“Hide!” Edgar said to Minnie as he opened his tackle box.
“Why can’t she hide in the lake?” Carla asked. (More)
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
Welcome back to Tuesday’s Tale, a weekly feature where we collaborate to write a story. Previous Tuesday’s Tales include Moooove! and Sasqua-tooning. We follow the basic rules of the “Yes, And” improvisational game – accept everything written so far as part of the story, and add your own paragraph (or so) where the last addition left off – except you needn’t begin your addition with “Yes, and.” I’ll start the story….
“Shhhh,” Edgar said, patting the tackle box as Minnie’s tiny, muffled voice squeaked in reply. “They’ll hear you.”
The tackle box quieted and Edgar convincingly pretended to fish while a family slowly cruised past in a sport utility vehicle. The parents excitedly pointed out the SUV’s open windows while their children unconvincingly pretended to care about fall foliage. Edgar watched the SUV disappear around the next corner and waited to see if the family came back for another look. After a couple of minutes he decided it was safe and opened the tackle box.
“Thank you,” Minnie said, stretching her long neck, back, and fins before hopping out. At almost thirty inches – she’d grown six inches just in the past few months – Minnie had to curl up to fit in the box. “You need to get a bigger box. I’m going to sprain my–”
What followed was a sound vaguely like two angry or perhaps aroused cats trying to exchange hairballs.
“Your what?” Carla asked.
“It’s back here,” Minnie said, pointing with her fin. “I don’t know what you call it. We call it the –”
And she repeated the sound. This time, Edgar decided, the cats were definitely not angry. And he didn’t want to know anything more about their hairball activities.
“So as I was saying,” Carla said, “why can’t you hide in the lake?”
“And as I was saying,” Minnie replied, “I don’t want to talk to mom right now. She won’t let me go to the –”
She then emitted a very different sound, unrelated to cats, unless a cat could drink molasses through a leaky straw.
“That’s their prom,” Edgar explained.
“Okay, how many of you are there?” Carla asked.
Edgar heard another car engine and opened the tackle box again.
“Not as many as there are of you,” Minnie said as she hopped in.