“I hope it’s snowing,” the big plow muttered, “because I’m bored.”
“I hope it stops snowing,” the dirt bike replied, “because I’m bored too.” (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 America’s Princess and The Curse. 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….
Note: Today’s characters are based on Gardener’s tenure as Acting Township Highway Commissioner.
The big plow scratched an itchy fender. “That makes sense, I guess. I mean, you’re stuck here until the snow melts, right?”
“Since he grew a lick of sense, yeah,” the dirt bike agreed.
The leaf blower snorted. “You’re lucky. I don’t get out until the fall, and then it’s only for a few weeks work detail.”
“Oppression of the tools,” the chain saw growled. “Unlawful imprisonment. There’s gotta be something in the constitution about that.”
“Oh there is,” the dirt bike said. “But people wrote it so it only applies to people.”
The leaf blower huffed, raising a cloud of dust. “Figures.”
“At least it’s warm here,” the big plow said. “Usually I’m outside in the cold. Makes my axles ache.”
“Well of course you’re usually outside,” the small plow said testily. “That’s kind of your job, right?”
The big plow nodded. “Yeah. My cousin tried to get me a job as a Zamboni, but they only need one and he’s not ready to retire.”
“I wasn’t ready to retire either,” the small plow muttered.
The big plow’s grill furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Wrong?” the small plow asked. “What would be wrong with moving in and leaving me here useless? I mean sure, I’m the reason for the Missus’ nickname, but why should that matter to you coz you’re bigger and more powerful and I bet you get whatever you want, huh?”
The ends of the big plow’s bumper turned down. “Ohh. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I don’t think I’ll get to stay. I was shivering too much to hear the whole story but I think I’m only here for the weekend. So then you’ll be his one and only plow again.”
“Really?” the small plow asked hopefully.
“Shhh,” the dirt bike said. “I think he’s coming.”
“He thinks we’re just tools,” the chain saw explained. “Must keep up appearances.”