huzywrites

Thu, 22 Jul 2004 01:30:22 GMT

Bob sat alone in the house, his dick in one hand, a soggy sock in the other. Another exciting Friday night.

"What to do, what to do?" he mumbled to himself.

The things that brought him joy before had ceased to do so. He looked at the shrine to pop culture he'd built working as a secretary downtown and sighed. None of the knee-deep piles of movies and video games even remotely interested him. Even masturbating was boring anymore, despite having any and every kind of porn imaginable at his fingertips. He momentarily pondered calling the cable company and canceling the service, but it occurred to him that would be the end of his social life.

"Better not."

It's not like he needed the money. Better to have it and waste it than not have it at all. Kids may be starving in Africa, but not in this house.

Bored with the computer, he struggled to get out of his chair. His knees were bothering him again. Weak already from a series of high school injuries, they weren't doing any better carrying around the extra hundred pounds he'd put on since then. He left the room and paused in the hall to sniff the air. He glanced at the litter box full of feces. He made a mental note to take care of that in a few days and pondered getting a cat again.

He entered his slovenly bedroom and dropped the deflowered sock onto a pile of stiff compatriots. Seeing the size of the pile, he made another mental note to go buy more socks.

Bob plopped his ample ass onto the bed, which groaned in response. He found the remote buried in the sheets and turned on the TV. Thank God for ESPN, or he'd never be able to relive the glory days of high school.

Ah, high school. Where Bob was king of the court, the field, the classroom and the locker room. Glory days gone by. The only subject he didn't excel in was Chemistry. Now 34 and still a virgin, most days he felt like the past was all he had left.

He stared at the ceiling fan while the tv droned on in the background spewing a multitude of useless statistics. His eyes drifted shut as the rhythm of the fan lulled him to sleep.

Bob opened his eyes and stared at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling round and round. How long had he been asleep? Had he been asleep? What woke him up?

He glanced at the clock next to his bed. It read 9:38. What time had he lain down? He couldn't remember. A dull thumping came from the front of the house.

He struggled out of bed trying to wake up again and donned a paper-thin bathrobe lying in a pile on the floor. Who would be at the door at this hour? Who would be at the door at any hour. Even his parents didn't come over anymore.

The pounding began anew. He padded down the hall and glanced out the peephole. There was a strange car parked in the driveway and several people standing on his doorstep.

"Must have the wrong house..."

He struggled to get the old door open and squinted at what he saw. Three young girls, none who appeared old enough to drink legally, wearing just enough clothing not to be naked.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Hi! Are you Bob?"

"Um..."

"I'm Jessica, and this is Julie and Brittney. I hope we didn't wake you up."

"The night is looking up," he thought to himself.

"Uh, yeah. I'm Bob. Do I know you?" he said aloud.

"Of course you do, Silly," Jessica replied. "You're Bob, and this is Julie and Brittney."

"How do you know my name?"

Jessica pointed at his robe. He looked down at the B-O-B embroidered on his chest.

"Oh... Right... Well those are my initials, actually."

"Oh how funny." She looked at her companions. "His name is Bob and his initials are B-O-B. I bet you don't see that very often."

"So what can I do for you ladies?"

"Well, we're lost, and we were hoping we could use your phone. We were on our way to this club, but we can't seem to find it. You don't know how to get to Joe's, do you?"

"Um.. No. I really don't go out."

"Well that's OK, if we could just come in and use your phone, we'd be out of your hair real quick. It would just take a minute."

"Yeah, I suppose that would be ok. Come on in."

He opened the door wide and the girls passed by him. He hoped they wouldn't notice the swelling under his robe.

"Just have a seat on the couch, girls. I'll get you my phone."

Bob headed back down the hall to the bedroom. He quietly shut the door behind him and threw the robe across the room. He started tearing the room apart, searching for not only the phone, but some clean clothes.

The phone was finally excavated from a pile of t-shirts and pants. He checked to see if it still had a charge. He couldn't remember the last time he'd used it. Maybe to order pizza last weekend. Or was that the weekend before? He paused.

"Shit! Who cares!?"

He found a pair of jeans he could still fit into and a shirt that was only marginally wrinkled and hurried into them. He smelled under his arms and decided to apply some Old Spice from the dusty bottle on his dresser. He looked at himself in the mirror and tried to smooth out what hair he had left. He wasn't very successful, but decided it would have to do.

He ran across the room and jerked the door open. He realized he was breathing heavy from the effort. He paused to catch his breath and walked out of the room an nonchalantly as he could manage.

When Bob wandered back into the living room, he nearly dropped the phone. Julie (or was it Brittney) was on the couch on top of Brittney (or was it Julie) -- both naked and moaning. Jessica was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, her legs crossed as she smiled up at him.

"We got bored while you were looking for the phone. I hope you don't mind," she said with an enormous smile. "You know, you didn't need to go to the trouble of getting dressed."

"I..." was all Bob could manage to get out.

"Let me help you with those pants," Jessica replied as she stood up and came over to him.

She dropped to her knees and pulled his zipper down.

"Why Bob," she continued, "You've been holding out on us."

He squeezed his eyes shut and thought to himself, "This can't be real. This can't be real. This can't be real."

He suddenly noticed how quiet it had gotten. He could no longer hear Julie and Brittney's moaning. Slowly he opened his eyes, afraid of what he was going to see.

Bob opened his eyes and stared at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling round and round. How long had he been asleep? Had he been asleep? What woke him up?

He glanced at the clock next to his bed. It read 9:38. What time had he lain down? He couldn't remember. A dull thumping came from the front of the house.

"Oh Jesus," he muttered to himself as he looked around for his bathrobe. "This had better be good."

He stumbled down the hall to the front door. The pounding got louder as he got closer to the door.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

He opened the door and paused.

"Hi! Are you Bob?"

"Um..."

"I'm Jessica, and this is Julie and Brittney. I hope we didn't wake you up."

"No, I..."

He stared at them a moment. They stared back. Julie and Brittney exchanged nervous glances.

"Look, um, we're kind of lost, and we were hoping we could use your phone."

"Um. Yeah. Come on in. I'll just be a minute. Have a seat in the living room."

The girls come inside and sit on the couch. He stared at them for a moment before speaking again.

"I'll be right back."

Bob shuffled back to his bedroom and found the phone underneath a pile of clothing. He stopped to look at himself in the mirror and decided it wasn't worth the effort.

"Weird fucking dream."

He padded back down the hall to the living room, phone in hand. Brittney (or was it Julie) was sitting on the couch, her legs in the air, while Julie (or was it Brittney) was on her knees in front of her. Their clothes were strewn across the floor.

Jessica sat on the edge of the coffee table smiling back at him.

"We got bored waiting for you. I hope you don't mind."

Bob started to stammer in response before squeezing his eyes shut.

"Oh don't do that Bob. We're so lonely. Don't leave us..."

Jessica's voice and Julie and Brittney's moaning trailed off until he couldn't hear anything.

Bob opened his eyes and stared at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling round and round. How long had he been asleep? Had he been asleep?

He heard the pounding on the front door and jumped up out of bed.

He ran down the hall and jerked open the front door, panting and out of breath.

"Hi! Are you Bob?"

Bob slammed the door and turned around to run to the phone. He didn't know who he was going to call, but he had to talk to someone. Anyone. He stumbled over the full cat box in the darkness and slammed into the floor.

Bob opened his eyes and stared at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling round and round. Had he been asleep? What the fuck was going on?

He went cold when he heard the pounding on the door, louder now than ever before. He crept naked down the hall. He peeked around the corner at the front door. The pounding came again.

He nervously approached the door, knowing what he would find on the other side. He stared at the girls through the peephole for a moment. They were looking around, searching for signs of life in the house.

Jessica stood up on her tiptoes and tried to peer back through the peephole. Bob shrank back against the wall so she wouldn't see him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, "Please go away please go away please go away..."

He heard muffled talking through the door. It became very quiet as the sound drained away.

Bob opened his eyes and stared at the wall of his entryway. It was very quiet. He mustered up the courage to peek out the peephole.

The doorstep was empty.

He opened the door and looked outside.

Jessica, Julie and Brittney stopped on the sidewalk and stared back at him, standing naked in the open door.

They screamed and ran to the car parked in the driveway.

"LEAVE ME ALONE! GET AWAY FROM ME YOU CRAZY BITCHES! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!"

The girls piled into the car, Jessica in the driver's seat. She backed out of the driveway, taking out the trash cans on the curb. The car stalled in the street.

The engine turned over and the car lurched before the tires squealed. Bob heard the tires scream halfway down the block. Shaking, he slammed the door.

"Who the hell was that guy?" Julie asked Jessica.

"How should I know?" she replied from behind the wheel.

"The next time you forget your cell phone, I'm going to kick your ass."

Mon, 12 Jul 2004 09:58:52 GMT

Scene from a Coffee Shop - Jeff and Joe from Jack and Jill. First Draft.

Too Cold for Buford

Tue, 27 Jan 2004 20:35:35 GMT

"Let's go outside."

"I don't wanna"

"Come on, let's go outside"

"I'll hold it."

"All day?"

"All week."

"Come on, stop fucking around, let's go."

"God damn it, do you know how fucking cold it is out there?"

"Yes, but if you hurry, you'll be OK."

"You realize, of course, it's a full 100 degrees colder out there than it is in this house.

"I know."

"One. Hundred."

"It's winter. What do you expect?"

"I expect not to have to go outside NAKED when it's 31 below zero.

"Well where else are you going to go potty?"

"Why can't I use the goddamn toilet like you assholes?"

"Look, you're a dog, ok? It's the way of the world."

"Fuck."

"I know. Now GO."

Mere moments later...

"That was impressive."

"Thank you. Now gimmie a fucking cookie."

Belle's Number

Tue, 13 Jan 2004 07:20:12 GMT

Rain. Always with the bloody rain. Belle doesn't know which is worse. Having to kill someone on her day off, or having to go out and do it in the bleedin' rain. But the call came in. And when the call comes in, it's time to work. Doesn't matter what day it is. Doesn't matter that she needs to run out and get food for her cats. She can do it after. No worries. She'll grease this number and get on with her day. No sense waiting around, it's gotta be done. And if she doesn't do it, someone'll do it for her. And then they'll do her. So, yeah.

She packs her arsenal and heads out.

Belle doesn't like these jobs. A call comes in. A description is given. She greases the target. She gets paid. The cats eat. Simple, right?

Not really. These things take time. You need to study a person before you take him out. You need to know his daily patterns. His routines. When to expect him home. You need to plan for all kinds of eventualities. And above all, practice practice practice. Ling knows this. Knows how Belle works. Course, Ling also knows walking up to a number on the street and putting a bullet in his face kills him just as dead. So long as the number dies, Belle gets paid. And the cats get fed. And when the cats are happy, Belle's happy. Simple.

She admits to herself there is a wicked poetry in greasing someone without any preparation. The job wears you out. Going in blind is almost exciting.

"Time to retire," she thinks. But what would she do? How does she explain her employment for the past five years? Can you put "Contract Killer" on a resume? Probably not. She can just picture the interview.

"What do you feel is your greatest weakness?"

"I can't work in tight spaces with big revolvers. They only hold six shots and kick way too much to be comfortable."

Or maybe, "In your previous employment, name your greatest accomplishment."

"I put a bullet between Anthony Spriglotti's eyes from a rooftop three blocks away seconds after a pigeon shit in my hair."

No. Not so much.

So she sits in her car and waits across the street from this number's place. Listens to the rain drum against the roof of the car. Oddly enough, it beats in time to the music on the cd player. She only plays this cd while she's on a job. Radiohead's Creep is the current track. Right in time with the raindrops. Weird.

She checks the guns strapped under her black trench again. Six in all. All still locked and loaded. A bit much perhaps. But Belle doesn't fuck around. She can pull a new piece faster than she can reload. The goons down at Ling's office ask her, "Belle, what's with all the guns?"

"Woo would be proud," she always responds, leaving them to wonder who the hell Woo is. One of Ling's men, perhaps? No one they've heard of. Some sort of mentor maybe. No one really knows anything about Belle. Maybe Ling knows. But Ling's not telling.

Hollow points to boot, by the way. An incredibly nasty wound. You don't want to get hit by one of these. Even if her aim is off (and it never is), she can still get a dead number. Spall baby, spall. Belle doesn't fuck around. Dead is dead. Paid is paid. The cats never go hungry.

On the weekends, she and a box of watermelons (when they're in season) drive out to her private range in the woods. The watermelons never make it back. But damned if they don't go out fashionably. Messy, but with such style!

Still raining. God. Why did it have to be today in the rain? At least this was going to be a simple job. She was assured he'd never see it coming. This guy would have no call for protection. No call to carry a piece. He was nearly dead and had no idea. The easiest numbers to hit.

She once hit a dealer who was testing too much of his own product. The call came down. Punk had to die. Took her two friggin' weeks to track this bastard. The guy was in deep and he knew it. He knew someone was coming. Had he know in was Belle, he'd have found his passport and tried his luck in Russia. He was carrying an M-16 assault rifle when she finally caught up with him. Course, he didn't know anything more than which end to point and how to make it go boom. He couldn't figure out how to reload it. After he wasted his clip into the ceiling and an innocent crate, he sat there fumbling with the thing. Couldn't pull out the empty clip, if you can believe it.

She walked up to punk junkie and put a bullet in his knee. Those same bullets -- nearly took his leg off. And oh how he wailed. Like a baby. Pathetic. Understandable perhaps, but pathetic all the same.

"Don't kill me! Oh God please no!" he'd screamed. If they hadn't been in the basement of a deserted warehouse, the neighbors would have been calling the cops.

She put a bullet in his other knee. He screamed louder, which was unexpected. She'd thought he couldn't get any louder. What a whiner.

"Now you're a cripple. If you don't bleed to death first. You still wanna live?"

"Yes! Oh God yes!"

"Tough."

A bullet in the eye. Belle doesn't fuck around. The cats ate that night.

A man exits the apartment building carrying a briefcase and an umbrella. His face is obscured by the umbrella, but the description matches. Older. Tan overcoat. Black briefcase. He's heading towards the right car. Black BMW. Only one black Beamer parked on the street. Yeah. That's gotta be him. Time to go to work. Time to feed the cats.

She leaves her car running and steps out into the rain, leaving Radiohead playing on. No worries. They'll be there when she gets back. She wonders what's in the briefcase. Could be money. Could be drugs. Could be child pornography. She's only interested if it's money. Or cat food. Unlikely. Unless specified, she's always free to loot the numbers after. She's been sent on recovery missions before too. Not this time though. Just grease him and go. Simple. No surprises.

She sprints across the street dodging raindrops and avoiding puddles. She catches up with the man as he fumbles his keys in the car door. A BMW and he doesn't have a remote? Weird. Sure would be handy today. Could have bought him a few more hours of breathing time. But no. Too late. He's juggling the briefcase and umbrella, soaking him through and slowing him up. About to die.

"Game on," she thinks to herself as she pulls a gun. Maybe the rain's not so bad after all.

Belle reaches out and taps the man on the shoulder. "Hey. Buddy. I think you dropped this."

He turns.

Reflex takes over, like it has countless times before. Belle pulls the trigger and puts a bullet in his forehead. The man was in the middle of forming a surprised smile before the back of his head exploded across the car window. The cats will eat tonight. Belle goes cold. The rain and the blood run down the car in rivulets. She's never felt this cold. So cold. Her gun clatters on the sidewalk.

"Daddy?"

Quack

Tue, 23 Dec 2003 10:29:48 GMT

I remember it was like yesterday. The leaves were just starting to turn, the pond was getting colder, and the family was just about to pack up for vacation. I swear you could set your clock by it. Down to the second. Dad would be floating on the water, bored as could be, when he would overturn and send everyone scattering.

"Pack it up! Pack it up! Time to go!"

Everyone was always ready to go, of course. We always traveled light. And we always knew when Dad was about to flip out. But it didn't stop him from doing so each and every year.

"Jeremiah! Where's your brother. Oh. You're him. Where's your sisters!?"

Mary, Sally, Susie, Sissy, and Sam lined up and dad did a head count.

"Oh for crying out loud! Where's your mother?"

Mom was, as always, across the way blathering on with the neighborhood women. Babbling on and on and on about.. well, from the best I could gather... absolutely nothing. It just sounded like a lot of noise to me. But that didn't stop her from swearing up and down that she just loved her time with the ladies.

"She's over there, Dad."

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Geraldine! Natalia! Get your tail over here! We've got to get going!"

"Blah blah blah," blathered Mom at her friends as she made her way over to our little troupe, continuing to gossip the whole way over. "Alright! Don't forget! We'll be at the beach house by six. We'll meet you there!"

Every summer it was the same. Dad was kind of crazy. But the winter trips south were the best times a duck could ask for.

Late Night Call Part Deux

Tue, 23 Dec 2003 10:11:04 GMT

"Hi there."

"Hey... hello you."

"Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah, but that's ok. What's up?"

"I was just thinking about you. I wanted to ask you something."

"What's that?"

"Is it ok if I miss you when you're not around?"

"It is."

"Ok. Good. Cause I do."

"Don't tell me that's the only reason you called."

"Well, to tell you the truth..."

Three hours later:

"Oh god. Is it really 4 am?"

"Where you are, yeah."

"Damn. I really need to get back to bed here."

"I hope I didn't keep you up too late."

"Nah. I mean, tomorrow's going to be hell. But it's totally worth it."

"Yeah?"

"Totally."

"Goodnight you."

"Goodnight bunny."

"This is the part where we hang up, right?"

"I think so."

Two hours later:

"Ok, I really have to go. I need to get in the shower and get ready for work."

"Yeah, me too here shortly."

"Alright."

"Ok. I'm really going to hang up this time."

"You promise?"

"I do."

"I miss you."

"I'll see you real soon, right?"

"Promise."

"Good night."

"Good morning."

"That too."

Small World

Wed, 05 Nov 2003 10:02:19 GMT

"I'm so nervous."

"Never flown before?"

"I did. Once. In 1962. It's so different now."

"I suppose so."

Jeff returned to his book. HE liked to fly, but he always hoped the seat next to hom was unoccupied. It's not that he doesn't like people, he's just not fond of strangers.

He was about to start the page over again for the third time when he was interrupted by a flight attendant.

"Sir, could you please fasten your safety belt?"

He lifted the folds of his bulky sweater to reveal the seatbelt firmly fastened around his waist.

"Thank you, sir."

Jeff started the page over again.

"Have you been to Texas before?"

Jeff paused, only having heard the noise.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, 'have you been to Texas before?'"

"Oh... yes. I live there."

"Oh that's nice. I've never been. Does everyone really wear those big hats? The gallon hats?"

"Um... no. That's more a stereotype. We don't all drive trucks either."

"Oh..." Grace almost looked disappointed.

Jeff looked back to his book and gave it one more try.

"I'm going to visit my grandson."

"Hmm?"

"I said, "I'm going to visit my grandson."

"Oh, that's nice."

"I haven't seen him in twenty five years."

"Wow. That's a long time."

"Oh I know it. I'm so nervous."

The plane jolted as it pulled away from the terminal. Grace gave a little yelp. She gripped the arm rest and fanned herself with her boarding pass. The plane gave another start and Grace did too as it started down the tarmac. Jeff glanced over at her and noticed her knuckles were as white as her shoes.

"Are you alright?" Jeff asked as he patted her hand.

"Oh yes. Just a little shaken up. I don't like it when it jerks around like that."

"I'm not overly fond of it myself."

The plane taxied to the runway by now and was revving engines in preparation for take off. Grace looked absolutely terrified.

Jeff made a mental note of the page number. He slipped his book into the pocket of the seat back and placed his hand on Grace's. She let go of the arm rest and gripped back tightly. She leaned her head back and squeezed Jeff's hand as the plane began roaring down the runway.

The front of the plane became airborne and the rear soon followed. There was a resounding thud that shook the plane as the wheels were retracted.

After a few moments of rocketing into the sky, the plane leveled out a bit but continued to climb.

"There now, that wasn't so bad, was it? Worst is over."

Grace relaxed a little bit and put her hands back on the armrest.

"Thank you so much. You're a life saver."

"No problem."

Jeff pulled his book out of the pocket and started reading again as Grace stared out the window at the shrinking landscape below. They sat in silence until the captain interrupted the quiet with an announcement about moving about the cabin.

"It's funny how it all looks so tiny."

"What gets me is the farmland."

"How do you mean?"

"I grew up in the midwest, so there's farms all over everywhere. But I guess I never really realized that there are farms all over the place everywhere else too. No matter where you're flying, you can always look down and see farmland. I'd never really given any thought to what was actually there."

"You know, I feel that way too. I grew up on a farm and always thought that our little corner of Ohio was the only place people lived like us. I thought everyone else lived like they live in Cincinnati. Lots of cars and lots of people in them driving fast. It's so different in the country. Quiet. I miss it sometimes."

"I know what you mean. I live in Dallas, which is huge, but thankfully I live in this weird little pocket that feels like a small country town. I like having things to do and places to go so close, but I'm rather fond of having that small town feel when I'm at home. I'd really like to move out to the country one day and live in a little house and just email my work in to my editor when I need to."

"Are you a reporter?"

"Oh, well, no. I'm actually one of the guys who answers the phone when your computer stops working. But I really want to be a writer."

"Oh how wonderful for you. When my daughter was growing up she read so much. All the time she was up in her room with her nose in a book. Her brothers were never like that -- they were always out running around the neighborhood and coming home dirty. Then it was cars. Then it was girls. Your typical boys I guess. That daughter of mine though..."

Grace trailed off and was silent for a moment while she studied her hands.

"Are you..." Jeff started to ask.

"Oh, it's just... I don't think about her very much any more. She... Well... She married this boy 30 years ago and I've only seen her a couple times since then. That boy... Bruce... I'll never forgive him for taking away my daughter and denying me my grandchildren. But I'll get to see my grandson today. Maybe we can make up for lost time."

It was Jeff's turn to sit in silence, a cold feeling washing over him.

"You said you were from Ohio?"

"Oh yes. That's right. I've lived in Sandusky for years and years now."

"Oh... I... That's nice. I have family there."

Jeff suddenly regretted having opened his mouth.

"Really? Whereabouts?"

"Oh... I... Well I'm really not sure anymore. I mean, we were never that close. I think some cousins or something. We moved around a lot..."

He again wished he hadn't said anything.

"Um, if you'll excuse me."

Jeff tried to stand up and remembered he was still wearing his seatbelt.

"Oh certainly, Dear."

He unbuckled it and tried again. He headed too the bathroom, nearly knocking over a stewardess in the process.

"Sorry," he mumbled to the attendant who gave him a dirty look.

Jeff hurried into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, locking it. He stared at himself in the mirror and wondered the woman sitting in the seat next to him was the grandmother he only met when he was too young to remember.

"Couldn't possibly be," he told his reflection as he went over everything she'd said. The more he thought about it, the more questions it raised. "It was Sandusky, wasn't it? Yeah. It was. What was my grandmother's name? Ginnie? Gracie? Grace? Grace. It had to have been Grace. What's this lady's name?" He realized he didn't know.

He wanted to pace, but he barely had room to turn around in the tiny bathroom. He wanted a cigarette, but decided against it. But not before briefly considering tearing the smoke detector. He wanted a drink. He wanted off this plane. He splashed some water on his face and tried to clear his head.

Jeff stood there absorbed in thought for longer than he realized. He was brought out of his reverie by a knock on the door.

"Is everything ok in there?"

"Uh... yeah... I... I'll be right out."

Jeff flushed the toilet and ran the tap for long enough to sound convincing before opening the door and stepping out. He was met with the frowning face of the stewardess he'd nearly knocked over.

"Please return to your seat. We're about to land."

"How long had I been in there?" he thought. He realized he had no idea, but remembered this flight was supposed to be a short one. Maybe not so long.

He made his way back down the aisle deftly dodging a business man returning a laptop to the overhead storage compartment and a mother replacing a diaper bag. He was suddenly glad he'd been in the bathroom.

Jeff retook his seat next to Grace and fumbled his belt together.

"Everything alright dear?"

"Yeah, I... Um... Yes. I'm fine."

The captain came on the speakers and announced that they'd be arriving soon. Grace turned to look out the window as Jeff studied the seat back in front of him, hanging onto the arm rests.

As soon as the plane had landed and the seat belt lights went out, Jeff stood up and banged his head on the overhead compartment.

"Oh goodness. Be careful there."

Jeff gave her a weak grin.

The passengers started filing off the plane and to the baggage claim. Jeff suddenly wished he hadn't checked his bag, as Grace ended up standing next to him while they waited for the bags to appear.

After what seemed like forever, the carousel started turning and suitcases and bags and briefcases of all colors and shapes started dropping down the chute. Jeff grabbed his bag as it came around and shouldered it, his mind racing as he decided what to do next.

"Grandma?" came a voice from behind him.

He turned to see a young man had approached Grace.

"Jeff! Oh my God!"

He watched as they embraced, tears in Grace's eyes. He smiled and gave a little wave as he turned and left the terminal.

"Who was that?" Jeff asked his grandmother.

"Oh that was... He sat on the plane next to me. A sweet young man. I didn't catch his name."

Four Shorts

Mon, 27 Oct 2003 19:35:48 GMT

Reunion

School Zone

Second Chances

Signs abbreviated script

Late Night Call

Sun, 26 Oct 2003 06:35:24 GMT

"I'm glad you're awake"

"I'm glad you called"

"It's always lonely in the middle of the night. The world is asleep, but I never am."

"I know what you mean. There's never anything on tv either."

"Well, there is, but nothing worth watching."

"Unless you're in the market for a new exercise machine guaranteed to take inches off your hips and thighs."

"My hips and thighs have never really been trouble spots."

"What then? Tummy?"

"My breasts just aren't as firm as I'd like them to be."

"I think they've got a machine for that too. You know, I've been meaning to say something."

"Probably just as well you didn't."

"Well, there always was a hesitancy. Didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"So thoughtful."

"Well look, I've just gotten in bed. I need to work in the morning. So I should probably let you go."

"Don't ever do that."

"I won't. Good night."

Sparky's Bad Day

Sun, 26 Oct 2003 06:29:02 GMT

Sparky was having a rather bad day.

Master kept tossing him out of the house. And for what? Why, excrementing on the carpet, of course.

And who could blame Master? He had to punish Sparky for the transgression. It's not like the pyramids were appearing out of nowhere.

Actually, they were.

Sparky wasn't the only one having a bad day.

***

Round about the other side of the universe and quite some time ago, Klorgwon was having a bit of a bad day too.

Klorgwon and his colleagues were researching alternative fuel sources. Dog poop, which happened to be extremely abundant and theorized a very powerful fuel source, occurred naturally on his planet. There were no dogs on his planet. No one knew where it came from, but it had to be good for something. He and his fellow scientists had developed a revolutionary machine.

However, it wasn't quite the generator they had hoped it to be.

It was more like a transporter. And it happened to be set to the coordinates of Master's house.

Things would happen like this:

Klorgwon would instruct Farnax to load a pile into the machine. Farnax would load a pile into the machine. Farnax would turn to Klorgwon and inform him there was a pile in the machine. Klorgwon would inform Thennyzak there was a pile in the machine, and would he please commence operations. Thennyzak would hit a button.

Now, if the machine was operating like it was supposed to, the light bulb attached to all that machinery would start doing what light bulbs do when they're not doing what they're not supposed to do.

But that light bulb didn't do what it was supposed to do when light bulbs are doing what they're supposed to be doing. Quite the opposite. It did what it wasn't supposed to do. That is to say, it didn't light up like a light bulb should.

There was quite a bright light though. The pile in the machine would flash, seemingly out of existence, making a little "thoop!" sound as it went. The machine didn't appear to do anything but burn up the pile immediately, with no result. Other than the "thoop!"

Actually, there was a very tangible result. When Thennyzak hit the button, the machine didn't burn anything up. When Thennyzak hit the button, the machine sent dog poop into Master's house. Forty two thousand years in the future.

Incidentally, the so-called generator was also a time machine.

***

Sparky, of course, knew none of this. What Sparky did know, was he was stranded out in the yard, feeling very guilty, but not quit sure why. Master had said, "Bad dog! That's a very bad dog!"

"I'm hungry." thought Sparky.

Sparky saw a bird, and decided to say hello.

"Look! Hey bird! HELLO! HELLO! HELLO, MISTER BIRD!"

This is what Master heard Sparky saying:

"BARK! BARK BARK! BARK! BARK BARK BARK!"

Master heard Sparky, and decided it was probably alright for Sparky to come back in. He'd been out there long enough. Hopefully he had learned his lesson. He should have, by now. What had gotten into that dog, anyway?

So Master, (incidentally, Master's name was Steve) let Sparky back in the house.

"No more pooping in the house! Ok Spark? No more pooping in the house!"

This is what Sparky heard Steve saying:

"No wah whawha wha wha wha! wha Spark? No wha wahwha wha wha wha!"

***

Klorgwon checked his notes. He glanced at Farnax and Thennyzak. Thennyzak and Farnax glanced at Klorgwon. Klorgwon checked his notes.

Klorgwon was very unhappy. Not only had they already used half of the materials gathered for this experiment, they had nothing to show for it. Steve and Sparky had something to show for it. But that didn't do Klorgwon and his associates any good.

Klorgwon was having a rather bad day.

Farnax suggested reconfiguring the apoplectic converter. They'd done that already.

Thennyzak suggested reconfiguring the fusion accelerator. They'd done that already too.

Klorgwon suggested they go to lunch. They'd done that already too.

Incidentally, on Klorgwon's planet, the inhabitants ate 7 meals a day.

So they went to lunch.

***

Right after the fourth course, and just before the fifth, the solution struck Klorgwon like a lightning bolt out of the blue. Except the sky on Klorgwons planet was green. Klorgwon's planet didn't have lightning either. But you get the idea.

The problem must be in the interface between the apoplectic converter and the fusion accelerator. It was so simple. Why hadn't it occurred to him before?

Klorgwon and his associates hurried through the remaining three courses, discussing the possibilities with their mouths full. Eventually, they returned to the lab tittering with excitement. After fiddling in the machinery for a few minutes, they were ready for another go.

Klorgwon instructed Farnax to load a pile into the machine. Farnax loaded a pile into the machine. Farnax turned to Klorgwon and informed him there was a pile in the machine. Klorgwon informed Thennyzak there was a pile in the machine, and would he please commence operations. Thennyzak hit a button.

***

Steve sat back down in his favorite easy chair to resume reading the paper. Sparky laid himself at his feet, ready for a nap. All that conversation with the bird had worn him out.

Steve heard a sound that went "Thoop!"

He looked up, and saw another pyramid in the middle of the living room. He looked at Spark.

"How in the..."

He was cut off by another "Thoop!"

Many more followed.

"Thoop! Thoop! Thoop! Thoop!"

"Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!"

Each "Thoop!" had an accompanying pyramid.

The transporter/time machine was now a transporter/time machine/replicator.

Steve and Spark ran from the house. Steve was running because he didn't know what else to do. He did know he didn't want to be anywhere near the Thoops. Sparky ran because he thought it was time for a walk.

Steve stared slack-jawed at his ranch home as the windows shattered and the roof removed itself from the rest of the structure.

Steve wondered if damage from pets was covered by his home owner's insurance.

Sparky wondered why he was down the street and not at home.

Klorgwon wondered where his research material went.

Steve never owned another dog.

Part of This Balanced Breakfast

Sun, 26 Oct 2003 06:23:05 GMT

"It's part of a nutritious breakfast, you know."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your Coco Pebbles. It's part of a balanced breakfast."

"Oh... right. I guess it is."

"That's bullshit you know though, right?"

"How's that?"

"The only time you ever hear that is when the cereal in on the screen there, surrounded by toast, a banana, and probably a glass of orange juice. It's implied that the cereal is healthy. But it's not. It's just garbage. And everyone knows it's garbage. But when you eat it with the fruit and whatnot, it suddenly becomes healthy. You'd actually be better off not having the cereal at all. Just having fruit and juice and toast."

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'm kind of in a hurry."

"Oh, going out to party?"

"Um, no. I just want to go home and eat my cereal and go to bed. It's been a long day."

"I can't wait to get off tonight. There's this super-cool party that my friend is having. You should come."

"Um... no. I really just want to go home. How much is it please?"

"Oh there's no cover. It's not one of those parties. We're just going to sit around and watch movies. Maybe smoke a little."

"I meant, the total. How much is it?"

"Oh, probably about 12 of us or so. You really should come. If Farley shows up, we might score some P-O-T."

"No, no, I meant how much is my purchase? What do I owe you?"

"Oh! That! Ha ha... I thought you were talking about the party. Are you sure you don't want to go? It'll be a lot of fun."

"Yes, I'm sure. Now will you just hit the goddamn total button so I can pay and get the fuck out of here?"

"There's no need to be rude."

"Look lady, it's 4 o'clock in the morning. I've been at work for 20 hours now. I don't want to hear your views about advertising and I don't want to hear about your pothead friends. I should be halfway home by now, but you won't shut your god damn yap. Hit the blue button and tell me what I owe you. I can see it! You've got your finger hovering over it! Just hit the button!"

"Sir, I'm going to call my manager."

"You know what? Here's five bucks. Keep the change. Have a nice night."

"Hey get back here! You can't just... HEY!"

Everything Happens For a Reason

Fri, 24 Oct 2003 07:21:18 GMT

"He's on vacation."

"What? What do you mean 'he's on vacation?'"

"That's what he told me."

"But... but he's not allowed to go on vacation. Ever. He knows that."

"I'm just telling you what he told me."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Get Serendipity on the phone, right now. RIGHT NOW!"

"Sure thing boss."

Fate hit the second speed dial button and after two rings a voice answered, "Office of the Director, this is Hope, how may I direct your call?"

"Hey Hope, it's Faith. Karma wants to talk to the boss."

"Oh hi there! How's it going over there?"

"Oh you don't want to know. Murphy's taken 'a vacation.'"

"You must be joking."

"I wish I were honey. He called in and said he wouldn't be in for a few days."

"Oh my oh my oh my... Hang on just a second for me. Let me see if she's still in that meeting."

"Sure thing."

Classical music lilted from the receiver as Fate drummed her fingers on the desk.

"Well?" Karma demanded.

"She's looking to see if she's still in a meeting. She'll be ri..."

"Faith honey, you still there?"

"Yeah I'm here."

"I'm transferring you now. Hold on again just a second for me."

The phone rang again and Faith handed the phone over. Karma snatched it away greedily.

"Hello! Hello!" He stared blankly back at Faith. "There's no one there."

"She's transf..."

"Yes! Hello! Seren, you're not going to believe this!"

*****

Murphy, Murph to his friends, sauntered down the city street, taking in all there was to see. Everything had changed from the last time he'd been on earth. For one, people walked mostly upright now. Clubs and spears had been replaced with cell phones and pagers. And generally, everyone smelled a whole lot nicer.

He took a deep breath of not-so-fresh air and enjoyed every bit of it. How nice it was to get out of the office for a change. He turned a corner on the busy street and wandered into the park. Murph sat in front of a small pond where ducks were splashing in the water. One noticed him there and swam to the edge of the pond, climbing up onto the bank. It padded over to him and looked up expectantly.

"Can I help you?"

"Quack."

"I beg your pardon?"

"QUACK!"

"How rude."

The other ducks in the pond followed suite and clambered up on the sidewalk and gathered around Murph.

"Oh boy."

They all started shouting and yelling at once.

"QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK!"

Murph stood up. "ALRIGHT!"

The ducks quieted down as Murph reached into his sport coat pocket and pulled out a loaf of bread. The ducks all shifted excitedly from one foot to another as Murph undid the twist tie on the loaf.

"You guys haven't changed a bit. Loki thought he was so funny when he made you guys. Guardians of Atlantis my ass. Where's Atlantis now eh? Where is it now?"

Murph winged a piece of bread out into the pond. The ducks scattered and dove in after it, save one.

It looked up at him as it had before.

"Quack."

"Yeah, yeah. Here."

Murph dropped a piece at his feet and the duck tore into it hungrily. He sat back down on the bench, idly winging pieces of bread into the pond. The loaf never seemed to get any shorter as he did so.

*****

A day and a night passed by while Murph sat on the bench tossing piece after piece of bread to the hungry ducks. He sat there completely unaware of the world around him, lost in a waking dreamless sleep, recalling the events of the past umpteen years.

"What have you been feeding these ducks?"

Murph started awake.

"I'm sorry... I must have dozed off there. What did you say?"

"I asked what you'd been feeding the ducks here. I've never seen any so large."

Murph blinked a few times and took a look. The duck at his feet had more than doubled in size. It lay on it's side idly flipping it's feet. The ducks in the pond suffered a similar condition.

"Oh, it's, uh..." Murph glanced at the still-full bag in his hand. "Wonder Bread."

The duck at his feet belched loudly.

"Those are some big-ass ducks."

"That they are. They were like that when I got here though. Uh.. see? I still have a full loaf of bread here." Murph gestured with the bag before hastily sticking back in his jacket pocket. "I'm Murphy, by the way. Murph to my friends."

The man sitting on the bench extended his hand. "Jameson. Frank J. Jameson. Pleased to meet you Murph."

"Likewise."

The two sat and stared and the enormous flopping ducks for a few moments, enjoying the mid-morning sun.

"So tell me Frank, what brings you out on a morning like this?"

"I just got fired. So I thought I'd come take a sit in the park. I was going to leap off the top of the building, but the elevator was out, and I wasn't up for walking up all those stairs."

"Understandable."

"It's a real bitch, you know? I've been working so hard to get my life straight these past few years. I spent a lot of time fucking up. And just as much time lately trying to get out of this hole. I got a good job, I met a good woman, I just put money down on great house. We were going to get married and my life was finally going to be back on track. And now I'm fired in the middle of the worst recession in years. I'm not going to be able to get that house. Or the wedding ring. I just don't understand the point of all this. Just when things were finally going so great, bam. Everything falls apart. Murphy's Law and all that, right?"

Frank paused.

"No offense, right Murph?"

"Nah, none taken. I get that all the time. Besides, if the real Murphy exists somewhere, I'm sure he's real tired of getting blamed for everything that goes wrong in peoples lives."

"How do you figure? It's his fault, isn't it?"

"You know the expression 'Everything happens for a reason?' Frank"

"Yeah, but I always thought it was a load of crap."

"Well... Damn." Murph paused.

"Hmm?"

Murph sat on the bench furrowing his brow, staring at the ground in front of him.

"You're right Frank. It is a load of crap. There's no reason that bad things have to happen to good people. It's something I've been pondering for a few cen... er, for quite a while now. And I still can't figure it out. It's bullshit, isn't it?"

"I've always thought so."

Murph concentrated for a moment before turning to Frank.

"Frank, I think your luck is about to change."

"Oh?"

Frank started as his cell phone rang. He reached into his pocket and glanced at the caller id.

"Whoa."

Frank looked at Murph and said, "It's the office."

"Well answer it, man. Answer it already."

Frank answered the phone.

"Jameson." He paused, listening. "Really. Really? Yeah? You're kidding me. Alright. Ok, alright. I'll be right over."

He hung up the phone and looked a smiling Murph. "You're never going to believe this."

"You got your job back?"

"I got my job back, and I got a promotion! Apparently there was some big mistake in Human Resources and they just figured it all out! Amazing. Simply amazing."

"Congratulations Frank. Good on you."

Frank stood up.

"Well I hate to run out on you like this, but I've got to jet. I've got a new job to start!"

Murph waved. "Nice to meet you Frank. May all your dreams come true."

Frank ran down the walk. He shouted back, "Thanks Murph! You too! It was nice to meet you!"

Murphy chuckled to himself. He looked down at his feet and saw the duck staring back at him accusingly.

"What?"

The duck belched loudly and tried rolling over. It failed.

Murphy leaned back on the bench feeling rather proud of himself. That is, until he heard a cell phone ringing.

"Hmm?"

He looked down and saw Frank's cell phone sitting on the bench.

"Uh oh."

He picked up the phone and looked at the caller id. It read in big bold letters "PICK UP MURPH."

"Oh boy."

He answered the phone and put it gingerly to his ear.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"Hello Karma."

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

"The guy was down on his luck. He just needed a little pick-me-up."

An exasperated scream came from the other end of the phone.

"You do realize, Murph, that what you just did is way out of your job description."

"Yeah, but the guy wanted to get married and have a house like everyone else."

"First of all, the girl he's in love with? She's banging her hairdresser. Second of all, the house he put money down on? It's going to have a gas leak and explode in 18 months. The company he works for? It's going to go bankrupt in six months and he's going to be brought up on charges for his unknowing involvement. But that's ok, because he'll be out in a year. Just in time to die in the house he was able to buy after all."

"But I thought..."

"Don't think Murph. Everything happens for a reason. Don't you ever forget that. Now you get your ass back up here and fix the damn mess you just caused. And for Christ's sake, fix the damn ducks before you do."

"But..."

The cell phone beeped as the line went dead.

Murph looked down at the duck who only had a belch to offer back.

"Damn."

Full Service

Tue, 21 Oct 2003 12:20:42 GMT

We pulled into the station and I hopped out of the convertible, ready to refuel and keep heading east. We were on a mission. We were getting married at all costs. Vegas seemed the best place to do it. It's the city that never sleeps, after all. Or something like that. I can't remember exactly what they say about it. She wanted to be married by Elvis. I was hoping for Buddy Holly, myself, but I wasn't about to argue. If my baby wanted The King, then The King she would have.

I turned and was surprised to find an elderly man with large sideburns standing in front of me.

"Fill 'er up?" he said with a sneer and a drawl.

"Yeah, you got it buddy," I told him.

"Oh no, not Buddy. But close," he replied as he slowly unscrewed the gas cap.

"Don't see full service much anymore," I commented.

"Nosir, noyadon't."

I couldn't help but notice something familiar about him. He probably gets that all the time. I decided not to mention it.

He glanced at her sitting in the car, her mouth agape.

"Howdy ma'am."

She continued to stare with her mouth hanging open.

"Where y'all off to?" he asked me when she didn't respond.

"Vegas."

"City that never sleeps."

"Is that what they say?"

"I sure don't know what they say about it these days, but that's what I've always said."

He finished filling the tank and screwed the cap back on the gas tank.

"Well y'all have a great trip now, ya hear?"

"What do I owe you?" I asked him.

"Oh don't you worry about. Y'all just have a happy honeymoon and we'll call it even."

I tried to refuse his offer.

"Now I won't take no for an answer, ya hear? Now go on and take yourselves to the chapel."

I got back in the car and we made our way to the city. Years later after our kids were in college, we took a trip back down that highway. We tried to find that gas station again, but never could.