I was going to the store to buy some Golden Grahams and mushroom soup. I was with Meadow, my kid sister, who was 11. Meadow had developed an infatuation with cole slaw. She wore it under her armpits. She danced a lot too. Her favourite fictional character was Smurfette.
We got to the store and the clerk, Mr. Didd, told us that we could have the Golden Grahams for free if we would do him a favour.
"Wassat?" asks Meadow.
Mr. Didd hands her a pouch of golden dust. "Take this into the woods and dispose of it," he says.
Well I'm not about to ask questions. A free box of Golden Grahams is a free box of Golden Grahams.
So I give the dust to Meadow and we walk into the woods and she puts the dust on her hands and blows and all this dust flies everywhere and then it sprinkles to the ground like cinnamon.
"What now?" asks Meadow.
"Maybe we should wait."
So we wait a bit. An hour I think. No, sorry. It was a year. By this time we stink. Good thing there's a creek nearby. We wash in it. Problem is the creek is filled with piranha and some of them eat Meadow's legs below the knee. She's yellin and screamin and cryin and blood is flying everywhere. Good thing I still have the box of Golden Grahams. I can feed them to her and give her strength.
Just then, Kurt Vonnegut walked by. He had an autographed first edition of Slaughterhouse Five in his hand. He looks at me and I look at him.
"My sister's going to die," I say.
"So it goes," he says.
Then he opens the book and blows and all the letters turn into gold dust and when they settle, Meadow's legs are back and we're walking to the store for Golden Grahams.
Inside, Mr. Didd says: "Do mea favour