Some of the worst - and some of the best - stories start with the phrase, "One time..." such as, "One time, at Band Camp...," which, I have to say, as an alumni of a particularly awesome Band Camp, I have actually uttered in all seriousness on, I'm sure, more than one occasion.
I shall now regale you with a "One Time" Story that has nothing to do with Band Camp.
One time, when I must have been around 5 years old, my best friend's family got a new dog. It was a cute (hello, obviously) ball of black poodle fluff with barely visible black shiny eyes and a little black wet rubbery nose and smooshy curly ears.
My friend had one brother; two kids, one dog. You can imagine the life that this poor living tug-of-war prop had to endure each day of its ill-fated puppyhood.
Oh, my God, I just read that - doesn't it suck? Sorry.
Anyhoo, although most of the battles fought over the little fluff died out once his captors grew a little and turned to other forms of entertainment, one particular scar of the dog wars left a pain that the dog felt every day for the rest of his life - his name.
Since their parents were unable to take sides on who would be the one to name the poor fluff, they allowed the children to each choose a name, and he was then forever tattooed with the tandem thoughts of a five- and a six-year-old. My friend, being a lover of a good word (usually one special word at a time - a One Time story for later), chose the word that best described the subject at hand: Blackberry. My friends' brother, not being able, at 6, to give up his dreams of having the sleek, smart, action-dog he had seen on TV, with all evidence of the sort of dog in view to the contrary, chose Lassie.
Blackberry-Lassie lived a very long time, and every day was coaxed in from the yard, or called to breakfast, or rounded up for bathing, or just petted, to the tune of that name. I can still see the look on that dog's face, in his later years, when called by his name. He would just look at me, saying (I'm certain) "Can't you do something about this?" Unfortunately, as his must have been many times during his puppy years, my hands were tied.