Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Here we are again. Wednesday clawing it’s way up Thursday’s leg as it touches the cold, morning floor.
(Wait, that was a touch on the weird side, even for the Wakefield Doctrine.)
Here we are again, the once-a-week bloghop, hosted by Denise that goes by the name: ‘Six Sentence Story‘.
To paraphrase a line from the movie, ‘Dogma’, “Can you guess how long the stories are?”*
TRUNK
Like the fifth of the proverbial six blind men, I waited my turn to describe the accident.
Although a minor injury, the cut on my forehead inspired the EMT to go all Paris runway with bandage and gauze; after he left, I pulled the white bands further down over my ears, the squawking police radios became distant exclamation points.
Sitting on the corrugated step of the rescue truck, I rested my chin on the palm of my hand, fingers spread like a cardsharp; the driver of the third car ceased his eyebrow semaphore and looked elsewhere for someone to talk to him.
I felt the smell of cigarettes and coffee as the cop approached and thought, ‘Surely the devil was allowed some creative input when God created the world’.
I stood up and looked at the conga line of sheet metal and radiator steam, popped trunk lids up like the hands of New Year’s Eve celebrants.
“So what compelled you to stop when the traffic light was yellow?” the expression on the cop’s face inspired a college nano-memory, ‘The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but that it was impossible to avoid joining in‘; I sighed and decided not to answer.
* Surely, in the world of sarcasm, no one could hold a candle to Alan Rickman**
** youtube ‘Dogma’ Metatron’ the ten minute version
