Call Me Nichole Parks

Well, it's past 12am here. Which means plenty of girls across the Mountain Standard Time Zone are watching Rachael McAdams wake up in a hospital bed with no recollection of her undying love for Channing Tatum.

Some of the movie goers are likely already crying. But they should save their tears. Because, let's face it, it's probably only going to get more sad.

I am not watching this movie because:

1. I thought I would be asleep by now.

2. The last Nicholas Sparks movie I saw was such a disappointment that I vowed to think long and hard before I paid seven and a half dollars to see another movie based on a book by the man who loves dying characters.

I *now* realize this movie is not actually based on a Nicholas Sparks book. BUT I wrote this post before coming upon that knowledge, AND it's close enough to Nicholas Sparksish style for me, SO I'm going to leave this post as is.

Besides, if someone else can turn a based-on-a-true story into a quasi-Nicholas-Sparks sap fest, so can I.

Which is why I have decided to spend the next 20 minutes visualizing myself as the main character of a Nicholas Sparks novel.

--Not the one who dies. Obviously.--

Well that reason, AND because I am bored and am avoiding productive things. Like sleep.

I think if Nicholas Sparks wrote my life, this is how it would go--

(Note: I am changing my name to Nichole Parks for this post on account of using my real name for this display of unadulterated sappiness might make me gag.)

It didn't take long.

Nichole Parks rarely did things quickly. In fact, in fourth grade her classmates issued a complaint about her during circle time, citing her propensity to slowly eat lunch.

But when Nichole moved to a small town in the South and met Brady Bobby Billy Joe she fell in love faster than a kite catches the wind.

Brady Bobby Billy Joe took Nichole to the movies and said "Nichole. I like you more than I like peach pie with sugar on top. And that's saying something."

Then Brady Bobby Billy Joe took Nichole to the fair. And the fair was nothing like the temporary carnival set up in the Saver's parking lot that Nichole went to once. So Nichole rode the ferris wheel and nary even fretted for her life.

Then Nichole played the piano for Brady Bobby Billy Joe. After, of course, they walked a few circles around a nearby swimming hole that was filled with thousands of fuzzy baby ducklings.

It was love at first note. For both of them.

Two years later, after having been split by the great earthquake that divided the soft South from the real South, Nichole and Brady Bobby Billy Joe reunited in a trendy, metropolitan cafe where Nichole had started training to become a barista-- a day job, while she worked toward her real dream of being a teacher/crossword writer.

Brady Bobby Billy Joe ran to Nichole to sweep her up in his arms and apologize for not being on her side of the earthquake split (think Land Before Time if you're having trouble picturing the earthquake separation).

Unfortunately, Nichole had always struggled with names, and she stuttered as she attempted o remember all four of Brady Bobby Billy Joe's names.

"B.. b... b... Baby, it's good to see you," Nichole tried.

"You. You don't remember?" Tears filled Brady Bobby Billy Joe's eyes (and the audience sobs).

"I'm sorry. It's just, it's been so long," Nichole said, letting out a desperate sob. "But I'm so happy to see you. I just wish I wasn't married to your brother."

"I'm sick," Brady Bobby Billy Joe said, ignoring Nichole's confession.

"Say it isn't so," Nichole cried.

"It's true. Hundreds were affected after the earthquake. And I'm one of them. I have Valley Fever."

Another sob escaped Nichole's small mouth.

"Are you sure?" Nichole asked.

Brady Bobby Billy Joe looked sullen. "Yes, the x-ray confirmed what I already knew."

"I'll leave your brother," Nichole said. "I only loved him because he reminded me of you. I'll go to the doctor with you for check ups and make sure you get plenty of fluids."

"It's too late," Brady Bobby Billy Joe said. "It's too late."

Then Brady Bobby Billy Joe walked out of the cafe. And Nichole mixed tears into an otherwise perfect Frappuccino.

The End.