By Jaanu

They gave me a tall glass of milk. Raise your hand if you already know how this story is going to end.

Tool: glass of milk       Location: Living Room         Suspect: me

It was Friday afternoon and the family and I had just arrived in the living room after withdrawing from our respective computers. We’d spent a long week doing important busywork so we were ready to have a break when we discovered Clue. The original board game! A few years back, I’d gone through my heist phase and become hopelessly absorbed the  endless world of mystery. I was obsessed with Agatha Christie, and Sherlock Holmes, and watched the entire Ocean’s # series, except for Ocean’s 12. I loved Knives Out and cannot wait for the sequel. Alright, so that “phase” was actually this year, what of it? Basically everyone has a penchant for mystery, right? Anyhow, I was given the original Clue board game for my birthday. We had tried to play then, but no one besides me had wanted to, really, so we’d put it off for another time. Friday, we thought, was the time. So the board game was set up. Chaos ensued at first, as the rules were open to interpretation. We are a competitive group and all fought to win. In the middle of the battle, the detectives took a milk break. Everyone immediately turned to me. “Drink your milk now, Jaanu.”

“Why?”

“Because you know you’ll spill it.”

Everyone looked at me pointedly. I feigned outrage. The detectives returned to the game, and in the heat of the match, forgot fatally about the milk. I was deeply involved, very close to winning and I knew it. I knew I must prevent anyone from going to the dining room. But Jojo was very close to it! With a flourish, I called Jojo, er, Professor Plum to the library and knocked down the milk. Whoops. Idunit?

Reflections From an Older Self

Spills are frequent in my world. My butterfingered tendencies have not dissipated in the 8 years between the day I wrote that story and the present day, but rereading the story has also made me realize how much has changed in myself. I’m laughing as I write this, because early Spirit days were often marked by my over-zealous attempts at short story writing. Loyal Spirit readers may recall these times in our magazine’s history — times which, in my opinion, had varying levels of success ranging from complete disaster of a manuscript deserving destruction to a pleasant little read. I hope you found this “Butterfingers” story on the latter end of that spectrum. At any rate, I intend to attempt more of the kinds of stories which readers always sent the most remarks about. Whether they’re complete fiction or anecdotes about my real, butterfingered life, I enjoyed writing them, even when they weren’t very good. Taking risks is what makes this fun!

This is also Spirit’s renewed call for your stories. If you like writing, I’m sure our readers will enjoy your words. Pitch your work to Editor Jaanu or Cartoonist Navin, whether you write gripping short story thrillers, interesting nonfiction, warm personal essays, or anything in between. Pitches between 500 and 1000 words are always welcome. 🥛