Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about the necessity of invention.

THE PROMPT: "They say necessity is the mother of invention. Write a short story (no min or max words) on when you were in such a situation, and what you invented to fill your emergency need."

Hey folks, what's up? Today's prompt comes from Ria , and it's a good one. I like tellin' old stories. Now, excuse me for a minute as I think of one, because I've only had all of last night and today to come up with one, and I'm sure I've invented lotsa crazy little things in the past. I've gotta think of a good one rather than just the first thing that comes to mind.

Before I do that, a word if I may. Necessity isn't just the mother of invention. Sometimes being broke is the father of improvisation too. I've found that there have been instances in my own personal experiences where you have to do whatever you need to do to survive, and that includes making do with what you've got. You've got to be resourceful and willing to stretch out a little beyond the confines of normalcy. It may not always be pretty, but if it's functional then that's better than going without.

Alrightey yo. I'm off my milk-crate soap box then. Let's let the prompt-rocking commence. I'd like to tell you a story that you might've heard before. About ten years ago, maybe more, I was living at 542 at the time. I know this is an older story because I still had a roommate, Double Barrel D. 542 was essentially the entire first floor apartment of a house, including the basement. It was a pretty spacious two-bedroom set-up. The main entrance we used was through the dining room, toward the rear of the house. The other doorway led outside through a hallway, but also led to the rooms and apartment upstairs. We didn't use that door partially to respect the upstairs tenants' privacy, and partially because it was deadbolted and we didn't have a key.

We had a really bad snowstorm. I'd liken it to being close to what the northeast had this past weekend. It certainly was one of the worst I'd seen at 542. I knew I wasn't going to be able to go to work, and Double Barrel D stayed home as well. It was your typical Buffalo "grab a six-pack and stay inside" storm. How did I know it was bad? There was three feet of snow in the driveway. We were physically snowed in.

Crazy Becker was one of the guys who lived upstairs at the time. I don't know where he had to go, and sometimes I couldn't understand him, but he was hell-bent on trying to dig his way out. His door leading outside- near our deadbolted door- was about halfway up the driveway. Between the three of us, I think we only had two shovels. Becker tried for about 10 minutes and gave up, saying something about the fire department. Whatever.

I tried opening the screen door against the snow, and could barely budge it. DBD didn't know what else to do. I was finally able to work the door open enough to get my hand outside, when I had an amazing idea. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a cookie sheet. It was the first thing I could think of that was big enough and thin enough to maneuver around and throw off snow. Not even my hockey stick or goalie stick were of any use at that point.

I wrapped my arm out between the door and the frame and started flinging snow like I was panning for gold. I eventually made enough room to be able to open the screen door so I was able to get out. One problem: Crazy Becker and DBD left the shovels by the other door. I had to run back inside, tracking snow through the apartment, and go through the door we don't use to get the shovels.

After about a half hour of shovelling I had barely made it halfway down our driveway. I was beat and cold. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, and a fire truck pulled up. Six guys jumped off the truck, and within five minutes had the rest of the driveway cleared. I hardly had a chance to thank them before they were off. Turns out Crazy Becker had called the fire department and told them he was trapped inside.

And as for my inventive use of the cookie sheet as a makeshift snow-throwing apparatus? All DBD could do was whine that he had just bought it, and now it was bent and ruined. Poor guy.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

A classic, back from when that MTV still played those things called "videos" that made them all popular and stuff in the first place.

VITAL STATS:

I had one of those "it's small town but it feels like home in the big city" moments today. I was outside the social services building waiting for the bus to go to my appointment. That's kind of like the hub, pretty much, for the buses...all the routes begin and end there. While I was there, a questionably appearing man wanted to know if I would buy his bus tokens off him. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the new panhandling. He didn't just ask me for a dollar or some change. He used the time-honored tradition of "bartering", in which he takes something that he has an excess of and tries to trade it for something you have excess of that he needs. Genius! And he wasn't shy about it either. See, most people back home who try to pull this, they're either not going to tell you what the money's for, or just say they're going to buy food. Nope. This shady cat straight up told me he "needs to get some tobacco", would sell me a bus token for a dollar (which, coincidentally, is the going fare for a one-way bus ride), and that he only needs $1.65. I told him all I had on me was tokens, and he responded with, "Well, I guess you don't need mine then!" and was on his way to the next set of benches. And at those benches, people were almost going crazy trying to help him out! He got his money...but what I found funny about all of this was the woman who bought the tokens from him actually had to ask this man how the tokens work as currency to get on the bus. He was courteous enough to not only explain to the woman how to use them, but that when he came back (with his tobacco, I assume) he would show her if she was taking the #3 bus, and that his name was Anthony if there were any problems. Like this guy's the freakin' commissioner of traffic or something. Yeesh.

Second place in the invention division would have to be the foot covering I used on my cast when I first broke my ankle. In order to keep my exposed toes warm, all that would fit over the cast was a hat that was created to look like a sock monkey. The drawstrings kept it secure, and I was able to remain comfortable (or as comfy as possible) and dry throughout the winter.

Speaking of the stupid ankle, here's the report from the doctor today: the x-ray looked good. The incisions looked good. It's crazy to hear a nurse call scars "beautiful". I have to go back next week, basically to sign some consent forms and what have you, and wait for a phone call after the nurse figures out some logistics, but basically the doc's gonna pull the screws out at the end of the month. And although he reassured me he's done it plenty of times before, he just had to caution me that "hardware removal isn't an easy thing". Great. Then he went over all the complications, the issues, and what happens if the screws break (again). And then, the worst part: I'll probably be in the boot for another four weeks, assuming all goes well and the holes in my bones from the screws heal. Let that sink in for a second. Holes...in bones...yeah.

Well, I don't know about you, but I've had about all that I can stand for one day. I think I hear the orchestra cueing up to play me off. Stay warm, peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!