Maverick. Flash Fiction 1

She walked in the hospital and she knew she had to do it. Maverick was old. He had arthritis. 14 was old for a dog his size, they said. She ignored everything anyone did in attempt to make her feel better. Nothing would make it better.

She walked through the hallway of the empty veterinary practice. She opened the door to room, where her chocolate lab rest on the table. His chest was moving up and down. She pulled his collar out of her purse and just held in her hands. She thought of how he used to run up the stairs in the morning to wake her. She woke up every day for 14 years to the sound of his nametags jingling. That sound would be gone after tonight. She thought of how had shaped her life and saved it too. A tear rolled down her cheek. She squeezed his paw and walked out of the room. She walked down the long hallway to the reception desk. When she finally gained composure, she called for the vet.

He walked at a faster pace than she did. She walked behind him because she didn’t want to go through with what was next. The vet didn’t seem scared. He showed no emotions. She thought he was an insensitive jerk for not sympathizing. But then she thought he probably would be a mess if he cried for every dog or cat or rabbit he had to put down. She walked behind him, trying to hold back her tears from flooding the hallway. The entered room number two. The vet gave Mav a pat and asked her if she was ready.

“Yes.”

Another tear came.

She held onto her best friends’ paw and squeezed a small squeeze. Within moments the vet left the room and she was there alone with Mav, who looked like he was sleeping. She closed her eyes and tried to remember him as a young pup. She tried to smile. She did.

But the tears filled up her eyes and they crashed like the waves on the beach. He liked to run on the beach.

The Snows of Kilimanjaro

This story was easy for me to read. I was able to follow it all really easily. Ernest Hemingway is kind of a depressing guy, yet his stories always a valid point. This one in particular Hemingway is telling us to do what we love and not to waste our time with other stuff.

Harry seems to have lived his life without meaning. He has traveled and seen the world but the thing he regrets as he lays on his death bed- is that he never took the time to write it all down. Writing was his passion and he didn't ever take to it. He blames other people in the story and then constantly goes back and blames himself. He goes back and forth from being a really nice guy to being a total jerk. His personality changes drastically, I guess that happens when you realize you didn't live the life you wanted to.

The story ending is confusing to me, but I think he is dreaming. A plane comes at the end and takes him to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro-which ties directly back to the opening of the story. He writes that there is this leopard carcass that is frozen on the peak of Kilimanjaro. I think he is symbolically the leopard. He realized his life, he realized what he was chasing at the very peak of his dream. And then he freezes (or dies) just like that leopard.

Milieu

I am one of those people who needs absolute silence to do any kind of work. I can't listen to music. I can't have my boyfriend play his silly shooting xbox game behind me. I can't even have my cell phone in my line of vision. I clear my mind. It works for me.. well most of the time. SO where did I go for this "milieu exercise"? The most annoying crowded place I could think of on campus. The HUB.

I am not a fan of the HUB, infact I avoid it all costs. I do not like crowds of people bumping into me and I just do not like the fact that you are usually forced to sit next to someone you don't know and have try to enjoy bagel and coffee. I don't like that I don't even have enough room to spread my USA Today Sports section across the table.

I am sitting here at a table in the HUB across from some guy who doesn't look happy about what his psych book is telling him. I have my everything bagel, smothered in cream cheese and I am about to eat it. I like bagels. They are like the perfect thing to eat in the morning. Filling, carby and fatty. mmmm absolutely perfect.

The HUB is like an airport.

Kind of. Or atleast it reminds me of one. I ALWAYS people watch in airports. Its one of my past times actually. I love to watch people. Everything, every move is fascinating. Like the girl over there who is juggling a coffee mug, water bottle, a stack of cooks and a sushi. Sushi? Ew why in the world would you eat that at 9:43? Or that football player over there who looks like he just woke up. I wonder how much he weighs. Atleast 275. That is like 2 and 3/4 of me.

The facial expressions on the students who walk through the HUB are priceless. It seems that the fraternity looking boys are walking zombies at this hour. Girls are interesting. You have the ones that dress up and look cute. And you have the ones that wear PJ pants and beanies. Student attire is an interesting study.

Many many people walk through the walls reading newspapers, and some don't even bother to watch where they are going. Yep someone just knocked over that kids juice. I like the people who act like they are on the phone with someone important and then when they walk by close to you and you hear them say "by mom, i love you too"

The girls that are sitting behind are talking about losing 5lbs before Friday. The group of girls infront of me are vowing to stop shopping until march. I wonder why? Do they have a shopping addiction? Maybe I should ask.

Okay- i have to go to class now, + I am felling claustrophobic.

Reading Response numero dos

John Dufresne, “Lemonade and Paris Buns”

This one is sad. When I read it, I wondered why the writer wrote it. He is a lonely, lonely man. I think someone in his life died- and thats why he lives such a miserable health concerned life. I wonder if this was actually real too. Did he encounter orphans, eat lunch with them, and watch them disappear into the world. Or was it all a dream? I would think the experience would have a lasting impact on you. I noticed the boys all had pretty interesting names, and I wondered why. The grammar in this story is like the last- all different and like nothing I have ever read before. I am not sure was Dufresne is trying to say, especially with the way the story ends. “But the Wolf says what he believes is you meet everyone twice before you die.” I could attempt to guess and say the characters in the Trayvien’s story are suppose to represent real adults and how they really think. I want to say that Dufresne is asking us to remember our inner child and take time in our lives to remember its simplicity.

Reading Response numero uno

Jonathan Lethem, “Access Fantasy Response”

This story was extremely confusing at first. I probably re-read the first page six times before I was ready to flip to the second. The fact that I totally had no idea what was going on, actually made me want to continue on with the reading and try to figure out what was going on. It wasn’t until like half way through did I really understand the story outline or atleast enough to understand what was going on. To me Lethem has a point, but its really unclear. I think he is trying to say that there are cultural barriers between groups. I think the story is about finding what makes you happy and how life isn’t worth it if you waste it. And in the characters case, he wastes his life, just like everyone else, in a car wishing he could live in an apartment. The mystery of the murder is just the way Lethem brought the character to realize his problem. The issue with the entire story for me though, is how it ends. I don’t like how he doesn’t give you any clue on what happens next. I don’t like it.