Story-a-day - Day Twenty One

This post is part of a series of short stories.

Day Twenty One

He was a smooth creature, that one. All black muscle shirts and oily ringlets. He never moved quickly, but kind of glided, or glid, whichever. Like a panther. Smooth and slow, like time didn’t touch him. He wasn’t gonna hurry. Not for anyone. His body was a temple. An orange-ish, spray-tanned temple. And around that temple hung a large, gold chain. And on that temple hung clothes borrowed from his teenage son’s closet. And he was coooool. He drove muscle cars with the tops down. Plural. He parked where he pleased. Whether it tore up large patches of grass or not. And when there wasn’t an immediately convenient place for him to park, no matter. He just stopped in the middle of the road and threw the flashers on. E-e-e-e-asy. He left for work long about 9:30. If he felt like it. If not, then ten. And he was the boss. He told other guys what to do. And they did it. And he was rolling in dough. You could tell by all the cars he owned. All the cars parked on the grass. He smoked like he was on-screen. In fact, he did everything like he was on-screen. His life was a movie. He had this living thing down. All the chicks dug him. Of that he was sure. All the guys wanted to be him. Rules? What rules? Rules did not apply to him. Not even the law of gravity. No sir. He had that thing beat. And he was an Adonis. A looker. An eyeful. So hot his shirt buttons could not contain him. And he just sauntered. Just moseyed. He glided and strolled. From one coffee date to the next. It was allll business. Aviators and scruff. Why should he shave every day? He was the boss. He said what’s up. Period. Not question mark. You don’t know him? You don’t worship him? You don’t kiss the ground he walks on? Or perhaps parks on? No matter. He doesn’t have time for you.  He has time but not for you.  Let’s be clear on that point. So the next time you find yourself eating dust, choking on lingering cologne, or perhaps wiping residual orange from a door handle just know, you were almost in the presence of greatness. 

Story-a-day - Day Twenty

This post is part of a series of short stories.

Day Twenty

Leggy James, they called her. But not for the reason you might imagine. You probably had pictures in your mind of Lana Turner and Betty Grable and her ''million dollar legs.'' And you were probably wrong. Fabienne Brigitte James looked less like a leggy pinup girl and more like a, well, an egg. Somehow, almost beyond explanation, she had the roundest body you'd ever seen. Undeniably egg-shaped, with tiny, stick-pin legs. And with her name about as French as they come, one boy started calling her Le egg. With the other boys in town being about as cultured as a fence post (in other words, they didn't get the French reference), it morphed into Leggy, as the sarcasm, at least, was not lost on them. Now you might imagine a sad, broken girl, crushed by the weight of her name-callers, but again you would be wrong. I can say that Leggy owned her nickname. She wore it proud. When she walked downtown she was Lana Turner. When she sat in the ice cream shop she had million dollar legs. And to be honest, I think this irked the name-callers a little bit. They began to grow restless, and their name calling just didn't seem to be enough anymore. One day when they were tossing a baseball around, they spotted her down the street, walking into the post office. ''Come on!'' the biggest boy whisper-yelled. And the pack of geniuses followed him. They leaned against the fence outside and waited. Before long Leggy came walking out with a package in hand. ''Leggy Jaaaaaames,'' the leader taunted. ''What's up, fellas?'' she swung her hips. ''We was just talkin' and Dewey here was askin' if you've ever been caught poachin'. '' ''Nope, never have,'' she answered. ''Or if you ever get the feelin' that your brain is scrambled.'' She stopped. ''Not particularly. I do have a question for you, though, Mitchell,'' she put up her finger. ''What's that?'' ''When ya bring home your report card, does your old man crack your head on the counter or beatcha sunny side up?'' The whole lot of boys burst into laughter. Mitchell was so taken aback, Leggy just walked away, basking in her comeback glory. Hips swingin' and skirt swishin'.

Story-a-day - Day Nineteen

This post is part of a series of short stories.

Day Nineteen, a poem for a child

You’ll know it when you see it and you’ll see it if you look

If you reach up way, way high and you pull down that big book

It’s been sitting there just for you, years and years and days and days

Sit right down on that soft sofa, crack it open, fix your gaze

Miles and miles of words and words, those are not what you are after

Those will come in time or mom will read them to you if you ask her

It’s the pictures in the book, it’s the drawings and the paintings

That will take you on a trip right into your imagination

You just find a picture, choose one, that is funny, wild or bright

If it makes you laugh or makes you look, it’s probably just right

Now, you look at it! You study it. You see what you can see!

Take your time, now. Don’t you hurry. Spending time there is the key.

Is the squirrel in pajamas? Is the hedgehog brown or black?

Does the dino or the rhino have a monkey on its back?

Is the lion warm and friendly? Does his roar melt off your face?

You might want to turn a page or two or THREE if that’s the case.

Are there kangaroos or kittens? Maybe grannies on their bikes

Do they have a basket filled with flowers that your mama likes?

Take a look now at the houses, at the mountains, at the trees

Do they look like ones where you live? Are there deserts? Are there seas?

Are the deserts filled with sand or pink and purple sugar dunes?

Are the seas full of salt water or of planets, suns and moons?

When your head is full of pictures, get as many as you can

Then’s the time to close your eyes, and then’s the time to hatch your plan

Where will you go? When will it be, this journey in your mind?

It’s as open as that open book, decide what you will find

And if you ever find yourself with lion or with clown

You simply open up your eyes, and poof! You’re safe and sound.

Story-a-day - Day Eighteen

This post is part of a series of short stories.

Day Eighteen

‘’Pssssst,’’ Louise pointed with her head. A pretty, dark-skinned girl walked by the girls without paying attention to them. Jessica followed her with her eyes, making sure to glare a little so that Louise would see. ‘’Have you ever seen where she lives?’’ ‘’I heard she lives in a dumpster.’’ Louise laughed. ‘’She lives in that part by the bus station with all the broken fences and old cars and garbage everywhere.  Jessica shook her head in condemnation. ‘’Do you know why she was gone last week?’’ ‘’Because she had lice.’’ ‘’Yes!’’ ‘’She always has lice,’’ both girls laughed. ‘’Poor Natasha, she has to share a desk with her.’’ ‘’I know! I think I would die.’’ ‘’Me too.’’ ‘’I think she must not be potty-trained or something because she always stinks.’’ ‘’I know!’’ ‘’Have you ever seen her little brother?’’ ‘’Yes! The one who walks funny?’’ ‘’Yes!’’ ‘’I think her mom took drugs when she was pregnant.’’ ‘’Really?’’ Jessica said, wide-eyed. ‘’That’s what I heard.’’ ‘’She always wears that same pink sweatshirt with the cat on it.’’ ‘’I know! I think I had a sweatshirt like that when I was five!’’ They both laughed.

The next day at lunch they watched her from afar. Their same stream of comments continued like a broken record, as they had day after day, all school year long. But this day something was different. Michael was sitting with her at the lunch table. Michael! They watched closely, and it was clear to any observer that they were having a great time, talking, laughing, telling funny stories. ‘’Oh my gosh, gross!’’ Louise said. ‘’What is he doing?’’ Jessica asked, with emphasized disgust. The girl stood up and took her milk carton and pretended to throw it and Michael burst out laughing. They watched them til they finished with their lunch and stood up to turn in their lunch trays near them. Michael was telling her about a funny show she should watch, and just then Jessica slipped on some spilled ketchup, dropped her entire lunch tray and landed directly in it, getting ketchup all over her light blue pants. Time stood still. The busy cafeteria went completely silent and the whole room turned and stared. Some kids started to laugh and she was holding back tears. The pretty girl and Michael crouched down and took her tray, picked up all the silverware and food and gave her a hand up. ‘’Here,’’ said the pretty girl, handing her a stack of napkins. She grabbed them from her without saying a word. She stood up and tried in vain to wipe the ketchup from her pants. After the lunchroom resumed its lunchtime clatter, Jessica turned around to look for Louise. She was nowhere to be found. She dumped the wad of napkins in the garbage and walked out quickly.

She went back to their classroom and grabbed her gym shorts from her backpack and headed to the nearest bathroom. The pretty girl was washing her hands. ‘’Hey,’’ she said to Jessica. She didn’t respond, just headed into the stall to change. The pretty girl waited for her to come out. ‘’Don’t worry,’’ she told her, ‘’people will forget about it by tomorrow,’’ she smiled kindly. Jessica just looked at her for a second. ‘’Like when I had lice.’’ This took her aback. ‘’Thanks.’’      

Story-a-day - Day Seventeen

This post is part of a series of short stories.

Day Seventeen

I sat down in my sunny yellow kitchen and poured myself a steaming cup of strong coffee. I had to use a pot holder because the handle had long since melted off in the heat of the gas flame. I poured just a touch of milk into it and watched it cloud around and become milky. It was my late morning coffee break time and I was so ready for it. Not that I have any other coffee break times. It was late morning I’m trying to say. It had been a long morning of laundry and vacuuming and bed making and decision making. I hate decision making. What to keep, what to throw out, where to put this, what to cook, what to eat, whites or colors, Vivaldi or Ella. I was just plain worn out. Our kitchen window perfectly frames the sidewalk out front. I finally washed it yesterday and was enjoying the new-found clarity it provided. ‘’You missed a spot,’’ I said aloud. I smiled. Two young ladies walked by. They were dressed to the nines. Maybe 14 or so. One wore a short black skirt and nylons. She had high heels and struggled to walk in them. Her tummy, although covered, was spilling over the waist of her skirt in a too-tight tank top. A T.T.T.T. ‘’Oh, honey,’’ I said aloud. Her friend was as skinny as a rail but equally awkward. She also wore heels for what looked like the first time. Her hair was frizzy and her makeup was visible from the street. ‘’Bless their hearts,’’ I said. I took a sip, but my coffee was still too hot. I like it lukewarm. A pigeon flew a few times near my window, which is not typical. ‘’Don’t you dare,’’ I said. I got up and checked the outside corner and sure enough, there were the first few strands of a nest. ‘’You filthy rat,’’ I said while I used a broom to destroy its work. An older man turned when I said it. ‘’Oops. Good morning!’’ I called. He looked at his watch. ‘’It’s almost lunch time!’’ ‘’Oh, haha (I actually said the word haha), good DAY.’’ He tipped his head.

I sat back down at my table and straightened the table cloth. I matched up the lines to the edges of the table and reached for a cookie. You can’t have coffee without cookies, am I right? One bite and crumbs were everywhere. I stood up and got a saucer out of the cupboard. It was the last remnant from my grandma’s dishes and I treasured its every use. No flowers or decorations, no gold plating, nothing special really, just pink, but it was my grandma’s. And that was special. A boy rode by on a scooter. His hair was too long. ‘’Darn kids these days,’’ I said, like I was 80 years old. I chuckled a little. I tried my coffee. ‘’Ah, that’s better.’’ I reached over and flipped on the radio. Every hour on the hour they have a little blurb about health or science or some little bit of interest. They were talking about sleep. They said people who get up early and get the most early-morning sunlight are slimmer than those who sleep in. ‘’Or maybe it’s ‘cause they don’t eat too many cookies,’’ I bit into another. I saw our mailman on the sidewalk. I jumped up and threw open the window, ‘’anything for me, Harry?’’ I asked cheerfully. ‘’Yeah. Bills.’’ ‘’Ohhhhh,’’ I whined. You can keep those.’’ ‘’No thanks, got enough of my own,’’ he smiled. He walked up to the window and passed them to me. ‘’Hank at work?’’ ‘’Ye-e-e-es. How else do you think we pay for these nasty things?’’ I waved the stack in the air.  ‘’Don’t say I never gave you anything,’’ he called, walking away. ‘’Thanks a heap!’’ I yelled.

I gulped down the last of my coffee and shoved the rest of the cookie into my mouth. I gently set the saucer in the sink and brushed the crumbs from the table into my hand and tossed them into the garbage. I rinsed my hands and dried them on my apron. It was blue with white pockets with lilacs painted on them. ‘’That’s that,’’ I said, and went to the closet and pulled out a dust rag and a bottle of lemon oil. 

Story-a-Day - Day Sixteen

This post is part of a series of short stories.

Day Sixteen

‘’Can I borrow your shovel?’’ asked the tall skinny boy in the sandbox. ‘’Sure!’’ said the curly-headed blonde. ‘’I’m gonna build a whoooole city,’’ said the boy. ‘’Can I help?’’ ‘’Yes, but only what I tell you to build.’’ ‘’Ok.’’ ‘’Here, you make a row of houses using this little cup.’’ ‘’Ok.’’ ‘’I’m gonna build the store and the park and the mountains and the school.’’ ‘’What about a post office?’’ asked the little girl. ‘’We don’t really need a post office.’’ ‘’But my mama works in the post office.’’ ‘’Ok, I guess I can build one…here, you go get some sticks and leaves and we’ll make trees and a river.’’ ‘’Ok.’’ The girl jumped out of the sandbox and ran over to a tree and started collecting her treasures. ‘’Carolina, don’t pull the leaves off the tree,’’ called her grandma. ‘’But I need them for our city!’’ ‘’Just use things you find on the ground.’’ ‘’Ohhkayyy,’’ she groaned. ‘’And come and take a drink of water.’’ She ran to her grandma and guzzled half a bottle, it was so hot out. ‘’And let’s put your cap back on.’’ ‘’Nooooo,’’ she groaned again. ‘’It’ll protect your head.’’ ‘’Ohkayyy.’’ She ran back to the sandbox and unloaded her leaves. ‘’We need more sticks,’’ the boy directed. ‘’But I can’t take them off the tree.’’ ‘’Why not?’’ ‘’Grandmaaaa! Why can’t I take the sticks off the tree?’’ ‘’Because it hurts it,’’ she called. ‘’Because it hurts it,’’ she told the little boy. ‘’How old are you?’’ he asked. ‘’This many,’’ she held up three pudgy fingers. ‘’Three?! I’m already four.’’ The girl just watched him. ‘’This sand is too dry, do you have any water?’’ ‘’Grandmaaa, can we use my water?’’ ‘’Noooo,’’ she chuckled, we need that for drinkin’. Dig a little deeper.’’ The boy looked up at her. ‘’Do you wanna teeter-totter?’’ Carolina asked hopefully. ‘’Nope. Got work to do.’’ ‘’Awww, but the sand’s too dryyy.’’ He just wrinkled up his nose. She saw a big girl come into the park and ran over to her. ‘’Wanna teeter-totter?’’ The girl was probably four times her weight. She just shook her head. She ran and jumped on a swing. ‘’Look what I can do,’’ Carolina called to the girl. ‘’Uh huh.’’ ‘’What’s your name?’’ ‘’Annie.’’ ‘’I’m Carolina and I’m this many,’’ she declared, holding up her three fingers again. ‘’Uh huh.’’ Annie surveyed the scene. ‘’Is that your grandma?’’ ‘’Yes,’’ Carolina said without looking up. ‘’Is that your brother?’’ ‘’No. That’s just a boy.’’ Annie walked over to the sandbox and stood above him. He squinted up at her, ‘’do you have any water?’’ ‘’No.’’ ‘’Shoooot. I need some waaater to build my cityyy,’’ he whined. Annie looked over at Carolina’s grandma. ‘’Maybe you could pee on it,’’ she said quietly. ‘’Ewww,’’ the boy said loudly. He looked at Carolina’s grandma. ‘’What?’’ she called. ‘’What are you all looking at?’’ ‘’Annie said that he should…’’ Annie covered Carolina’s mouth. ‘’No-o-o-othing,’’ she called. She went and started climbing the jungle gym. Carolina followed her. ‘’You’re too little for this,’’ she shooed her away. ‘’No I’m not, I’m this many.’’ ‘’I KNOW, I KNOW,’’ Annie said, exasperated. Why don’t you go play with that boy? What’s his name?’’ ‘’I don’t know, I didn’t ask him. But I want to play with you. Where’s your mama?’’ ‘’At work,’’ she said as she picked up a stick. ‘’And your daddy?’’ ‘’At work too.’’ ‘’So who’s taking care of you?’’ ‘’I take care of myself,’’ the girl boasted. ‘’Reeeally?’’ Carolina asked, wide-eyed. ‘’Aaaannie!’’ an older man called from down the sidewalk. ‘’Who’s that?’’ ‘’That’s my grandpa,’’ she admitted. ‘’Let’s go!’’ he called. ‘’I’ve gotta go.’’  ‘’Awww,’’ Carolina pursed her lips. Annie dropped the stick and ran away. She watched her all the way down the sidewalk and then turned back to the sandbox. ‘’What’s YER name?’’ she asked the boy. ‘’Ben.’’ ‘’Are you done with your city?’’ ‘’Nope.’’ ‘’Do you wanna teeter-totter now?’’         

Story-a-day - Day Fifteen

This post is part of a series of short stories. 

Day Fifteen

‘’Hey! Hey, Maggie, wake up!’’ Jill whispered loudly, poking her roommate in the ribs. ‘’Whaaaaat?’’ Maggie asked, annoyed. ‘’Hey! Get up, let’s go!’’ ‘’Go whe-e-e-e-ere?’’ ‘’Somewhere!’’ ‘’Nooooo!’’ ‘’Come on, let’s leave town.’’ ‘’Noooo, let me sleep.’’ ‘’No. I cannot do that.’’ ‘’Yes you can, just walk out of this room.’’ ‘’I’m sorry. No can do.’’ Then Jill stood up and yanked Maggie’s blanket, hard. An expletive or two may have flown around the room before Maggie was on her feet. She stood there with her eyes closed. ‘’Well, come on, get moving! Throw some clothes into a bag and let’s go.’’ ‘’Why on earth do your wild hair adventures always have to involve early mornings?’’ ‘’It’s the best time to go, come on!’’ Jill emptied the contents of Maggie’s laundry basket into her backpack, grabbed some money, her camera and a bottle of water and they were out the door. They piled into Jill’s car and were off.

Maggie, still in her PJs, settled in and snoozed a while longer while Jill drove, road trip adrenaline pumping through her veins. An hour or so in, Jill got really hungry. She pulled into a gas station and Maggie woke up. ‘’Let’s just get some snacks here and we can get lunch after a while.’’ ‘’Ok,’’ Maggie said, yawning. She looked around the parking lot and quickly changed into some jean shorts. She slipped on her flip-flops and headed inside. ‘’What did you pack for me?’’ she asked. ‘’All part of the adventure,’’ Jill smiled. ‘’Great,’’ she said sarcastically. Jill went directly to the beef jerky sticks, grabbed a granny smith and an iced tea. Maggie wandered around aimlessly for a while until her friend came to prod her along. ‘’Here. You like these and these and here! Take some of these…and you can wash it all down with one of these.’’ ‘’What would I ever do without you?’’ ‘’You’re welcome. Now, you pay for this and I’m gonna take a pee,’’ she said, piling everything into Maggie’s arms. ‘’Why you little…’’ Jill laughed, walking away. A few minutes later Maggie came into the bathroom, ‘’you owe me four hundred dollars.’’ ‘’Haha, I know! Jerky’s expensive!’’ She snatched it out of her friend’s hand and ran out to the car. She jumped inside and locked the doors. ‘’Yee-ou yellow-bellied coward.’’ ‘’Yellow-bellied coward?’’ she laughed, ‘’what is this, 1864?’’ ‘’Open up, you rat-faced varmint!’’ Jill lost it with that comment, laughing hard as she rolled down the windows. ‘’Get in, Yosemite Sam.’’ They cranked up the music and hit the open road. They made sure to stop at every possible photo op. And by photo op I mean scarecrow, fruit stand, virgin Mary statue, mile marker, ammo store, biker bar and outhouse. About 4pm Maggie declared, ‘’the next town we see we are stopping to see what there is to see.’’ ‘’Sounds specific.’’

As luck would have it, it was one of those all-American one-street towns with one post office, one bar, a hair salon, a grocery store and a diner. Still full from lunch, the girls opted, instead, to go into the hair salon. Pretty Patty’s. ‘’Do you take walk-ins?’’ Jill asked as they stepped inside. ‘’We sure do,’’ a jolly, permed woman took her by the arm. ‘’Are you Patty?’’ ‘’Oh no,’’ she chuckled, ‘’Patty only writes the checks,’’ she winked. ‘’What can we do for ya today?’’ ‘’Oh, just a wash ‘n dry,’’ she answered in an animated voice. ‘’You too, sweetheart?’’ she asked Maggie. ‘’Her too!’’ yelled Jill. ‘’Paula, you got a customer!’’ a tall, skinny, bleached-to-the-nines lady appeared from the back room through a curtain. ‘’This one’s yours,’’ the first lady slapped Maggie on the back. ‘’Come with me, hon.’’ She sat her down in her squishy chair and snapped a pink plastic apron with poodles on it around her neck. ‘’Juuuust a wash ‘n dry,’’ Maggie wanted to confirm. ‘’You both got beautiful hair.’’ ‘’Well, thank you, Paula,’’ Jill called from across the room. Paula chuckled that she called her by name. They both tipped them back and washed and rinsed and wrapped them up in tall white towels. ‘’Where’re ya from? I haven’t seen you around here before.’’ ‘’I’m from Waterloo, but we both go to school in Madison.’’ ‘’Yeah, I thought ya might be big-city gals. Ya don’t look like you belong around these parts.’’ ‘’Maggie laughed politely.’’ She plugged in her blow dryer and grabbed a big round brush from her desk and went to work. Ten minutes, lotsa talkin’ and half a can of Aquanet later and the girls looked like they belonged around those parts. They walked to the counter to pay, barely able to contain their laughter, and tipped the ladies handsomely. ‘’What’s your name?’’ Jill asked. ‘’I’m June.’’ ‘’Nice to meet you June. You too, Paula. You two have a really nice day.’’ ‘’Toodaloo,’’ June waved. And the girls sashayed to their car and drove away.