Discussion Forums - The Writers' Forum The Writers' Forum

Topic: I hate my inner voice

Club rule - Please, if you cannot be courteous and respectful, do not post in this forum.
  Unlock Forum posting with Annual Membership.
Subject: I hate my inner voice
Date Posted: 10/28/2014 4:25 PM ET
Member Since: 4/19/2008
Posts: 1,619
Back To Top

July 4, 1976 

The shores of the River Charles, were chackling with energy 
Tonight the sky will be sparkling with fireworks and the band will play on 
But this afternoon I find myself on the aforementioned river watching a flying saucer hover 
I was directed here by radio station WBCN with the promise of a World Record 
Bill Skowron (frisbee name - The Flying Hun) was attempting to George Washington 
The Charles River at a narrow point near the Boston University Boat House 
Measured at 347 ft. 5 inches, the length of a football field - and one and a half end zones 
The saucer seemed to hum at me as it spun closer, and closer, now within a hands grasp 
The rest of the audience who had crowded on the fragile dock looked to me 
The little voice warned me, with its' usual overabundance of caution "Don't Touch" 
I agreed, do I want to be like the fan in the stands that snatches the ball out of the 
Home team's glove? Void the record? Get handups in the middle of the night from frisbee fools? 
No, the disc hung there, like a dream, and plopped in the muddy river 
The next day, the dj on BCN, chided the fool who didn't have the stones to 
Reach out and snatch the record, the Hun had hurt his throwing arm, and never tossed again. 

22 Yrs. Later - The Rain Forest of South-East Australia 

The Aboriginal guide grinned at my American money and handed me a boomerang 
"Throw it like this" mimicking the Tomahook Chop "And let it fly with all your might" 
"And that's not all!" and in his best Rob Robbie voice he explained 
That if it landed in the on-deck size circle I could keep the weapon 
I let fly and my shoulder popped, it hurt but not as much as what happened next 
I watched as it did a clear sweep of the bases making the turns like Ricky Henderson 
Pursuing an inside-the-parker, as it headed for home it occurred to me 
That it may just land inside the circle, my voices chimed in as the object 
Spun in front of me, each cycle lowering its' altitude by another few millimeters 
"Don't Touch" Damn. "You will spoil the game" 
I tried to raise my catching hand, but the pain was too much 
"Let it fall" 
And so it did, 4 inches outside the circle 
"Should have grabbed it" said Rob "You could have kept it" 
I never threw a boomerang, again.