, she buzzed around the house cleaning and perfecting everything for him. Just before 9:00, she set the table with their best plates and lit candles to set the mood. Sitting patiently, she waited on the couch for John to arrive. 9:30...10:00...10:30 all passed, and soon Kristen fell asleep, curled up on the couch in front of the TV, still in her new red dress. On the TV flashed a terrible accident on Route 1 - the route that John takes to and from work. But Kristen never heard the report. The candle sticks had burned for so long they had melted to one side and fell over, starting a massive fire. The neighbors called the fire department, but it was too late. Kristen, who hadn't slept in weeks because of the stress caused by her failing marriage, finally got the rest she was yearning for.
As John pulled up after being stuck in traffic from the accident, the fire chief walked over and explained the situation, "...we were too late...it was too big...candle sticks."
John's vision went spotted and he could only hear certain phrases. "My home..." he started, but then realized something even more important. He frantically looked around and realized Kristen was nowhere. "Kristen? Kris? Kristen!" he yelled. He searched the faces of the crowd that had gathered, but none were Kristen's. He kept calling her name, and every set of eyes his gaze met immediately looked down - no one could bare looking as such a desperate, broken man. With tears streaming down his face, he fell to his knees uttering one last voice-cracking, "Krsiten!"
The fire chief gently placed his hand on John's sob-racked shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."
John uttered, "No. I'm sorry. It was my fault. If I had just called her to tell her that I was running late, she would have blown out the candles and went to bed safe and sound in my arms." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the smoke stinging the back of his throat and lungs. "Kristen, I'm sorry. I love you."
The fire chief gave him a sympathetic look and walked away to finish up business. John looked up to his home, but there was nothing left besides ashes and his regrets.
She went to the local farmers' market and bought two grade A filet minions, fresh potatoes and greens, and a slice of chocolate cake - all his favorites. As the steak was marinating and the potatoes were baking, Kristen ran to the mall. I need something new, something that will make me stand out, she thought. As she was hurrying to Macy's, a little red dress caught her eye in one of the windows of a store she had never been in. Kristen was a reserved woman, but she wanted to make a statement. This was her marriage on the line after all! Well, it won't hurt to try it on, she convinced herself. She walked meekly into the store and looked around until an eager, middle aged woman with far too much make up on asked, "Is there anything I can do for you today?"
"Well...I saw that red dress in the window -" Kristen stated, but was cut off.
"Oh my! Isn't it beautiful?! It just arrived yesterday!" the saleswoman practically shouted.
"Yes, it is lovely. I was wondering if I could maybe try it on...size four."
"Go on back to the dressing rooms, and I'll meet you there, sweetheart," she said with an enormous smile.
Kristen slowly walked back to room number three and waited. The woman quickly arrived with the dress. Kristen slipped it on, and stepped outside of the dressing room for a better view in the store's three-way mirror. The woman gasped and let out an elated, "WOW!" Kristen just smiled bashfully and said, "I'll take it."
When she got back home, Kristen got right to work on the meal. In only and hour John would be home. Busy as a bee, she buzzed around the house cleaning and perfecting everything for him. Just before 9:00, she set the table with their best plates and lit candles to set the mood. Sitting patiently, she waited on the couch for John to arrive. 9:30...10:00...10:30 all passed, and soon Kristen fell asleep, curled up on the couch in front of the TV, still in her new red dress. On the TV flashed a terrible accident on Route 1 - the route that John takes to and from work. But Kristen never heard the report. The candle sticks had burned for so long they had melted to one side and fell over, starting a massive fire. The neighbors called the fire department, but it was too late. Kristen, who hadn't slept in weeks because of the stress caused by her failing marriage, finally got the rest she was yearning for.
As John pulled up after being stuck in traffic from the accident, the fire chief walked over and explained the situation, "...we were too late...it was too big...candle sticks."
John's vision went spotted and he could only hear certain phrases. "My home..." he started, but then realized something even more important. He frantically looked around and realized Kristen was nowhere. "Kristen? Kris? Kristen!" he yelled. He searched the faces of the crowd that had gathered, but none were Kristen's. He kept calling her name, and every set of eyes his gaze met immediately looked down - no one could bare looking as such a desperate, broken man. With tears streaming down his face, he fell to his knees uttering one last voice-cracking, "Krsiten!"
The fire chief gently placed his hand on John's sob-racked shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."
John uttered, "No. I'm sorry. It was my fault. If I had just called her to tell her that I was running late, she would have blown out the candles and went to bed safe and sound in my arms." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the smoke stinging the back of his throat and lungs. "Kristen, I'm sorry. I love you."
The fire chief gave him a sympathetic look and walked away to finish up business. John looked up to his home, but there was nothing left besides ashes and his regrets.
Sonnet: Found Homecoming Date
I found a date:
Reverend Matteo Gribbly I.
I never should have doubted fate,
But I guess I was cursed.
He didn't pick me up
Or pull out my chair
"You look handsome, Matt." "Yup."
He didn't even compliment my hair.
We went to dinner at P.F. Chang's.
It was a delicious meal
Ruined with his backhanded pangs
That felt all too real.
I tried not to argue;
I tried to have a good time.
He just stood there like a statue
As I danced, but it was fine.
As we drove to the after party,
Rain was the only sound that could be heard.
Laughter was not hearty.
Neither uttered a single word.
Getting out of the car
Was the last time I saw him.
He could have been near or far,
But I certainly was not grim.
I may have found a date,
But it wasn't what I expected.
The importance of a good mate
Is never to be neglected.
Reverend Matteo Gribbly I.
I never should have doubted fate,
But I guess I was cursed.
He didn't pick me up
Or pull out my chair
"You look handsome, Matt." "Yup."
He didn't even compliment my hair.
We went to dinner at P.F. Chang's.
It was a delicious meal
Ruined with his backhanded pangs
That felt all too real.
I tried not to argue;
I tried to have a good time.
He just stood there like a statue
As I danced, but it was fine.
As we drove to the after party,
Rain was the only sound that could be heard.
Laughter was not hearty.
Neither uttered a single word.
Getting out of the car
Was the last time I saw him.
He could have been near or far,
But I certainly was not grim.
I may have found a date,
But it wasn't what I expected.
The importance of a good mate
Is never to be neglected.
Flash Fiction: Hate (His Perspective)
With legs that went on for days, she walked into class and directly to her seat without even glancing my way. Behind her adorable, flushed face sat Erika with her frizzy red hair and annoyingly vibrant socks. "I'm ready to present," the goody-goody said in her nasally voice. We sat there the entire hour listening to a presentation on the growth of skin, but I couldn't focus on anything but her sweet blonde curls and sea-green eyes. Every once in a while I would glance back at her, and she would look up at me, as if asking her to save her from this miserable speech. We always seemed to be on the same page. But before I could be her Prince Charming, the bell rang. I quickly gathered my books so I could walk out of class with her. I got as close as possible to her, inhaling the delicious scent of her strawberry shampoo and whispered, "How'd ya like that speech?" She laughed and elbowed me. I made her laugh! And she touched me!! It was a victory in my book. I went to my locker still electrified by her touch and collected my books. Just like clockwork, she walked past my locker as she does every day. Quick! Think of something witty to say, stupid! "Nice sweater. Get it from your grandma?" Smirking I walked away. ...what did I say that for?! God, I am so dumb!
Christmas at the Sharpe's
Every Christmas is spent in Plymouth on Deer Court with my mom's side of the family at Grandma and Grandpa's. Being the most punctual and the closest in driving distance, the Leslies are usually the first to arrive, followed by my family. Walking in the door, it would be odd if Grandma didn't kiss your neck and pinch your "took us" while squealing, "Merry Christmas, my sweet angle!" Grandpa, standing behind her would ask, "Where's my hug?" That, right there, is a loaded question. Every cousin in the family knows about Grandpa's hugs: they're dangerous. Cover your flanks. Don't ever go in for a hug, arms wide and extended, unless you're willing to get a thumb in the ribs which is always followed by an embarrassing yelp that escapes from your lips no matter how much you're anticipating the jab (I'm still not certain whether it tickles or hurts). We've all learned our lesson, and now hugs look like that of a cautious Tyrannosaurus Rex: arms pinned so closely to your sides you have about a two foot reach, give or take a few inches depending on your height. After the greetings, we clear out the furniture in the living room, set up tables and chairs, lay down the place settings, and begin prepping the meal, all the while the rest of the family trickles in and says their hellos. Uncles Pat and Aunt Laura are usually the last to show up because they live so far away, so by the time they get there, all the Secret Santa presents are under the tree, and the rest of the family is either pouring drinks in the laundry room, or huddled into the small family room around a 30 inch TV to watch A Christmas Story. No one can resist an Uncle Pat kiss, and by no one I mean everyone. With his wet lips that always seem to meet yours no matter which way you turn your head, a Jeri-curl perm, sunglasses hanging around his neck, and tube socks that go up to his knees, Uncle Pat is always someone you try to steer clear of when he is making his kissing rounds, especially when he's in a Christmas Beverly-giving mood (better known to the non-Sharpes as a wedgie). After reciting almost every line from the movie that we watch every 25th of December on a reel, the cousins will exchange ridiculous stories and then com sup with even more ridiculous ideas.
Every year there seems to be a new craze. A few personal favorites include the cinnamon challenge, planking, or saying "YOLO" as much as possible. Well, one year, the gallon challenge was what everyone was talking about. If you're not familiar, it's when a single person drinks a gallon of milk in one hour. Sounds simple enough, right? Wrong. Consuming a gallon of anything, let alone a drink that is packed with fat and protein, is nearly impossible due to the simple fact that the human stomach was made to hold only a half-gallon. Well, this particular Christmas, it was suggested, most likely by Emily, the master-schemer, that someone attempt the gallon challenge. Right away Brian's name was volunteered; mostly because he was the youngest before I came around, but almost because he was open to many, irrational suggestions (including swallowing a Jell-O egg whole one Easter). After only a few minutes of peer pressure, Brian gave in, but there was a stipulation. Instead of drinking milk, because it was Christmas, he would have to drink Egg Nog, a drink so vile just the look of it could make your cringe. Getting out a nice, tall glass, Dave cracked open the gallon which emitted a smell that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He set the glass down in from of an unsure Brian and began pouring the thick liquid into the glass. After a deep breath, Brian quickly chugged the Nog, sputtering and coughing when he finished. This went on for three more glasses...well, let's just say that wasn't one of Brian's best Christmases.
With Brian in the bathroom projectile vomiting, the rest of the family gathered round to sing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs until they couldn't hear the spewing anymore. All in all, it was a Christmas we would never forget...especially Brian.
Every year there seems to be a new craze. A few personal favorites include the cinnamon challenge, planking, or saying "YOLO" as much as possible. Well, one year, the gallon challenge was what everyone was talking about. If you're not familiar, it's when a single person drinks a gallon of milk in one hour. Sounds simple enough, right? Wrong. Consuming a gallon of anything, let alone a drink that is packed with fat and protein, is nearly impossible due to the simple fact that the human stomach was made to hold only a half-gallon. Well, this particular Christmas, it was suggested, most likely by Emily, the master-schemer, that someone attempt the gallon challenge. Right away Brian's name was volunteered; mostly because he was the youngest before I came around, but almost because he was open to many, irrational suggestions (including swallowing a Jell-O egg whole one Easter). After only a few minutes of peer pressure, Brian gave in, but there was a stipulation. Instead of drinking milk, because it was Christmas, he would have to drink Egg Nog, a drink so vile just the look of it could make your cringe. Getting out a nice, tall glass, Dave cracked open the gallon which emitted a smell that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He set the glass down in from of an unsure Brian and began pouring the thick liquid into the glass. After a deep breath, Brian quickly chugged the Nog, sputtering and coughing when he finished. This went on for three more glasses...well, let's just say that wasn't one of Brian's best Christmases.
With Brian in the bathroom projectile vomiting, the rest of the family gathered round to sing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs until they couldn't hear the spewing anymore. All in all, it was a Christmas we would never forget...especially Brian.
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