On Monday of last week I published a post about publishing a new weekly post, entitled, Monday's Stories: Fact Or Fiction.
Every week I'll write two stories, one will be authentic entertainment and the other highly colored fiction.
Do you think you can tell the difference between a true story and fiction?
This week, I will publish the correct answers on Friday, but next week, I will stop taking comments about which story you think is true on Friday, and reveal the true story in the next "Monday's Stories: Fact Or Fiction" post.
This is another clever suggestion from Sandee at Comedy Plus, because as Sandee pointed out, it will give everyone a chance to read others opinions throughout the week-end, as well as build readers anticipation.
One day last week when I returned home from the grocery store, I noticed I forgot a few things, so I raced back to the store in the pouring rain, found a parking space, grabbed a buggy and dashed inside. I forgot bananas, yogurt, cat food, and toothpaste, so I headed toward produce first, since most of the items I forgot were on that side of the store.
I pushed my buggy so fast you would think I was a contestant in a grocery shopping contest. Although my grocery cart slowed to a screeching halt when I didn't see any bananas, since they’re usually the first item displayed, even the fixture and scale to check their weight had disappeared.
I must have been acting strange racing my cart around produce, because I saw a woman watching me out of the corner of my eye shaking her head with disgust. I’m not sure if she shared my frustration about the banana’s, or if she was disgusted with me, but then I decided it must be the latter, because I smiled at her and she didn't smile back.
Surprised, I put my elbow on the cart, laid my head in my hand and calmly strolled around produce in one last search; I passed the tomatoes, potatoes, lettuce, onions, etc, thinking about why produce was well stocked, with the exception of bananas, then I gave up, and headed toward the yogurt, passing an empty fixture with a scale.
I couldn't believe they were completely out of bananas, but I went about my business, picked up yogurt, and started to make the mile walk to the other side of the store for cat food and toothpaste, when to my surprise the woman I saw in produce was standing in front of me with a cart piled high with groceries.
If we were in a grocery contest she would be the winner. Her cart was overflowing with what looked like everything in the store, and here she was blocking me from leaving the area, and I wasn't sure why.
I said, “Hello, excuse me,” but she just looked at me with the same expression she had on her face earlier, only this time, she was closer to me, so I could see her better. Her blue eyes peered at me behind cat eyed glasses, then she threw her head up in the air, and aggressively moved her cart out of my way to let me pass, and I did.
If grocery carts had a button for an accelerator, mine would have been on express speed, but I reached the cashier in seconds anyway.
Only to be startled beyond belief when I saw her in line ahead of me, with her cart full of groceries, and I had four items.
The cashier stood on her tiptoes to look over this woman who stood about six feet tall, and I’m five seven, and said to me,
“I’m sorry, I’m the only cashier here tonight, we’re low on staff.” (Hint, hint.)
The woman spun around, put her hand on her hip, stepped toward me like a cat about to pounce, and gave me a look I will never forget. The expression on her face reminded me of an angry animal.
The cashier nodded at me as if to say, “Let’s just move on,” so I asked her where the restrooms were, because I knew I would be in line for awhile, then headed toward the bathroom.
But when I returned my buggy had disappeared, the woman had finished checking out, and my groceries were gone.
I asked the cashier, who looked at me shyly.
“Excuse me, but what happened to my groceries?”
That’s when the manager appeared and said,
“Well, you weren't in line, so I put them back. Besides, that’s what you get.”
Astonished, I said,
“What in the world are you talking about?”
Then he glared at me like I was a common criminal, and said,
“Well, the lady who checked out before you told me that you took the last of the banana’s, and weren't even considerate enough to offer her a few when we’re out of stock, then you tried to get in line ahead of her when she was in line first.”
I thought to myself, "She was in line first?" and asked him,
“Well, sir, didn't you put my groceries back?”
Where upon he looked down at his shoes, played with his wiry mustache, and replied,
“Yes maim, I did.”
I was speechless, but I pushed these words out of my mouth,
“Well, with all due respect, did you see any banana’s in my grocery basket?”
"No," the manager said, in a deeper tone.
Then he leaned over the counter, stared into my face, and said,
“I figured you probably got rid of them in the bathroom.”
Startled, I replied,
“You know, just forget about it, I believe I’ll go to a grocery store that has bananas.”
The manager mumbled something, but I ignored him, and walked out of the store.
As I left, seething, I saw the woman driving away enjoying a banana.
The next story is:
I could feel the dirt under my nails while I wiggled like a snake under my grandmother’s house, which was dark in the daytime. I was crawling under the house to visit “Pete,” my grandmothers little black and tan dog who had lived with her long before the day I was born.
Pete was the last dog in the bloodline of Toby, a homeless dog who arrived at my grandmother’s house in 1948, when my mother was ten years old.
Toby was Pete’s great-grandmother, the first dog to arrive at my grandparent’s home, probably because their house was the only house on an old country road, it sat on brick pillars a foot off the ground, and was near a railroad track.
This was the same house I was slithering under to find Pete several decades later. My mother’s childhood home sat on three acres of land full of foliage, azalea bushes, clover, and every tree you can imagine.
Their house was the only house on Moss Side Lane, named for the moss that swayed from the oak trees that grew together creating a tunnel over a gravel road.
My Mom told me that anything alive was allowed to live there, as long as they were respectful of the grounds and could feed themselves, that is with the exception of domestic animals.
My maternal grandparents home must have seemed like an amusement park to animals.
They had the amenities of a huge yard where they could run, hunt, and play, in addition to a house off the ground, where they could lay on cool dirt out of the Louisiana sunshine.
My mother said that when Toby walked up their gravel driveway, they instantly bonded, so much so, that Toby let my mother take her for rides in a baby stroller wearing a bonnet.
Toby had many litters of puppies, and a few false pregnancies, but the puppies went on to live separate lives with other families, although they kept a few, so who knows who was breeding who?
Nevertheless, all of Toby's pregnancies, (the ones that weren't false) went smoothly, and the puppies were healthy, except my mother thought that one set of puppies looked strange, although she couldn't pinpoint the problem.
That is, until one morning after my mother took the puppies off the front porch to go outside, and went back in the house. Then, about fifteen minutes later, it started raining outside and my mother heard the puppies coughing and wheezing, so she went under the house, pulled out each puppy, and brought them to the front porch.
Then, she brought a few of the puppies inside to show her father, who was sitting at their kitchen table.
“Daddy,” she said, I cannot figure out why these puppies cough when they’re out in the rain, and something looks funny about them, but I’m not sure what it is.”
Her father said, “Yes, I noticed those puppies, and honey, you shouldn't take them out in the rain.”
Now, my mother was really confused, so she asked him,
“Why can’t I take them out in the rain, and what do you mean you noticed them?”
“Because honey, their noses are upside down and running around in the rain is probably not a good idea.”
When my mother told me this story, and I asked her if the puppies turned out alright, she said,
“Well, Pete was born, wasn't he?”
Thank you for reading. Can you guess which one is true? Let me know by commenting. In closing, I hope you enjoyed the stories, and that's the truth.
I will post a link and short review for the bloggers who guess the correct answer, and publish your name (if you wish) to those of you who do not write a blog.
Feel free to respond to others comments, change your mind, or e-mail me if you have any questions or ideas for rewards for guessing the correct story. Take your time, but remember Friday is the deadline for all answers, although you're more than welcome to comment in regards to your answer or other comments until Monday.
Thank you and have fun!
I apologize for all of the space below this comment. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong, but I'll figure it out eventually. :)
Have a spectacular day!