Naughty Li’l Hagar

What’s on my mind? Stories. Silly, made-up stories scribbled down for fun as I wrestle with the difficult and necessary job of penning the synopsis for a book completed two months ago. 

A synopsis summarizes the what, when, where, who, and how that make a book better - or worse. A synopsis forces a writer to add, chuck, or change words previously added, chucked, or changed in edit #143.

As much as I dislike writing synopses, they’re a valuable tool, showing where a writer’s gone wrong with the ordering or size of chapters; showing where a book drags, showing where the timing of events might be illogical, and showing where characters’ voices don’t ring true. Better for a writer to find those mistakes than for a literary agent to find them! But enough of that.

I’ve been playing in the sandbox, avoiding that long synopsis by noodling away, having fun. Bad Nicole! Bad, bad, bad! 

Can you envision an ending for this silly little piece? I can’t, but it’s still been fun to write: 

“There was a lotta ’citement roun’ here las’ month. When me ’n’ the guys rode the bus ta work t’other night, we saw ol’ Hagar inside the town limits, chewin’ on a steak. I toll’ ya ’bout Hagar before … The grizzly what lives near th’ A55 loggin’ road 10 minnits outsida town? Ya prolly remember the time he chewed off haffa Bill Dunderhofer’s scalp.

“Sally-Mae usta sneak Hagar the bacon fat left on Bill’s breakfast plate … She shoud-da known gooder. Bein’ the thrifty type, Bill usta rub a little bacon fat what was left in th’ skillet on ’is hair. Gave it kinda nice sheen, ya know? Hagar musta got confused because one mornin’ he came af-ta Bill like a house-a fire. Thet’s what the cor’ner said, anyways.

“Sally-Mae was real sorry, but th’ damage was dun ’n’ there wasn’ nuthin’ goan bring Bill back. ’s a good thin’ she took up with thet Charlie fella down-aways by th’ junction, ’cause nobuddy else would talk t’er, after she done gone fed Hagar like ’e was-er pet.

“Ever-buddy says we gots keep Hagar down by th’ A55, but grizzlies don’ read no signs or nuthin’ so there’s prolly no keepin’ ’im there.

“When me ’n’ the guys was on thet bus, we wonnered what the heck Hagar was doin’ in town this time, ’n’ where in blazes ’e wudda gots a steak? It was purdy dark, so we din’ notice ri-da-way thet the steak was wearin’ a blue plaid sleeve. Dave Morris din’t come ta work, thet night, or any night since. Ya know how he usta wear thet ol’ blue plaid shirt? Say no more, say no more …

“I jes’ hafta wonner what thet li’l rascal Hagar will do nexx, specially now thet Sally-Mae ain’ feedin’ ’im no more …” 

© Nicole Parton, 2019