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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- [a Café Six]

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise, there is one rule: Six (no more, no less) Sentenceses to the story.

Previously, in our serial story

Prompt word:

FLAKE

“Glad you could make it,” a slight pivot, shoulders barely half a degree down and the tall, thin man moved among the tables in the main area of the Café, his smile a letter of transit through the crowd, “Good to see you, how long has it been…” the ecosystem of a party, especially one with such a varied constituency as the first April Fools Day3, generated it’s own language, each individual contributing to the lexicon, snowflakes in a linguistic blizzard.

“Pierre, Héloïse we are so glad you could make it,” taking the man’s hand, he smiled at the woman.

Non, mon ami, c’est mon honneur, le château en Normandie est à vous lors de vos prochaines vacances; après ce que tu as fait… nous aimerions tous les deux pouvoir faire plus,” the woman smiled, the patina of fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes conveyed genuine affection, yet despite her advanced years, there was a flare in the back of her eye that spoke of a lifetime of… life, as she elbowed her husband with the most subtle of marital arts, “Forgive, my husband, you’d think being a diplomat would make him more sensitive; now go, attend to your other guests.”

The Proprietor checked his phone, knowing that Nick and his fellow-traveler, while likely to put in an appearance, rode the winds of chaos on their private odyssey and headed to the left of the small stage which, at the moment, was occupied by two women seemingly intent on recreating the cave scene at the end of the movie, ‘Annihilation’; the typical concentric audience/observer/participant-wanna-be rings formed around the stage.

Ma come puoi anche solo suggerire che… aspetta, ecco il nostro ospite… chiedi a lui, Proprietario,” the young woman lurched, thereby appending a subtext to her complaint even as her young man blushed, a not-so-proud display of the purple heart of public faux pas, “I apologize for my date, sir, she’s never been to an event with such a high ratio of the celebrated and the notorious.”

Looking through the waving reeds of human figures, the Proprietor noted that Chris‘s table was, at the moment empty, except for her laptop, the open cover perpendicular and showing stickers that included ‘Louvre ’84 ‘all the world’s a pyramid’; sensing the party had reached a level of equilibrium to obviate the need for a formal host, the tall, thin man headed towards the bar and, beyond it, the Manager’s office.

 

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Wezday -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

So, what (or, for the sake of being a bit more grammable*) which is Wez?

New Readers: Of course it’s valid to look at fictional characters (or, for that matter, actors and actrae) with an eye (and ear) to discern their predominant worldview.

One reason: a) they exist (before you say, ‘Sure as a fictional character!’ we might ask, “Well, if you are not as made-up and imaginary as our post-apocalyptic friend at the top of this page, make me misstipe…. (lol) and 2) it’s fun and good practice towards the goal of becoming fluent in our little personality theory.

Of course, you might maintain that you have no particular interest in the personality types of those who populate the world around you. Sure, maintain away.

But, we assure you, the fun increases in direct proportion to the facility with which we can hold up the lens of the three worldviews and find the one that is clearest. Even if you do not care if the cashier, six people ahead of you and approaching at ten-bar-codes-a-minute is a scott or a roger or a clark…. they are approaching nevertheless.

So which of the following three personality types is that irascible Dog-of-War, Wez? (And, for a bonus question: What of the Golden Youth?)

  • clark (the Outsider) one who needs to acquire knowledge while avoiding scrutiny; clarks are funny and sad (in the watered-down version of ‘tragic’) but survive and thrive on the fringes…or to use a betta meta-phore: in the underbrush that almost always surrounds the watering hole/oasis/break-room/momentarily empty back seat of the double-date car
  • scott (the Predator) alive to the extent possible only when one doesn’t worry about paying the rent in a week-and-a-half, the explorer who opens up whole worlds revealing hapless peoples and clutures because sometimes, when you lose sight of the prey, Life is sometimes staying a step ahead of the chasing mob of jilted lovers/former employers/ horn-wearing husbands and… the cops
  • roger (the Herd Member) perfect is as perfect does, most perfect is as others are forced to act… there is a Right Way and… well, it’s irrelevant, the rules are the Rules for a reason and they will be revealed in good time

ok!

no cheating

if your insist …open book, look at your classmate’s paper. trade your answers, it’s all with the Board of Education.

Damn! theys a topic for a post! In the ecosystem of Cheating on a Test, who does what?

remind us afterwards. and don’t forget to head to Denise’s Six Sentence Story bloghop. Doors open tonight at 6:00 Post Mariachi tonight!

 

 

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- [a Café Six]

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s weakly contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise, subject to the Rule of Six.

Previously, in our story

Prompt Word:

CARD

“The first guests of our April Fool’s Day3 will be arriving before we know it, time to get to work setting up,” the tall, thin man, after rolling up his impeccably-tailored sleeves, put down the rack of glasses and held his suit coat out, over the bar, “Do you mind putting this on a chair somewhere?”

Perfectly shaped eyebrows shifted like hungry wolves looking for the prey’s weakness as Rosetta Storme stared in disbelief; finally her shoulders relaxed slightly, but sufficiently, to bring her upper body from attention to at ease.

Like olden day card sharps looking for the single weakness in their opponent, the young woman and the refined gentleman began an exchange:

“No problem, what the hell, I’ll go put it in your office,” and took one step in the direction of the hallway…

“Stop, under no circumstances are you to ever go down the hallway without being accompanied by a Proprietor…”

Jeez… just trying to, like, get in the spirit, but if you people are so uptight, maybe I should just leave…”

“Not at all, it’s for your… I promised Lou that you would be safe working here,”

“Hey, old dude, I ain’t no kid, I can take care of myself and am way capable of handling drunks both male and female…”

“You misunderstand me, this is not about the customers, hell, it’s not even about the Manager’s office,… it’s about the hallway…”

“Are you busting my balls or what?”

Sighing, the Proprietor continued, “You’ve worked here, what, a total of five days, and among other attributes, you are very observant…”

“Sure but whats that got to do with…”

“Don’t interrupt, just tell me if you’ve seen a single thing about this place, lights, plumbing fixtures, furniture that seems to be broken or in need of repair…wait, don’t answer… the  hallway at the end of the bar, tell me, what you see?”

“The lights are fucked up, a bulb or two that’re ready to burn out, … a little dark for a emergency exit route…it’s been badly lit since I got to this zoo, so the hell what…”

“Do you think Mimi, a Proprietor and one of the, to use an expression from before your time. the most-together people in this… zoo, as you so charitably put it, sits there at the last seat, right next to the service station because it’s the best seat in the house?

“She’s there so you or some other kid, being all young and oh-so-sure of yourself does not come to harm.”

 

 

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- [an Ian Devereaux Six]

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise, there is one rule: Six (no more, no less) Sentenceses to the story.

Previously, in our serial story

Prompt word:

CARD

Being careful not to change my posture or breathing rhythm too drastically, I raised my eyelids just enough to take in the sight of Diane Tierney behind the wheel of the car that hopefully would deliver me back to the Land of the Rational; almost immediately, my attention was highjacked by a wide, granite rectangle approaching on the right side of the road, it’s face, carved lettering: ‘Hobbomock High School’.

Memory is a funny thing.

Were it simply a collection of facts and information, it would be both manageable and efficient, unfortunately it is anything but; memory/memories are less an old-fashioned library’s card catalog and more like a Busch Gardens zoo with an aggressively incompetent staff consisting of manic-depressive animal trainers, hebephrenic tour guides and exhibitions that, at random intervals, lowered the fences separating wild animals from feral humans.

This is especially true of memories created in the years separating childhood from adulthood, the scorched-earth, psycho-social battleground known as adolescence.

“You’re coming down, that’s good,” Diane’s voice was a synthesis of concern, curiosity and genuine affection; overcoming my obsessive desire for privacy, I decided to not be selfish and responded,

“That’s the hellhole where I endured four years of socialized torture, aka my old high school.”

She laughed, “Well I, for one, am glad you survived.”

 

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- [a Café Six] This is the Café. Part 2

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise, there is one rule: Six (no more, no less) Sentenceses to the story

Previously, ‘The tall, thin man laughed...

Prompt word:

CLOUD

“Good, though I would have accepted: the original industrial section of a medium-sized city currently in the early phase of redevelopment;” the Proprietor waved an arm in an arc that, were this a fanciful Disney movie, would illuminate the granite-stone mill buildings and multi-story factories, most still empty shells, some, like the one housing the Café were showing signs of life, commercial and otherwise.

“We’re hosting an event on the third of next month and it behooves all employees be able, whenever called upon, to provide clear directions to those wishing to attend,” the Proprietor walked down the center of the midnight street until he stood opposite the Bistro’s entrance.

“From the commercial section of the city, turn right onto a boulevard where the plate-glass store windows decrease in proportion to the lessening traffic (pedestrian and auto); bear right at a fork in the road where surnames replace brand names; one more right turn on what, at first glance seems an alley, though still a commercial area, the trend is clearly from retail products to personal services, i.e. tattoos, massages, private investigation, food, beverage and entertainment not available from your computer or, even from the Cloud,” Rosetta pointed towards the far end of the street where the anemic light of the thriving city gave the illusion of life to the wet cobblestones.

“And now, for the last question of the final phase of your evaluation as a probationary employee, describe the interior of the Six Sentence Café & Bistro …in fifty words or less,” the Proprietor looked at the young woman.

“The bar forms the right wall, interrupted once by the kitchen access. Beyond the end where Mimi sits, a hallway and Manager’s office. The other walls? Exterior with alcoves, interior with a small stage in the middle and, the space between: tables for guests and the occasional audience.”

“…keep the change,” Rosetta Storme laughed and the tall, thin man let a full, unrestrained smile off-leash.

*

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