Stories for My Little Sister

Post No. 34

SPAGHETTI & MEATBALLS

I have just come back from a blogging conference. A whole bunch of bloggers (including yours truly, of course) stayed in a hotel for a whole week and had the chance to meet one another. We all wore name badges – very official! And, yes, before you ask, dear readers, I had a great time. Well, I had a great time except for one thing: I came back looking like this.

And it was all because of a sign. I didn’t get into a fight. No one punched me. I didn’t even have an argument with anyone. But that sign perplexed me. It challenged me. I wanted to understand it, but at first I couldn’t understand it, and by the time I did understand it, it was too late.

I was walking down the corridor from my room towards the lobby when I caught sight of the sign.

I stood in front of the door, looking up at the sign and trying to figure it out.

Door may open? Well, of course the door may open. Isn’t that the whole point of having a door? If you never opened the door, you wouldn’t be able to come in or go out!

I scratched my head. And that was when it happened.

SLAM!

The door opened so quickly, I didn’t even see it coming. By the time I realised what had happened, I was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“Wake up! Wake up! Are you okay?” shrieked a panicked voice. A small hand was shaking my arm frantically.

A little dazed, I turned my head to see a little gerbil staring back at me. “You’re alive!” she exclaimed, her voice full of relief.

“Well, I should hope so, Geranium!” I said, reading her name badge.

“I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me? I thought I’d opened the door slowly, but obviously not slowly enough. It must’ve slammed right into you.”

“Yes, I was standing right here in front of the sign when it happened.” I pointed up at the sign.

Geranium looked up to read the sign. And that was when it happened. Yes, dear readers, it happened again.

SLAM!

By the time I realised what had happened, I was lying on the floor again. I turned my head, and there was Geranium looking back at me. Her eyes travelled to my name badge. “Harrison Hamster I,” she murmured. She sounded a little bit woozy.

“Geranium, are you all right? I think we were both hit by the door.”

Just then, another voice interrupted us. “Oh no! What have I done? Are you okay?” Standing over us was a guinea pig with a very worried face.

“I think we’ll live,” I said, scrambling to my feet, “but perhaps you might be able to help Geranium up. I think she might be feeling a little bit woozy.”

“Of course I will. That’s the very least I can do.” Each of us took one of Geranium’s hands, and we hauled her to her feet.

Geranium wobbled a little and looked at the guinea pig. “Garner Gardiner,” she stated, reading his name badge.

“That’s my name,” said Garner. “But may I ask what in the world you were doing, standing behind the door? That does seem to be a bit of a silly place to stand.”

“Well, we were reading that sign,” I said, pointing up at the sign.

“Because that’s what Harrison had been doing when I slammed the door into him,” explained Geranium, who seemed to be making a quick recovery.

Garner looked up at the door to read the sign. And that was when it happened. Yes, dear readers, it happened yet again.

SLAM!

And that was how three of us ended up on the floor, covered in food (spaghetti and meatballs, in case you were wondering, dear readers). You see, the person who came through the door was a room-service waiter carrying a food tray to one of the guest rooms. As he came through the door, he tripped over one of Geranium’s feet. Needless to say, the bowls of spaghetti went flying!

“You stupid bloggers! You spend all your time writing, but can’t you read one simple sign?”

“But we were—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Just get out of my way!”

We got to our feet, covered in spaghetti. I wiped some sauce from my face and licked my fingers. “Delicious!” I pronounced. “Geranium, Garner, I wonder if you’d like to join me for dinner this evening?” I said. “I hear the hotel restaurant serves a wonderful dish of spaghetti and meatballs!”

“I do think Geranium could do with a good meal,” said Garner, offering Geranium his arm.

“And I do rather like these meatballs,” said Geranium, scooping a meatball from the top of her head and popping it into her mouth.

And with that, we rushed through the door towards the hotel lobby. I heard the door close automatically behind us. As Garner and Geranium pulled me through the lobby in the direction of the restaurant, I could not help but give a brief backward glance towards the door, and I managed to catch a glimpse of it from the lobby side. It had a push-bar: that was why it opened out into the corridor. It explained everything! Well, almost everything. The sign on the lobby side of the door explained why Geranium had said something about having thought she’d opened the door slowly!

But by this point in time, I had better things to think about than the door and the signs. I turned my attention back to Garner and Geranium, who were happily chatting about their gardening blogs, and said, “So, you gardening experts, is it true that you can plan your garden to have colour all year round?”

And that’s how I ended up returning home with a few bruises and two new friends.

This blog post would not be complete without a moral, though I am sure that you, my dear readers, being as intelligent as you are, have already taken away several lessons from this story. If I may, I shall take up just a few more seconds of your time to set out one of less obvious points that I have taken away from this experience, which is this: if you should ever inadvertently find yourself covered in food, always take the opportunity to have a little taste. You may find that you are wearing your new favourite meal.

I’ll sign off now. I’m feeling rather hungry, and I think I might make myself a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs (my new favourite meal).

Bye for now!

Harrison Hamster I