SightsnBytes (Ted White)

July 13, 2014

Spirit of the Coyote

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sightsnbytes @ 7:26 pm

Sightsnbytes:

We attended a Pow Wow today and I remembered writing this little piece.

Originally posted on SightsnBytes (Ted White):

The kids sat around in awe as the old man told his tales. Kids of all ages visited the old man, and despite their age, behaviors, or problems they may have had in the past, his audience left somehow changed forever. Maybe it was the way in which he told the stories, maybe it was because he put so much conviction in the tales. Who knows, maybe the stories were true.

“The boy who we will call Running Bird sat alone in the forest. Abandoned by the tribe, he was left to fend for himself in the vast forest of Central Newfoundland. Running Bird was not like most boys his age, he knew things. His father would take him to the forest on many hunts, and each time he would make sure that his son learned a valuable lesson, one that would teach him to survive using only his hands…

View original 1,006 more words

July 11, 2014

Elmer and his new bride

Filed under: Fiction — Sightsnbytes @ 10:32 am

Every day, bright and early, Elmer drove his beat up Ford Tempo to the Little Market store to see her. He was shy at first, hiding in the aisles and peeking a glance at her, and as time went on, he grew bold and even approached her. He never said anything of course, that would be too difficult for him. He simply stared into her deep blue eyes.

Elmer was never what you would call a smooth talker when it came to women. At fifty-four, he still lived with his mother. Some said that the two of them were more than mother and son, but that could have just been a rumor. You know how rumors start in small towns, especially when the person in the rumor is a guy like Elmer Gaudet.

Elmer never had a girl-friend, or even a friend in his entire life. A loner, he chose to keep to himself in the old Gaudet home deep in Louisiana, a home riddled with trouble in all of its 200 years of existence. His mother ruled the roost, and nobody knows what happened to his father. Some guess that he ran away from the madness that went on behind those huge wooden doors of the old house. Some say that Estelle Gaudet actually took the young man’s life after giving birth to her pride and joy. For this reason, she was known by the name ‘The Black Widow’. I guess growing up with a mother with that kind of reputation was probably the reason for Elmer’s weirdness.

Elmer continued to stalk the pretty blue eyed lady until the day his dear old mother left this world. The amazing thing was that despite the fact that he sought her for over ten years now, the pretty blued eyed creature who haunted Elmer’s dreams each night never seemed to age one day. Everyone figured that Miss Estelle’s last days were in preparation for a lifetime in a much hotter place. That’s what her neighbours hoped anyway. And then there was poor Elmer, alone in the world for the first time in his life. At sixty four, he was no spring chicken, but then again, it is never too late to meet a woman and make her your wife, is it?

Elmer’s urges seemed to be under control while his mother was alive, partially due to the fact that each night, Elmer cuddled against her side, holding her tight during his dreams of his sweet Angela. At least that is what he called her. In all the years that Elmer watched his pretty blue eyed princess, he never once asked her name.

When Elmer could no longer stand to sleep alone, he deducted a plan to steal  Angela away from that horrible job at the department store and take her home with him. He would adorn her with everything she ever dreamed, and make her his princess forever.

On this dark night, he prepared for the next day. Using a few blankets from his bed, he sewed the fabrics together to make a large bag, just big enough to totally cover the unsuspecting  Angela. In the morning, he was the first one in the store. He quickly approached  Angela, who seemed to be staring into dead space. He threw the bag over her body and using his strong arms, he ran for the door,  Angela in tow.

Alarms went off in the store and the police was called, but Elmer was lucky. He made it all the way back home before they had any idea to what had happened. Elmer wondered how it could have been so easy. No police chase, no running away, it was simple. If he had only realized this, he would have taken her much earlier.

That night, Elmer was in heaven. He held sweet Angela close to his side, amazed with her smooth lines and tight tummy. He legs were solid muscle, as were her arms. She had the body of a supermodel, and she was all his. He didn’t mind if she wasn’t responsive, that would come later. On this night he would enjoy her companionship and her presence  beside him where she belonged.

Poor  Angela. The store manager didn’t care if she was gone. He didn’t demand an area wide search by the police. There was no story in the newspaper and her kidnapping didn’t make the six o’clock news. The store manager simply went to the stock room, grabbed another mannequin,  dressed her in pretty clothes and stood her in the window where  Angela stood for over twenty years.

June 26, 2014

Report Card Day!

Filed under: It's True, I promise ya — Sightsnbytes @ 8:42 am

Today is report card day for my son. He isn’t worried though, he has no reason to worry. Not because he did particularly well this year, not because his teacher knows that he is a good student and he worked hard to get the marks he needed; but because no matter how badly a kid does in school (at least in grades kindergarten to grade seven), a child cannot fail. Hell, they don’t even fail kids for cheating these days.

When I was a kid, you dreaded Report Card Day. I capitalized the words because of the importance of the day. If you did well enough, the teachers considered you smart, and told you so. You passed and went on to the next grade. If you didn’t do well, the teachers actually called you dumb, and held you back. If you tried your best and still failed, and they knew you were trying (or you failed so many times that you were a teenager in grade three) they put you in a ‘special Education class’ that we called ‘special Ed’. We had several special ed classes in our school. The kids wore headphones and listened to ‘special teachers’ on a cassette recorder. We called those kids ‘headphones’. I had a few cousins who were called headphones, and they spent all day learning how to weave baskets and do string art. If you never seen string art, it consisted of a piece of wood covered by a black cloth. Nails were tacked in over a stencil and students wrapped different colors of string until they created a picture. My cousin was the best string art headphone in school. After school he went on to use way too much weed and now he sits home staring out the window and the walls, and cherishing his many works of string art. I think he still uses his headphones too.

I remember kindergarten. The teachers were concerned that since my mother was a teacher prior to bringing me into the world (back then you didn’t need a college degree to teach. All you needed was grade eleven, which almost nobody had, and you could teach. The money was terrible, probably a few dollars each day, especially if you were female.). Anyway, mom taught me math skills and how to read and spell. Don’t get me started on spelling. Kids these days don’t have to spell. Kids these days don’t know how to spell, because some genius teacher said that spelling wasn’t important….

Sorry, got off track there…

Anyway, mom taught me more in my pre-school years than the teachers did in grade kindergarten. I was doing so good in kindergarten that the school figured that I was ‘bored’ with the curriculum and decided not only to pass me onto grade one, but to move me from kindergarten to grade three. No stress there Teddy Boy, I would be spending my next school year in a different school with kids two years older than me. The school didn’t realize the damage that can cause for a child..

That year, as I arrived at the school, the smallest and youngest kid in the playground, bullies had a field day with me. I was bloodied and beat up before school even started that day, and because I was billed ‘the smart kid from the first grade’, the teachers expected more from me, even though I was still technically a grade one student. I did poorly and my marks proved it. Still the school would not fail me and move me back so that I could be with kids my own age and not be expected to do better than everyone else. In essence, this little ‘gift’  caused me to be an underachiever until I graduated high school. Thanks a lot!

Report cards from then on were a terror. I knew that I didn’t do that well, and with a fifty average, I was moved on from year to year, always lacking the confidence to do well. I got to the point that I actually tried to fail. Of course that didn’t work. When I was sixteen in grade eleven while everyone else was eighteen or even older, I was immature and confused, and very bashful around girls. I struggled socially and my confidence was zero.  It would take twenty years for me to regain my confidence. Not bad for a kid who skipped two grades, huh? Damn report card day!

June 19, 2014

…on hiatus

Filed under: It's True, I promise ya — Sightsnbytes @ 8:26 pm

Hi Guys! Haven’t been here in quite a while, mostly due to the the wedding plans and of course work. Got several stories started, but haven’t the time to finish them. Hopefully after the wedding I will find the time to sit and at least finish what I have started. I will continue to read the fine works of the talented individuals I have listed in my blogroll.

It’s not good-bye, it is see you later…

May 30, 2014

The Last One

Filed under: Fiction — Sightsnbytes @ 9:12 am

I never slept very well last night, tossed and turned from the moment my head hit the pillow. It hasn’t been the same since she left; since everybody left.

I got up early, what was the use to stay in bed when I had so much to do today?

My every footstep echoed throughout the house, and the utter quietness was enough to drive a sane man mad in seconds.

The dog bowl in the corner is as empty as it was yesterday. What’s the use to fill it? He left with the others.

I go to the refrigerator and glance inside. The shelves are filled with everything I could imagine, but I have appetite for nothing. I only eat because my diabetes tells me that I should. Or I die. Maybe I should consider the second alternative, what with the loneliness I am feeling right now.

But I go on. I force a bowl of dry cereal down the hatch and set out for yet another day of searching….

As quiet as it was in the old house, outside is even more so. Not a breeze, not a bird chirp. Not even the sound of machinery or cars or factories or people. Dead quiet. I might as well be dead.

As I walk down the path that I have been walking since I could walk, the one that leads to the grocery store where I shopped with my sweet Charlene, and that my parents shopped when I was but a wee child, I am alerted with the sound of a loud crash. Hey, maybe someone is here. Its been such a long time since I spoke to someone other than myself.

Damn, it’s only the roof of an old building falling to the ground. The old buildings have been doing that lately. Nobody to keep them maintained I guess.

The grocery store. Step one of my daily routine. I grab a shopping cart and push it into the first aisle. The wheels of the cart are getting rusty and the effort to push the thing gets worse every day. The other carts are the same. If I had some oil I could fix them, but that won’t happen here.

Most dry goods are still good here, cereals, canned goods, grain, etc. I haven’t had milk is so long now that I know my bones are screaming for it. I don’t have time to worry about pain though, I have to keep alert.

Usually I pack my groceries in bags and carry them home, but nobody is here, who would miss this beat up old cart anyway? When I have filled my daily shopping list, I head home. Not having to wait in the checkout line is the only pleasure I have these days.

Got everything packed and locked in the shelves of the cabinets in the pantry. As I climb the stairs and head outside, I wonder what I will find today. Every day my routine is the same. Sleep, eat, gather food, and then search. Today I will head southwest. I haven’t gone that route in almost a month.

My trusty old bicycle is the only means of travel that’s left for me. Cars became useless when there was nobody to fix them. Gasoline being so difficult to find these days, how else could I use a car anyway? Too bad though, I could have my pick of any car I wanted. A hunk of rusting metal. Big deal!

As I pedal down the empty street, I think back to the days when the sidewalks were crowded with people hustling back and forth, some actually bumping into others without a care. Those days are gone now. Perhaps the only good thing about this life I am left to lead. I look on either side of the street, hoping to find some sort of life. Hell, a rodent or another pest would actually be a welcome sight right now. I probably wouldn’t mind even seeing a mosquito or an ant. But there is nothing here but me. Hell! Why me?

I pedal until my legs get too tired to move. Another colossal waste of time. At least I satisfied my curiosity for one more day. Nothing on the southwest side. Next week I will move to the next step. I have been gathering food for quite some time. Think I will alter one of the shopping carts into a makeshift bicycle trailer and venture to the next city. Maybe there is someone  there, someone like me, wondering why they have been abandoned by not only the people they love, but by every living thing in the world.

Right now the sun begins to set. I have to get back inside. God knows that night brings the terror, the terror that took every living thing on this planet away from me. Why not me? Why torture me with the knowledge that I am the Last Man on the planet?

 

May 28, 2014

The proposal

Filed under: It's True, I promise ya — Sightsnbytes @ 10:15 pm

As some of you may know, Snb’s single life will be coming to an end very soon. On July , 2014, I will be tying the knot with a very beautiful woman who I love very much.

I am lucky for a number of reasons, the best being the fact that she is doing most of the wedding planning on her own. My role is (my words, not hers) simply showing up on time. I can live with that. We already have our ceremony music chosen, the church and bar booked, and our bridal parties asked and accepted.  Being a wedding DJ, I am simply putting a playlist together and letting the music play. Think after over 25 years of entertaining couples on their special night, I can manage to play my own wedding without too much grief.

Tonight she asked me to write a short paragraph describing my ‘Unique’ method of proposing. I remember it quite well.

While driving home from a nearby city where we were shopping, I noticed that my lady was enjoying her favorite candy. Those little ‘love hearts’ with the romantic writing on the side. I also noticed that she had just ate two particular candy with the words ‘will you’ and ‘marry me’ written on them.  I kept that thought at the back of my mind.

A few years later, on December 21, 2007 to be exact, I finally  got up the nerve to ask her to marry me.  I went out and bought these little love hearts candy. I had to buy over ten packs to find the words I needed. In one box I put all the extra candy, and in the other box, I put just two candy.  ‘Will you’ and ‘marry me’.  another box contained the engagement ring.

My lady had planned on spending Christmas with her family in a nearby town, so I had to think fast.  I mentioned that I had a surprise for her. I brought out all three boxes.

She opened the first box and commented on how she loved these little candies. Then she opened the second box (at first I thought that she was going to eat the candy and ruin my plan); but then she stopped and read the writing on the candy. She never said anything, but went to the next box, which contained her ring. She was speechless!

I think it was a year or two later that she finally said yes. I think I caught her off guard with the candy!

She still loves these little candies, and you know what? So do I!

May 13, 2014

Land of the free

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sightsnbytes @ 9:39 pm

O Canada! Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!

Free? Are we really that free that we mention it in our National Anthem? I think not.

Prior to the last few months, I would have been the first to say that we live in a free country, but after subscribing to Netflix, and then comparing the American version to the one that I am watching, I beg to differ.

I mean, compare over 10,000 titles to a measly 4000, and most of them being Canadian crap, and your $7.99 doesn’t seem like such a great deal at the end of the day.

May 11, 2014

To Mom

Filed under: Poetry and other deep thoughts — Sightsnbytes @ 9:43 am

They were poor folks back then, raising cattle and hens, their father finding work wherever he could, struggling to make ends meet.

The family was large, but not for the time. Eleven kids, six girls and five boys. Mom and dad made it thirteen.

A one room school served the entire community, and church law was law.  Nobody challenged the school master. She was a nun from a nearby village, and her scorn was cruel and pointless.

Kids grew up and stayed on as farmhands, they didn’t venture away from home to find themselves.

Her dad drank a lot back then, it was the way. Women stayed home to tend to the farm and take care of the kids, the men partied when times were hard and worked when they could.

She wanted something different for her kids, something better. Unlike most, she never dropped out of school and married young. Rather, she finished high school and left home to teach others.

This journey brought her to a bigger town than she ever imagined. From there she met a man who she loved from the start. She married him.

They built a small house in a small community and started a family. They both struggled financially as she gave up teaching and he worked odd jobs and drove cab.

The town began to prosper, and he got a job as a logger for a local sawmill. Times were getting a bit easier, but as times got better, the family grew. Money was short, but she managed what little they had and they were happy.

As the kids grew, there was hope for a brighter future. Some went off to college, some married and raised families.

Now they are in their senior years, and they are happy. Grand kids adorn their home on weekends, and they spend each day together, celebrating their love for one another.  Today we are gathering at their home, bringing cards and gifts and mostly love.

Happy Mothers Day Mom, we love you so much.

May 10, 2014

Puzzled

Filed under: Fiction — Sightsnbytes @ 7:57 am

The walls of the old retirement home echoed in quietness. Not a sound in any of the fifty or so rooms on either side of the hallway. It was as if the old place had finally been abandoned. Except for one room that is. In this room, wicked laughter and evil lurked…

Surprisingly, most of the racket came from one room; a room that housed Marlene Jennings, an 85 year old retiree who simply sat and did a jigsaw puzzle. At first glance, this may have seemed so innocent, but if you knew Marlene, or Lena as she was known to her few friends, you would simply know better.

Her craggy old fingers pressed the tiny knobs together creating her own works of art. Some of the puzzles that she had finished adorned the walls of her tiny room, and upon further inspection of the subject matter, one would cringe in terror.

The puzzles, which were assembled and then glued to cardboard and then framed, depicted images of true terror, from men and women being tortured to soldiers being beheaded. Some even showed massive murder scenes of families and innocent children.

The picture she was putting together today was much worst than any of her previous puzzles. The image showed a set of shoulders and the back of someone’s head. In front of the person sat a laptop. On the laptop, the image of a wordpress blog page titled ‘Puzzled’. Oh, I forgot to mention….the person’s throat was cut by a piece of piano wire. It lay next to the victim, on the floor. You are wondering who the victim is? Think about it for a minute. Who else but the reader of this blog post….HAhahaha….

The laughter again filled the rooms of The Lost Souls Retirement Home.

May 8, 2014

Leather anyone?

Filed under: It's True, I promise ya — Sightsnbytes @ 1:01 pm

So I made up my mind this morning that I needed a new jacket. Leather if possible. First I shopped at all the stores in the area (not many carry leather) and found nothing. Then I went online. Still not the one I was looking for. Maybe I am either too fussy or too cheap…

When I was a kid, my uncle dropped over with a gift. He had been working away and made enough money to buy me a gift. Wow, I was excited.

“Real leather” he said. “From Texas!”

Well everyone knows that if its made in Texas, it must be real leather. It fit perfect. And cool! Little leather strings hanging from each sleeve just like Davy Crockett. I don’t know if Davy Crockett actually wore a jacket with strings hanging from the sleeves, but my dad agreed that he did, so that was good enough for me.

The first day I wore it to school, I was so proud. I didn’t walk that day, I strutted in like I was a millionaire. That didn’t last long. The bullies had a field day ripping  the strings from the sleeves. By the end of the day,  I was completely ‘de-stringed’ and no longer did I feel like Davy Crockett.

Still, I wore that coat with pride. I wore it outside playing, riding my bike, even to church. Most of all, I wore it whenever we went to the beach. I know what you are saying, ‘who wears a jacket to the beach?’

I would proudly use my real leather jacket as a seat, allowing myself and hopefully some hot chick (I was twelve at the time) to sit next to me instead of her getting all sandy and dirty. It almost worked.

Betty Jean was a cute blonde who all the kids wanted to sit next to. She was an ‘older’ gal of fourteen, so naturally all us younger kids had our fantasies of her. ‘Hey Betty, how’s that sand treating you?’ I asked.

She came over and just before she sat down, she peered at my fine leather garment and asked “Hey Teddy, isn’t that a bubble in the leather? I didn’t know leather bubbled in the heat.”…

and then she laughed. She might has well burst both bubbles, the one in my fine leather jacket and the one with my fantasy of her sitting next to me. She grabbed the bubble, and pulled it until it peeled from the lining of the jacket.

“Hahahaa that ain’t leather, its plastic!” she said. My heart was broken. I grabbed the thing and ran home. I had to ask my uncle why my coat was peeling.

Uncle being the con man that he was, simply explained that in summer, Texas cows actually shed their skin, and that by fall the jacket would be perfect again. What was he taking me for? I knew that even if the cows shed in the summer, my jacket wouldn’t be fixed. That was the last Texas leather jacket I ever owned. As for Betty, I think she ran off with my uncle.

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