A Frankburg Story

A Frankburg Story

Sally rushed to her car and jumped onto the driver’s seat. She had five minutes to get to her appointment and she couldn’t afford to be late again; it was the third time she had scheduled the same appointment and she didn’t want to disappoint again.

As Sally sped down the streets of Frankburg she felt a wave of nausea hit her, making her close her eyes momentarily.

“Oh, crap,” she said, stepping  harder on the accelerator.

A couple weeks ago, Sally had noticed that her ketchup hadn’t dripped that month. At first she had thought that it was probably just late, but when it didn’t come, she started to worry. It worried her because not having her ketchup meant only one thing.

When she got to Frankburg Hospital, she parked her sedan at the only space available at the very back of the parking lot and dashed into the building, She bounded up the stairs, jogged down the hall and slammed her hand at the front desk.

“I’m here for my two o’clock appointment!”

The unamused-looking lady behind the desk stared at Sally. She wore over-sized spectacles and a white outfit that made her sausage look great.  She also had a name tag right over her shirt that said: Miranda – Front Desk.

“Your name?” Miranda said.

“Sally Relishson.”

Miranda adjusted her tag and beckoned Sally to follow her. “This way.”

Sally followed her down a hall into a bright room with a single desk and chair near the window. The room was empty.

“Wait for Dr. Grill,” Miranda said. She left the room.

Sally waited for a good ten minutes before Dr. Grill arrived with a briefcase and a silver stethoscope. His bun was slightly dark and had a stern face that made Sally feel like he had had a bad day so far.

“You’re Sally?” the doctor asked.

She nodded.

“This is the third time I’ve been expecting you. I’m glad you could finally make it.”

Sally felt her sausage redden. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It will never happen again.”

Dr. Grill waved her off and said, “Don’t worry. You’re here and we can finally get this over with.”

He sat at his desk and Sally wondered why the heck there weren’t any chairs for the patients. She stood awkwardly in front of the desk and fidgeted with her hands.

“So,” the doctor said, checking his papers, “it says here that you’ve been feeling nauseous lately; it happened for the first time about two weeks ago. Is that correct?”

Sally nodded.

“You’re eighteen years old?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Grill frowned. “Was it your parents that suggested to get an appointment or was it your idea?”

Sally gulped. “It was my idea. My parents don’t know about this.”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying that you’ve kept this a secret?”

“Yes.”

Frowning, Dr. Grill got to his feet and reached for his stethoscope. He wallked around his desk with stunning swiftness and pressed the instrument against Sally’s belly.

“Mmhmm, yes,” he said. He lowered the stethoscope. His eyes widened.

Sally stared at him. “What?”

“You’re gonna have a linky.”

The world around Sally began to revolve. She felt ketchup pulsing through her entire body from the thundering beats of her heart. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Sally sat on the floor and stared at the tiles. Dr. Grill tried to tell her something, but she was trapped in her own mind, not paying attention to him.

Sally had met Dale only a month ago at a college party that was held at a friend’s house. They had gotten drunk on relish juice and things got hot and heavy in an upstairs bedroom. She never told anyone about him, so nobody knew that they had ever been together. Dale didn’t even live in Frankburg; he had just been passing by on his way to Baconside Vale and happened to stumble upon the party.

And now Sally was gonna have a linky. A linky of hers and Dale’s. A linky that he might never meet because she didn’t even know his last name. All she knew that he was heading to Baconside Vale, but that was it; she had no other solid clues on finding him.

“Sally?” Dr. Grill said. “I think we should call your parents.”

Sally shook her head. “I’ll go home and tell them,” she said, getting to her feet. “I want to be in the house when I tell them.”

The doctor nodded and gave her a few of bottles of vitamin pillls for the first several weeks ahead of her. She accepted them and stuffed each one into her purse and rushed off to find her car.

She climbed in and sat behind the wheel for a whole hour. She stared at the over-filled garbage can near the old tree beside the fence, thinking about Dale, about her parents, about her linky. Was it the end of her dreams? What if she never found Dale? What if her parent’s kicked her from the house? What if her linky grew up to be a brat and drug addict?

Terrible things filled Sally’s mind as she stared at the garbage can. Horrible things, like having the linky and having to live under a bridge, selling candy to get a few bucks for food. Having the linky and dying during the delivery. Having the linky and being a terrible mother.

But Sally’s heart  suddenly began to pump warm ketchup to every part of her sausage when the words flashed across her mind with clarity. I’m having a linky.

A smile spread across her face and she broke into tears. Who cared if she struggled to raise the linky? Who cared if she never found Dale to make him a reponsible father? She was having a linky and she would work hard to raise the best son or daughter in the world. She would be a good mother.

And she would be happy.


I have no idea what I just wrote there.  I just felt like writing something random and simple and there you go. It’s fun to write weird things like this; I often find myself doing this (I have a journal filled with strange stories) and I really enjoy it because it sort of frees the mind. It relaxes me to write a little story down even though it makes zero sense most of the times. I don’t write these necessarily to become a better writer, but like  I said, it’s just for fun. While I write these, I don’t care about structure, or plot; I just want to write down a slice of the life of someone or something who is born in my mind, thanks to the amazing world out there, filled with things to write about.

In this case, I ate a hot dog and imagined a universe where everybody is a hot dog. Something like a universe, parallel to ours, identical in every way possible but for the exception that instead of round heads and limbed torsos, we have warm buns and grilled sausages.

Maybe you can try it out? Look at something and imagine a world where that thing is a big part of it. Maybe you have a cat beside you. Why not write about a distant world where humans are subject to the laws of adorable, fluffy kittens? Mr. Paws rules the Empire of Kitty Litter and humans are their pets.

It doesn’t matter if it’s not a great story; just write down something that will make others think that you’re a total nutcase if they ever happen to read it. Write to explore that weird world hidden among the multi-dimensional caves of your mind. Write for the honor of hot dogs, for the honor of bottle caps, for the honor of the hairball that your cat coughed up last week. Anything is good, as long as you enjoy writing it.

-Ralph Serr

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3 thoughts on “A Frankburg Story

  1. Fun little story, lol, and yes, writing with abandon! It’s something I need to do more. My internal editor likes to control things a bit too much. One of these days I’m going to lock her in the closet until she shuts up. Writing, after all, should be fun.

    Have you ever read Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way? It’s a course to tap into your creativity. I started it a while back, but didn’t follow through–I should give it another go, though. Every morning, the first thing you do is free write or as Julia calls it: do your morning pages, which is simply stream-of-consciousness writing. Doesn’t matter what you think of, you put it on paper. And that’s what it’s for, to empty your mind of all the chatter so you can reconnect to your creativity. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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