7.13.04. The beginning of a true story.
hazel.
On the day that this story takes place, we were at the beach. The sand was white, and the seaweed was greenish, and the sky was blue as a baby's bottom, which is to say that the sky was not blue at all, unless the baby in question is very ill. Another way to say this is that the day was foggy, and the sky was gray, and the sun was skulking around and wishing it had stayed in bed that morning. The ocean, however, was as blue as an ocean is likely to get, and so we did not feel sad.
The "we" is me and Hazel. If you are reading this I assume you are acquainted with me, so I will not bother to descibe myself, other than to say that I am medium height, and dashingly handsome, and look like a monkey almost not at all. Hazel, however, you may or may not have met, so I will describe her in some detail.
Hazel was, I believe, rather on the short side for a twelve-year-old. Hazel was only six years old, though, so this was nothing to worry about. Hazel's hair was the approximate color of Swiss cheese, though without so many holes, and her eyes were exactly the color that tomatoes aren't. She had the usual number of fingers and noses, and though I did not personally see her with her shoes off, I think it would be safe to assume she did not possess an excess of toes (I say this because her shoes were of an ordinary size), nor was she missing any (I say this because she did not fall down).
The day in question was the day after the day after Hazel's sixth birthday. I know this because we had the following conversation:
HAZEL: Is today the fourth or the fifth?
JARROD: The fifth.
HAZEL: Oh. Then my birthday was ... two days ago!
But that conversation took place later, when we were walking back from the beach to blow bubbles. Right now we were walking to the beach, and Hazel was telling me there weren't any mountain lions around.
"There aren't any mountain lions around," said Hazel.
Before I go any further, I should mention that Hazel was saying this in response to a sign warning "Beware of Mountain Lions." Though Hazel was admittedly prone to the occasional miscellaneous interjection, this was not one of them. Now that that's cleared up, on with the dialogue.
"Oh?" said I.
"Nope," said Hazel. "Roar!"
"The sign says," I commented, "that if you do see a mountain lion you're supposed to make a lot of noise and move around to scare it away."
Hazel practiced pouncing and scaring away the mountain lions. The mountain lions were so totally scared that they stayed far away as we walked down to the beach. We didn't see a single one.