This is a silly story I made up for a girl I know who wanted a good story about the scar on her forehead. This is completely fictitious and un-biographical. Laugh along with me. -Cortney
“Hey Grace, how’d you get that scar?” It had been a dull sort of day and I needed a good story. Grace has a little scar on her forehead and hasn’t everyone always wondered where it came from?
She had her hands full of takeout containers on her way to the garbage. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s faded quite a lot.”
I waited patiently as she dumped her containers into the garbage and started tying up the bag because it was smelly. “At first it was really bright red and raised and it HURT. I kept forgetting it was there and was always scratching it or bumping it and- oh my.”
On the bottom of the bag was a giant spider. But it was dead. No biggie.
“So why was it bright red in the first place?” I inquired, solicitously returning to the topic at hand.
“Because of the hair dryer.”
“Which hair dryer?”
“The one at the hair salon. Remember that time when I got streaks?”
“The red ones?”
“No, before that. The blonde ones.”
I gazed at Grace’s purple hair and tried to remember. She can’t decide which color she likes best, so it is always changing. Which is kinda cool in an eccentric way.
“I’d forgotten about the sequins, and I think the hair dryer aggravated it.”
“Wait, where did the sequins come from?”
But Grace didn’t hear me right away because she had her head in the refrigerator. She emerged with a container of rice and I repeated the question.
“The sequins? From my tutu. I found it when I was cleaning out the basement.”
This got my attention. That basement is huge. And scary. Especially in the summer when the air conditioning starts up and sounds exactly like a deranged muppet coming after you with a tennis racket. I had to ask. “The basement? Weren’t you scared?”
She finished dumping rice on the kitchen counter and started assembling some other random ingredients. “Well not at first, because I was watching ‘Reading Rainbow’ and had this sudden urge to find all my old books. I know they were down in the basement because Mom keeps trying to sell them at the home school book sale, like, every year; and I always have to rescue them and put them back in the basement. And so LeVar Burton was telling this story about a mouse and a cookie and I have that book and I suddenly just HAD to find it!
“So I was completely absorbed in that. And when I opened the box, there were all the books and also my tutu.”
“You have a tutu?”
She grins sheepishly. “Well, I had one when I was little. I kept it. Wanna see?”
I laughed. “Not if it’s the same tutu that gave you a scar.”
“Oh, that wasn’t the tutu’s fault. I think it was really because of the books.”
I was confused. “But what about the sequins?”
“Oh I think there must’ve been a thread loose, because as soon as I picked up the tutu, the sequins slid right off. I was shocked. And saddened. That was my TUTU… and it died. Very, very sad. I was mourning it right when the air conditioning came on.”
“Ohhhh,” I nodded – it was all starting to come together. “The air conditioner scared you and you slipped on the sequins, fell over the boxes, and banged your head?”
Grace finished laying out the filling for her sushi and rolled it up. “Well yes. But that’s not what caused the scar.”
I waited, knowing it was important to leave a dramatic pause before finishing a story.
“I thought I felt a bug crawling on me and I scratched my forehead trying to get it.”
And the moral of the story is:
When You Wish To Clean Out Your Basement,
Make Sure You Shut Off The Thermostat