We met on a pier. The drama queen in me wants to say it was somewhere between 2 and 3 in the morning under a thundering storm. And that it was freakishly exciting in a very frightening kind of way. But it wasn’t quite the case.
Although it was between 2 and 3, it was in the middle of the afternoon. And under a bright sun, sans lightning. As much as I’d love to say it was one of those creepy piers where unidentified bodies may lie underneath with fingers chopped off – that is not the case either. If any bodies lay underneath that pier, it’s teenaged bodies exploring their sexual sides.
Heck. I even doubt that was happening! No middle of the night encounter. No thunder. No lightning. No dead bodies. No fingers chopped off. No young exploring bodies. Just the sunshine and a pier.
And by pier, ok, that too may be a slight exaggeration. It wasn’t a pier. It wasn’t even a shaky old dock. There wasn’t any water anywhere near where we met, other than the spigot and a tap. There were boats however. If you consider a gravy boat to be a real boat.
Somehow saying we met at Bob’s Big Boy in Barstow where the I-15 meets up with the I-40 just kills the romance. It’s where anticipating gamblers stop on their way to Vegas. Not where two lovers discover each other before spending a lifetime together. But to say we met on a pier? Now there’s a story worth sharing with your grandchildren.
Which of course, we don’t have. Zero grandchildren. How could we? We’re missing the key ingredient – children. And we have no pier in our history. Just Bob’s Big Boy and Barstow. And a gravy boat we hid in our bag to forever remind us of the day we met. But what a story the story could have been if we were still together!
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This is purely fiction – a fun and amusing twist on this week’s Studio 30+ writing prompt: We met on a pier. I took that picture in Santa Monica. Such a cool place to drive by if you have money in your pockets.
Are you sure these two even got together? Maybe they just walked past each other at Bob’s. How do we know both of them were at Bob’s together to begin with?
Seriously, though, loved the way you handled this.
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Yeah and how do we know they even know each other? Good point there Sparky!
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You’re so fucking cool, I would have believed anything you wrote anyway. Gravy boats or piers or bodies or chopped off fingers found in gravy boats hidden in the filthy bathroom of a truck stop somewhere near Vegas, written as a poem from the point of view of a toothless waitress who snuck off to the bathroom to inject her last speedball before having to resort to prostitution to afford her next fix…. breathe, breathe, breathe….
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Feeling better now? 😉
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haha…gravy boat…will that even float? smiles…hey no matter where you met it can be romantic…even jail…well kinda…lol
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Hmm, I wonder if it does float? Gonna have to try it.
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I LOVE how the pier becomes a diner, and especially how they steal the gravy boat. There’s a story there. But you knew that. Too bad your protagonist hasn’t figured it out.
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My protagonist is in denial…
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haha I love this this as nothing is what it appears kind of like falling down the rabbit hole and landing in wonderland
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Nice parallel Becca!
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What a great story – I loved how you morphed the setting into Bob’s Big Boy, and then of course you totally got me with that last line. Nicely done!
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Thanks! Actually the last line kind of jumped in there kamikaze style at the last minute, it even took ME by surprise!
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this put a smile on my face, this morning… 😀
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This is so much fun. I love your writing. It always makes me smile
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