Entries in 3-Minute Fiction (1)

Sunday
Jan232011

3MF: Grandpa Joe

The following is a submission I just made to NPR’s “Three-Minute Fiction” series.  I plan to try to submit more into this series, as I think it could be a valuable writing exercise routine.  As such, you’ll now see a new category on this blog, “Three-Minute Fiction”, where these submissions will be posted.  I won’t be posting these to the blog until after the NPR submission deadline, for obvious reasons, but I’ll try to get up as soon as possible afterwards.

The idea of the “Three-Minute Fiction” series is that they provide certain criteria that must be included in a story, and beyond that you have the freedom to write whatever you want.  It has to be 600 words or less, though, as they need to be able to read it on air in less than three minutes (only select submissions are actually read on air,).

The criteria for this latest round that just expired, and which I wrote for, is here.  This submission isn’t quite up to par, I know, but I honestly forgot about this contest and the impending deadline until literally twenty-five minutes before it needed to be submitted.  Thus, I whipped this out pretty quick.  I mean, I had an idea in my head previously, but I hadn’t put the proverbial pen to paper at all yet, so this was really pretty off the cuff.  So be kind in your judgment… :)

Anyway, here’s the story, Grandpa Joe:

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“Did you hear about the Wisconsin terrorist that tried to blow up a school bus?” asked little 10-year-old Tommy, now on a roll, this being the fourth joke he was telling the assembly of relatives at the table. As they just looked questioningly at him, eagerly anticipating the rest of the joke, he continued, “He would have succeeded, but he burnt his lips on the tailpipe!” The table roared with laughter; his Grandma Reva in tears, she was laughing so hard.

“Careful, Tommy – remember, you’re sitting a table full of Wisconsinites here, “ his mother, Helen, jabbed teasingly.

“Oh, the boy’s doing fine. We’re hearty stock, we can take it!” laughed his Uncle Bill. “Give us another one, Tommy.”

“Ok, I got one; though you’ve probably heard this one.” Tommy continued, “How do you pasteurize your own milk at home?” Helen, her mother, and the rest of her siblings at the table all started to smile, as they knew where this one was going. Tommy picking up his glass of milk and moving it across his face, right in front of his eyes from left to right, said, “See? You just move it PAST YOUR EYES.”

Once again, everyone started to laugh. Helen, though, also started to tear up a bit, as did Reva. Tommy said, “That one was one of Grandpa’s.” Uncle Bill put a comforting hand on his shoulder, as the whole table got a bit more somber again. Helen replied, “I know it was, Tommy. I always loved your grandpa’s corny jokes when I was a kid.” Tommy, not missing a step, replied back, “Well, I guess the effect didn’t hold with time, because you’re not laughing now!” That got everyone laughing again, including Helen and Reva.

After another of Tommy’s jokes, the adults took over the conversation again, sharing their fond memories of their husband and father. The conversation was mostly raucous and joyous, and you almost wouldn’t have realized that they had been at Grandpa Joe’s funeral just three hours earlier.

At one point Helen looked out the window to watch all the younger kids playing outside, switching between Hide-and-seek, Kill the Carrier, Kick the Can, etc. They were having a blast, and why shouldn’t they? You’ve got to appreciate your family while they’re here, and Joe would have loved seeing this: the kids outside playing together, the adults inside laughing and having a good time, and for once in god-knows-how-long, having all the kids and grandkids back together under one roof again. They all lived in far-flung parts of the country now, and it was rare that they ever all made it back home at the same time. It was sad that this was how it had to happen, but at the same time, what a great way for them to celebrate the patriarch they all loved, living out what he always wished for most. “We miss you, Dad, “ she thought, “and we’ll try to keep this going as long as we can for you.”