the Wakefield Doctrine

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, governed by the Rule of Sixes.

(Dedicated, quite without permission or consent, encouragement or fore-knowledge, to Frank over at Poetry, Short Prose and Walking)

Prompt word:

BEAM

The dust cloud trailing the contractor’s truck billowed in silent resentment as the vehicle came to a stop, the more vengeful particulates slowing enough to partially-obscure the lettering on the driver’s side door:  ‘F. Hubney & Son Remodeling and Renovation’ (and just below that), the Company motto: No mansion too large or rooms to numerous, we can prepare them.

The rough-framed house, being still in the museum-dinosaur stage, each room was readily identifiable, if not by holes in the floors to accept plumbing in the baths and kitchen then by the boxed in openings out to a patio or, where the contractor and his clients currently stood, in front of the nearly open wall through which the view of the ocean was almost unobstructed.

“We are more than happy with your work, Frank,” the woman stood to the left of the opening in the wall, the oversized header made it clear that it would be a picture window framing the ocean view, “what everyone told us when we first started this project was not only are you a good builder, but you have experience in dealing with unexpected problems,” she turned to look though the future window and the skeleton of a building growing between their home and the ocean.

“As you requested, I spoke to both the developer and his attorney and apparently your neighbors-to-be,” the contractor pointed with his ever-present rolled-up blueprint, “have met all the requirements both for square footage living space and design.” Pausing to allow the information to register with his clients, he continued, “Unfortunately, there are no visual easements attached to your lot that might protect the view, and, more to your concern, despite how unusual, the medieval castle-inspired architecture replete with water-features the new house might be, it does not violate any of the development’s covenants.”

“Regarding your desire to increase the size of this window to compensate for the building next door, while certainly doable, as your contractor I advise against it; were you to remove this beam it will be the moat in your neighbor’s yard that draws your eye.”

 

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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

Run by Denise, defined by it’s eponymous sentence-count, you should join in.

Prompt word:

CUP

“Don’t give me that ‘half-empty, half-full’ bullshit, all I said was ‘Could be better!”

The Manager’s office door opened on ‘me’, slammed shut on ‘bullshit’ and proceeded to hold the Sophomore like an insect pinned to a spreading board on the realization the room was not empty.

“Come in,” the tall, thin man sat behind the desk facing the door and smiled in a way that made the young student think of semicolons; his brief welcome was (in the voice of his Creative Writing professor from the early nineteen seventies), ‘When a semicolon is used to join two or more ideas (parts) in a sentence, those ideas are then given equal position or rank’.

A defensive self-consciousness flared into words, “And no, I don’t need more ‘attitude of gratitude’ or coaching on nurturing positivity, thank you very much.”

A muffled, blue-popping sound from one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, followed by the soft hissing of a needle seeking the groove in the vinyl record, transported the long-haired college student back in time so comprehensively that all five of his senses, with the exception of hearing, found a chair and sat quietly as the music reminded him how far from home he was.

“The thing to keep in mind is, ‘You’re the cup’.”

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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, governed by the Lord High Sextuplet (aka ‘the God of as many arms as fingers…sorta’)

Prompt word:

SCALE

“And, this is Diane, she is Lou’s righthand err hostess… in charge of the, mostly men on the strip club side; like, in the Patrick Swayze movie, you know, the cooler, she also takes care of this side, the Lounge side where I eat lunch, mostly…”

I was beginning to regret my suggestion for where to go for lunch; Dr. Leanne Thunberg showed up at my office declaring that if she encountered one more grad student complaining about the grind they endured at Radcliffe, she’d find a Peace Corp recruiter and exchange academia for the contemplative life of fomenting cultural revolution.

Now, at the height of the lunch rush, I attempted to introduce the head of the Department of Advanced Anthropology and Cultural Semiotics to Lou Ceasare, Chairman of the School of Advanced Shylocking and Off-the-Books Entertainment; for some reason, I was every third grader choking at the sight of the audience for his school’s Thanksgiving Day play and then Diane Tierney walked up with a single menu in her hand.

“A pleasure to meet you Leanne, or would you prefer, Madame Chairwoman,” Lou has this zen-thing where he gives the impression of standing and welcoming a person, without getting up from his booth; after accepting Leanne’s hand, he stared at me fumbling the introduction to Diane and smiled at Leanne,

“I’m thinkin’ Acts 9:18,” his eighty dollar cigar becoming, somehow, every pointer wielded by a tenured professor.

“Like fish scales glittering a hopeless face-palm, Lou, am I right?”

They say maturity is the ability to not be surprised at the behavior of others; I resigned myself to late-adolescence as I joined Lou and Leanne as they laughed like a pair of high school kids on their first marijuana high.

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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, governed by the Lord High Sextuplet (aka ‘the God of as many arms as fingers…sorta’)

OK. You’re surely used to how we do some sort of intro here, before you get to the Six below. Can’t help you on this one. The most charitable I can be, in terms of ‘what-the-hell?’, that seems to seep from this story, and, to no small degree inspires a sense of gratitude at being limited to six sentences, we’ll say, ‘Hey, It’s no secret that half of why we participate in this ‘hop is to learn to write better.’

Prompt word:

SCALE

“Are you sure?”

Kathryn Holmes smoothed-down the edge on the personal pronoun and, as added insurance, remembering the three-week wait for the plumbers now standing in the basement of her new vacation home, threw in a touch of eyebrow furrow; a successful career on Wall Street equipped her with interpersonal skills if not an over-abundance of patience.

“oh, ayuh. You got the scale on your heater coils,” Ralph (of Ralph & Son Plumbing & Heating) looked down at the mostly-disassembled hot water heater, glanced around the 60 watt bulb-lit utility room and let his gaze glide down, like a red-shouldered hawk spotting an inattentive rainbow trout, to the woman between him and his nearly-worthless son, Ike.

“Can you fix it?”

Smiling at the man, so as not to let her annoyance at her husband, Bart, who insisted the kids shouldn’t miss the first day of school and left for the city on the weekend only compounded her increasing unease.

“Don’t got the part in the truck, gotta drive all the hell down to Augusta, by Jesus,” despite years of experience negotiating with finance professionals from multinational corporations, Kathryn felt a certain sense of bewilderment at the smile appearing on Ralph’s three-day-stubbled face, made more somehow disturbing by it being mirrored on his son’s face.

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