\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1250774-The-Irony-of-a-Graham-Cracker
Item Icon
Rated: E · Short Story · Comedy · #1250774
A story of why you should not eat junk food late at night. Or should you?
Jackson, Marla and Stu. Freddy, Shana, and Lou. These are just a few of my teddy graham friends. You are asking yourself is this guy really talking about Teddy Grahams and giving them names. How looney is this mororn? Well, bear with me and you will understand.
It was approaching midnight on an unseasonably cold spring night, and I was sitting on the couch minding my own business with my rather lovely girlfreind. As had become her recent habit, she was waging war on a box of little graham cracker shaped teddy bears popularly known as Teddy Grahams. Judging by the box she was definately winning not only the battle but the war also. I suppose everyone needs something to do when they quit smoking.
She had gotten up to go into another room, leaving me sitting on the couch with her battle hardened box of Teddy Grahams. I was in the middle of watching an action movie on television when something very curious occurred. I heard the unmistakanle sound of rustling foil. I looked into the kitchen but she was not in there, I looked at the television, but I doubted there will be sounds of rustling in the middle of The Rock kicking some poor stunt doubles ass on the movie. So, I wrote it off as being my imagination. I am pretty secure in my sense of reality you know.
Well, five or so minutes go by and no girlfriend. The Rock is still wailing on some poor soul in the movie. And, there is still that rustling sound. I am now looking around trying to determine what is making that damn noise. I looked to the guinea pig, but he was sound asleep in his little house. So literally not a creature was stirring not even a guinea pig. I must admit that as I was sitting there I began to question my own sense of mental validity. It was sorta like listening to a metronome and waiting for it to make a different sound.
Again I heard this rustling. Being left with only one choice as to the source of the noise, I put aside all pre conceived notion of sanity and looked into this box of Teddy Grahams. As with any normal person, I was expecting to see a large cock roach or a mouse shuffling around in the box dismembering these defenseless little bears. Thinking of that, the only thought that immediately comes to mind is my girlfriend is going to freak when she finds out she was just sharing her snack with a small quadraped or some type of gruesome insect. The thought is momentarily humorous. Then reality sets in that I would bear the brunt of her anger in regards to this matter. So, getting my mind back on track I look into the box.
If I would have woke up this morning with my head stapled to the carpet I would not be anymore surprised than I was when I looked into that box. Now, you are going to think I am crazy. After witnessing this event, i am not sure that I am not crazy. But, this has to be told. I slowly lifted the box up. As I am lifting the box the noise becomes louder and louder. I peek slowly over the flap of the box first one eye and then the other. What did thine eyes behold?
I saw the remaining Teddy Grahams in the box performing what appears to be a musical act. That is right call me nuts, but I was watching these little bite sized bears perform a musical. There was one teddy standing on a makeshift stage of broken teddy grahams. This teddy who I later learn was called Marla appeared to be belting her little non existent lungs out. Off on the side of the stage were two other teddies watching the bear croon. I later learned these were Jackson and Freddy. In front of the stage was a table made of you guessed it; more broken grahams. Well, at this table were three more bears Shana, Stu, and Lou.
As I watched the singing bear end her routine, and Freddy comes out to shake her paw and give her encouraging words. He then turned to the bears at the table who seemed to be reviewing her performance. Then with a wisk she was off the stage. Fortunately, wisk in this sense is a descriptive word and not a stirring instrument for food. Freddy then welcomed onto the stage Jackson. I was in utter awe as this spunky little snack strutted across the stage and begins to sing his little imaginery heart out.
Confusion was not the only thing on my mind at the moment. It was the largest thing on my mind, because watching bears in a talent contest is alittle much for the ordinary mind to take in. But in that little portion of my grey matter right in the very back of my head the light bulb blinks on. I HAVE AN IDEA! But, not fully formed yet the idea needs some more tweaking so I turn my attention back to the box and watch the rest of the show.
As luck would have it, my girlfriend decides to grace me with her presence again. I wish she would have picked a better time but such is life I suppose. It was only mildly difficult to explain to her why I had a yellow box Teddy Grahams in front of my face like I was trying to insert my head into it. Of course I value my relationship with her so I am not going to tell her that I have been watching bears perform a show. I tell her something about having an intense craving for graham crackers at that very moment. The downfall of this excuse is what must follow for it to be believable. I did it. I admit it. I did it. I ate them. I ate them all. Jackson, Marla, Stu, Freddy, Shana, and yes even Lou. I could hear them singing and talking all the way down my throat and felt the reverberations of their agony once they hit my stomach acid. Poor little popular snacks.
Several days later, I have formed all of my thoughts of these little morsels of goodness into a very big idea. So, I take my idea to the place where anyone can pitch an idea no matter how stupid and have a reasonable chance of someone making a television show out of it. The Fox Network. And, I was right. My teddy bear idea became of all things American Idol.
Now you know the real story.
© Copyright 2007 wil powers (wilpower at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1250774-The-Irony-of-a-Graham-Cracker