John’s business partner had filled him in on the culture. In order to be taken seriously, it was important to demonstrate respect, by wearing their style of clothing, and observing rituals.
One rite-of-passage, was to perform a “box dance step” around 4 sacred tiles, counter-clockwise, while holding hands up to the sun, before crossing the street. Surprisingly, there were several tiles adjacent to the building where the meeting was being held. He called his partner, but no answer.
This business deal was important to them, and he was on the verge of being late. He systematically started from the left edge, and worked his way around tiles. Keeping his head down, so not to lose track of what squares he had done. Near the end of his exercise, he looked up and realized, traffic had stopped, and someone was taking video of his antics.
Apparently, this culture enjoyed a good prank, as well
153 words / FFaw Oct. 24th / hosted by: Joy
** Re-post from prior blog
“Reminds me of the story about Jack and Diane.”
“You know, two American kids growing up, doing the best they can?”
“Are you citing John Cougar Mellencamp ?”
Nodding my head, he smiled at me, “Well, you picked the wrong song, dork. I believe you are thinking of Pink Houses?”
We both looked at the rows of rose colored housing, “Oh, yeah. How does that song go again?”
He began singing, “Well, ain’t that America…pink houses for you and me…”
Traveling down the mini streets, peering at little name marquees, after 20 minutes, and one too many times of Mellencamp, we stopped in frustration:
“Just exactly how are we supposed to find this ‘secret’ party location? We haven’t seen anyone on the streets! What’s the point, if the hint is too subtle?”
That’s when we saw it. A smiley face drawn on the outside of one of the buildings.
150 words / FFaw Oct. 17th / hosted by: Joy
** Re-post from prior blog
“Hey, mom! I need a cup!”
My 5-year-old and his friend were in the backyard making mud pies, and being very creative. Pulling out out an old group of plain white coffee mugs, I handed two to Joey. These mugs I keep for the kids, so If they get broken, it’s no big deal.
At that point, I had forgotten about the hot chocolate in the microwave for my 3-year-old, which ended up bubbling over. Setting it on the counter to cool before wiping, I remembered there was laundry to do, and went to transfer load from washer to dryer. Returning to the kitchen, I see my daughter standing, looking very puzzled, with mud on her mouth, “There’s something wrong with the hot chocolate, mom.”
Apparently, her brother had come back in, placed his muddy mug on the counter next to the other cup, before running off to the bathroom.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfaw) / week 8-15 / 150 words
Host: Priceless Joy “PJ” / Image: artycaptures.wordpress.com.
**Re-post from prior blog