Apr 8, 2010


i'll post a blog post! sorry i've been so busy MOVING i haven't had a chance to think of something funny for you guys. i was trying to type that sarcastically but i realized i really am sorry i haven't had a chance to think of something funny for you guys. forgivens?

anyway ok here's a story that is inspired by the tag on the inside of my pants. it's called: Paper Boy.

Paper Boy
a story
by amber

One day, a paper boy came to my door.

"Subscripchin to the paper, miss?" he asked, tipping his hat politely.

"Oh, no not really, thanks," I replied.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Well, I mean, I get my news from the internet or the radio, I don't really read the newspaper anymore." I explained.

"The inter net?" he scowled. "What's that?"

"Uhh, you know on the computer? You can look up stuff? I just get my news there," I said.

"I don't understand," he replied.

"Um, well you'll have to ask your parents about the internet or something I guess, but either way I don't need a subscription to the newspaper, thanks," I said, starting to push the door closed.

"I don't 'ave parents, miss..." he shrugged, looking at his feet.

"Aw, I'm sorry. Well you can ask a teacher or a librarian or something," I offered.

"I don't go to school..." he replied.

"Oh, well, maybe you can ask your boss, at the newspaper! I'm sure he knows! Or she," I said.

"Don't have a boss," he whispered.

"You don't have a boss? Well which paper do you work for?" I questioned.

"Don't work for a paper, miss," he admitted.

"Well if you don't work for a paper, why are you trying to sell me a subscription?" I asked.

"I wasn't tryin' to sell you a subscripchin, miss. I was just askin' if you had one," he said.

"Well why do you want to know that?! That's a funny thing to ask!" I exclaimed, baffled by this kid's behavior.

"I dunno, I thought maybe if you had a subscripchin to the paper, you might be able to tell me who died today. You know, in the abicheraries," he stuttered.

"Oh my goodness..." I paused. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't realize... are you looking for someone?" I asked.

"No, not really," he shook his head.

"Well then why...?" I began.

"B'cause if I hear about a boy who has died, about my age, well then I can try and steal his identity and live as him in a new city. Or I can go to the parents' house and see if they want to adopt me -- you know, as a replacement," he explained.

I stood there, shocked and silent. That identity theft plan didn't make much sense to me; then again I'm not very good at scamming people.

"But nevermind. You don't have a paper anyway," he concluded, and walked back down the steps to the street.

I watched him awhile, wondering where he came from, and where he was going. It was about a minute later I noticed my wallet was missing from my back pocket, as were my keys. Another minute later I noticed that he wasn't the one walking away from my house -- I was. I was half-way down the block, and looked back to see him laughing and waving at me through the front window. Locked, no doubt. That little bugger had stolen my house, my wallet, and my keys! Probably my identity, too, at this point. What could I do? I went and asked the neighbor if he had a subscription to the paper...

You know, for rental listings.



duncess. said...

see? was that so hard? "You're forgivens."

Moving Moxie Pilates LLC said...

that story was kinda spooky. I thought it was going to end really badly. LIke, with blood and guts! See...my mind is so twisted!

Phil said...

Fantastic story!

I also dig your creation of the word 'forgivens'.

Amber Hollingsworth said...

haha, thanks. if you say it with a bashful look on your face, there's pretty much no situation you WON'T be forgiven for. try it out!