Vernon was a worrier. Every night he lay in bed, wide awake, and worried.
He worried as to what he would do if his wife died. Would he cope on his own? Would he sell the house and move to something smaller? Would he…?
He worried that his pet canary might escape its cage and fly into the world outside. What would it eat? Would it sing in the trees? It would get cold and probably die in a couple of days. Poor thing. Oh the poor thing..
What if he died before his wife? Would she be alright? What if the car broke down after he’d died? He should really make arrangements to join some Automobile Association so his widowed wife could simple phone up and say “Help!”
What if his dog barked too loud and the neighbours phoned the city’s Animal Control people and they came and took the dog away. It would be so lonely. It would whimper. It would be awful; just awful. People can be so cruel.
What if there was a knock on the door in the middle of the night and it was the police saying that one of the kids had been killed in a car crash? These things happen, and regularly.
What if North Korea dropped a bomb? What if he lost his job? What if? What if?
And tonight was the worst of all. The bed was hard. His every joint ached. Not a wink of sleep all night. He was glad when morning came. He had tossed and turned and worried in case he was getting some sort of alzheimer’s. He couldn’t remember what he was worried about.
Too bad there’s not a pause button on our overactive minds, with a timer set for a few hours later. But then, you’d worry the timer wouldn’t work and your brain would never reactivate. You’d have to worry about that before the brain went into pause mode, of course. Then you’d worry that your brain wouldn’t pause …
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I’m a terrible worrier – every time someone leaves the house to go somewhere I hear the fire station’s siren go off in the distance. Of course, I imagine all sorts of things have happened…
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Oh Bruce!!!
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Well it’s not my fault! The siren seems to go off only when someone leaves the house!
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Just wait until that active volcano starts belching smoke…
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Our volcanos don’t belch – they politely burp.
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This little piece deserves a place beside the best stuff churned out by Kafka and Sartre —I wish you had carried on. The end is an exquisite culmination of character and destiny. On an aside, I can relate to Vernon on some of his worries…
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Thanks, Uma. Maybe it could be the first page of a novel?
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Yes, Bruce. Can we please have the rest of it, a page a day?
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That’s a definite thought…! How many words on an average page? I shan’t start until after I’ve moved (Nov. 14) as am packing, and then will have to unpack! It’s such a good idea!
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About 400 to 500 should be good enough to keep the readers glued. Wish you a stress-free relocation.
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Stress-free is not bloody likely! In fact I can tell you it already isn’t!
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Don’t I know that, my friend? May the Force be with you.
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Never mind
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I’m a bit of a Vernon, I can understand that feeling of worrying about so many things that you forget which one you’re worrying about!
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I’m a worrier and a half too – which is a bit of a worry.
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Wonderfully astute
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Thanks!
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