Random Thursday- Donald and the Dust Bunnies

Intro:

I started writing short stories when I was in 4^th grade. We had these spelling assignments and we could choose whether we wanted to write the words 10 times each or just write a short story including some of the words (I think it was at least 8). This is when I realized I was different from other kids. It seemed obvious to them that writing the words down over and over was a better option than writing a story. One way you needed to know how to spell 10 words, the other way you needed to know how to spell a nearly uncountable number of words, they feared the idea that they might be faced with a word that was hard to spell and thus have to learn more than necessary, but I was fearless. At first I wrote a story about Halloween.

When the teacher first read it she was taken back because I was literally the first kid in her however many years of teaching that decided to write a story instead of doing the other assignment, but then she did something that changed my life forever. She let me read it in front of the class.

At the time I had just moved to California from Kentucky and I was a round, chapped lipped, wearing shorts year round alien to most of these kids and Orange County was never too accepting of aliens. But when I read that story aloud I found that suddenly people knew my name, suddenly I had a place. Not to romanticize my origin story too much but I’ll just say that my life could make a pretty inspirational film.

but of course the book would be better.

Not too long after that I found out about a place called Orange County High School of the Arts. They had a creative writing department that was accepting applications and I knew that’s where I belonged. So I sat down and wrote a story.

I got a call a few days later for James Blaylock (the head of the department) who told me that he could tell I was meant for the program because of the story I had written only a few weeks earlier. My mom reminds me about this constantly because she thought the story was hilarious. It was about dust bunnies.

So after what may very well be the longest introduction in the history of blog posts, I know present to you...

Donald and the Dust Bunnies (a tribute to the original Dust Bunnies story):

Dust bunny picture stolen from an Etsy shop that no longer exists
it was called "Stitch Happens" apparently. RIP you adorable entrepreneur.

Donald wasn’t a particularly messy kid. He was about as messy as Kyle down the street and Kyle’s parents always told him how clean he was, even if he was a jerk to Donald at school. So Donald knew that he wasn’t that bad, but it never stopped his mom from the occasional yelling. “Donald I told you to clean your room.”

“But Mom it is clean!” he would often respond.

But this day was different. He could tell it was getting to be around the time of the holidays because he used to be able to play a whole game of tag and still bike home before it got to dark but now he’d have trouble making it all the way back right after school, even if he rode his bike. As much as he loved the holidays, he certainly loved playing tag more.

It was a week before Thanksgiving and his mom was preparing all the things around the house. She took down all the spider webs and creepy ghost and started putting up the boring pumpkins and after dinner mints that adults like.  He knew it was a week before because Mom had put out the nuts with the shells on them and the nutcracker that his dad would use all through Christmas.

So when his mom came in and saw all the legos sprawled out across the floor he knew she was going to mean business.

“Donald I need all of this cleaned up, and when was the last time you vacuumed?”

“Vacuumed? What’s a vacuum?”

“Don’t be silly Donald, this room better be clean, and I mean dusted and vacuumed by tomorrow.”

His mom walked off, distracted by the millions of other things she needed to do, and Donald went back to playing with his Legos. At the end of the day he decided to be a good boy and put some of them way. As he was tidying up he saw a lone yellow lego brick just under his bed skirt.

He slid over toward it on his hard wood floor and began to reach under the bed but he couldn’t find it. He patted around and kept trying but to no avail. Finally he lifted up the skirt and looked under the bed.

Just as the light crept in from the room he saw a bunch of little things scatter as if pushed by the wind. He lifted the skirt up more and they scattered again, running from the light.

“Hello?”

He heard little giggles.

“Hello?”

Giggles again.

“quiet!”

“Hello?!” Donald said, now somewhat impatient and curious.

The giggles continued and so Donald threw his hand under the bed quickly and grabbed something. The giggling stopped.

As Donald pulled his hand from under the bed he noticed it was covered in dust bunnies. He looked at them for a second and reluctantly he said,

“Hello?”

A dust bunny chuckled.

“Are you laughing?”

“Well of course I’m laughing you keep saying hello to a dust bunny!” The dust bunny said. “You don’t just talk to dust bunnies.”

“And why not?”

“well… because dust bunnies don’t talk to you!” another one said, slightly angry.

“Then what are you doing now,” Donald said with a smirk.

“I’m trying to get you to let me go!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Donald set them down gently on the hardwood floor. “My name’s Donald by the way.”

“That’s a fine sort of name I guess, us dust bunnies don’t have names.” Said the grumpy one.

“I can give you names!” Donald said, excited (hence the exclamation mark).

“I want to be named George,” said George.

“If you pick a name then I can’t give it to you,” said Donald.

“That’s fine by me! Hi, I’m George.”

“Hello George, I’m Donald.” He reached out his hand to shake with George and George tickled the end of his finger with a little bit of his lint. Donald let out a little laugh.

“And what about your name…”

“I’d really prefer not,” said the grumpy one.

“I think I’ll call you The Grump,” George said with a smile.

“And what exactly is a Grump?”

“Why, you are of course!” said George as he hoped about the floor.

Just then Donald heard his mothers footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Oh no guys! You’d better hide,” Donald said, but by the time the words came out of his mouth they were already back under the bed. Donald peeked his head under.

“Guys? Where’d you go?”

His mother came through the door way.

“Donald, are you actually cleaning up under your bed! I’m so proud!”

Donald jumped up with a shock and bumped his head on the bottom of the bed.

“What? No!”

“Well then you better get started”

“Mom, I can’t clean under my bed!”

“And why not?”

“Well, it’s just…” Donald trying to explain but simply couldn’t find the words.

“Now Donald, it’s almost bed time, if this isn’t cleaned up by the end of the day tomorrow then we’re going to have a serious talk young man.”

As his mom left the room he sat next to his bed, defeated. What was he going to tell his mom? What was he going to tell his new friends? As he slept he tossed and turned worrying that he was waking up the dust bunnies. He dreamt of evil vacuums coming and sucking them up, and of being caught in big ol’ gusts of winds that would pick him up and take him away. He barely got any sleep.

Join us next week to find out what happens to Donald, George, and the Grump!