Turning a Picture Into a Story–my dad’s version

My dad, Rex Febus, sent this one via facebook. Again, the photo used is:

The assignment was to use this photo to create a scene, partial scene or story background. Here’s Rex Febus’ version:

oh that boy of mine. jest dont know what im gonna do wit im.

ever since his paw ran off after that fool fourth baby he gived me. he just been a handful. day and night

why just the other day he got himsef kicked out a that piggily wiggliy store.
the little scamp was watching “laurel and hardy” on jim bob’s dad’s picture box.
so he saw them picture box boys give each other a hot foot and then traipsed his self down to the store.
he seen this man over lookin the meat counter and like a snake in da grass he slithered on his belly up to the man’s foot. he stuck a match in the crack tween da sole and da shoe. then he lit it and then run off.
curious as a daggone cat he comes back and seed the man swatting his leg cause da pants ketched a fire.
the man grabbed him by the scruff of his neck cause he was laughin so bad and carted him off to the sto manager.

nows i gotsta whack him a good one or so. but these othere chilluns are weighin me down so i cant catch im. now i gonna have to get mysef down to da sto

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “Turning a Picture Into a Story–my dad’s version

  1. Can’t he see I’ve got my hands full with a boy on one side and a girl on the other, clinging to me like roses climb an arbor? Just like a man, when you need him, he’s no where around. Fool done run off during his mid-life crisis and left me with these here two young’uns to raise. Wonder what I ever saw in that guy.

    Oh yeah, young love, it clouds the eyes and numbs the mind. Didn’t think about the future. Now, it’s here, and I can’t escape it. A wrinkled brow and scranny arms, all I got for my labors. This hot June heat don’t help matters none. Can’t afford no AC. Ain’t about to give all my disability to the light company.

    Young ladies, I got me just one thing to say–you’d best take the time to think about the future before it captures you like it did me. I should’ve gone to college and got me a fine education, but that fool promised to take care of me. And me, I was just dumb enough to listen. Now just look where it’s gotten me. Want to join me for some clothesline conversation?

  2. Again, sent to me via email. From author and fellow ACFW member Syndi Powell:

    A minute of peace. That’s all she wanted. All she needed really. Just one minute without having to worry, having to keep her guard up, waiting for the vultures to swoop in and take everything. Was it too much to ask for sixty seconds?

    Where was God in all this? He was supposed to be their Jehovah Jireh. Their Provider. When was He going to step in and redeem this situation? Get them out of this pit of debt and despair?

    She sighed and put her hand on her fist, hating the feel of dry skin rubbing against each other. Dry skin. Dry bones. A dry life.

    All she wanted was a minute of peace.

  3. Another one sent via email from author Elisa Maria. To find out more about Elisa, visit her website at http://novelteen.com

    Oh God, is this all there is? Our long journey through the dust bowl in hopes of a better life. We weathered the desert and mountain passes in that old farm truck with our children and our dreams. For this?

    Work. That’s what Henry said. “Agnus, please come along. There’s work out west. I’ve heard that any man can find a job in California. And I’m a strong, able bodied man.”
    His strength means nothing here. The locals scorn us. They spit at us and their children throw things when we pass. We’re not welcome in town. We’re outcasts here.

    Henry’s strong shoulders are leaner now. And he holds his chin up when he sees me looking at him, but I see the discouragement. It’s written in the lines of his face. He looks much older than his thirty-two years now. I think he’s aged fifteen years in the last two. I look like my own grandmother. I’m weary to my marrow. The children are tired, hungry and beg to go home. But there is no home.

    God, we put our lives in your hands before we made this trip. I dont’ see you here, but deep in my heart is that voice that tells me I can trust you. People have suffered before us, and much worse. The hardest part is seeing my children hurt and hungry. I have to give it all to you. You’re the only hope we have. I guess that’s good because when things turn around, we’ll know it wasn’t in our power. All our reading, working and learning can’t save us. Only you can do that.

  4. Another submission from my dad:

    i have all these chilluns. loves em evey one. pa is still off tryin to find work in the city. abe got the croup, linda needs a shot.
    been reading and listening to all them doctors sayin she needs these shots. i been cogitatin if they are like them used car salesmen. tell you a car is good jest so ya be buyin it.

    my pap say them shots not necessarily for da good of my babies. i’s scared. scared if i do scared if i don’t. well guess i’ll jest go down to martha’s and see what she has to say, then i goes to mabel’s… she pretty smart bout doctorin.

    jest to be sure ima go to that lady on the edge of town who fixes up all kind a bodies with plants.
    what to do… what to do… what to do?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.