Once upon a time there was princess named Princess Jennifer Allison Wandermind, but she preferred to go by J-Wand. Now J-Wand knew that everything–the Universe, God and everyone–was there to serve her. Somethings felt better and were aligned with what she wanted, while other things felt worse and ran counter to what she was wanting. It’s kinda like what her dear sweet daddy used to say. He’d put his thumbs under his suspenders and declare in his best impersonation of Mark Twain, “All men make me smile, some when they arrive, some when they leave.” J-Wand knew even contrast was there to serve her.
Prince John Bradpitt, III was pretty sure “contrast” was a setting on the flat-panel TV in the home theater. J-Wand manifested him for his butt. To answer her tough questions, she manifested a guru-ish guy named Dillon that was friend of a friend of a friend of a guy she met in an 80’s style fern-barn that served exotic herb teas.
The Prince liked to fix things. Like the time J-Wand started to manifest—heck, I don’t remember what it was—let’s just say, for example, it was the World’s Largest Collection of Elvis Impersonator Bobble-head Dolls. She imagined how it feels to be the proud owner of such a collection, and pictured them set on progressively higher crystal pedestals in the nook beside her walk-in closet. And of course the first thing that happened was contrasting thoughts started percolating in her consciousness. She began to cry.
“Here baby, let me fix you up,” said the Prince.
“I’m not broken. I just have to let these emotions flow through me so they can evolve away.”
The Prince rolled his eyes and thought, “More New-Age Twaddle-crap.”
J-Wand thought back to when she used to think she was broken and all her friends would try to fix her. She smiled and was glad those days were over.
The Prince tossed the dregs of his wine into the fireplace as he exited the conversation room.
“Twaddle-crap,” she heard him mutter. She admired the way he swaggered when he walked away.
For you those of you who were wondering, the above was what we writers call a slice of life short short. If I made it any longer, one of the characters would have to evolve and grow. I just couldn’t have that.
(c)2013 Chip Engelmann