Last week, at the Swap Meet, I came home with several treasures-- a talking hotdog for our D.C. Dawgz fundraising, a set of duck-shaped candles, and the fun book Wild Designs by Kate Fforde which prompted me to check out three more of her titles to read as soon as our electricity came back on.
I was driving home alone in the darkness with these books, as well as ten gallons of water to fill our cups, our dog & cat bowls, to wash dishes, to flush the toilets. (It's amazing how many ways we need water.) Suddenly I heard a man's voice. Strange, as I was listening to music on the radio. I turned down the radio. The voice was gone. So I turned up the music again.
Perhaps the radio had been tuned to two stations. But no. The station seemed clear enough. That man's voice sounded again.
I thought of the numerous e-mails forwarded me about safety for women in the city. How men sometimes hide in unlocked vehicles waiting for their prey. But I'd locked my car. Hadn't I? Oh, please. I shut off the radio and waited.
Moments later, I heard:
"Hotdogs, hotdogs. Ketchup, mustard, relish. Get your fixin's here."
The hotdog toy we'd found at the swap meet last week, and which was obviously being pressed on by gallons of water, played all the way home.
I got a kick out of all the explanations I'd come up with for that voice--some of them totally illogical.
Which reminded me of fiction. Your characters don't always need to think logically--that would be asking too much. Wouldn't it?