What to do when the shit hits the fan

I wish I had a good imagination. It’s feeble at best.

I’m pretty good at writing what’s real though. I learned that when I took a journalism class in high school. It came to me naturally. I got really good grades. My future was clear.

So that’s why I write my real life stories. It’s what I’m built to do.

For instance, the floor in my living room caved in today. Luckily I was standing off to the side when it happened. The shock wore off quickly because my dad is a war veteran, and when I was growing up, he was always telling me, “Brooks, when the shit hits the fan, you got to act as if the shit is always hitting the fan. Otherwise, you’re gonna freeze up in panic, and you’ll be no good to anyone.”

So the floor caved in, and rather than panic, I took a deep breath, felt calm, and took a look down into the hole. There was an underground pond down there, filled with alligators. They looked up at me with panic in their eyes, just like my dad told me not to do.

I wanted to help. So I crawled down into the hole. I went up to the alligators and pet their soft throats. I learned that trick on PBS. They said this area is the alligators must sensitive spot. When you pet them there, they relax.

Pretty soon there were twelve easy going alligators lazily swimming around the pond. I stayed down there with them for a while because I love to wade in ponds.