Saturday Story Starter

It’s February already!  How did that happen!?

And it’s the first Saturday, which means it’s time for a story starter. I have a yummy one (ahem) for you today…

First of all, for those of you who haven’t participated before, Saturday Story Starter is purely for fun, just a way to exercise those writing muscles (think of it as Heather’s Literary Gym). There are no prizes, only the simple joy of putting words on paper (well, OK, on the computer screen). Also, I won’t be offering critiques, just brief words of encouragement, but I will read all your entries, that I can promise! (And if you’d like to read some of the earlier stories that have been shared, click here and click here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here to browse to your heart’s content.)

Ready for this month’s assignment?

Burger & Fries

See? I told you it was yummy.

Tell us what’s going on here. Clearly, someone’s about to have lunch. Maybe you want to describe the food itself (and make us all hungry in the process). Or maybe you’re more interested in the person about to tuck into it. Who are they? Why are they sitting alone? Is this their favorite meal, or just what was convenient? Are they on the road, or at school, or taking a break from work? Are they hoping someone will come sit with them?

You get the idea. Tell us a story….

Ready, set, WRITE!

36 thoughts on “Saturday Story Starter”

  1. I, Masi, was about to enjoy my double bacon cheeseburger, curly fries, and mint chocolate milk shake, when that stupid club came in. The leader, Claire, walked up to me. “What, are you eating?” She said with disgust locked in her voice. “I am eating some delicious food and I don’t care what you say. K?” After settling that, and leaving Claire in disgust and shock, I took a bite, a sip, and a chew. Suddenly she grabbed the tray, and dumped the food out. “Hey! You’re buying me new food!” She turned and smirked and said, “No I’m not. Later!” Then she flounced out. The owner gave me a new meal, free of charge, but I also ordered the worst thing the chef could possibly make. After finishing my food, the horrible order was done. It was old withered lettuce, with gelatin with crumbs in it on top, then ketchup and an old milkshake he had forgotten to throw away for 2 weeks. I took it and called Claire to come over and I wanted to show her something for her hair….. An hour later….. SPLAT SHRIEK. Claire is standing there with my horrid creation in her hair. I snap a picture then she runs out. I order an ice cream cone. I lick and think, “revenge is sweet.”

  2. “Jara, I think it would be good to have a family reunion,” my mother said.
    “Mom-no. I don’t want to see Claire. You know how it always goes.” I replied, in no mood to plan a reunion. Claire, well, she’s my sister. I haven’t seen her in 5 years. The last time I saw her I was 18. Now I’m 23 and she’s 25. She’s my older sister, and we don’t get along very well, not at all. Ask my mom, she knows. My mom wants to have a reunion, “A reunion after 10 long years,” she says. I haven’t met half my aunts, uncles, and cousins who live far away. Someday, I’d think I’d like to meet them, but I can’t see Claire. I just can’t-the last time she and I got in a bad arguement and we stopped speaking. I’m not sure who’s “fault” it was, but Hattie is definetly partly to blame. The reunion, my mother’s new mission, is a no-go as far as I’m concerned.

    ~5 days later:
    Guess what… we’re having the reunion. My mother sent out the invites, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her ‘no.’ So here we are. I figure that if I stay in the kitchen, it will help my chances of avioding Claire. I live only 30 minutes or so away from Mom but Claire lives a day’s drive away.
    “Do you want burgers and fries, Jara?” she asked, talking about the reunion.
    “Sure,” I said, at least looking foward to the food.
    “I can make it homemade, its better that way…and healthier too. I’ll need you help.”
    “Sure Mom, I’d be glad to help you, we’ll have many to make!” I replied.
    Now I’d be in the kitchen all of the day, and I calmed down about the Claire thing.

    ~2 days later- (the reunion)
    I was up early and went to Mom’s house to help with the cooking. We cleaned everyting and set up lawn chairs in my mother’s yard. Later, just before the families began arriving, guess who came in….
    Claire, Claire who wasn’t supposed to arrive yet. Claire who I hadn’t seen in several years. “Umm…hi. Hi Mom!” then she spotted me, “Hi…Jarrrrraaa…” she greeted. “Oh! My dear Claire, come here!” Mom said.
    I only said, “Hi Claire….”
    The family began arriving and Claire went outside to greet them. We finished preparing the meals, which we then served. The backyard was a mass of people, who were laughing and talking. “Jara, you’ve done enough now, go visit. I’ll serve your lunch,” my mom assured me. A bit later, I was at a table…with Hattie. There was silence but then Claire broke the ice, “Oh, Jara. I’ve missed you. I’m sorry- it was my fault.” I sighed, relieved and we began talking, and laughing too.
    From then on, I knew that we were still best of sisters. The only sisters that we each had. And this reunion, and this meal- the awesome burgers and fries had brought us togther. “To the burgers and fries!” we cheered. The end

  3. Lunch Story
    The cafeteria is still, impeccable, every surface glistening and clean. The room is silent besides indistinguishable pop songs and an occasional thump wafting under the kitchen door. I revel in the quiet. There is no yelling, no food rubbed into the tables, no trash sprinkling the floor. It is unbelievably peaceful. Exactly how I like it. Until….
    The lunch bell sounds, reverberating off the walls, making me cringe inside. Do they make those bells so loud with an intention to cause us to go deaf? Honestly, it’s got to be a safety hazard! Within seconds of the bell, the cafeteria doors slam open, killing the beautiful, comfortable silence for the next 45 minutes. High school students pour into the building, shouting at each other and running to the lunch line or to the tables to save themselves a good seat. I survey the crowd, trying to guess who will grace me with their presence today…
    Oh, did I forget to mention? I’m a chair!
    Being a chair is hard. You don’t get to choose who you support. We are chosen. So if a disrespectful jock with no manners chooses me? I can’t do anything about it. If he needs a place to stick the gum he was chewing and decides my underside is perfect? I have to endure gross, chewed rubber hardening on my belly. It’s a rough life. Luckily, I don’t see the behinds of jocks very often. I am a corner chair. You know me. I hug the table in the far corner of the cafeteria, the table that is usually forgotten due to being too far from the doors as well as the social life of the school. Suddenly, through the mash of frantically moving bodies, I pick out one student. She is not pushing or shoving or elbowing her way. She is gliding. Her hair is down and her face is naturally flushed. I like her. And today must be my lucky day because, am I seeing correctly? It appears that she’s heading right towards… Me! I am excited now. Just by the way she carries herself, I know it’s going to be a pleasant lunch. I think inviting thoughts in an effort to make sure she chooses me, but I don’t need to worry as she gracefully sits, plopping her tray down on my good buddy, Table. She doesn’t move at first, just sits. I think she is thinking. I wish I could know what about. She is pulled from her mind by the buzzing of her phone. I see her face light up, her smile reaching contagiously from one cheek to the other. But the smile falls flat when she reads the message. The cell screen goes dark as she gently sets it facedown on Table. Her brows furrow and anger is evident on her face. I blink (hypothetically of course; I don’t have eyelids, silly) and the look has passed. She reaches for a french fry, disturbing her untouched tray for the first time all lunch period, and nibbles it sadly. A tear runs down her smooth cheek, dripping off her chin, splattering on my red metal platform. I wish I could read her messages and know why she is sad. Who would do anything to hurt this lovely girl? She sits alone all period. I begin to regret my former excitement. Her sadness is rubbing off on me. She eats her lunch slowly until her entire tray is sparkling and gets up to throw away her trash. She begins to walk away, this time dragging her feet. The glide is gone. And then I notice, she’s left her phone on Table! By now the bell signaling the start of last period has rung, but she makes no effort to move any faster. The phone starts ringing, over and over and over again. Her eyes never leave the floor. She isn’t coming back to get it. I watch her, curious, as she crosses the empty cafeteria. I know she is now tardy. For some odd reason, she doesn’t seem to care. And then I see him. He stands in the frame of the open doors, watching her with a loving smile on his face. He is wearing a green camouflage outfit and a hat with the same pattern. She hasn’t noticed him yet. He takes a step forward. She pauses. Her head lifts up slowly. Their eyes meet.
    I have to strain to hear her cautious whisper. She lifts her hand to touch him, but hesitates as if the moment they make contact, he’ll disintegrate before her eyes. This, I can tell, deeply pains him.
    “Mariah, baby, it’s me, it’s me. I’m here. I’m home.”
    And then they are hugging, their embrace tight and hungry and loving, as if they haven’t hugged in years. He lifts her feet off the floor and twirls her around and her giddy, disbelieving laugh fills the room. All too soon, he plants her feet back on the floor and steps back from her, before grabbing her hand and leading her out of the cafeteria. Before the doors close, I can see they are both crying.
    And then all is quiet.

  4. Ringggg! Ringggg! My phone annoyingly goes off. I pick it up and hold it to my ear, “Hey.” My friend Ariane replies, “Hey Kairi (Kye-Ree)… Are you busy today?” “I’m not feeling well,” I lie. “Oh okay.. Feel better! Bye.” When a long beep signals the end of our conversation I put the phone on my night stand.

    I bury my head in my turquoise pillow. You’re probably thinking, ‘Why would you lie to your best friend’ Recently we had a little quarrel and I know the only place Ariane likes to go is the mall. Just the feeling of going back there sends shivers up my spine. So here’s what happened.

    -Flashback- ripple effect and harp

    I grab a comfy sweater and struggle to pull it on. When I finally do, I grab a purse and head out the door. My hands fly to my pockets when the harsh cold seems to bite me. I start the 10 minute walk to the mall with my hair whipping around. When I finally get there I go to a quaint little vintage store filled with antique treasures. Ariane and always meet here.

    I feel my phone buzz around in my purse so I pull it out. It’s a text from Ariane.

    Where are you?!
    At our meeting place

  5. i was having a difficult time getting my story on here but I think I figured it out!

    Where are you?!

    At our meeting place

    Seriously Kairi…vintage is out.. Taylor Swift is in.

    Umm okay fine.. Where are you?

    Urban Outfitters, but I’m heading for Forever 21 so just meet us there

    I shut off my phone and head to Forever 21. Ariane LOVES the vintage store. She started a tradition where every time one of us does one of our fears, the other person buys them a charm from the collection of ones the have at the vintage store, ‘Vintage is the New Black’

    I get to forever 21 and spot Ariane.. With Rachel McAdams. Rachel STRONGLY DISLIKES me. “Hi! Ariane. And the wicked witch.. I mean Rach!” I give her the side-eye, “can I talk to Ari for just a second?” I drag Ariane to the front of a restaurant. “WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?!” I nearly scream.

    “Kairi, you need to GROW UP. We can’t be known as the eighth graders who are stuck in the past and Rachel is the beginning of our popularity!” I scoff in disgust, “Well I’m not hanging out with you guys.” I grab my bag that had recently been on the floor and walk into the restaurant. It’s then that I realise I’m in ‘Cassidy’s Burgers’. When I was little my dad would take me here every Saturday, the same waitress would greet us and we’d order the exact same thing every time.

    I haven’t been here in 5 years. I sigh and sit down at a long counter-like seat. A waitress comes up to me, ‘Hi! What would you like to order?’ I don’t even glance at the menu in my hand. “I would like a bacon hamburger, no mayo, extra toasted buns with a side of fries, extra crispy please and a fountain drink.” Another waitress gasps and scurries over, “Kairi?!” It’s the waitress that served me when I was little. “You haven’t been here in forever! How’s your dad?” I gulp and look at the ceiling, “Umm.” “Oh sweetie I’m so sorry, lunch is on the house.”

    “No really it’s fi-” I start. “Oh girly don’t you worry your pretty little mind! It’s no problem at all!” I smile gratefully and realized that this is one of my fears… Coming in here. I toy with the bracelet on my wrist and decide I’ll be okay. “Aren’t you proud of me daddy?” I whisper. And I’m certain I could feel his smile radiating down on me and hear his response, “I sure am Kaykay.”

  6. “My usual please,” He says as he silently slips into his favorite booth. He turns his head away from the rest of the small diner, and looks out the window to his right. He sighs. He looks back down at the small table and pulls out his wallet. In an inaudible whisper he says,
    “I didn’t think today was going to end up like this.” The corners of his mouth droop and he thoughtfully studies the wood grain pattern of the table.
    “Order for Sterling Burr?” He looks up at the sunny waitress holding a tray of food.
    “That’s me. Thank you.” He dismally looks at his meal. He picks up the burger and takes a bite, then sets it down. His phone buzzes, but he ignores it. Gingerly he eats his fries, and continues to drink his Coke.
    I study him from my corner seat over the edge of my newspaper. I look back down at the story of a car crash that killed one person. The name is listed in small letters – Bill . . . My attention is drawn to a pair of customers walking through the door. The waitress starts up a conversation about the new beauty salon downtown, and I redirect my attention to the newspaper. I don’t do beauty salons. A catchy automobile ad catches my eye. I study it, then remember the car crash.
    Bill Burr. Hmmm, what a shame. He had his whole life ahead of him I think solemnly. I look at the picture of the man.
    Meanwhile the boy pulls out his wallet. I lay the newspaper down and slowly walk to the cashier. I pull the corner of my smoky mustache and shift my glasses.
    “Afternoon,” I say tipping my hat slightly, “I’d like to cover that young man’s bill over there,” I gesture to the boy in the booth. I pay and notice him walking up to the cashier. I walk out the door and see the waitress pointing at me through the window.
    The boy jogs out and catches my arm. When he looks down at me I notice is eyes are moist, but he is trying not to show it. In a deep voice he says,
    “Thank you.” he looks down as his voice catches. I just look back and say,
    “Son, this life is full of terrible things, and I just want you to know that, while it is, there are good things, too, and we . . . we need to focus on the good things of life. Anyways, have a . . . have a good afternoon.”

  7. “Hurry and decide what you want to eat so we can get back on the road,” my dad said.
    “Umm… I’ll take a quarter pounder. Meal please,” I stated. While I filled my cup our name was announced and my mom got our food. Hurring over I found my meal and started eating. The burger was amazing and it came with a bunch of fries. I quickly finished my meal and threw away the trash. My sister was still eating so I streched my legs. We were on our way to Wisconsin to visit our relatives. We are stationed in New Mexico so its a long drive. We are getting close to Wisconsin and we should be there by dinner. Its cold up here. In Minnesota its in the twentys right now. It was a big change from our hot and dry town in New Mexico. I head out to the car and get a movie on. That burger and fries were good, I think as I take a sip from my drink.

  8. My phone buzzes again.
    Another ‘I’m sorry’ text from Deric, I suppose.
    I Shove my phone into my purse and roll my eyes.
    I still cant believe we got into a fight! And over a stupid school paper too!
    Honestly, we’ve never argued before. Sure, we’ve had a few misunderstandings before, but nothing like this!
    Sighing, I bite into my bacon cheeseburger.
    Even though I’m mad at Deric, I REALLY miss him.
    Uncle Bobby’s was our favorite place to eat. The fries are always the best, the hamburger is actually real, not the mushed nastiness like in McDonalds,and their pop is the BEST!
    Their Coke machines are heaven! They have at least one thousand different types of pop.
    One time, Deric and I stayed up all night, getting refills and refills of pop.
    Yeah, i got a little sick.
    And, my parents weren’t happy.
    We got grounded for a month!
    But that still didn’t stop us from goofing off at school.
    We still do!
    Or, did.
    I bite back the stinging tears and close my eyes.
    Honestly, The fight was all my fault.
    I have this thing about history and he doesn’t exactly approve of it. (No clue why)
    Well, anyways, we were assigned to each other, and it was with history.
    Like I said before, I’m a history nut, so I know a bunch of stuff other’s don’t.
    Deric came up with the ‘logical’ idea.
    Why not the Titanic?
    Of course, I got mad, so he got mad.
    The Titanic? That’s something I researched in preschool! Ok, maybe more like fourth grade…..
    but I’m in eighth. He’s in Ninth……
    So I came up with the idea, “The Bubonic Plague”
    He recoiled in shock. “The WHAT?!”
    Apparently he doesn’t know what that was.
    I explained to him of the ‘Black Death’ epidemic in 1347. He rolled his eyes and called me a geek.
    That’s when things started.
    I called him ugly (Which he’s not. Actually, the exact opposite) So he called me fat (Which we both know is not true) I called him a nincompoop (?) and he told me I like under a rock.
    So that’s where I am now.
    I marched straight up to the teacher and told me I wanted a different partner, She raised her eyebrows in shock. Everyone in school knows were best friends.
    Well…… were.
    And what about the staircase?
    PTF. that’s all I can say.
    It’s impossible.
    Not real.
    well….. maybe.
    I don’t know.
    The chair was so real!
    And so where those two guys!
    But Valley Gorge? I researched it.
    It’s only a mystical place.
    A place for the state of mind.
    Nothing else.
    Then why does it feel so real?

    I stepped inside our big fancy house.
    Mom walks up to me and smiles, “Glad your home, This came for you.”
    She hands me a thick envelope.
    I take it, recognizing the handwriting on it immediately.
    I smile slyly at mom, then brush past her to head outside to our porch.
    Spring has finally come.
    I open it and began to read out loud.

    “Dear Perfect.” I scoff. I hate Deric’s pet name.
    “I’m sorry I steamed on you. I really don’t know why I did. I was still upset, when I texted u and said it’s all your fault. Truthfully, it’s mine. I’ve encased this glass heart. Please accept it. Don’t send it back.” ~Deric

    I take out the glass heart and roll my eyes, way to make amends.
    Glancing around, I drop the stone onto the ground. It shatters into a bazillion pieces.
    Then, I lean down and scoop up the pieces.
    I chuckle as I put them back on the envelope and lick it shut. Deric will have to give up.
    As I shove it into the mailbox, my heart starts to hurt.

    Now what have I done? Was I doing something wrong?
    The staircase flashes back into my brain.
    I push it away, It comes back.
    Then a evil laughing comes into my brain, and I turn my face to the dark sparkly heavens.
    The staircase may not be real,
    but those men WERE.

  9. I pick up the burger with my so-greasy-they’re-practically-a-french-fry hands. I stare out the window and scoff as a tumbleweed rolls by. My dad hears me. “Come on! It’s a character-building experience!” He says. Yeah, right. Staying in an RV with my twin brother and dramatic older sister is not exactly character-building. At least the burger is good. I glance the other way. A fly is sitting on the table next to me.
    “Shoo! Shoo!” I yell. It flies away, but then lands in the same spot again and this time gets stuck in a macaroni and cheese glob. “Ick. I’m done.” I say, standing up triumphantly from the 50s style booth, knocking the fly and cheese glob off the table.
    The air outside is humid and stifling. I find a large rock to sit on and survey the scene. Turning in a circle, I see a mirror image of what I saw outside of the window. Almost turning in a full circle, I prepare to sit again when a rough, gloved black hand covers my mouth.

    “Don’t scream.”

  10. My family and I decided to stop by Wendy’s, since it was our family resturant. While we were there, we decided to get food (well, duh), but what are didn’t realize w’s that this Wouk be our ticket home…
    As I ate my bacon hamburger, the rest of my family ate there meal to! When we all took our first bite after saying Grace, we all said we felt a little tored and weak! After about 3 seconds ye saw colorful lights shining before us! Right when we opened our eyes we were there. The gas station parking lot. Our home.

  11. Moe’s Diner: A True Story

    Marilyn Monroe was not like the other college student girls. Besides being the most beautiful and the best singer, she had a secret. She was actually a secret agent spy. One day, like any other, she went to Moe’s Dinner to get something to eat. All of a sudden, she got a phone call.
    “Hello?” Marilyn greeted.
    “Hey Carly Mendoza, did you get the test answers and the cigars?” a girl who sounded like her roommate said.
    “Who is this?” Marilyn demanded.
    “Oh sorry,” the mysterious roommate replied in a fake British accent and hung up. “Huh those girls are up to no good,” Marilyn pondered.
    “Can I take your order?” a friendly waitress asked.
    “Yes, I would like a delicious gourmet cheese burger, curly fries, and a soft drink,” Marilyn replied.
    “I’ll be back in a minute then,” Allie, the waitress, said.
    “Can you try to hurry my order please I have an interview in the Book Shoppe Café,” Marilyn stated.
    “Yes sure,” Allie said without concern. Her order arrived in less than five minutes. It looked really delicious that Marilyn felt obliged to eat it all even though she usually ordered it to go. Halfway during her meal, she heard sirens outside and a group of people covered from head to toe in black costumes. “They look like ninjas,” Marilyn thought. “Hey isn’t that Caroline and Carly?” Marilyn asked silently. Caroline, Carly, and a bunch of other punks were being led out of the nearest apartment building in handcuffs. Marilyn rushed out of the diner. She had been too busy enjoying her super yummy burger that she had been distracted on the job! “Officer, what happened?” Marilyn questioned.
    “No information will be revealed to the public at this time,” the officer replied. Marilyn bent down and whispered in the officer’s ear, “I work for the CIA and I have every right in the world to know what is going on.”
    “You are in the CIA?” the officer asked suspiciously like if she was lying to him.
    For a second there, Marilyn almost got out her badge but then she would be blowing her cover. She decided to try a different approach. She sobbed a little. “As a concerned citizen and best friend to these girls, I would like to know why my close girlfriends are in trouble and why these boys didn’t get into trouble for tricking my friends and showing them no mercy,” Marilyn asked.
    “Look young lady, I am only going to tell you this one last time, I will not reveal anything!” the officer yelled in my ear.
    “Rude,” Marilyn scoffed and walked away. She was determined to find out what happened. She looked closely at the suspects face until she noticed her older brother was part of the group. “Oh you are big trouble mister,” Marilyn whispered. “I can always disguise myself,” Marilyn thought. In precisely 20 seconds, she had disguised herself as a news reporter.
    “Sir, would you like to tell me what occurred here this evening?” Marilyn Monroe asked with an impressive French accent. She had been taking French for four years and her lessons were finally paying off.
    “This large group of thieves, punks, are all drug addicts or about to become that and they were all stealing cash and jewelry,” the officer said.
    “Interesting but I know these girls and they don’t seem like the stealing type,” Marilyn said.
    “How do you know them?” the police asked suspiciously.
    “I have observed them and they seem like good girls,” Marilyn replied.
    “Well, you are wrong and we were going to steal,” Carly admitted.
    “Shh why would you reveal that?” William, one of the boys, said elbowing her.
    “I don’t want to go to jail!” Carly exclaimed, ready to burst into tears. Back at Moe’s Diner, Allie and Carl, the waitresses, did not know what to do. Their diner would be closed at 7:00 pm and they were in desperate need for a break.
    “I wonder when Marilyn will be back from her interview,” Allie wondered.
    “She’s not in an interview,” Carl reported.
    “She is a spy,” Allie thought.
    There was a woman outside that looked exactly like Marilyn Monroe but with blonde high lights and an impressive French accent.
    “We should blow her disguise,” Carl suggested.
    “Why?” Allie asked.
    “She wasted your time cooking her order and she is stealing all my customers,” Carl replied.
    “It was not her fault those punks stole some stuff and someone needed to find out what happened,” Allie decided.
    “You are just excited that a real spy ate in your restaurant,” Carl muttered.
    “Maybe and I am going to take her order right up to her,” Allie said.
    “Oh boy,” Carl whispered and closed up the store.
    “I noticed your food lying on the table so I brought it out for you,” Allie stated sweetly.
    “Why thank you and I am sorry for leaving it so carelessly but I had an emergency,” Marilyn replied.
    “I know, spies are always helping others,” Allie whispered.
    “Uh I have no idea what you mean,” Marilyn said.
    “We do and we also know no one could pull off a disguise like that,” Carl said.
    “You better let us in on your secret and give us money for keeping it,” Carl continued.
    “Oh Carl, leave the poor girl alone,” Allie said putting her arm around Marilyn.
    “Okay give me a second to change,” Marilyn replied. She went to the nearest stall that read Out of Order and escaped through a secret tunnel that unlocked when she tapped on the wall. She was back in CIA headquarters but she had blown her cover. She would have to watch her back from now on but the last thought she had was, “Why didn’t I at least finish my cheese burger?”

    The End

    • Love that her name is Marilyn Monroe, love “In precisely 20 seconds, she had disguised herself as a news reporter,” and love the ending! And everything in between. Fun, Mireya!

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