Storytelling

My family is a family of storytellers. My sisters and I learned this from our parents. My mother's family, the only extended family we know, are notorious storytellers. For some odd reason I was reminded of this story...

About ten years ago Marie and I lived in Northwest Arkansas, about 40 miles from Branson. We were up there for some reason I don't remember and decided to have dinner at Red Lobster. We were seated pretty close to the kitchen which provided the inspiration for this ditty.

We were about half way through the meal a server walked by and I asked him this question:

Excuse me, is this the Red Lobster with the Twister board painted on the floor of the walk-in?

For those who don't know, a walk-in is a large freezer or refrigerator. To suggest that someone, somewhere would paint a Twister board on the floor would be weird. To fall for it is just plain fun, at least it is for me.

The man (blonde sure, but a man-put away your gender based stereotypes!) stopped in his tracks and asked what I was talking about. So I spun a little yarn about the legend of a Red Lobster restaurant somewhere having a Twister board painted on the floor of the walk-in. He was enthralled by the story.

I loved it. Marie was marginally amused and preferred her shrimp.

I didn't take it too far, letting his imagination run wild was far better than making the story so big he would figure out I was weaving a tale. Still, we had a lovely chat about the restaurant and he said he would have to keep an open ear to the "Legend of the Walk-In Twister Board."

Ah storytelling. My sisters are so proud. My mother would have been appalled.