Tiny rays of sunlight hit Xavier's face as he waited for Linique. She was busy powdering herself for this occasion. An occasion she knew was about to turn out sour. It didn't make a dime of sense to Xavier. Who by that time was even examining her words. "Freshen up" he mimicked to himself. Why had those words been so dull.It was unlike Linique to use this kind of dull vernacular. Than again she was never the elegant type, thought Xavier. In all his years of knowing her. Linique had always been the type to value simplicity. It was an attribute Xavier had loved about Linique. Yet as he shoed away the cockroach seeking to climb his, Calvin Kline shoes. Xavier though, maybe it was a good thing for Linique to be in the powder room. Xavier had no sooner said this, when he saw Linique. Linique who was wearing a cherry red skirt. Glanced over at a startled Xavier. He sat legs crossed in his Calvin Kline suit. He was a sight for sore eyes. Yet as she looked at him in his elegant suite. She saw a Xavier in his teens. Waiting for her in his tailored 501 Levi jeans. He was a sartorialist even in his teens.His hair was more darker than and his eyes were soften then. He was sixteen and in love. She was fifteen and girl at that. She met him everyday at Pop diner. They would hold hands and just look into each other eyes. What happened to that day thought Linique. He had quit shaving now. Which was unlike Xavier. Maybe it was her or maybe it was him. As she sat down and looked into Xavier's eyes. He passed her the pen and papers.
"You know what this is?" he asked her.
"Yes.But why?" she asked between short sniffles.
"Because you got old and I want a young wife."
He reached for the last sheet and signed his name. Now someone else could have his used toys. He was now single and a free man.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Journal #2 (Slow Motion)
1 sentence summary:
Carl broke his dads television.
1 paragraph summary:
Carl had always known what his father said about his television. How he shouldn't have played with the Wi, when he was to close to the television.Except that Carl didn't care. His father was at the dentist and would be there for a while.So Carl decided to do what all teenagers in such a situation would do. He turned on the Wi and grabbed his Wi remote. It didn't take long for Carl to find himself involved in his game. He was after all playing his favorite game. Carl was just about to score the home run hit of the game.When he swing his remote into the television screen. The TV screen shattered instantly into pieces. Carl show this and did the one thing he knew he could. He ran out of the door and to his cousins house.
(Slow Motion piece)
Carl could feel the sweat on the brow of his hair, as he pushed his remote for the last home run. The remote has such a soft smoothness to it. An almost surreal smoothness to it. As it pressed out of the finger tips of Carl's hand. Seconds now seemed to run slowly. As the remotes rectangular body, moved pass Carl's fingertips. Easing it's self into the air. We're it moved in an almost football like spiral.
"Dad would be so proud of how well I had perfected my spiral throws." whispered Carl to himself. The remote gently tapped the center of the screen. It emitted a faint squeak. A cross between a babies cry and a hum. It was essentially a silent hit. However as the sound of the remote hitting the TV echoed along the sound currents of the room. The sound went from being the small tap of a remote to the explosion of a nuclear bomb.The first pieces of the cracked TV had already started to break apart. It was like Everest has broken apart. Carl shouted "Shhiiiiittttttt". Stressing the S as he raced past three seconds,two seconds,one second. The remote in its chance to claim world fame. Decided to bounce off the TV. In an almost poetic choice of direction and hit Carl in the face. The one second that Carl has missed was made up. The remotes gently kissed Carl's and than hammer flat onto his cheek. The nerve ends on Carl's cheek thanked the remote. Carl took no note of this. His eyes said run and he did. Ten seconds to door. Nine seconds to door. Eight seconds to door. Seven seconds to door. His lungs breathing his asthma away. Six seconds to door. Five seconds to door. Four seconds to door. Three seconds to door. The sweat now growing on his head. Two seconds to door. One seconds to door. Boy was the door heavy. But not heavy enough to be pushed out to a running Carl.
Carl broke his dads television.
1 paragraph summary:
Carl had always known what his father said about his television. How he shouldn't have played with the Wi, when he was to close to the television.Except that Carl didn't care. His father was at the dentist and would be there for a while.So Carl decided to do what all teenagers in such a situation would do. He turned on the Wi and grabbed his Wi remote. It didn't take long for Carl to find himself involved in his game. He was after all playing his favorite game. Carl was just about to score the home run hit of the game.When he swing his remote into the television screen. The TV screen shattered instantly into pieces. Carl show this and did the one thing he knew he could. He ran out of the door and to his cousins house.
(Slow Motion piece)
Carl could feel the sweat on the brow of his hair, as he pushed his remote for the last home run. The remote has such a soft smoothness to it. An almost surreal smoothness to it. As it pressed out of the finger tips of Carl's hand. Seconds now seemed to run slowly. As the remotes rectangular body, moved pass Carl's fingertips. Easing it's self into the air. We're it moved in an almost football like spiral.
"Dad would be so proud of how well I had perfected my spiral throws." whispered Carl to himself. The remote gently tapped the center of the screen. It emitted a faint squeak. A cross between a babies cry and a hum. It was essentially a silent hit. However as the sound of the remote hitting the TV echoed along the sound currents of the room. The sound went from being the small tap of a remote to the explosion of a nuclear bomb.The first pieces of the cracked TV had already started to break apart. It was like Everest has broken apart. Carl shouted "Shhiiiiittttttt". Stressing the S as he raced past three seconds,two seconds,one second. The remote in its chance to claim world fame. Decided to bounce off the TV. In an almost poetic choice of direction and hit Carl in the face. The one second that Carl has missed was made up. The remotes gently kissed Carl's and than hammer flat onto his cheek. The nerve ends on Carl's cheek thanked the remote. Carl took no note of this. His eyes said run and he did. Ten seconds to door. Nine seconds to door. Eight seconds to door. Seven seconds to door. His lungs breathing his asthma away. Six seconds to door. Five seconds to door. Four seconds to door. Three seconds to door. The sweat now growing on his head. Two seconds to door. One seconds to door. Boy was the door heavy. But not heavy enough to be pushed out to a running Carl.
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