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My Morning Story
by Wayne Scheer

I woke this morning and tripped over a story. To be more precise, I stumbled but remained erect, which at my age is no small feat. (Feel free to insert whatever additional word play here you'd like.)

To be even more exact in my wording, I didn't really reel over a story, but part of one. A fragment. No subject of interest, no verb of action, it just hung there, a morning moon waning prosaic.

I moved on to the bathroom where I found another story piece. I wasn't sure where it had come from so I washed it thoroughly, it being too early in the morning for a dirty story.

To my dismay, I found an allusion while I prepared coffee. On the kitchen table laid or lied (one or the other) a bunch of connotations. Apparently, they cluster, forming a constellation of connotations. Connotations are an annoying, cloying gang often engaging in group vex.

In my office, I saw personification snuggle with a dust bunny, but I'd rather not talk about it.

I sat at my desk trying to piece together this jigsaw puzzle, but the similes weren't similar and the metaphors were so mixed nothing fit.

I had obviously dropped some pieces along the way, so I scavenged under the couch and found the entire alphabet, A through Z, (or zed, as the case may be). No plot or theme, but I reasoned such substance to be superficial and considering how my back felt as I scavenged, this was to be a story for the aged.  (I apologize, but these puns keep popping up like a Whack-a-Mole at a carnival.)

I at least had the basic tools to write a story. And since my toolbox contained nothing more than a metaphorical butter knife and a hammer, the alphabet seemed enough. Plot and characters, chainsaw and lathe, these could be dangerous in my hands.

Nothing much made sense, but I created order from chaos by arranging the scraps into sentences, the sentences into paragraphs--clear and precise--an English garden of prose. But it seemed too tame, so I took the punctuation marks I found in a planter, especially the commas, and strew them about, willy-nilly, since no one really knows what to do with commas any more than they know what a willy-nilly is.

When I completed my story, which now looked more willy-silly than just willy-nilly, I found one extra punctuation mark, so I used it!