| Tremor Tales page 37 |
| Alternate ending to PTERODACTYL My binoculars shook so badly, Everything I peered at through them Was maddenly blurred. Having shaky Hands was really messing up my plan To be the first in the group that would See the pterodactyl rumored to be living Around the mesa on which we stood. "Holy cow, man!" a guy yelled at me, chortling. "You're shaking! What a chicken! You're scared! Why don't you go hide behind that rise?" I wanted to punch the guy, but just glared At him and he jerked his binocs to his eyes. Suddenly, a sharp squawk, loud, frightening, Came from behind, overhead. All ducked down But he and I, and a pterodactyl, like lightning, Swooped down and snatched him with its talons. And the jerk screamed, "Not me! Take him!" As he widly flailed his arms at me. The 'dactyl made a turn, swooped in And knocked me over like a two-legged flea. "Hah! It knows I ain't chicken, you chicken!" I yelled as the 'dactyl flew off. A short time Later, it swooped back and dropped him Cackling like a hen scared out of its mind. Seems the 'dactyl took a nip of his rear end, And spat. Must be 'dactyls don't like chicken. |
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| On The Way To Macca's Was walking outback, matilda waltzing On me back and me moggie mucking far And near, when a van came roaring Up and almost clipped me with its roo bar. Driver stuck his head out and asked directions To the nearest Macca's. "Two clicks from here," I said. "How 'bout you park your van, hop down And have a vegemite sanger and beer?" "Vegemite? Beer?" he asked. "Be right there." I regretted me offer in only minutes. He had midgies swarming 'round his greasy hair And he kept whinging that me moggie nose-twitched His sanger. Me head tremor increased From this stress and I'd had it. I knocked the beer From his hand and shouted, "You ocher! All greased! Rack off you whinging dill away from here!" And with my hair, unkempt, long, shaking wildly 'Round me face, I looked in a murderous fit. This sent him back to his van, and swiftly. "Bloke!" I called out. "Your sanger! You forgot it!" "Keep it!" he yelled, and sped off. Miles on, I saw him shout towards a lit up Macca's, "Drongos! I passed up a sanger with vegemite For your tucker! Let me in!" And off went the lights. |
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| Fried Eggs And Ham "Will they ever finish and come out?" I groaned as I sat freezing in the van. The diner looked warm, cozy, all about Pleasing customers wanting fried eggs and ham. Yummm, fried eggs and ham. I wanted some, badly. But I'd told my friends I wasn't hungry, Wasn't feeling well. Lied just so none would see That my hands shake. A shaking I kept hidden. And eating with them would give it away. They'd believed my lie and gone in without me. "Come on, finish up!" I rasped, tired of the wait. "I want to get home to eat, I'm hungryyy!" Just then, they exited the diner. "Hey man," One said as he entered the van. "Bought some tea For you. "Thanks!" I said and with cup in hand, Most of it was shaken all over me. "So much for hiding my tremor as planned," I quipped, and I hurriedly left the van To enter the diner for fried eggs and ham. |
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| Dot Dot Dot Dot Dot dot dot dot. No words, just dots Across the blackboard from my chalk. "Morse code?" the teacher asked, annoyed. "Write the sentence, you mischievous boy." Sweat poured from my brow in my attempt To still my trembling hand, crookedly bent For control, yet, no words, just dots galore. Doy dot dot dot. Suddenly, the classroom door Swung open and the school principal Entered and with elation said, "My pal! At last a student who knows Morse code! I've wanted it taught for years. What mode Of teaching was used, teacher?" "It was his own," She answered. "I can't teach what he has shown." "Well the dots say the same as your sentence." I about passed out at that, but stood, tense, Waiting for the truth to come out. Instead, The principal patted me on the head And said, "Teach the code to your classmates." Crazy! But at home I practiced on a slate To turn words into dots. That is the only way I now write in class, yet teach gives me all A's. |
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| Shaking The Soda "The soda cans!" yelled my boss. "They're exploding! Who's the clown who stacked them on the shelves?!" With sticky spray soaking him, my pal, a clerk, Turned towards me, having no guilt himself. And the boss eyed me, hiding at my pal's back. "Why are you looking at me?" I asked, Sticking my trembling hands into my pockets. "Okay, but at least I got them all neatly stacked." "Who cares?" griped my boss. "You shook them so much The soda is bursting out. You'll pay for each can." "The delivery man must have, he's a klutz." And my pal laughed, "You the delivery man? Show the boss your hands." Puzzled, the boss stepped Up close. "Yeah, you do that." I did. "I see You're shaking because you got caught. Accept It. Pay in installments, make me happy." I kept my essential tremor excuse To myself, as telling would be of no use. "Now get back to stacking," he ordered. "Go With him, clerk. Make sure he doesn't make the cans blow." Pain creased my pal's face. Only he'd be working, Given that I'd shake the cans into bursting. |