Author: Safa Khan PM
Man, I sooo have short term memory loss! It's friggin' annoying! Like I can't remember what I was doing a minute a- OH YEAH! Pie!"... This story is a mix of a dream I had once and my life. It's a light, fun read but its going places! Look forward to it!Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Friendship - Words: 1,160 - Reviews: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 12-21-08 - id: 2611383
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Some say that dreams are an accumulation of the day's useless thoughts and are meant to be forgotten. But what of those dreams that we remember? Are those dreams that we remember vividly enough that we can bring them to our mind's eye months later meant to forgotten?
Of course they are. Dreams are contrary to reality and dwelling in one's fantasies is a waste of the precious few decades of life that some of us are gifted with. They hide the truth like the warmth of the bed covers in the middle of winter hides the brisk chill that attacks us as soon as we escape the realm of our bed. And the sudden cold of a winter morning is harder to endure than heartbreak itself.
I lifted the cordless phone receiver to my ear, and listened to the beeping which informed me that the phone wasn't busy. Actually, I was home alone, but I always checked - it was a bad habit. I punched in my best friend's number with my thumb. It was a stupid phone and the stupid buttons on the stupid dialing pad were stupid, stiff and hard to push. Each number sent a annoying beep through the receiver into my ear. I sighed as I lay the phone against my cheek and pinched my hip with free hand. The phone beeped a familiar ten note tune as it dialed the number.
Riinng... Riinng... Riinng... as the phone rang a third time, I started to become slightly annoyed. My best friend's family never... ever... picked up their phone.
"Friggin' Nabila!" I hissed my best friend's name under my breath. Inconveniently, Nabila's mother picked up right at that moment, catching me off guard.
"Hello?" I heard her mother's tired and unenthusiastic voice coming from the receiver and I gasped, startled.
"H-hi" I started, stuttering because of my surprise, "Is... Is Car- I mean Nabila there?" I had accidentally started saying the only other person I ever called's name, Carolyn, but then I remembered I was calling Nabila.
"One moment," she said, not bothering to hide the impatience in her voice.
"Uh huh..." I replied, flinching as I realized I was being really rude and Nabila's mother kind of had complete control of who Nabila was allowed to hang out with, "Um... Thanks!" I added quickly. I heard her grunt and was relieved that she had heard my lame attempt at being polite.
"Nabuu!" I heard her call out. Nabila found her nickname embarassing and tormenting her with it was one of my favourite pass times.
"Whaaat?" I heard Nabila's barely audible voice screaming from somewhere in her house.
"Phoooone!" her mother screamed back. I rolled my eyes. How long was this going to take? I heard the muffling sound of a hand covering the receiver on the other line. A whole minute passed before Nabila finally reached the phone.
"Hello?" Nabila's voice immediately lifted my mood.
"Heyy dude!" I replied, grinning widely even though she couldn't see me, "Come over!"
"Oh! Haha!" she said, making me hold my breath for her response, "Alright, Safa! I'll be over in a few minutes, is that okay?"
I exhaled deeply, still grinning like an idiot, "You're too polite for your own good - you know that? Alright, well, I'll see you then!"
"Okay, bye~!" the phone beeped, as she hung up. I walked across the living room to the wide window and turned the rod that opened the blinds. I squinted as I tried to see past the leaves of the tree in my front lawn. Nabila lived in the house across the street from me. I let myself fall knee-first on to the sofa in front of the window that faced the other side of the room. I sunk into the comfortable cushions and hung my arms over the back of the sofa. I continued staring, bored and impatiently out of the window at the empty street. Fifteen minutes had passed and the ticking of the small clock on the side table was starting to get on my nerves.
"A few minutes my ass!" I moaned as I made my way to the kitchen. I opened my fridge and saw the last small slice of pumpkin pie sitting between a jug of Tropicana orange juice -no pulp, I hated pulp- and a bottle of Heinz ketchup, "You're mine! Just wait a couple of minutes!" I said to it, immitating the high-pitched voice of the pedophile from a popular TV show.
I closed the fridge -not wanting to waste electricity nor spread cold air in the cozy, warm kitchen- and rummaged through the dish rack, looking for the perfect sized plate for my slice of pie. The doorbell rang and I groaned. Nabila always managed to show up once I had busied myself with something tasty. I wiped my wet hands on the back of my sweater and rushed down the hall to the front door.
I opened the door and shot Nabila a disgusted look before slamming the door on her face. I waited a few seconds before opening the door again and grinning at her.
"Why does that never stop being funny?" I asked.
She shrugged, "Because you're Safa." That was her explanation for anything weird I ever did.
I fumbled with the lock on the screen door - it was the kind that had to be turned a dozen times clockwise to lock and two dozen times counterclockwise to unlock. Finally the door clicked unlocked and I let her in. She sat on the bottom step of the stairs that led to the second floor and started the long process of untying her shoes. I went back to the kitchen, not willing to wait that long.
Once in the kitchen, I looked around, remembering that I was doing something but not able to recall what that something was. I looked from the pots on the stove to the assortment of junk food scattered on the kitchen table to the eight -yes, eight- cereal boxes on top of the fridge, and back again. What the hell was I doing a minute ago?? I wondered. Nabila finally walked into the kitchen and slid into one of the 5 chairs surrounding the kitchen table.
"Can I have one of these?" she asked, pointing at a plastic bag full of mini croisants on the table.
With a quick glance, I said, "Go ahead..." and I continued trying to remember, "Man, I sooo have short term memory loss! It's friggin' annoying! Like I can't remember what I was doing a minute a- OH YEAH! Pie!"
Nabila looked up at me with one eyebrow raised, "Pie?"
"Yeah! That's what I was doing before you came, getting a slice of pie from the fridge - I totally forgot until just now!"