| Biographical Non-Fiction posted April 29, 2022 |
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How my sister got too attached to her food
The Ballad of Chris
by Earl Corp
When I was thirteen we moved onto a farm. My dad, in his infinite wisdom, decided I needed responsibility so he procured a Holstein bull calf which I was to take care.
Dad named the calf Chris, which was short for Christmas Dinner. I had two sisters, Barb who was 11 and Cecelia age 5.
Cecelia and I were pretty tight. She followed me everywhere and really enjoyed coming out to the barn and petting Chris as I fed him and cleaned his stall.
I fell into the routine of taking care of Chris, and I also got kind of close to him too. Whenever I put him out to pasture he would come over when called and get petted.
Barb had always wanted a horse, so my dad bought a pony. The drawback was Barb was scared to ride him. I weighed over 200 pounds so I didn’t get on him very much. The pony just became something I had to feed and clean up after.
One day we put Chris into the pasture while the pony was in there. The pony immediately took offense to having his turf encroached on. He charged Chris and ran him out the fence. Chris was running up the middle of the road.
I stepped onto the road and yelled his name. It reminded me of a cartoon the way Chris skidded to a stop, turned around, ran in place for a second, and came back to me.
We got Chris back in the barn and from then on the pony was on a picket pin when he and Chris were in the pasture together.
Fast forward to December. Dad sent Chris to the packing house to be butchered. But remember that my Dad’s goal was to have T-bone steaks for Christmas Dinner.
When you send a cow to be butchered they come back wrapped in white paper. The first meal we had with Chris, Barb, with a great big grin, turned to Cecelia and said, “You know this is Chris, don’t you?”
That was it for her. Cecelia wouldn’t ever eat any meat wrapped in white butcher paper, not even lunch meat, ever again. At least when we were kids.
Epilogue—The funny thing is this happened in 1975. I thought she may have outgrown, or at least forgot about Chris. So I took some steaks wrapped in white butcher paper over to Cecelia's house last week. No dice. Even though Chris is long gone, she told me to take them home.
True Family Story writing prompt entry
When I was thirteen we moved onto a farm. My dad, in his infinite wisdom, decided I needed responsibility so he procured a Holstein bull calf which I was to take care.
Dad named the calf Chris, which was short for Christmas Dinner. I had two sisters, Barb who was 11 and Cecelia age 5.
Cecelia and I were pretty tight. She followed me everywhere and really enjoyed coming out to the barn and petting Chris as I fed him and cleaned his stall.
I fell into the routine of taking care of Chris, and I also got kind of close to him too. Whenever I put him out to pasture he would come over when called and get petted.
Barb had always wanted a horse, so my dad bought a pony. The drawback was Barb was scared to ride him. I weighed over 200 pounds so I didn’t get on him very much. The pony just became something I had to feed and clean up after.
One day we put Chris into the pasture while the pony was in there. The pony immediately took offense to having his turf encroached on. He charged Chris and ran him out the fence. Chris was running up the middle of the road.
I stepped onto the road and yelled his name. It reminded me of a cartoon the way Chris skidded to a stop, turned around, ran in place for a second, and came back to me.
We got Chris back in the barn and from then on the pony was on a picket pin when he and Chris were in the pasture together.
Fast forward to December. Dad sent Chris to the packing house to be butchered. But remember that my Dad’s goal was to have T-bone steaks for Christmas Dinner.
When you send a cow to be butchered they come back wrapped in white paper. The first meal we had with Chris, Barb, with a great big grin, turned to Cecelia and said, “You know this is Chris, don’t you?”
That was it for her. Cecelia wouldn’t ever eat any meat wrapped in white butcher paper, not even lunch meat, ever again. At least when we were kids.
Epilogue—The funny thing is this happened in 1975. I thought she may have outgrown, or at least forgot about Chris. So I took some steaks wrapped in white butcher paper over to Cecelia's house last week. No dice. Even though Chris is long gone, she told me to take them home.
Dad named the calf Chris, which was short for Christmas Dinner. I had two sisters, Barb who was 11 and Cecelia age 5.
Cecelia and I were pretty tight. She followed me everywhere and really enjoyed coming out to the barn and petting Chris as I fed him and cleaned his stall.
I fell into the routine of taking care of Chris, and I also got kind of close to him too. Whenever I put him out to pasture he would come over when called and get petted.
Barb had always wanted a horse, so my dad bought a pony. The drawback was Barb was scared to ride him. I weighed over 200 pounds so I didn’t get on him very much. The pony just became something I had to feed and clean up after.
One day we put Chris into the pasture while the pony was in there. The pony immediately took offense to having his turf encroached on. He charged Chris and ran him out the fence. Chris was running up the middle of the road.
I stepped onto the road and yelled his name. It reminded me of a cartoon the way Chris skidded to a stop, turned around, ran in place for a second, and came back to me.
We got Chris back in the barn and from then on the pony was on a picket pin when he and Chris were in the pasture together.
Fast forward to December. Dad sent Chris to the packing house to be butchered. But remember that my Dad’s goal was to have T-bone steaks for Christmas Dinner.
When you send a cow to be butchered they come back wrapped in white paper. The first meal we had with Chris, Barb, with a great big grin, turned to Cecelia and said, “You know this is Chris, don’t you?”
That was it for her. Cecelia wouldn’t ever eat any meat wrapped in white butcher paper, not even lunch meat, ever again. At least when we were kids.
Epilogue—The funny thing is this happened in 1975. I thought she may have outgrown, or at least forgot about Chris. So I took some steaks wrapped in white butcher paper over to Cecelia's house last week. No dice. Even though Chris is long gone, she told me to take them home.
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Writing Prompt word count 400-450 Story must include You and true-to-life, human sister(s) ages 5 or older conceived by same father and mother as Yourself, from a time when You and Your sister(s) lived with your parents in the same home No vulgar words, profanity (no made up words to take the place of real words of profanity), sex, or satire or farce |
 Recognized |
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