Four in One

The Sugar Cabinet

We don’t have a liquor cabinet in our home, we have a sugar cabinet—it’s where we keep the Cap’n Crunch, Count Chocula, and Pop Tarts. It’s not locked, but it is very high, beyond the reach and sight of the children.

Have a hard day? Eat a bowl, or four, of Cap’n Crunch. Alcohol puts you to sleep, but sugary cereal puts the rush on so I can type 120 words a minute. I can make four posts in one night.

Comic Prices

I just bought a new comic book. It’s not the first I’ve bought lately, but it’s the first I’ve bought as one purchase. Until yesterday, my recent comic book purchases have been “throw ins” with larger purchases—other books, groceries, etc.—so I haven’t seen the price of the comic. Comics are four bucks, now days. Four dollars for a comic book. The last time I bought these books regularly, they were just a buck and a half, maybe two bucks for some. Four bucks.

They look really good, and the stories are just as good as before, but wow—four bucks.

Field #4

The boys and I went to the park for my oldest boy’s tee-ball practice. We got there about 20 minutes early, and were just getting out of the van when another family showed up. A couple of kids and their mother got out of their van.

The kids were wearing different uniforms than our team—somebody was at the wrong field. I knew I was at the right field, as I had double-checked the schedule before leaving the house. My 6 year old wasn’t so sure. He was ready to bail on the field. He apparently trusted the presence of strangers more than the word of his father.

I spoke briefly with the strangers, and the mother assured me this field was for her team. She held up her cell phone and said, “I just called my husband to double-check the schedule, and he confirmed we’re supposed to be at field number four.”

Okay, I guess that made me wrong. I admitted my mistake to my sons and got them back in the van. We drove over to field #1 (the only other one open for our league at the time). No one else was at field #1, and I wasn’t convinced that this was the right field. So we sat in the van for about five more minutes to see if someone we knew was going to show up.

The only person to show up was the mom and kids who had just told me I had the wrong field at #4. They drove through the parking lot, but didn’t stop. I figured she had found out that she had made a mistake. But she didn’t even wave, honk, or anything else to acknowledge me and the boys. We were the only other ones at either field, so she had to recognize us.

Anyway, I sat there for another minute and then left field #1 and went back to field #4. There were a couple other dads with their players, including our coach. So I had been right the first time. And the mom that told me she had confirmed she was right, and essentially sent me away to look for the other field, never bothered to let me know, even though she had passed right by us. Errr.

Editing After Sugar Writing

A writer on a sugar rush at night makes a lot of work for the editor the next morning. (I wear both hats.) That “120 words a minute” brag? Yeah, about 110 of those words are gibberish. The words weren’t misspelled or anything, they just didn’t make understandable context. I probably shouldn’t drive under the influence of Cap’n Crunch, either.

I decided to leave most of “Field #4” uncut because it makes the writer look like a whiny ass. An editor’s job is hard and thankless enough without the writer making it more complicated by writing stream of consciousness with a sugar high. The editor has to take his shots where he can. [Insert maniacal laugh here.]

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com