Which hand is the ball in?
...
Left or Right?
...
'Handy Dandy'.
...
You have a fifty/fifty shot at guessing correctly,
unless the person controlling the game decides to be a wise guy/gal and hides the ball somewhere other than their closed palms.
.
But this is not greasy Las Vegas strip magic to us that are playing.
And the look we give this person who put us on the spot thinking any of this was fair when they decided to pull their shenanigans.
...
Kind of like making the best life decisions, even if you are clever enough to know which hand the ball is already in because one palm looks bigger than the other.
...
If that is the case, do you still want to pretend to guess which hand the ball is in?
If that is the case, do you ever guess wrong just to play along in this little game of inadvertent 'Handy Dandy'?
...
Instead, in today's world, today's life, today's living - in this go round - the odds are not, ever, going to be fifty/fifty.
Not anymore.
Not with how 'the powers that are' want to run the world.
Not with that 'roaring lion' that is walking about.
...
You can try to convince yourself otherwise - sure - good luck with that.
You can overlook what is not already in front of your very own face if you'd like - sure - good luck with that.
But, in all honesty, the odds are more like seventy/thirty.
Eighty/twenty, if you are lucky.
And not in your favor.
...
That's the main kicker here, I believe, but then again - I could be wrong.
Because what do you honestly control anymore, and be 'for real' in your answer and quit lying to yourself about whatever illusion you have put before yourself, a well constructed lie that you force yourself or used to force yourself to believe each and every day?
You deserve better than that, don't you?
I think you do,
and I do not even know you,
so,
'for real'.
...
Hesitational infatuation aside, and after listening to the premise above, do you still want to play this quick game of Handy Dandy?
...
I'll give you some time to think...
...
..
.
No!
Like 'for real' think.
.
..
...
You are ready?
...
..
.
Are you sure, now?
.
..
...
What a brave adventurer you are!
My type of non-conformist.
...
Come join me with an increasingly dwindling crowd that chooses to remain hidden because we are the meek!
But we do not want to inherit this Earth,
oh no, no, no, no, no!
And if we do, it's only under one condition - it needs to be emptied.
Most of it...
Maybe all of it...
...
A full reset...
...
A universal purge...
...
like, 'for real'...
Say you choose the right hand and you uncover where the ball is hidden,
what then?
The game is fun, right?
You want another round.
Your newfound curiosity wants you to keep playing.
You want to see if you can start a streak and keep it alive.
You become addicted to that feeling of actually being a 'winner' for once.
Life is already hard enough without us making it harder, so when Lady Luck starts walking our way, we tend to push the limit to see if we will finally meet up with her face to face.
.
To see what color her eyes shine in the dimmest of lights.
To see what her perfume smells like after you slowly start catching luring, insignificant whiffs from across the way.
To see what the end of her sentences sound like when they trail off her lips and are followed by a light dragging of her tongue across them to slightly soften the surface.
.
So when the hand opens and the ball is in it and we win,
where does our mind go?
What are our other 'winning moments' that nostalgia stirs within our soul?
...
..
.
When you are off by only two numbers in the Powerball and almost win.
The time the girl/guy you have been chasing for weeks on end gives you the attention you have been seeking and everything clicks from there and plays out like you imagined it.
The last time the hairs on your arm stood up and the magnetism you could feel within your body in that moment.
The last concert that blew your mind.
When your favorite hockey team wins the Stanley Cup, again, finally. (Let's Go Canes - Bunch of Jerks, baby!!!)
When someone surprises you at work with a goodie.
When someone tags you on social media and the meme fits the moment perfectly.
When you almost get into a wreck but you escape unscathed.
When you finally get a degree or promotion or job you have been chasing for quite some time.
When one of your dreams finally comes true after chasing it relentlessly for years on end.
When you hug someone you have not seen in quite a while - your heartbeat against theirs - chest on chest - and you can feel the energy exchange.
When you see someone you just saw the other day and the both of you cannot quit giggling over a joke that is still funny.
When something you want is buy one get two free.
When a friend texts you out of the blue just to say hello and the conversation carries from there.
When you get a good bill of health.
When you can freely move around, on your own.
When you make it through the work week and Friday evening's dusk settles in just right, wherever you may be, the sunset sending the sky in a different blend of colors and putting you in full nostalgia mode over a time that is no more.
When you stand on the beach after not having seen it for over a year.
When you walk to the pantry and there is food in there.
When you can take a breath on your own, unassisted, and use the bathroom on your own.
When you turn the light switch on and it lights up the room.
When you win something for free.
When someone tells you that they love you and it tickles inside because you believe them and you also feel the same way about them too.
When you see karma tap the right person on the shoulder, even if that person is yourself.
When you go to Q-Tip your ears after your shower and you think you are out of them but you see that you have three left.
When you think about that time you got eye contact from across the room from that special someone then, out of nowhere, they slowly grin when they catch you staring and shy their glance away.
The way your mouth salivates when you think about the last chocolate covered creme puff you ate.
.
..
...
They shuffle the ball around in their palms while they remain hidden behind their back and bring the game back in front of you.
You choose and, again, you pick the correct hand.
Where do you go?
...
..
.
The first time you rode a rollercoaster.
Your first kiss.
The first bite into your favorite dessert.
When you woke up and thought it was a work day but it was really a Saturday.
Finding a twenty bill in your heavy coat pocket and it has been sitting there, waiting for you, since last winter, along with a half smoked pack of Camel Lights.
Getting massive snowfall in a state that sees it, sometimes, every four to five years.
The taste of a morning cigarette with piping hot coffee.
The way a bakery smells when you first walk in.
When the end of September rolls around and you finally get to decorate for Halloween and begin the greatest time of the year - fall into winter.
When someone close to you gets recognized and wins an award.
When someone shares their French fries with you.
.
..
...
They put the ball behind their back and shuffle them, all the while you sit there and think if they switched the hand or not.
They return the game in front of you and, to their disbelief, you guess correctly yet again.
It is on them if they thought they were going to Houdini you by not switching hands
Where do you go?
Where do you escape to?
...
..
.
That secret beach that you dream about night after night, that special cove that remains hidden in your brain - away from everyone else - white sand, palm tree shade, hammocks, snorkeling gear, umbrella drinks, with fair weather year round, an open windowed bungalow, campfire, and great company.
The sight of seeing really good fireworks up close.
The night before vacation actually begins.
Eating the perfect slice of pizza.
Standing in a misting rain and letting it stick to you.
The smell of breakfast waking you up.
Going skinny dipping and not getting caught.
When a good friend from your small circle texts to check on you out of the blue or when they share their personal art with you because they love you and trust you and value your opinion.
...
..
.
Again, they put the ball behind their back and play the ole switcheroo with you.
You use your x-ray vision and see that they, yet again, have not switched the ball into the other hand.
Your perception outweighs their inception.
They shake their head at you.
The dealer cannot understand the player, for once.
And your mind drifts to that special moment that is beyond words, a winning feeling that only nostalgia can provide, a moment that has already taken place or is about to in the near future.
...
..
.
An answered prayer.
The first time you were baptized and how it made you feel like a superhero.
Adding new people that you have met to your contact list because they are that special and unique.
Seeing a loved one come home from the hospital.
Hearing someone tell you that they love you for the first time and you know that they mean it.
When your job had to close early for some unexpected reason.
.
..
...
They shuffle the ball behind their back again.
You grin at their frustration.
They do not grin back.
.
How long can you keep up the winning streak?
As long as the 'Handy' stays 'Dandy', verdad compadre?
Say you choose the wrong hand and do not uncover where the ball is hiding,
what then?
The game is not fun, right?
It sucks.
You do not want another round.
You frown.
You debate whether you want to keep playing or not.
You no longer have interest in starting a streak and keeping it alive.
You become repulsed to that feeling of being a 'loser' for the 'however' many time in your life.
Life is already hard enough without us making it harder, so when Lady Luck starts walking away from us, we debate if we need to push the limit to see if we will finally meet up with her face to face again or not.
.
To see the color of her eyes and outline of her lips once again.
To see if she bats her eyes, with persuasion, with seduction, just because she can and because she wants to.
To see if she bites her lip while talking.
To see if she truly hangs on to every one of your sentences, while being surrounded by everyone else's chatter and noise, because she finds comfort in your presence, and you hers.
.
So when the hand opens and the ball is not in it and we lose,
where does our mind go?
What are our other 'losing moments' that nostalgia stirs within our soul?
...
..
.
The first time you failed a test.
The time when one of your parents died, if not both.
The time you had to tell one of your best friends goodbye because they had to move to another state and you knew it would be forever until you would see them again.
The last time you were forced to let something go and you did not want to.
Anytime you've maimed yourself in some way and lost mobility and had to be patient as your body healed.
Asking for a raise and not receiving it like you imagined.
Having a tire blowout on the way to work.
Going to the doughnut store for a chocolate covered creme puff and them saying they are out of them.
When an unexpected bill comes out of nowhere and slaps you across the lips, just as soon as your paycheck hits your checking account and you were looking forward to treating yourself.
.
..
...
They put the ball behind their back and shuffle them in their hidden palms, all the while you sit there and think if they switched the hand or not.
They return the game in front of you and, to their disbelief, you guess incorrectly, yet again.
Life Houdini's you by not switching hands and sees if you are dumb enough to keep playing and, of course, you do.
You guess wrong.
Where do you go?
...
..
.
Putting off your dreams and never chasing them because the fear of failure outweighs the passion of ignoring the rejection until you manifest the destiny that God has put in your soul.
Falling for someone while knowing they will never fall for you.
Being lied to by someone who said they would never lie to you.
Doing so much for others and slowly realizing how little they do for you.
Having to put the family dog to sleep and letting her sit in your lap as they do so and you feel her slowly go limp.
Asking for no mayo on a sandwich, and you blindly trust the stranger who is making it so you do not check it until you get home and realize they splattered an entire jar on it.
When you pray for the demons to leave you alone and you feel like no one is listening.
The last time you got a paper cut on your finger first thing in the morning and there were no band aids around so you had to rock the shredded skin all day and it hangs up on almost everything you touch and only gets worse throughout the entire day until you try to tear it with your teeth while driving on the way home from work and when you pull it it rips a piece of skin the size of a small blanket from your finger and you bleed and holler at the same time while trying to drive between the lines at eighty miles an hour.
When you miss someone with your whole heart and they act like you do not exist.
When your Amazon package gets sent to the wrong house.
Picking your nose and forgetting that you have a hang nail on that specific finger when you go for that deep seated boogie.
...
..
.
Again, they put the ball behind their back and play the ole switcheroo with you.
You try to use your x-ray vision and it does not work so you get frustrated by the game because you do not know if they have switched the ball into the other hand or not.
Your imperfection does not come close to outweighing their devious mind game.
They shake their head at you.
You roll your eyes and blow air out of your mouth.
The player cannot understand the dealer.
Your mind drifts, against your will, to another un-special moment that is beyond words, a losing feeling that only nostalgia can provide, a moment that has already taken place or is about to in the near future, regardless of what you do.
...
..
.
When you cursed God and ignored Him and later realized He never left your side, no matter how stubborn and hard hearted you had become.
Going to the DMV and realizing you do not have everything you need to complete the process and will only have to return at a later date, and at that later date, you still forget something.
When you go to the grocery store and only one lane is open and the attendant acts miserable the entire time while scanning your groceries.
When that one car rides your bumper and there is nothing you can do about it because fifteen cars are in front of you and you've already washed your windshield twice to help aid in washing theirs with the drift that pushes it back onto them, so you give them a couple of half decent brake checks, yet, they still keep up their antics, and you begin to wish you could shoot a missile out the back of your vehicle and send them straight to Jesus.
Getting sketchy bloodwork results back and having to go back in for more and not knowing what is up.
Hearing about a friend of yours taking their own life knowing, that at some point in time, you may have thought about doing the same thing but you stepped back because someone intervened but you could not do the same for them.
Being gaslit by the wrong person and thinking it is normal behavior.
When you see an apple and think it is going to be delicious, but when you bite into it, it is dryer than a cardboard box that has been sitting in the summer sun for three straight weeks.
When you struggle more than you succeed and you start to realize that the Holy Spirit is truly being withdrawn with every passing year.
When you believed something for so long only to realize all of it was false.
When the chocolate covered creme puff that you bite into has yellow icing in it instead of the white kind.
.
..
...
They shuffle the ball behind their back again.
They grin at your frustration.
You do not grin back.
They run their mouth at you.
You do not jive back.
You maintain your silence because you know, at some point in time, you will be back on the winning side, even though, unknowing to you, it is going to take longer than you think.
.
How long can you keep tolerating a losing streak?
There is no more more 'Dandy' in the 'Handy', huh?
"So, Vernon, when you are presented with the Handy Dandy,
what feelings wash over you as you play the game and accept the fate of the results you are presented with?" The interviewer asks. "The choice that you, yourself, chose?"
I grin at the question.
"Well, looking at everything that makes my life - my life, I guess this real-life-Price-Is-Right-Game comes down to this specific feeling that washes over me, constantly, a familiar feeling that has re-emerged over the past couple of weeks on my commute drive home."
I pause.
"And this is just one of the million things I replay in my mind and relive and re-feel because the moment was too important not to, whether that moment was good or bad."
I take a breath.
"And this feeling, this emotion, is embedded inside me, inside my DNA, rooted deeper than the deepest of deeps, and my soul waters its growth - regularly. Because, for me, it is hard to not notice the remaining beauty in the world as it is slowly killed off and replaced with a masked, artificial lack thereof."
I take a breath.
"I notice the pain too, everyone's, and that emotion is the hardest to dissect - pain and nostalgia of course, because they are intertwined. Nostalgia is one of the most sincere forms of pain because of the 'yearn' that comes along with it and you knowing it will never be filled, no matter what you do."
I clear my throat.
"I notice everything in the 'in-between' while the world remains distracted, and this is where our main battle exists. And all of this comes with a pretty good story too."
The interviewer rubs their chin.
"Who else knows about this story?" They ask.
I want to grin and struggle at not doing it.
"Nobody," I reply, "until now."
...
..
.
"On my country backroad commute drive home, there is this old white country farmhouse on the right hand side of the road. Even though the yard stays trimmed for the most part, the house could use some weed eating and a fresh coat of paint. Some of the front porch boards could use replacing because it does not look perfectly level. A small grapevine grows to the right of the yard. Every now and then, there is a car in the yard, but most of the time it is not there."
I pause. I think. I feel. I shake my head.
"In the winter time, you would always see smoke coming out of the broken brick chimney stack on top of the house. All the other times, an aged black couple would be rocking on the front porch, watching traffic go by like most of us Southerners do when the weather is right."
I insincerely grin.
"I never saw a satellite dish or anything of the sort in the yard as I passed by them at sixty miles per hour, so, for all I know, the front porch was the only television they had unless they had an internal antenna of some sorts."
I look away. I close my eyes. I do these things to access my soul and retrieve the most accurate account that would pass any lie detector known to man. I reopen the baby blues.
"Since I would pass their house at the same time almost every single afternoon, I started waving at them because I felt like they could see everything I was doing. The aged black couple would raise their hands and wave back. And no matter how crappy of a day I had, I would do this and they would reciprocate my gesture."
I pause.
"It made me feel a little more alive."
The fountain stirs within me.
"Waving for days and weeks on end finally led to me giving them a little 'toot toot' and, even though everything was passing by me in a simple blur, I could tell me honking the horn put a smile on their face just because somebody was noticing them in the moment which has now become a memory."
I take a deep breath, then, I continue.
"Well, after doing this for days, which turned to weeks, which turned to months, which turned to a year - the other day, and when I say 'the other day' - I literally mean 'just the other day', I noticed something different about the house, like,"
I pause because the Twilight Zone we now live in is far more real than anybody but me is willing to admit,
"something had happened in the short time it took for me to take a vacation and come back."
Silence falls between me and the interviewer.
"For the first couple of weeks, I no longer saw any vehicles parked around the house. A weird feeling stirred within me, but I tried to shrug it off like it was nothing."
I pause then continue.
"For those couple of weeks and leading into the next couple after that, I saw two vacant rocking chairs on the front porch, the aged black couple nowhere to be seen. No signs of life or anything. The weird feeling, that stirred within my soul leading up until then, turned more into like a composed, short-lived dread. Like you knew what was happening and you could not do anything about it."
I take a breath.
"It was like almost everything I was used to had suddenly vanished into thin air, like I was delusional when I know I was nothing of the such. I mean,"
I have to clear my throat because, well, when you start making 'connections' then connecting the 'patterns' and you fully engage your invisible battle, a raging war that no-one else has a clue about, something inside you starts to build up after a while before the release comes. It is an unleash as though your soul has been tied up for years at a time in a dark abyss and, when it happens, it flows.
"I did not even know the two elderly people personally. I did not know their address. I did not know their names. I had no backstory or personal history of how they even ended up on that porch in that part of the rural country in the first place."
I pause.
"The feeling inside me never settled as I reached that certain part of my day and even the couple of miles that passed afterwards."
I pause again.
"The grass grew taller. The rocking chairs on the porch disappeared. Vines started growing up the sides of the house."
I scoff, but not in a good way.
"It's almost like nobody ever lived there and the only inhabitants were future ghosts. Like there was a glitch and the world thought it was going to get it past me and it didn't."
I pause.
"I caught them and they know it."
I close my eyes. I shake my head. I open my eyes. The interviewer clears their throat.
"Well, considering the story you just shared with us, what would you want the reader or viewer to actually take away from your story. From what you experienced?"
Silence falls over us. I pretend to think. I reply the same way I have rehearsed in my head, over seven thousand times over.
"Nothing. Something. Maybe everything," I reply. "Regardless of what you feel, regardless of what you think, regardless of what you believe, this is me and the current state of the world we are now living in, whether you want to admit it or not."
I pause.
"And I refuse to not notice what they take away from us on a daily basis. Because I am me."
I grin, slowly, until I am satisfied.
"I am Vernon's Handy Dandy."
vernonwrites
"going to the edge and back, one word at a time."
If you are a publishing house or movie company in the United States or another country, and you are searching for an experienced writer with original, creative material or fictional novels accompanied with screenplays, send me a private message.
I promise I am the man you are looking for!
Until then,
V
vernonwrites 
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