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.
Sigh, Part II.
Categories: Past Imperfect