Prompt a Week

September 20, 2011

Prompt: He had considered himself a lucky guy, until now

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He had considered himself a lucky guy, until now. Now he realized that he'd gotten the basic assumption wrong. He'd thought the fact that he'd managed to shoulder his way past the obstacles in his life, managed to get across the goal line to retirement, that these things meant he'd gotten past the "real" dangers in life. Now he saw first his father and then his mother -- people who had done the same thing; people who had "finished" the work part of their lives -- living the ends of their lives very differently than he had assumed. He saw that their life-long coping abilities waned as the years progressed; that they were less and less able to deal with life. He saw that retirement was the beginning of a new challenge. He didn't know if he would be up to it.
--Tom Hoyer, RBWG member

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Lucky Guy

He thought he was a lucky guy
An important guy
More important than scrambled eggs
He hid his soft spots in a bulging chest
In a swagger, foot thrown forward and loud voice
Wonder what he thinks now
What he’s hiding from his new girl
--Susan Towers, RBWG member

* * *

He had considered himself a lucky guy, until now. He had a car, a girlfriend, a lot of guy friends, a great hobby and a scholarship to Cornell. But when the valedictorian was named, it was not him! His parents would kill him. His girlfriend got the top place. He had always represented himself as the top student. She was fine--good student, very good clarinet player, sang, played piano and starred in the school play--the things girls ought to be good at but even the principal who was also the chem teacher had told the class that she didn't know more than the guys. She only got better grades on her exams than they did because she read the assignments the night before. After she aced the exams, she'd forget everything she knew. That had upset her, but-- Well, the other guys were getting up a petition to take to the school board to name him first and she said it was okay with her. She just didn't deserve it. That's what his mom would say.
--Sharon Hoover, RBWG member

* * *

Until now, yeah, until the day that the clock stopped and he was late. Not just a few minutes, almost an hour behind everyone else. He had always been lucky - with his looks, grades, finding the teachers who gave the most, asked for the least. He dated prom queens, girls with wasp waists, women with contempt for the missionary position. Yes, he'd been lucky in love, money and sex...the American dream. Health, that was something he would take for granted. Of course he maintained his weight, ate yoghurt when it was plain without the crunchies. He walked a mile every day and only drank one glass of red wine with his red meat, once a week. So the lab report in the tender envelope portended nothing, not a hint of bad luck. He was Irish, of course he had luck, the mole on his back wasn't any larger, even though his wife said so...he called her his worry wart. She said it looked like it was a wart, but the report...well, the report indicated stage 3, not one or two, stage 3..lucky he thought that it wasn't stage 4, but that was a matter of a few months, lucky Danny, too bad he cashed in his life insurance for the annuity, and bet it on the horses. Made some bucks, but this time he was certain his bookie wouldn't take the bet.
--Mary Pauer, RBWG

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September 20, 2011 Prompt: He had considered himself a lucky guy, until now * * * He had considered himself a lucky guy, until now. Now he realized that he'd gotten the basic assumption wrong. He'd thought the fact that he'd managed to shoulder his way past the obstacles in his life, managed to get across the goal line to retirement, that these things meant he'd gotten past the "real" dangers in life. Now he saw first his father and then his mother -- people who had done the same thing; people who had "finished" the work part of their lives -- living the ends of their lives very differently than he had assumed. He saw that their life-long coping abilities waned as the years progressed; that they were less and less able to deal with life. He saw that retirement was the beginning of a new challenge. He didn't know if he would be up to it. --Tom Hoyer, RBWG member * * * Lucky Guy He thought he was a lucky guy An important guy More important than scrambled eggs He hid his soft spots in a bulging chest In a swagger, foot thrown forward and loud voice Wonder what he thinks now What he’s hiding from his new girl --Susan Towers, RBWG member * * * He had considered himself a lucky guy, until now. He had a car, a girlfriend, a lot of guy friends, a great hobby and a scholarship to Cornell. But when the valedictorian was named, it was not him! His parents would kill him. His girlfriend got the top place. He had always represented himself as the top student. She was fine--good student, very good clarinet player, sang, played piano and starred in the school play--the things girls ought to be good at but even the principal who was also the chem teacher had told the class that she didn't know more than the guys. She only got better grades on her exams than they did because she read the assignments the night before. After she aced the exams, she'd forget everything she knew. That had upset her, but-- Well, the other guys were getting up a petition to take to the school board to name him first and she said it was okay with her. She just didn't deserve it. That's what his mom would say. --Sharon Hoover, RBWG member * * * Until now, yeah, until the day that the clock stopped and he was late. Not just a few minutes, almost an hour behind everyone else. He had always been lucky - with his looks, grades, finding the teachers who gave the most, asked for the least. He dated prom queens, girls with wasp waists, women with contempt for the missionary position. Yes, he'd been lucky in love, money and sex...the American dream. Health, that was something he would take for granted. Of course he maintained his weight, ate yoghurt when it was plain without the crunchies. He walked a mile every day and only drank one glass of red wine with his red meat, once a week. So the lab report in the tender envelope portended nothing, not a hint of bad luck. He was Irish, of course he had luck, the mole on his back wasn't any larger, even though his wife said so...he called her his worry wart. She said it looked like it was a wart, but the report...well, the report indicated stage 3, not one or two, stage 3..lucky he thought that it wasn't stage 4, but that was a matter of a few months, lucky Danny, too bad he cashed in his life insurance for the annuity, and bet it on the horses. Made some bucks, but this time he was certain his bookie wouldn't take the bet. --Mary Pauer, RBWG * * *
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