|This is a Weekly Coffee Share Essay.|
I’m part of a small group of bloggers who stay in touch and chat about blogging, writing, or just about anything else that might be of interest.
|Link to This week’s full list|
|About My Site & Map to my Stories.|
Good morning and Happy (Day after) Thanksgiving. Here in the US, we are just starting what is arguably one of the worst days of each year. For us, the day after thanksgiving is known as Black Friday. It’s the traditional day when many companies open their doors and websites to huge throngs of people queued up to shop while they offer huge discounts. People are known to get in line hours ahead of opening time, endure driving snow, pick fights with others about who was holding whose place in line and, once the doors are open, rush the tables inside and fight over the limited stock of whatever product they need badly enough to behave so badly to obtain. It’s not a pretty sight, or so I’m told, because since realizing what was going on downtown (way before there was a WWW for us to take our battles to) I determined that there was not and never would a product that I needed or wanted bad enough to endure such nonsense.
Lord, I hope you’re not just back from one of these shopping rampages. That would be awkward.
Instead, I intend on spending the day progressing my latest piece of short historical fiction.
That said, I don’t want to tie you down with a long coffee share but I did want to share that after posting last week’s coffee essay, I had a flash of a memory that I decided to add to my autobiographical story collection.
See, we guys have issues with women that seem to actively draw us into unintended and inappropriate chaos and after some thought, I decided I could capture this event without embarrassing the woman involved by changing her name and, it’s been long enough since the event that even those who knew me back then might have a hard time putting together who was the focal point of this mental trauma.
A friend had a near death experience, right in front of me and I had to act to save her, but of course, there were, um, complications to sort and think through when there was no time to do so.
I thought you might enjoy a short story of my distress navigating yet another situation I did not ask for but only a real looser would fail to act and resolve. Its word length puts it at a 5-minute read and now that everyone survived, we can laugh about it with impunity.
So, freshen up that coffee and enjoy a breath-taking retelling from roughly 25 years ago.