LPF week 2 - My Mount Rushmore
Oct. 14th, 2018 05:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hwangoThey say you should never meet you heroes, because they inevitably disappoint. I'd like to add that you should really never go live with your heroes for a few months, because it's hard for someone to stay a hero in your eyes after they tell you to clean your room and eat your vegetables and such.
I mean, yes, Aunt Lily was still pretty great, but she used to be that cool aunt who sent postcards from crazy places and rode a motorcycle and had badass scars and who I'd only ever met in person like twice. Now she was just a substitute parent I'd been sent across the country to live with while Mom and Dad resolved some intricate family drama, and I was a sullen teenager who appreciated none of it.
A few days into my stay I asked her for some money, and she asked me what I wanted it for. I think my reply was probably something witty and artful like 'I dunno - stuff." Lily informed me that it was her role to provide food, shelter, moral guidance, and emotional support, but that if I wanted anything else I was going to have to get a job to pay for it. I said that I was still a minor and no one would hire me, and she suggested that I see if any of the neighbors wanted me to do any yard work or something.
"You want me to wander the neighborhood alone talking to strangers?" I said. "Aren't you afraid that I'll be murdered by serial killers?"
"Of course not," she replied, "All of our serial killers were eaten by bears ages ago. By the way, watch out for bears while you're out."
Yeah, Aunt Lily was a hoot alright. I sulked for a couple of days, and then caved in and said I'd do it. She waved me on my way and wished me good luck.
"What, you're really not coming with me?" I said.
"I mean, I guess I could," said Lily. "But think how much more you can charge people if they think you're the victim of criminal neglect."
Even then, I could see that Lily was a very wise woman.
It took pretty much the whole afternoon for me to talk to the twelve or so people that lived closest to Lily's house. The houses weren't terribly close together, and I was making the whole journey on foot. By the time I got to Mr. Jorgenson's house I was tired, cranky, and frustrated. So far I hadn't had any takers on my offer to do yard work for money. A lot of the people I spoke to didn't seem to think I'd do a good job, either because I was a (presumably) irresponsible teenage or because I was, as one woman put it, "a weedy little thing." Many of the people who cited this latter reason also inquired whether I was sure I was really related to Aunt Lily.
Mr. Jorgenson didn't want to hire me either, claiming that he often had bears wandering through his property, and didn't want to risk a lawsuit if I was eaten by one while working for him. He did, however, suggest that I just ask Lily for a job cleaning up her yard. He reasoned that she couldn't very well refuse me for the reasons the others had since she had proposed the idea in the first place. Also, he pointed out, her yard looked like crap.
Well, it would certainly make for a shorter commute.
When I got back to Lily's house and asked her if she'd pay me to clean up her yard she overacted struggling with the decision so overtly that I suspected that this had been her plan along. "There's a rake and lawnmower and stuff in the shed out back," she said. I informed her that I'd never used a lawnmower before and that I might need a brief tutorial. She rolled her eyes and led me out back to the aforementioned shed. She opened the door, and I instantly had several questions.
"Why do you own so many chainsaws?" I asked.
"I just want to be prepared in the event of the zombie apocalypse," she said. I figured this was at least half a joke, but some of the other objects in the shed made me uncertain about this.
"Why do you have several giant screaming stone heads?" I asked.
"At first I just had the one, but then I decided it looked lonely," she said. She could tell by the look on my face that this answer was insufficient. "Traditionally, you don't get paid for killing a monster without bringing back the head as proof that the deed is done, but then for some reason they don't want you leaving hundreds of pounds of screaming stone heads at city hall, and I didn't have anyplace else to put them."
"Is all of that gold real?" I asked.
"Of course it is. Nobody is stupid enough to pay me with fake gold," she said. "More than once, anyway." By this point, I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to my last question, but I asked anyway.
"There aren't really any bears living the area at all, are there?" I asked.
"No," she said.
I mean, yes, Aunt Lily was still pretty great, but she used to be that cool aunt who sent postcards from crazy places and rode a motorcycle and had badass scars and who I'd only ever met in person like twice. Now she was just a substitute parent I'd been sent across the country to live with while Mom and Dad resolved some intricate family drama, and I was a sullen teenager who appreciated none of it.
A few days into my stay I asked her for some money, and she asked me what I wanted it for. I think my reply was probably something witty and artful like 'I dunno - stuff." Lily informed me that it was her role to provide food, shelter, moral guidance, and emotional support, but that if I wanted anything else I was going to have to get a job to pay for it. I said that I was still a minor and no one would hire me, and she suggested that I see if any of the neighbors wanted me to do any yard work or something.
"You want me to wander the neighborhood alone talking to strangers?" I said. "Aren't you afraid that I'll be murdered by serial killers?"
"Of course not," she replied, "All of our serial killers were eaten by bears ages ago. By the way, watch out for bears while you're out."
Yeah, Aunt Lily was a hoot alright. I sulked for a couple of days, and then caved in and said I'd do it. She waved me on my way and wished me good luck.
"What, you're really not coming with me?" I said.
"I mean, I guess I could," said Lily. "But think how much more you can charge people if they think you're the victim of criminal neglect."
Even then, I could see that Lily was a very wise woman.
It took pretty much the whole afternoon for me to talk to the twelve or so people that lived closest to Lily's house. The houses weren't terribly close together, and I was making the whole journey on foot. By the time I got to Mr. Jorgenson's house I was tired, cranky, and frustrated. So far I hadn't had any takers on my offer to do yard work for money. A lot of the people I spoke to didn't seem to think I'd do a good job, either because I was a (presumably) irresponsible teenage or because I was, as one woman put it, "a weedy little thing." Many of the people who cited this latter reason also inquired whether I was sure I was really related to Aunt Lily.
Mr. Jorgenson didn't want to hire me either, claiming that he often had bears wandering through his property, and didn't want to risk a lawsuit if I was eaten by one while working for him. He did, however, suggest that I just ask Lily for a job cleaning up her yard. He reasoned that she couldn't very well refuse me for the reasons the others had since she had proposed the idea in the first place. Also, he pointed out, her yard looked like crap.
Well, it would certainly make for a shorter commute.
When I got back to Lily's house and asked her if she'd pay me to clean up her yard she overacted struggling with the decision so overtly that I suspected that this had been her plan along. "There's a rake and lawnmower and stuff in the shed out back," she said. I informed her that I'd never used a lawnmower before and that I might need a brief tutorial. She rolled her eyes and led me out back to the aforementioned shed. She opened the door, and I instantly had several questions.
"Why do you own so many chainsaws?" I asked.
"I just want to be prepared in the event of the zombie apocalypse," she said. I figured this was at least half a joke, but some of the other objects in the shed made me uncertain about this.
"Why do you have several giant screaming stone heads?" I asked.
"At first I just had the one, but then I decided it looked lonely," she said. She could tell by the look on my face that this answer was insufficient. "Traditionally, you don't get paid for killing a monster without bringing back the head as proof that the deed is done, but then for some reason they don't want you leaving hundreds of pounds of screaming stone heads at city hall, and I didn't have anyplace else to put them."
"Is all of that gold real?" I asked.
"Of course it is. Nobody is stupid enough to pay me with fake gold," she said. "More than once, anyway." By this point, I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to my last question, but I asked anyway.
"There aren't really any bears living the area at all, are there?" I asked.
"No," she said.
