The McKinley Pack Decides

Pack members' conference is held.

The Alpha Female joins conference.

A king has been chosen.

Samuel and the Test: Part Two

Source: mommyknows.com

Part 1 was  Samuel Takes the Test  at this site 

Samuel hopped off the table and dragged it over by the viewing mirror, followed by the chair placed on top the table. 

What is he doing…Oh, he is establishing contact…Wait…What is he REALLY doing??

Samuel had selected a variety of primary color squirt bottles and placed those on the table.  Climbing onto the chair with squirt bottles in each hand, Samuel thought.  These are on the tables of restaurants but never touched them.  Let us see what these babies can do…

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The last thing the observers observed were wild sprays of colors hitting the mirror.  Circles. Arcs. All dripping and running down from the top of the mirror to the bottom in primary, secondary, and tertiary bold colors. Dripping and running until the mirror was obscured.

What kind of paint is that, tempura?….No, we used acrylic this time…WHY?...We got a good deal on it…

The cameras were in clear view and an easy shot.  Samuel aimed easily.

At least he did not see the cameras in the vents…No…How…Dammit!....

Samuel had dumped the crayons on the hard floor and was stomping them to pieces, almost powder.  Cheap things, aren’t they? Must be budget cuts.  Always stick with Crayola is my motto…

He dumped the tubs of thick paste and kneaded the crayon into it, forming a clay, a clay of all colors.  The heat vents were waiting for him, and he covered the clay over the vents, a beautiful paste that melted and hardened.  Lovely.  I must remember this…

What will happen next?  Now that Samuel has eliminated adult observation?  What will he do?

The third and final part of this adventure in the test is scheduled for Friday, September 13.  Is that significant in any way...or is it by accident...I just don't know for sure.

Thoughts during Church

I will be kind…I will smile…were Brenda’s thoughts, as she sat in the family pew, hands folded in her lap, back straight, and eyes focused on Pastor Ben.  No one will know my thoughts.  No one will suspect what I am thinking.

On her left side, her father was ‘amening’ almost in a rhythm, and Brenda had to force her feet from tapping 1…2…3 and hold…1…2…  Her grandmother was waving her hankie in a show of agreement.

Show?  Brenda pondered that word, looking around at other old ladies with their gray hair and dressy hats.  They too were waving their hankies, and some even dabbed at their eyes.

All the other young people were sitting in the back, passing notes, and giggling.  Their heads were bowed, but Brenda knew what they were doing.   The young families were in the middle of the church, with their children.  Brenda could smell the Cheerios and Fruit Loops.

On Brenda’s ride side, her mother sat, quietly folding and unfolding the church bulletin.  Fold...2...3..  Her mother's hands were red and worn; she had to prepare another dinner for the pastor and family.  Every Sunday, it was dinner for someone. 

Her mother smiled at her, and briefly made eye contact.

That was when Brenda knew.  Her mother wanted to blast out of this church just as badly as Brenda. To escape.

What’ll we do?  Mom, what will we do? 

Her mother wrote a note to her father, which read about checking on the roast and get dinner ready for the pastor, and Brenda had to help.   Her father nodded, not breaking rhythm one bit.

Source: saavem

They tore out of the parking lot.  As they drove past their house, Brenda turned to her mother.  Mom?  Mom?

Her mother smiled, lit up a cigarette, and sped up.  “We’re goin’ to Vegas, girl. I am done fixing dinners every single Sunday for every preacher passing through town.”  Then they headed to the West, the whole 1,000 mile trip. 

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