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Description
As I ravaged the fridge for breakfast I noticed that the milk was outdated.  I don’t like to waste food but thankfully there was only a small pool of this holy fluid left in the bottom of the jug.  I grabbed both the old jug and a new jug for my Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal.  It was good.

After letting out that final “ah” when drinking the leftover milk at the bottom of the bowl, I pondered on what to do with the bad milk.  Should I pour it down the sink?  Should I leave it in the fridge and let someone else deal with it?  I looked outside.  It was gently raining.  I slid my empty cereal bowl towards the other side of the counter.  I grabbed the bad milk jug and moseyed my way outside.

The drowning noise of the multiple pit-er-pats was music to my ears.  I love it when it rains.  The rain was so thin, so light, that it was more of a sprinkle.  I looked up to see if any clouds were wearing a spooky mask.  Nope.  Not today at least.

I took in a deep breath and could smell the moisture in the air.  It being close to 90 degrees out made it feel like you were drinking the air more than breathing it.  I don’t care for the heat but shrugged it aside and made my way past the pool.  Passed the beautiful flowers my mother planted a week or two ago, passed the smiling mandevilla, passed the little vegetable garden, to the gate.

The gate slid open fairly easily.  In the past years the grapevines overgrown and tangled themselves through the fence and through the gate making it almost impossible to open, but recently dad loped them off.  We have a very happy gate now.

As I walked through the gate I saw the giant brush pile down a long wooded path where we dump all the brush, leaves, and clippings, and sometimes the spoils of food.  The plants and the trees looked so happy, so vibrant in the nourishing rain.  The mosquitoes were all in hiding which made for a nice walk in the woods.  Usually the moment you enter the woods you find yourself being carried away from some monstrous mosquito but today was pleasant.  Perhaps too pleasant.  That is when I noticed the bells.

The were barely audible, but they seemed to be growing more volume.  I whirled around trying to spy where the light happy tingly bells were chiming.  No dice.  I was now in close proximity to the brush pile and unscrewed the cap to the carton.  I started to pour the milk on to the pile when the bells started again.  I spun again.  I went back to pouring the milk and shook out the final drop from the carton.  I was about to turn to head back to the house when I heard the bells again.  This time I didn’t move.  I was immediately launched into a trance as my body froze, unable to move.  My mind wandered back 3 years, 4 years, 5 years… no (?) 6 years, back when I was sitting in front of an apple 2e in keyboarding class.  That was when I first saw her.  That was when I first heard the bells.

It was her first day of school.  She was a new kid, 16 years old, long straight blonde hair, pretty face with an angelic smile, petite body.  I didn’t notice any of that when she first entered the room.  I couldn’t see her behind the towering ancient computer.  The only thing I could see was her shoes.  In the weaving of the laces were little bells.  Whenever she walked the bells chimed ever so lightly.  I could tell just by her shoes that I was madly in love.  The teacher positioned her behind a monitor of the complete opposite side of the room, it was almost impossible to catch a glimpse of her, that is, until the bell rang.  I would stare at the clock, in what felt like an eternity was actually 47 minutes.  But soon enough the time came and out rushed the 22 classmates, the second to last was the new girl, the final… me.  She wore retro tight jeans that belled at the calves.  Her sunshine yellow tank radiated under the fluorescent light.  Her blonde hair, almost down, to her waist, glimmered and waived as she moved toward the door.  She turned and looked at me, smiled, and walked out the door.

I was frozen, paralyzed by her beauty, numb from the sound of the bells, her bells.  I watched and slowly melted as she disappeared down the hallway.

The teacher approached me waiving her yard stick, “Jacob, class is over.”
I couldn’t speak.  I couldn’t move.  The teacher slowly raised her yardstick over her head and with one quick flick the yardstick hit flat on the desk releasing a deafening CRACK!

CRACK!
I slapped a mosquito that landed on my elbow.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around the woods.  The only sound was the pit-er-pat of the gentle rain.

Description
As I ravaged the fridge for breakfast I noticed that the milk was outdated.  I don’t like to waste food but thankfully there was only a small pool of this holy fluid left in the bottom of the jug.  I grabbed both the old jug and a new jug for my Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal.  It was good.

After letting out that final “ah” when drinking the leftover milk at the bottom of the bowl, I pondered on what to do with the bad milk.  Should I pour it down the sink?  Should I leave it in the fridge and let someone else deal with it?  I looked outside.  It was gently raining.  I slid my empty cereal bowl towards the other side of the counter.  I grabbed the bad milk jug and moseyed my way outside.

The drowning noise of the multiple pit-er-pats was music to my ears.  I love it when it rains.  The rain was so thin, so light, that it was more of a sprinkle.  I looked up to see if any clouds were wearing a spooky mask.  Nope.  Not today at least.

I took in a deep breath and could smell the moisture in the air.  It being close to 90 degrees out made it feel like you were drinking the air more than breathing it.  I don’t care for the heat but shrugged it aside and made my way past the pool.  Passed the beautiful flowers my mother planted a week or two ago, passed the smiling mandevilla, passed the little vegetable garden, to the gate.

The gate slid open fairly easily.  In the past years the grapevines overgrown and tangled themselves through the fence and through the gate making it almost impossible to open, but recently dad loped them off.  We have a very happy gate now.

As I walked through the gate I saw the giant brush pile down a long wooded path where we dump all the brush, leaves, and clippings, and sometimes the spoils of food.  The plants and the trees looked so happy, so vibrant in the nourishing rain.  The mosquitoes were all in hiding which made for a nice walk in the woods.  Usually the moment you enter the woods you find yourself being carried away from some monstrous mosquito but today was pleasant.  Perhaps too pleasant.  That is when I noticed the bells.

The were barely audible, but they seemed to be growing more volume.  I whirled around trying to spy where the light happy tingly bells were chiming.  No dice.  I was now in close proximity to the brush pile and unscrewed the cap to the carton.  I started to pour the milk on to the pile when the bells started again.  I spun again.  I went back to pouring the milk and shook out the final drop from the carton.  I was about to turn to head back to the house when I heard the bells again.  This time I didn’t move.  I was immediately launched into a trance as my body froze, unable to move.  My mind wandered back 3 years, 4 years, 5 years… no (?) 6 years, back when I was sitting in front of an apple 2e in keyboarding class.  That was when I first saw her.  That was when I first heard the bells.

It was her first day of school.  She was a new kid, 16 years old, long straight blonde hair, pretty face with an angelic smile, petite body.  I didn’t notice any of that when she first entered the room.  I couldn’t see her behind the towering ancient computer.  The only thing I could see was her shoes.  In the weaving of the laces were little bells.  Whenever she walked the bells chimed ever so lightly.  I could tell just by her shoes that I was madly in love.  The teacher positioned her behind a monitor of the complete opposite side of the room, it was almost impossible to catch a glimpse of her, that is, until the bell rang.  I would stare at the clock, in what felt like an eternity was actually 47 minutes.  But soon enough the time came and out rushed the 22 classmates, the second to last was the new girl, the final… me.  She wore retro tight jeans that belled at the calves.  Her sunshine yellow tank radiated under the fluorescent light.  Her blonde hair, almost down, to her waist, glimmered and waived as she moved toward the door.  She turned and looked at me, smiled, and walked out the door.

I was frozen, paralyzed by her beauty, numb from the sound of the bells, her bells.  I watched and slowly melted as she disappeared down the hallway.

The teacher approached me waiving her yard stick, “Jacob, class is over.”
I couldn’t speak.  I couldn’t move.  The teacher slowly raised her yardstick over her head and with one quick flick the yardstick hit flat on the desk releasing a deafening CRACK!

CRACK!
I slapped a mosquito that landed on my elbow.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around the woods.  The only sound was the pit-er-pat of the gentle rain.