Salutations readers! Daily Post prompted today, “What was the last thing that gave you a real, authentic, tearful, hearty belly laugh? Why was it so funny?”
So, to answer that question, I thought I’d tell you a story, a day where I laughed harder than I think I’ve ever laughed in my whole life…
My Life Written as a Narrative #1
If Food Could Fly
It was a beautiful summer day at the end of June. The light of the sun and the smell of barbecue wafted through the air. My nameless friend beside me, we were preparing to consume a delicious meal out in the yard.
The hamburger was just cooked, and I piled it high with lettuce and tomato, and accompanied it with a sightly ensemble of the finest celery, stir fry and fresh fruit you could imagine. Conversing all the while, I began to balance the plate precariously upon one arm, and attempt to carry a full glass of ice-cold water with the other.
I used the remaining free hand to move towards the door, which I opened with surprising ease. Naturally, my friend behind me reaches to take the door; or so I had assumed before I let it go. I wheeled on the spot, as the next thing I knew, the sound of glass-on-glass-smashed-together filled my ears as the door slammed into him. My friend’s eyes widened, and we both watched a marvelous few seconds.
The plate, somehow unbroken, did not fall, but like a discus, was nearly thrown. The food, in a majestic arc of color and condiments, flew several feet against the wall, splattering into an accidental mural. Simultaneously, did forks and knives reflecting the golden sun fall to the ground with a graceful ping. Followed by two full glasses performed an acrobatic display, soaking shirts and drenching socks. When finally, the glass was caught after an artful triple backflip, landing perfectly in the hands of a frantic looking man.
An awkward silence set in for the next few moments.
I observed my friend, looking like the end of an 8th grade art class. A brilliant soaking canvas strewn with colors splattered this way and that, substituting paint for ketchup mustard and relish however. I don’t exaggerate when I tell of the mustard atop the shoulder, opposite side to the throw!
As he began picking lettuce out of his hair, so precise just moments ago, I began to roar in laughter.
My sides began to hurt and I had to force myself to breathe. My entire self convulsed with laughter, not made any easier by my confused looking acquaintance.
Water dripped from the roof, and food fell from the walls. Then I noticed that the basement window, had somehow been broken. As to how exactly a flying hamburger broke a window I suppose I will never know.
Frantically, we scurried inside to get some cleaning tools. Meanwhile, the sheer stupidity of the event washed over me.
As Mark Twain once said, “the human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter.” However, while I do love this quote and now use it as this time, I can make an additional statement, and flying hamburgers, they make dangerous projectiles.
Oh, and a note, that I have now started a segment called My Life as a Narrative, showcasing interesting parts of my life, and making them into an Almost Story. Hope you enjoy, more to come soon!