Rose: “Remember when we were young and we carved our names into this sled to show our eternal love?”
Bud: “I sure do, honey. It was a magical moment.”
Rose: “Well, the magic is dead now. And the love is no longer eternal. I want a divorce.”
Bud: “But why, Princess? You mean the world to me and I don’t know if I can live without you.”
Rose: “Well, I think you’ll be able to meet new people, especially since you’ve already been meeting them.”
Bud: “I don’t know what you mean, my love bunny.”
Rose: “It means that I hacked into your email account and found out that you’ve been sleeping with everyone in the entire state except me. You should have enough frequent flier miles to book a trip to the moon. And you can stop using those creepy names that I’ve always hated. I’m not your honey or your princess or your bunny. This isn’t a Disney movie.”
Bud: “Oh. Okay, good.”
Rose: “Wait, what?”
Bud: “I never enjoyed calling you those names. I only did it because I thought you liked it. And I never liked that sled. I’m going to go burn it in the backyard right now and then cash in my frequent flier miles so I can keep sleeping with everyone in the state.” He grabs the sled and heads toward the back of the house.
Rose: “So you’re not even going to fight to save this relationship?”
Bud: “Of course not. This isn’t a Disney movie.”
Rose, peering down the hall to make sure Bud goes out the back door, then whipping out her phone: “Oprah? You were right! He is messing around even though I didn’t really hack his account.”
Oprah: “I told you, girl. Never trust a man who uses baby talk.”
Bud, looking behind him to make sure that Rose didn’t follow him, then whipping out his phone: “Dr. Phil? You were right! She thinks I’m messing around even though I’m not.”
Dr. Phil: “I told you, man. You shouldn’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t trust you.”
Back inside, Rose hangs up, then pauses to reflect.
Back outside, Bud hangs up, then stares at the sled.
Subdued but thoughtful classical music plays on the soundtrack during the interim.
Then Bud picks up the unburnt sled and heads toward the house.
Rose meets him at the door.
Sometimes it is a Disney movie.
Originally published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. No changes made. Well, not with this NEW post. But I did have to go back to the previous post and remove a note to myself that I had made in the draft and then stupidly forgot to remove before officially sharing.
That previous post was two years ago. In the interim, no one ever asked “what the hell is up with that odd ‘[Citizen Kane]’ mention near the end of the story?” No one. And there are 36 comments on that previous post. (For the record, that personal note was a reminder to mention said movie in the tags, not that it really matters at the end of the day.)
Sigh. So, does this mean that the folks who visit Bonnywood are just super nice and would never dream of pointing out an obvious breach in editing? Or does it mean that folks have simply accepted the fact that I don’t always make sense and it’s best not to tip my precarious apple cart, lest the apple they shift will be the one that finally gets me committed to the Beaver Valley Institute for Erratic Literary Tendencies? In any case, I clearly need more supervision in my life. Anyone up for the job? The pay is minimal, meaning no pay at all, but at least you get to sit by my side as I navigate both a keyboard and nearly 55 years of a warped but hopefully creative mind.
Anyone?
No?
Hmm.
Sigh, Part II.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
Good one! 😉
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Thanks, Sadje!
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Only two things prevent me from leaping forward to volunteer. The first is a remarkable reluctance on the part of Homeland Security, to allow me unlimited access to your lovely country – despite a clean criminal record.
The second is that my wife tells me that I couldn’t find my way out of a phone booth, without her supervision and guidance. Hell, I can’t even find a phone booth anymore. I asked Superman what he uses the other day. Apparently he’s down to disrobing in Trump’s advisor’s office. It’s always empty.
The wife says that I didn’t really want to volunteer anyway. It’s a good thing that she keeps me informed. I didn’t know that. 😯
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Whilst my heart is a a-flutter at the prospect of us joining forces, it’s probably best that your wife hit the reality-check button. Our personalities are too similar, and we would spend most of our sessions trying to out-sarcasm each other, resulting in little productivity and a possible Shakespearean outcome in which we stab each other for all the wrong reasons… 😉
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Curse thee, varlet, yet thou hast the right of it. ‘Twould be a mere trice before we each would be seeking a pound of flesh in a most unseemly and unsociable manner. Cross-eyed…. uh, star-crossed writers, doomed never to meet. ‘Tis probably better for the world that it be so. 😳
Now, if Shakespeare rolls over in his grave, and I get an elbow in the eye, it’s all your fault. 😉
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Willie just sent me a text. (We’re tight, doncha know.) He promises to limit the rudeness of random elbowing, and he’s rather enamored with your attempt at High English, but he seems to be vexed by the reckless availability of poutine in the burgs that abut your domicile. (I’m not sure what that’s all about, and I chose not to prod his fevered inclinations.) He did mention something about a thing called “Scarborough Faire” and a certain photo-op for the three of us that he seemed rather smitten with, but I felt that was a bridge too far. So I had to kill him. Please adjust your travel plans accordingly…
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I love this.
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I’m glad you enjoyed it!
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I’m glad the sled survived.
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It’s really the most critical member of the cast, don’t you think?
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Indeed.
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I’ve never seen this post before, so that’s my excuse. However, I could. easily find myself in the position of thinking that it’s a reference I don’t know but likely should, going back and checking the rest of the post and still not getting it, weighing the importance of not getting it, deciding the world won’t end if I don’t get it, and then resigning myself to the fact that I didn’t get it and ignoring it. My thinking processes show some degree of insecurity. 🙂
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Oh my. I think it’s best, for all concerned, that we file this experience away in a little-used cupboard and we simply move on from there. Of course, I’m going to remember exactly where that cupboard is, so that three years from now I can make an obscure reference to it in a subsequent post… 😉
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I wept for the generations of the illiterate who don’t get the references: Rosebud, sled . . . Ah, the times they are a changin’!
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Isn’t it amazing how the shared cultural reference points shift and change as we bang away at this thing called Life?
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Never question the wisdom of Oprah.
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I would never dream of it. But I’m still waiting for her to call and say she’s agreed to publish my books… 😉
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Honey, we all are. 🙂
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Anyone who would burn Rosebud and all it signifies is hopeless
anyway. I’m glad that Rosebud survived (doesn’t it always? isn’t that its significance
in the Citizen?) and love…it doesn’t always. I read something the other day that stuck
with me. paraphrased: LOVE is more than an emotion and more than weak knees and
a pounding heart. It is a commitment…and like any commitment, there are peaks and
valleys that level out long term.
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I agree completely. Love is a commitment, and you are going to encounter some bumpy patches on the road. Too many people hop out of the car before it gets to the smooth parts again…
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Is the supervision job still open? I cant receive monetary remuneration (SSDI and their rules) but if you have coffee and cheese, I am mediocre at watching over people. Nobody has died while in my care. And I must be allowed to work in my pajamas and slippers. And cheese, did I mention cheese?
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I think all of your requirements and qualifications are quite reasonable, especially the ample cheese supply and the “nobody has died” angle. I’ll get with my Human Resources Department (which consists of Cleo the Cat and some guy named “Derek” who just showed up one day and never left) and see what we can work out… 😉
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I appear to have missed this one (I think). I’m always up for being support staff (without the creepy face to face invasion that many personal assistants think is S.O.P.) And don’t fret. Many of us (myself included) commit faux pas vis a vis our blogging pristine-ness. I’ve never seen that film and I’m not sure if that means I should be ashamed or if I honored it in a way because these days? Even the slightest bit of length to a film or sepia toned content or even just Marlon Brando looking vaguely bored and ripping at his shirt (I’m channeling ‘Streetcar’ of course..) will put me to sleep. *sigh* The times have changed. And not for the better overall. Maybe 2020 (not the old news program) will prove to be something worthy. I’m going back to sleep. Migraine today. Happy New Year’s Brian!
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So many avenues to explore, but I’m going to focus on this one: The way my movie-viewing habits have changed. There was a time when I could sit through a 6-hour opus (in French!) without losing interest or budging an inch to go pee. But somewhere over the years, my patience has dwindled. It has to be a damn good movie to keep my attention for any length of time. If Partner comes waltzing up with a stack of DVD choices (which he often does), the first thing I do is look at the running times. If any of them are over two hours, I quietly shove them to the side. Hell, if they are longer than 90 minutes, I still get itchy…
Happy New Year’s to you as well!
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No reply’s re Rosebud? That’s a slow burn. (roll eyes and sigh) You know the Rosebud/Randolph/Marions anatomy reference, no doubt.
My movie watching habits have changed too. From waiting patiently for things too get started I now have the attention span of a Ritalin consuming ADHD sixteen year old It had better be good NOW or it’s reach for the remote time. Oh, and a Happy new year too.
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There are many things that I miss as my body shifts and changes and decays, but at the top of the list would be my ability to focus on anything for any measurable length of time. Sure, I still have my moments, when I’m deep in the scribbling of one of my stories or I stumble across one of those increasingly-rare books that has me enraptured from Page 1. But for the most part, if I don’t get an immediate return on my investment, I’m moving on…
Happy New Year to you as well.
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I missed this post the first time, but I was immediately drawn by the picture of the sled. I love Citizen Kane–that whole Rosebud thing is just so sad.
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Citizen Kane is terrific, and I love the symbolism of Rosebud. By the way, I’ve got your post slated for the 3rd, so tidy up your blog and set out some nice snacky bits and beverages for visitors… 😉
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Ooh, I’ll put out the good tea towels!
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I didn’t comment on an odd Citizen Kane mention? Really?
Hmm. Guess I was feeling nice.
Here’s an interesting bit of information I don’t think I’ve shared before: I have an Aunt and Uncle named Rose and Bud. No lie. They’ve been married for something like 200 years.
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Of all the various guests and residents at Bonnywood, I really would have thought that you would have noticed such a glaring bit of editing negligence and then proceeded to playfully jab at me in a warmly sly way. Frankly, I would have expected nothing less, but you must have been feeling especially benevolent that day, most likely due to a stirring sermon that you attended at that one retreat where you did something or other with photographing trees…
But more importantly, Rose and Bud? For reals? Life is, indeed, a revelation…
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