So I have an odd and fun way of exercising my creative muscles. Whenever Ashley is feeling a bit too restless to sleep, I begin to narrate whatever story I can think of — making it up as I go along. After many of these bedtime stories, I began to realize that these impromptu tales were very telling of the way my imagination works. The revelation? My unprocessed thought process is woefully incoherent.
Tonight, I had just finished telling Ashley a bedtime story about a penguin that lived in her capillary. It didn’t matter which one. The penguin lived there because it was looking for bugs to eat, and it confused “capillary” for “caterpillar”. Having no luck, the penguin then migrated to her crepuscular, but neither I nor the penguin knew what a crepuscular actually was.
At this point, Ashley hated the story so profoundly that I had to end the story quickly. So the penguin rode a burrito out of her system and went back home into the ocean.
Ashley demanded a redo on the story time tale, so I came up with yet another on the fly.
Okay, now tell me a bedtime story that isn’t shitty.
I’ll tell a story you already know.
There were three little wolves.
One little wolf built a car made out of sand.
Another wolf made his car out of fiberglass.
And the third little wolf built his car with bricks.
And then there came a piggy. The piggy knocked on the door.
What door?! On the car?
An improv door. The piggy came through the door and went to the third little wolf. With the car made of bricks. Luckily, this piggy was a brick-eating pig, so he ate the car.
What about the wolf?
He ate the wolf. He ate the wolf and the car made of bricks.
What the f–
The second little wolf sat in his fiberglass car and saw this and cried for revenge. So the little wolf drove straight into the piggy. Unfortunately, fiberglass is only good material for, um, technology. It’s not good for cars. The piggy ate the little wolf. And ate the fiberglass too because he was hungry.
And the third little piggy —
Wait. There are three pigs now?
No. Third little wolf. It’s just really hard to say that a piggy is eating a wolf.
So the first little wolf sits in his car made of sand. The hungry piggy never finds him because he’s hidden in his car made of sand. Because his car is really just a pile of sand. And so the piggy went away. And the first little wolf stays trapped under the car that’s just a pile of sand forever after.
Goddammit, now I can’t sleep and I hate you.
Despite what Ashley might say, I think my story would make an excellent educational film.