A punt of a post

Long story, but I skipped blogging yesterday, and today I’m punting by publishing a thing I wrote just this morning.

Here’s the deal: At last week’s Backstreet Writers, the gang had acquitted themselves well and I told them they could have the week “off” with no assignment. And then, as is their wont, they became giddy and rowdy and I told them to draw another card from the deck we’ve been using and write a fictionalized account using the topic on the card.

My topic:

Prepare a story about something you feel was meant to be. Your greatness or not-so-greatness written in the stars. A chance meeting, a lucky break, or maybe it just wasn't in the cards for you.

What is your destiny, child?

TELL US ABOUT...

• A time you tried to avoid the inevitable.

• A moment of kismet.

• A time everything seemed all mapped out.

I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought, thinking I would cobble something together over the weekend, and then [insert long story here], so that didn’t happen.

Then this morning the power went out just as I was settling in to write this thing. Oy.

Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, TV stars

A little background, so you can use the power of serendipity in your own process: Yesterday I had a consultation to get me all set for cardiac rehab. The person doing the consult said she liked my name, and I told her that 60+ years ago it was a bit of a trial in elementary school to be tagged as “Dale Evans,” the spunky wife of legendary TV cowboy Roy Rogers. The fact that I had a classmate named Roy did not help.

(There were also the cartoon chipmunks Chip and Dale, but that didn’t come up nearly as often.)

Anyway, as I was wondering what to write for this assignment — I do not generally write fiction — the name thing rose to the top, and this is what I knocked out.

DESTINY

“Luke, it is your destiny!”

I guess I don’t have to tell you how tired I am of that gag. I’ve been hearing it since 2nd grade, and it wasn’t funny the first time.

Neither was “Use the FORCE, Luke!,” just so we’re clear on the matter.

This time we were in our usual bar having our usual drinks and our usual Saturday night chitchat, sports, work, movies we’d seen or not seen, the usual. Somehow the conversation turned to the dating life, and my dating life in particular, and they would simply not let up.

“Guys, how can I date when I’m always stuck hanging out with you people?” I tried.

Brian scoffed. “Exactly why you need to walk away from us right now and walk over to that woman in the blue peasant top and hit her up.” The others agreed in a variety of nods and assents.

“Fine.” If I were going to be humiliated in my local bar on a Saturday night, I might as well get it over with. I slid off my stool and began the trek over to the bar. Behind me, little simian hoots urged me on.

I figured I’d do the whole “Bartender, another!” ploy to wedge myself in there, do a quick smile and nod, and be on my way. It had worked before. Or rather, not worked before.

And there I was, at the bar, with the woman in the blue peasant top, and there was her purse on the floor. Without thinking I scooped it up and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, did you mean for this to be on the floor?”

She turned and smiled. Oh man, this was going to be tough. She was radiant.

“Actually, I did,” she said. “But aren’t you sweet to take care of it!”

I murmured something unintelligible even to me.

She smiled again. “Hi, my name is Destiny. What’s yours?”

And scene.

The ending is a bit twee, but for a Hallmark movie, it’ll do.