Cc-rr-ee-aa-kk
B A N G ! ! !
ThumP
ThOmp
ThuMp
THUD.
Wwoosshh.
The invitation slid under my door.
Wwoosshh.
THUD.
ThOmp, thoMP, thOHmp
Cc-rr-ee-aa-kk
BANG!
To Melita (naybour & friend) & AND (manfriend & hysterical archetype)
invite t0
A Woklecockle SUPER supper
frynite @ 7ish
UPSTAIRS
with me,
Griswold (in yucky sweater)
PS: fancy dressish
PSS: not genes!
And, also known as my boyfriend, the historical architect, chuckled as he read Griswold’s handiwork.
“Count the number of place settings,” he quipped, “to make sure you are coming for dinner, not as dinner.”
“Me? Where will you be ‘frynite @ 7ish’?” I asked.
“Not upstairs,” he responded, “I will be hysterically archetyping somewhere by 6:69ish”
Dull and same-same were dropped as adjectives when a family of monsters, with their precocious son, Griswold, moved into the attic apartment above me.
Griswold and I shared late night circadian rhythms; adventures in our backyard; mugs of cocoa with cinnamon sticks; and horror movies with the sound turned off (so as to be less frightening for Griswold).
Mrs. G long thought I was too much of a humanizing influence on her son. Lately, she had been relenting.
Later, he thud-tumpled down to my apartment to get my RSVP.
He jangly-jumped his splay-footed glee dance, laughter chortling out his orange-fur–tufted ears in anticipation.
I hesitated. Griswold put on his sad face, turning his snaggly-jaggly grin into a frown. “Please, Melita. Mother said yes to you and And coming up.”
“How many times did you try?” I asked.
“Only a gadzillion-balloonilion-gigatrillion and five.” Human math wasn’t one of his fortes; persistence was.
Her cooking was to die from – the obnoxious, obsequious odors continuously crept under my door. A miasmatic perfume redolent of rotten banana peels; smelly gym socks, size 12; and the walking dead. And that was on a good day.
I thought of past encounters with his family. Griswoldian language, manners and customs were not my forte. I usually embarrassed myself, making even more laugh bubbles puff out Griswold’s ears.
But, a sad Griswold, long striped tail all droopy-loopy, was hard to refuse.
“Going to wear yucky sweater, even!”
The cacophony of noises created by Mrs. G putting a squirmy Griswold into that sweater ranged somewhere between out of tune bagpipes layered with taloned fingernails on chalkboard mixed with a fog horn on Ecstasy.
“Alright. But what do I have that meets the criteria of fancy dressish?” My wardrobe was dilapidated: mostly faded jeans; worn out cords; long, baggy sweaters; and washed-out t-shirts. When absolutely necessary, I visited thrift shops and yard sales to replace the un-repairable, un-wearables.
“Wear And clothes!”
“And clothes?”
“Yep – ones that make his eyes all fuzzy. Then you get all smooshy and kissy.” Griswold made a super-sour lemon-sucking face.
Maybe it was time for And to give Griswold the “vultures and beetles” talk.
“Okay – if you wear your sweater, I will go shopping for a fancy-friday-go-to-dinner dress.”
I grabbed for my favourite mug about to be swept off my coffee table by Griswold’s happy tail.
“I go tell Mama,” Griswold .
“Wait!” Having been Griswolded before, I needed to ask.
“What exactly is a woklecockle supper?”
“Silly. It’s a dinner party for VIH”
“VIH?”
“Very Important Humans.”
It’s been a long interval since I spent time with Griswold. Of course, like all my “head-story” characters, he is never really very far away. Knocking on my creativity, asking to be let out.
Transcripted for mlmm Tale Weaver 218: Making Sense of Nonsense: the woklecockle.
@ Lorraine: copy right for Griswold, et al
image from Where The Wild Things Are, written and illustrated by Maurice Sendak; originally published in 1963 by Harper and Row.
April 21, 2019 at 12:52 pm
I agree with Pat Lorraine, great to see Griswold getting another outing. Thanks for adding your unique thoughts on this week’s tale weaver. Oh and happy Easter.
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May 3, 2019 at 12:44 pm
Most welcome. I am behind the times. Your tale weaver prompts have been very thought provoking. I have several not quite finished responses.
Hope all this horrid weather isn’t impacting you too much.
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June 1, 2019 at 9:04 pm
A belated happy Easter — now moved past memorial day here!
As we slink into summer, you are wandering towards winter. Any relief from the heat and drought and storms?
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June 1, 2019 at 10:38 pm
The weather is beautifully cool we even had rain yesterday.
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April 20, 2019 at 5:08 pm
the magic of Griswold is never far, even if you are not direct visiting … and so, a return to the “page screen” is always a true delight and adventure … :D
and for certain, VIH = woklecockle supper/meal indeed –
Love where your mind wandered with this Lorraine … those small details are just delicious …
AND (manfriend & hysterical archetype)
frynite @ 7ish
“Me? Where will you be ‘frynite @ 7ish’?” I asked.
“Not upstairs,” he responded, “I will be hysterically archetyping somewhere by 6:69ish”
“Only a gadzillion-balloonilion-gigatrillion and five.” Human math wasn’t one of his fortes; persistence was.
and on and on and on ….
wonderful story, – warms me on this slightly cool and still very very grey (but not nearly as wet) day :)
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May 3, 2019 at 12:46 pm
Ooops, I have been behind in my responses. Thanks for the images that look like Griswold you sent. Perfect! Glad I have made him seem real enough to find reminiscent drawings. He will always hold the soft spot in my head and heart for my “creations.” Maybe someday I will truly put all his stories into a book. Sigh. Wish I really could draw . . . (He needs illustrations, I think!)
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May 5, 2019 at 2:38 pm
no worries about time-lines, timing etc. :)
glad the images were to your fun and whimsical tastes :D
I think he is real indeed – a most interesting, fascinating character, and I bet, if you let yourself drift and doodle, without expectations on “results” you’d eventually be able to come up with a composite of the gist of these characters :)
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June 1, 2019 at 9:06 pm
Griswold keeps Melita young, whimsical and full of wonder and the joy of play.
He has the same effect on me.
I enjoy his splendiferous [mis]use of the human language. Gives me a chance to do what I love: making up words. Not that anyone would notice that I do such a thing myself, lol.
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June 2, 2019 at 8:13 am
LOL! YOU – make up words???
nahhhhhh!
but that’s a brilliant gift 😁
they are a great pairing – and however they came to be, as in formed and forming, by whatever divinely stroked luck, and/or fortune, I am —– so glad for it.
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June 4, 2019 at 3:43 am
My father invented words or word combos. Wieners and beans, a staple in our house, was beaners and wiens.
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June 4, 2019 at 8:57 am
😄
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