I have been nominated by my blogging friend, Mark Bialczak, to participate in the Five Photo Five Series Challenge.
When my boys were little, I took them on a road trip to New Orleans. This was when they were probably 3 and 4 years of age. They loved road trips in fact, they still do. They also loved getting annoying little toys out of vending machines, you know, bouncey balls, fake money, and pretty much anything pokey, which ultimately ended up on the floor for me to step on when the said item had lost its entertainment factor.
My youngest flung his Sticky Hands everywhere. On the day in question, we went on a tour through the cemetery (yes, the one in which the Voodoo Queen is buried), he flung it at things all the way through the French Quarter and all the way back to the hotel – the Sticky Hands were thrown, and stuck on things and thrown again. By the time we arrived at the hotel, his once bright pink Sticky Hand was a dull puce, grey and granular from all the dirt it had picked up from each object it had been flung at and stuck to.
The hotel was brand spanking new. In the massive foyer, with the high ceilings, the smell of fresh, clean paint still lingered in the air and mixed with expensive scent of perfume from the elegant ladies who had previously passed through. We were all pretty tired, worn out from our marathon adventure through New Orleans. Despite my admonishment about NOT throwing the Sticky Hand anymore, my youngest flung that Sticky Hand up into the air. And, as if in slow motion, with me bellowing a useless 'Noooooo' the Sticky Hand flew up into the air, high into the air. We watched in horror, as that grey Sticky Hand began its descent. It didn't fall directly straight to the ground, it made a little jaunt, and ever so nicely adhered itself about 20 feet up against the pristine, newly painted butter-cream colored walls. That is where it stayed. A long pendulous, pedunculated mass of grey gelatinous material that swung back and forth, ever so gently with the breeze from the ceiling fans.
The three of us stood there, with our necks craned back, staring at the grey Sticky Hand, swinging in the breeze. The Concierge, whose desk was directly opposite from the wall which was now adulterated by this gooey mass of disgusting material, had arisen from his desk and was also staring at it. I put my hand to my mouth, speechless at the sight of this stringy mass. Even my boys were quiet, as we stared at this atrocity. When I was able to regain my composure, I apologized profusely to the Concierge. The Concierge was so gracious and said something like "Accidents happen" but we knew this was no accident. He said "Not to worry" and shuffled us off to our rooms.
The next morning, we came down to the foyer, and did a sideways glance up at that wall. The Sticky Hand had been removed, and all that was left was a Rorschach shaped grease stain. I wonder to this day, if they were able to completely eradicate the remnants of that Sticky Hand.
Here's how this challenge works: You post a photo each day for five consecutive days and attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction or non-fiction, a poem or a short paragraph that shares your insight or inspiration of or from the image. Sorry, my entry today wasn't a paragraph, but the story had to be told.
Upon submitting each entry, I am supposed to nominate a blogging friend to participate. I nominate my blogging friend at Whole.
I was quite horrified by the whole thing!!!!
Just as well it wasn't thrown at the Voodoo Queen's Mausoleum or you might still be calling two zombies in to tea.
Umm…actually it was. Don't think I didn't spend the rest of the trip looking over my shoulder.
Much improved now thanks so much , breathing without noticeable effort.
Oh that's a really good thing. One shouldn't have to think really hard about breathing. So glad you are feeling better, you had me so worried!!!!!!
Mithai, I had a skeleton, "Mr. Glo Bones," who did the same thing! Until one sad day he would do it no more.
I think my kids may have had one of those. After a while the 'glo' stops glowing because of all the dirt it has picked up along the way.
We find them in the vending machines and gumball machines (at least we used to).
What is the fascination with these sticky things I wonder? The trip was amazing. The boys had such a great time. We met some fantastic people and ate great food!!!
For my boys to be quiet, it has to be a monumental occurrence. Thank-you for the lovely compliment!!!!!
I could totally picture the scene. Compliment deserved!!
Haha, that's a hilarious story. Thanks for sharing.
Your back. I was just about to come in search of you. In fact, I think I will do that right now.
Somebody in that hotel that night put some sort of spell on your boy, S.D. Did he report anything odd to you, do you recall? The tale of the Sticky Hand of New Orleans is quite compelling and horrible, both. Cue the scary music!
I think it may have something to do with him sitting on the grave site in the cemetery. The stone actually shifted back, and I have never seen a 3 year old jump as far and as high as he did. It was immediately after that, he requested we stop at the Voodoo store to pick up some nightmare pills. Perhaps you are right – it was a spell of some type.
Wow! That is really spooky, S.D. That New Orleans lore is so dark!
It is – can you imagine how his Southern Baptist Grandmother reacted to his request to be taken to a Voodoo shop. Now that is scary!!!
Work this into your next novel, please and thank you.
Again… great reading material during our long drive. Yes, my kids love those cheap toy vending machines.. even at 11 and 9…I knew immediately what you meant by sticky hands. I hate those things. It would get dirty with hair stuck to it…and then they would slap each other in the face with it.. ew!
Those sticky hands are so disgusting. My youngest's was grey and granular by the end of the day. So gross. Why do they sell stuff like that to kids? Why do they have those stuffed animal machines at restaurants? Is it a conspiracy just to drive parents completely batty?
…and on our driving trip.. trying to find food sometimes is a challenge and then damn mcDonald's appears (my daughter says OOOH.) Noooooo. because she always wants a happy meal for whatever toy. both kids want the minion thingys. really? I can't tell you how many old Mcdonald (hahahah, old Macdonald ei-ei-oh) – anyway old Macdonald toys we've had to toss out while cleaning rooms. Ugh. AND we don't even go that much. I think they mysteriously multiply.
Oh I remember the Happy Meal days, with the toys that get EVERYWHERE. UGH!!!!! Most of those toys ended up on the floor in a strategically placed spot, for me to step on. I hate the way the fast food places and the movie companies are in cahoots. Marketing to the younger crowd. Should be a law against it.
Pack it up in the Target bags (that's what we use to pick up dog poop – and I can tell you we have a lot of it here with the Pterodactyl). Then put it straight in the big garbage can – that way no one will ever be able, or want to, find the evidence.