I think I should tell you. This survey is called the What Would You Do If Survey. Lucid Lotus Life, before exploring her Homeresque responses, awarded the writer the name Blankenstein, for obvious reasons. And so without further ado, I bring to you, What Would I Do ...
Stranded in a forest alone
I would walk. And walk. And walk. Like Harold and the Purple Crayon. And when I get tired, I'd drink at a cool fresh-water stream, and talk to the deer that are also refreshing themselves. When I get sleepy, I'd curl up under a fragrant shrub and take a slumber. And then I'd wake up and eat some berries. Mmmmmm. Berrrrrrries.
I like forests. They are cool and dark and green and sometimes enchanted. With faeries.
So just in case?
I will totally wish for shit. Like world peace. And to see no bears, close up at least. And I will definitely hug some trees. You know, just in case the forest really is enchanted.
Sensed someone stalking you
I'd give the person a dirty look, hide behind a tree, and clobber them when they least expect it.
You suddenly developed superhuman strength
I'd use it to clobber crooks. Like politicians and their ilk.
You saw a dead cat
Ewwwwwww. Yuck.
You saw a dead human
Uh ... seriously? This survey is not really fun anymore.
Someone anonymously send a love note
*Shudder*
You become blind
I'd learn braille. Obviously. I already have a couple of books. And my husband's business card. It is in braille as well as in letters. I should probably start practicing.
Your car breaks down beside a graveyard
This is more like it. I'd go hunting werwolves and, you know, zombies.
Your bestfriend calls you at 4 am
I'd get myself a glass of bourbon (I'm kind of into it right now, and anyway, it is all I have left), a pillow and a blanket and settle in for the duration.
You could bring back anyone from 6 feet under
Can it be a famous person? Because I would kill to bring back Mae West. It would be a laugh and she could probably teach me shit. In return, I'd convince her to stop bleaching her hair with the wrong product. Because, obviously, dark-haired vixens become all the rage after that debacle.
Someone kept staring at you
You know, I'd be polite about it. I'd smile a tight little smile that didn't encourage anything but didn't discourage either. And then I'd raise one eyebrow rather high, tilt my head just so, and ask if they were looking for a blowjob.
Someone ate your lunch
Meh. I ate a kid's lunch once, in fourth grade. Only it was the most awesome lunch ever.
We had the same lunch kid, a cool long-strapped over-the-shoulder kind of dealie with the Bionic Woman on the front, and a blue jean pattern underneath, and somehow I grabbed her lunch on the way to a younger class I was minding.
I opened it up and found jam on white bread, a banana that wasn't brown, two store-bought chocolate chip cookies -- the kind in the individual packaging, not yet the norm in the late '70s -- and a Jello pudding! I'd never seen anything like that before and I wondered if maybe my mom stroked out or something. That's how totally out of this world the experience was.
I cannot stress it enough: Best. Lunch Ever.
Until Carolyn showed up 10 minutes later, my lunch bag held in obvious disdain between her delicate, tapered fingers and thumb, her nose wrinkled just so.
Cue the needle as it scratches off a record, killing the moment with excruciating finality.
Of course I offered my lunch to her, but I think I heard her throw up a little in her mouth.
The worst thing? I was saving the pudding till last, and had not opened it yet. I offered it and her empty bag up with a heavy heart. To this day I can't eat pudding without choking up a little.
Alls I'm saying is, what goes around comes around so one day it is going to happen. And you can bet that whoever eats my lunch today is going to be pretty pleased with what's been packed in that Josie/Pussycat lunchkit. Especially the flask of bourbon. And a gourmet dark chocolate pudding pot.
Because if someone is going to eat my lunch by accident, it is going to be the best lunch of their life.
You're at a stranger's funeral
Oh, I'd cry. Either because everyone loved this person so much they all turn up with something beautiful to say, or because no one shows up and that is just too lonely.
Of course I'd weep silently, with great alligator tears streaming -- nay rolling like snowballs -- down my cheeks.
You got 100 free spray cans
Call the EPA. Or whatever we call it in Canada. Not that they would know what to do with them, you just know they wouldn't. So I'd instead hand the cans to a graffiti artists or two and beg them to paint my house.
A horse came chasing after you
Really? This is the best you've got to end this survey? Really?!
Okay.
I'd grab my lasso, jump up onto the fence and I'd lasso that sucker so fast it would make your head fall off.
I think my work is done here.
Honestly? You should do these more often. You had me at blowjob.
ReplyDeleteAaaaaaaand ... I'm back to link up.
DeleteI decided I'm only going to fluff when inspired (or, you know, bloated). I read one of yours and I thought, Ah, yes. This is a WRITING EXERCISE. I need to make the effort if peeps are going to read them. Their eyeballs deserve my editing.
Thank you for the compliment. I'll step up the effort. In place of sleep. ;)
You know what? It absolutely is a writing exercise. I have found that the first time I answer these stupid things, I answer them literally. And then I read the answer a day later and think of a way to make it more interesting. What I have absolutely found, though, is that you have to be in a decent mood to Fluff. Depression eats Fluff for all three meals. You end up just sounding mean. And by "you" I mean "me."
Deleteyar. I get that totally. Over time when I was writing freelance I learned that to write and edit something takes days, not minutes. I returned home to university for a couple of semesters and found that writing well-constructed papers earned me top grades on the worst of papers (not that I produced bad papers, erm, most of the time).
DeleteNow it is most tricky to find the time for that spread of time. As such, I believe I shall start fluffing sooner than later.
Haha, I try and make my Sunshine the best lunch ever sometimes. Sometimes, it's too early and he's doing good to get a sandwich and chips.
ReplyDeleteKindred spirits, you and I. Only I don't fix Alec's lunch. Not ever. He is responsible for leftovers clean up. He's happier that way.
DeleteBelieve it or not, he onetime wanted to open a restaurant called "Leftovers". Only re-formatted foods would be served. I gag at the thought, even though he would be using fresh ingredients. I abhor leftovers that strongly!
"Because if someone is going to eat my lunch by accident, it is going to be the best lunch of their life."
ReplyDeleteI'm going to make this my new goal in life.
I think it is an honourable goal. After all, I still remember one from grade 4. Every bite.
DeleteI will go zombie hunting with you :)
ReplyDeleteOh ya! We shall form a zombie-hunting posse. Only I have decided to give the zombies love-and-compassion therapy. You still in?!
DeleteYou rocked the shit out of this Fluff. Blowjob indeed. Show 'em how it's done, yo.
ReplyDeleteAt my first "real" job (read: pancake house in biker area of town) one of the cooks was a particularly rough fella. He used to try really hard to make the waitresses cry. He one time asked me if I would give him a blowjob. I blinked my big wide brownies and said, "What's a blowjob, Dave?"
DeleteThing is. I was in Grade 10 and I had an idea it involved me and his member, but I didn't know much more so there was authenticity in my reply.
Dave looked like a fish, blup blup blup, and never went at me like that again.
Actually, in the end we made a truce together. He realised there was a lot more to me than met the eye, and I just knew he was a big softie under that heavy metal exterior.
you're quite the cowgirl....i mean the deal with the lasso not the fellatio
ReplyDeletethanks for visiting me...i'll come back here to read you mutter, soon.
Thanks Lance. Wa ha ha! Read my reply to LucidLotus above to hear the real truth about oral sex and my freakish abilities. You're welcome over here anytime. Problem with writing stuff while parenting (IDK if you are a parent ... so maybe it is simply writing stuff?) is that it is getting harder and harder to keep up the reading. >.<
Delete