Write Your Way to Sanity, Part I (Share the Laughter)
© Julie J. Murelle
Below is an example of something I wrote in college. It is an observation of something really ridiculous that I experienced while in the hallowed halls of the University I attended.
THE TRAUMATIC WEENIE WINK EXPERIENCE
Envision a scene such as the following: It is your first year in college and you live in the dorms. You mosey unknowingly into the cafeteria after your first trying day of classes and you are starving your guts out. You rush to get in line with the anticipation of a large portion of that succulent cafeteria food. (Come on, if you were starving your guts out, it would look good.) You get your university logo-ed tray, (they do that so you won't forget where you are), and as you approach the food counter your excitement mounts. As you wait in line your saliva glands kick in, and then finally it is your turn. You scan your numerous food options. Realizing that you'd like one of those luscious hot dogs wrapped in cheese and bread, you take a glimpse at the name card so you can express to those pink polyester clad humans just what you desire. "Holy Cow!" Those hot dogs are called, "Weenie Winks" With your eyes bulging out, you realize in horror that to receive the food you crave, you must utter those words. What's a person to do? Well, you pull yourself together, humiliated though you may be and almost inaudibly you mumble, "I'd like a Weenie Wink."
"What?" Those cafeteria servers ask.
"A Weenie Wink," You repeat a bit louder, wishing to take refuge under a near by table.
"I still can't hear you, speak up," they, who appear to be deafer than the earless, say to you.
"I can do this," you tell yourself, trying to boost your confidence, "I made it into college, I got a scholarship and darn it people like me." You take a deep breath and you scream, "I'd like a Weenie Wink!" The color runs out of your cheeks and then you faint to the ground from the frustration, the humiliation and the lack of food. Poor tormented freshman!
After this, entering the cafeteria becomes a nightmare and although you are not a theater major, you have the staring role. Your studies decline and you are lifeless in class because all you can think about is the horror of having to say, "I'd like a Crusty Pork Chop, or how about some of that Lemon Lush or worse yet, I'd like a Thuranger in a Bun." These thoughts plague your mind. As a result, you suffer a breakdown, you spend months on a psychiatric couch, and worst of all you have to move back in with your parents. Another life wrecked by a Weenie Wink!
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