Ode to Joy

Like many people I know, I think my family is just a little bit wacky. You know what I mean? Just a hair to the left of normalcy. I won't go into details, but lets just say the networks missed making a fortune by not putting our story on TV. Now don't get me wrong I'm not knocking them , all that daffy stuff made growing up a lot more fun and at least things weren't monotonous.
I was and still am a bit of a trouble maker, the non-conformist and loud mouth. Now one must give credit, where credit is due. I learned from the best. My sister!
Painting a complete description would be impossible for a single post and so I'll have to keep it short. She has had more adventures than Marco Polo. At thirteen she ran away from home to go see Woodstock- she never made it, but the attempt was brave. ( authors note: If you don't' know what Woodstock is maybe you are too young to be reading this.) After High school she took off to travel around the country, hawking bootleg tee shirts after concerts. In the late 7o's she started performing in the midnight Rocky Horror Picture Show extravaganza as none other than, of course Frank-N- Furter. Now life does this to almost all people, the spirit of of youth with hormones overriding the intellect and reason that governs it. Eventually she settled down a bit and started working at jobs that kept her in one place instead of traipsing all around the country.
Two of the places stand out in my memories for they truly represent the the attitude my big sister has towards life. The first place was Chippendales and another was for a cruise company - (I got a great deal out of that one) and at one point she even considered working for a place that sold pre-fab mausoleums.
Now my sis is a writer. she writes all kinds of stories and as soon as I wheedle permission out of her, I'll be able to post them. When she first started to take storytelling seriously, she and I had a bit of a tiff about creativity. I believe that writing is like anything else and that you have to sit down everyday and produce something, "That's were the seeds of great stories are germinated". She believes in waiting for the muse to posses her and allow her tales to arrive naturally.
She believes that there is a purity in the stories that arrive this way and that you can't just wake up and write a piece, "it's not like ordering take out".
Well she threw down the gauntlet and when I woke up the next morning I just had to prove my point. Bleary eyed and hungover, I came up with something to show her up and piss her off at the same time.

-click here or see the next post to read the story-