Prologue
Before I introduce the epic masterpiece crafted (mostly) by myself and my grandmother, Jill Vincent, I think it's appropriate to provide a background into two things: what the heck is an epic and what is this "diet bread" occurrence? Well, I'm glad you asked! (Pretend that you asked.)
First, what makes a story an epic? Most classical epics generally involve a story that borders on unbelievable, begins with a statement of the theme of the work, and often involves the invocation of a muse. While those parameters are usually reserved for epic poems, I feel that they will add playfulness and context to our story.
Next, I will give a synopsis of the true story involving my grandmother's diet bread and the ducks of Freeman Lake. It's been so long ago that I cannot recall my exact age, but when my brother and I were young, we use to spend a sizeable chunk of our summer with our family in Elizabethtown, Kentucky. This was our Disneyland. This was the antithesis of our life on the farm in Cairo, Mississippi. Going to Grandma's meant Big Red, RC Cola, pickled bologna (don't knock it until you try it!), Kings Island, Chuck E. Cheese, Freeman Lake, swimming at the pools at Pine Valley, and playing for countless hours in the sunroom of the house on Starlight Drive. We also kept the makers of Froot Loops in business.
On the day of the incident, my grandma was getting my brother and I into the car when she realized that she had not grabbed bread to feed the ducks at Freeman Lake. She asked me to run back into the house and grab some bread. Revved in excitement, I bolted into the house, dashed to the pantry, and grabbed the first loaf of bread I saw. I got into the car and Grandma drove us to Freeman Lake to feed these lucky ducks. My brother and I eagerly lobbed bread pieces and sometimes even whole slices at the ducks. I do not recall whether it was within the first slices doled out or mid-loaf that my grandma shrieked, "Oh no! That's my diet bread!" When I say that she shrieked, it was of excitement, not anger because she was chuckling so hard. I don't remember if we just went ahead and fed them the rest, but I still remember it being a fun outing and a day of lots of laughter over my silly blunder. To this day, this story still echoes in my family and will likely remain a timeless tale. I know for me it will.
To wrap this up, what you're about to read is a compilation of a comment-reply type posting on Facebook. I wanted to create some fun interaction one day and posted a status inviting contributions to a silly story. I would like to mention that a couple of other folks contributed, but I would like the focus to highlight my Grandma's contributions to this epic. I am going to divide it by author and hope that this addition doesn't distract the flow too much. P.S. This means don't read the names in the parentheses as part of the story/sentence.
Without further ado........
Strange Encounters of the Marlboro Kind
Theme: Dark and stormy nights seem to bring strange cigarette-smoking men out and about.
Invocation of the muse: Oh Muse, hear my story of treacherous weather and nicotine-craving strangers!
(Stacey) It was a dark and stormy night (Rebecca) out on a deserted road. (Grandma) It was dark, cold, and rainy. I felt all alone, but then (Stacey) approached a stranger who (Rebecca) was tall, wide-shouldered, and had eyes that pierced with a look. (Stacey) The stranger grinned broadly, showcasing a toothy and golden grin. He was attempting to light a Marlboro and it took all I had not to laugh because, after all, it was a dark and stormy night. Noticing that I was about to burst into a fit of laughter, the stranger (Grandma) who was so irritated with me because I was laughing at him, swooped me up in his arms, and laid a big sloppy kiss smack dab on my mouth while I was still laughing. Then he offered me a Marlboro and I (Stacey) said, "I only smoke when I'm on fire. How about a drink?" He nodded his head like he understood a wisecrack like that was coming and smiled. Just as he was about to respond, the rain started to taper off & breaking up the darkness were two huge headlights. (Grandma) As the headlights got closer, the stranger, really got uptight. His eyes glared, looking directly at me. I thought, "Oh, what is he going to do?" My eyes were on the car door, and slowly, but ever so slow, it began to open. What or who was slowly getting out? I was still holding my breath. By the dawns light, the stranger and I were watching to see who was getting out of the car. All at once I screamed "M-O-M-M-I-E!" At that, the Marlboro Man disappeared and I lived happily ever after. The End.
The "Real" Story of the Curious Case of the Diet Bread
Theme: Jolly men in red wielding diet bread.
Invocation of the muse: Oh muse, why do we keep giving away Grandma's diet bread?
(Stacey) It was a dark and stormy night. (Grandma) I had just built a fire in the fireplace. (Stacey) Then I wondered if I had everything I needed to make some yummy S'mores. (Grandma) Grandma said everything was there and to look in her corner cabinet and I would find everything that I needed. I was told to be careful when I pull the curtain back, though. (Stacey) After grabbing all of the S'mores ingredients, I was struck with a sudden goofy impulse to pull the curtain back when (Grandma) Grandma warned me and reminded me that I didn't do what she said. (Stacey) Slapping myself for not heeding my Grandma's warning, the pulled-back curtain revealed a big brute of a man peering into my window. (Grandma) Grandma said, "My child, every time you don't listen to Grandma, bad things happen. You know, like don't feed the ducks my diet bread." (Stacey) The big brute of a man was decked from head to toe in a red velvet suit. The end of the pants and coat were trimmed in a soft, white fur and his hat was the same. He had the snowiest and fullest beard. He could have made ZZ Top blush. In one hand, he had a large sack of toys and in the other was a loaf of diet bread. (Grandma) Grandma said, "So you are telling me the big brute of a man was the one that got my diet bread? HUH----likely story. Humbug!" The end.
Invocation of the muse: Oh muse, why do we keep giving away Grandma's diet bread?
(Stacey) It was a dark and stormy night. (Grandma) I had just built a fire in the fireplace. (Stacey) Then I wondered if I had everything I needed to make some yummy S'mores. (Grandma) Grandma said everything was there and to look in her corner cabinet and I would find everything that I needed. I was told to be careful when I pull the curtain back, though. (Stacey) After grabbing all of the S'mores ingredients, I was struck with a sudden goofy impulse to pull the curtain back when (Grandma) Grandma warned me and reminded me that I didn't do what she said. (Stacey) Slapping myself for not heeding my Grandma's warning, the pulled-back curtain revealed a big brute of a man peering into my window. (Grandma) Grandma said, "My child, every time you don't listen to Grandma, bad things happen. You know, like don't feed the ducks my diet bread." (Stacey) The big brute of a man was decked from head to toe in a red velvet suit. The end of the pants and coat were trimmed in a soft, white fur and his hat was the same. He had the snowiest and fullest beard. He could have made ZZ Top blush. In one hand, he had a large sack of toys and in the other was a loaf of diet bread. (Grandma) Grandma said, "So you are telling me the big brute of a man was the one that got my diet bread? HUH----likely story. Humbug!" The end.
Epilogue
I am very grateful that despite time and miles that I got to have fun with her like this. I miss you already, Grandma. I will always miss you. I will love you always. Thank you for so many fun memories. Don't worry, this Christmas and always, you will have a place at my table. I may even include a slice of diet bread on your plate because I know you'll be chuckling your butt off in Heaven.
