Harvey

             The other day, my family and I attended a production put on by the Monomoy Theatre. This play was Harvey, a story about a 6'1 1/2 pooka. What is a pooka you ask? A pooka is a spirit embodying a large animal of some sort. In this case Harvey was a rabbit pooka. Throughout the entire play, the only ones who saw Harvey were his best friend Elwood P. Dowd and some unexpecting cast members who finally saw that Elwood was not crazy. This was hard to believe. Elwood was a grown man that had a giant rabbit as his best friend (who until the end of the production was thought to be imaginary), he spent a majority of his adult life in the bar, and everywhere he went, anyone, even a baby in a stroller recieved his calling card and an introduction to Harvey.
             The hilarious play and the wonderful cast made my cousin and I believe in Harvey so deeply that in the car ride home we had decided that Harvey had come home with us, and we even fastened a seatbelt for the creature. We then escorted  Harvey inside where we took a picture of the three of us and used that as a base for illustrating a portrait of  us and our new friend. We had no idea dinner with a pooka would be so interresting. It turned out Harvey absolutly loves lobster. The butter dripped from the suculent meat nearly every time Harvey attempted to eat it. By the end of the meal, Harvey's entire front had been stained yellow. I showed Harvey the bathroom and gave him some soap . Harvey stepped out of the bathroom with a coat as white as ever.
            We were now ready for the evening family board game. That night the selected game was Clue. Harvey did not quite understand the first time around and ended up showing his cards to everyone. He agreed to take another  shot at the game, now with the understanding that the point of the game is to keep your cards secret. This time Harvey crushed all of us. Not long after that Harvey checked his pocket watch and decided it was time to go home. I managed to ask where he lived, but the only reply I recieved was a tip of the hat and a wink.
            Harvey, if you too are reading this post, do not hesitate to drop by, you do know where I live.

2012

Early Morning Storm

             My head throbs as I lay flat on my back, cringing at the white streaks of light that whip my face. A low rumbling shakes the house and I swear it would lift right out of its foundation and start spinning like in The Wizard of Oz. The house stayed in place but my heart and stomach had been jolted and moved as though they had been forced into a blender and then put back into me as the mushy pulp that the concoction had bended into. Rushing downstairs, I grab a phone. My dad was dropping my brother off at camp, so I was home alone momentarily. The time had not occured to me until my tired hands fidgeted with the phone. It was 8:30A.M.. In the morning! This was hours before I even normally  even think about waking up.
              BOOM! CRASH!! The thunder and lightning were nearly on top of each other. A new noise followed. A ripping sound. A splitting sound. A fiery sound. I rushed to the front yard where a tree not 20ft. away from me had caught a fiery crown. It wasn't long before the flames had reached the front of the plant, scorching it's face and tearing its leaves from its grasp. Who to call? Panic. That word is often misused. Today I felt true panic. I did not flail or cry or scream. I froze. My mind as blanck as an empty wall. My musles  tightened and twitched.  I finally snapped out of it when another gut wrenching boom echoed through the town. The tree teetered. If it fell one way, the house would share the flames, and if it fell any other way, the rest of the forest would.  Although my senses were back, they still lagged a great deal.  My dad's number was already in the phone. I pressed my phone up to my ear and hit dial. My dad's cheerful voice came through the phone
 "What are you doing up so early?" He asked.
"Thunderstorm," I replyed somewhat layed back. " I mean there's a fire in the front yard!" I said, this time a lot more urgent sounding.
"Did you call the fire department?"
I didn't think about this. The fire department, Alex. You know, the people who handle fires! How could I be so STUPID! Without warning I hung up on my dad and called the fire department. Apparently they had had a lot of these sort of calls this morning.
              The firemen arrived and extinguished the flames before it engulfed any thing else. In the end I was left with a crispy tree, a confused father, the true meaning of panic, and a bed waiting for me to climb back into.

2012