A Story (Novel Part 1)


At various times through the years I have mentioned a book that I have been writing about my childhood. The book was started nearly 25 years ago and revisited from time to time. Since most of my life has been lived on the risque side I have been reluctant to share it.
However, there are some funny and inspiration times recounted, also.
I wanted to create this story much the same way that God created this earth… out of chaos and void… only bringing chaos to the void of the screen.
That being said, here is a portion of the book, with an effort to keep it “Kosher.”

Prelude

the meandering course friend classmates this narrative an intimate siblings cousins I played games Pinky’s part about the third grade shoelaces important things resorted stumbling or loosing priority life approached Alter Ego ones self intimate friend definitions fit dearest and intimate older girls compassion plight Kneeling before me cinched puppies down hair on the I raced schoolhouse casually to where just hoping that she would see my plight three more times day follow of friend over and back stand up she cooed sweetly, struck dumb! I invited Pinky before IN LOVE fancy talk through me
As you at times other side

“And darkness dwelt on the page where chaos reigned. And where there was darkness order crept in… ” donnybud

Most people writing a book will give their chapters consecutive ordinal numbers, but numbers for me as I grew up were a source of confusion. I was at least in the ninth grade before I learned my 9 X tables… and still, after 60 some years, I have to think twice about some of them.
I once learned that if you write down all the numbers you can think of and then strip away all their patterns, what you have left are PRIME numbers. A lot of life is like prime numbers to me. It doesn’t have much pattern, only a lot of repetition. Even the experiences that were not too pleasent were repeated… only the venue changed!
A teacher once told me, “Donnybud, you must march to the beat of a different drummer.”
My mom said that I danced to a tune that only I could hear. Maybe they were right, but sometimes I’m out of step with my own tune!
Not many people are as confused by numbers as I was/am, so I’ll bring a little chaos to your life by using prime numbers for my chapters. I think it’s a cool un-pattern, rather mirroring the un-pattern of my life, perhaps.
I know numbers were meant to be logical, but I could never work out ALL the rules for them, even if I spent all my time trying. Just as in life, about the time I think I have all the rules mastered someone thinks up more of them, or worse, they change the rules I’ve adapted to under so much stress.

INTRODUCTION

Alter Ego:
1. the other side of ones self.
2. an intimate friend.

Both of these definitions fit the description of Pinky. He was my dearest and intimate friend from the earliest days of my memory. He, at various times took on the characteristics of admired friends, classmates, siblings, cousins, and other relatives. When I played games with my friends, he was a participant unseen by others. Sometimes I would courageously act out Pinky’s part, doing and saying the things that I just knew he would do if he were really at my side.
I first met Pinky face to face when I was in about the third grade. I had not yet learned to tie my shoelaces. Well, I could tie them, I guess, but there were much more important things for a guy to do in a busy school day than to keep his shoelaces tied. That was one of those things that you resorted to after stumbling onto your face or loosing a shoe while in hot pursuit of an “enemy.”
As I suggested, it was not a priority in my life. One day after a particularly nasty fall, I was approached by one of the older girls, Darlene, who took compassion on my plight. Kneeling before me, she graciously tied my laces. She cinched those puppies down so tight that it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up!
“There now, Donnybud,” she cooed sweetly, “Now you won’t hurt yourself any more!”
Well now, that was it for me! I was struck dumb! I could not face her alone, so I invited Pinky to “step into my shoes.” I raced around the corner of the schoolhouse and untied BOTH my shoes and casually wandered back to where she stood with her friends, just hoping that she would see my plight. It worked! She tied them for me three more times before the day was over, and before the day was over I was IN LOVE. That evening I filled the steamy bathroom window with hearts and DS + DR. I really was in love, wasn’t I? Or was it Pinky? After all, it was he who had done all the “fancy talk” through me.
As you follow the meandering course of this narrative, Pinky is at times “an intimate friend,” and at times the “other side of myself.”
Unless you were there in the story that is being recounted, you’ll have to guess which is which.

Click here for Part 2

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