Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts

Saturday, March 12, 2016

Impropriety on the Twentieth Floor

This short story was previously published in Texas Writers Journal - 1st Quarter,  January 2015.  I have also previously posted an excerpt of this one.  
Nobody knew how the meat freezer came to be delivered at the law firm. All that was known was that the receptionist went to make coffee and when she came back to her desk, there it was in the middle of the lobby. A large silver metal freezer with a black handle. No tag, no papers, just sitting there taking space.
“Ahh, Mr. Sellers, you might want to come out and take a look at this.”
“What is it, Edith? I am really busy.”
“Somebody has left...uh...what looks to be a freezer in the lobby.”
“A freezer? What do you mean? Is this a joke?”
“No sir, somebody left a meat freezer in our lobby, and I need to know what to do about it.”
“Ill be up in a moment,” he snapped. One just couldn't depend on support staff. All the little people in the world worming their way about day after day. They were simply too ignorant to take a comprehensive course of action, it was impossible to expect them to think for themselves. They needed leadership from people who knew. So Mr. Barnaby Sellers the Third shoved his most important brief aside and strode hastily up to the front to look at the freezer.
“Edith, can't you just find a tag and call the delivery company and have them pick it up? It's obviously a mistake.”
“Uh sir, I can't find a tag on it,” she said.
And they looked all over for the tag, but the freezer had none. It sat in the lobby reflecting the sun's rays that filtered through the mini blinds.
“Martin, take a look at this,” said Mr. Sellers.
“Why, whatever do we need a freezer for? asked Martin.
“We don't need a freezer. It has been delivered by mistake.”
“Maybe we should canvas the staff just to be sure. Maybe there is a party or some benefit thing going on,” volunteered Martin.
So they sent an e-mail message throughout the firm:
IF ANYONE HAS ORDERED A MEAT FREEZER TO BE DELIVERED TO THIS FIRM, PLEASE CONTACT THE RECEPTIONIST IMMEDIATELY.
Everyone began to filter through looking at the freezer, the lawyers looked down their noses with disgust and the secretaries laughed softly to themselves.
“We are going to have clients in shortly, what will they think? asked Mr. Sellers.
“I'll bet it's just a matter of calling security to remove it,” said Martin. “Edith, call security and asked them to come up right away.”
“Security doesn't have the tools to remove it,” observed a secretary.
“We may have to call a moving service,” said Raymond, a mousy attorney looking down his nose through his wire spectacles.
“What if it should contain a bomb?” asked Martin.
At that suggestion, everyone began to move away from the freezer, but the freezer was absolutely quite. It sat there in the lobby as if it belonged. Just waiting to be plugged in so that motor could run and the fans could buzz.
“Edith call security,” said Mr. Sellers.
“Right away,” answered Edith.
Security came up to examine the situation. Oscar the security guard paced around the machine with his key chain clinking. He strutted in the spotlight enjoying the hanging faces of the lawyers.
“Nope, no sign of a bomb, no ticking, no tinkering, just got yourselves a great big ole freezer here. It's heavy too,” said Oscar. “It's almost like it is anchored right here. What are y’all gonna do with it?”
“You need to remove it then...NOW!” said Mr. Sellers.
“Sorry sir, we can't move this. Your gonna have to call a moving service. We can't be responsible for the injury it might cause employees,” said Oscar.
“Don't you people have some belts or something you can wear?”
“No, not to move something like this,” said Oscar. “And besides, we aren't a moving company, we do the security here and that's it.” He turned on his heels and left the group of lawyers puzzling over the solution.
“Lot number thirty-nine,” read Raymond from the back of the machine. “Serial #006439, Straton, Ohio, FREEZE-O-MATIC, 220 VOLTS.”
“Edith, get a moving company on the line,” said Mr. Sellers.
“Right away,” said Edith and she dialed the phone as she stared through the human circle gathered around.
“Yes...hello...can you pick an item up? Okay....I have one rather large freezer to be retrieved,” said Edith into the receiver. “Oh, I don't know, let me check. Mr. Sellers where would you like it to be delivered?”
“What? I don't know. Can't you just have them take it away?”
“Certainly,” said Edith, “Can I make those arrangements when you arrive to pick it up? Ok, Good....”
The lawyers milled about the machine, pacing up and down, unable for some strange reason to leave the room.
“Mr. Jacobs is on the way up,” said Edith.
“My client,” said Martin.
“Is that the bus line case? Asked Raymond.
“Yes, the one-legged man who was pushed out of the back door by the bus driver. He pulled a gun from his other leg and tried to shoot the driver as he fell out of the bus.”
“So will the bus line make it out okay? Asked Mr. Sellers.
“We are hoping for the best, looks like we will win it. After all, the driver didn't have a choice, had to get rid of the Nut Case,” said Martin.
“Well, what is everyone standing around for, it's time to let this go and get back to work,” said Mr. Sellers.
Mr. Sellers had a hard time working that morning. He continued to walk by to see when the freezer was leaving. He was frustrated that any fool could deliver a machine like that to a law firm. Why would anybody believe they needed a freezer? It was ludicrous.
“Three Men Movers at your service,” said the burly man to Edith.
“What can we do for you today?”
“See this freezer?” asked Edith.
“Sure,” said the delivery man.
“Well, we need to get it out of here,” said Edith.
“Where to?” asked the delivery man.
“Could you just take it to a dumping place or something?” asked Edith.
“Well, there will be an extra charge for that,” said the delivery man.
“An extra charge, why?” asked Edith.
“Lady, you have to pay extra at the Dump Ground. You want it or not, make up your mind”
Raymond approached the front desk. “Are you the movers?” he asked.
“Yeah we are the movers.”
“Well, when you move this thing out, make sure you don't scratch the lobby doors,” said Raymond.
“Yes sir...got it..”smirked the mover.
“Hey lady, where's it goin?” he asked.
“I'll be right with you,” said Edith covering the phone with her hand. “Let's see, what time is your appointment with Mr Sellers?....Sure we will have it ready for you.”
“Lady, we don't have all day here,” said the mover.
“Okay, you need to know where to take it? We will go ahead and pay extra for the Dump Ground,” said Edith. Although she thought it might be funny to have it dropped at a competing firm.
She handed them a check, then the freezer was free to leave its lofty perch at Harper, Drum & Llithgow, 1200 Main Street.
“Alright then, we can drop it after hours,” said Mover Man.
So they loaded it onto the dollies and moved the gleaming, steel freezer through the lobby and down the elevator. Edith sat at her desk and looked at the indention the freezer had made in the carpet. Then she noticed a piece of paper. She walked over and picked it up. It read simply:
TO STORE THE CARCASSES OF HUMANITY
“Hmmm,” mused Edith.
“What's that ?” asked Sellers as he made his timely swoop.
“Oh, it's just a piece of paper I picked up from the floor,” said Edith.
“Well, throw it away,” snapped Sellers, “And get building maintenance to come up and vacuum this mess!”
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Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Where the Story Goes...

Perchance when the story comes
it will be too large to tell
melting into uncharted oblivion
smirking like a wayward imp
melancholy writer laboring
chasing the end
finding the lost along the way
only to be singed
intermittently patching that story
with mystical fabric
the tale winds around a circuitous route
the omniscient voice deciding
lovelorn or love lost?
the plot treads
between two worlds
crossing into the unknown
the Muse smiles
then scampers off into the moonlit night
the plot escalates
then decides to fall
perhaps there is
no story at all….
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Saturday, October 24, 2015

When the Chicken Crossed the Road

When the chicken crossed the road
I was walking with too-tired feet
and a too-smart border collie
When the chicken crossed the road
I admired him there bold
the black, speckled feathers
the red comb
I was not to worry
then the dog's ears flew up
sensing something...
My grip was firm
he understood
though out of sight
is truly out of mind
Then I happen to stumble
briefly upon a rock
and the leash in my hand
flew out like a bullet
The sensible collie
at once was free
the temptation was too much
for a good chase, you see?
It's what they do,
those collies
they herd
And that speckled
chicken
she was a running bird!
That hairy dog
he has sharp teeth
and a speckled bird
doesn't want to become meat
So she ran down
into a river ravine
where she dissapeared instantly
nowhere to be seen
So when the owner came out
calling her left and right
Well you know I wouldn't say
Sam gave her such a fright!

R ambling in the street
U nder blue sky so rare, we
N ever saw a fowl!

The disclaimer on this is that "No chickens were harmed in the making of this little story." This is also mostly fiction (if you read the fine print you will already know that I do make many things up). I did; however, see this exact same chicken when walking my dog, and his ears did perk up but we went onward without further ado. The inspiration for this post came from fellow blogger, RaineFairy and her blog, Tweak and Shout https://tweakandshout.wordpress.com/. She writes lovely acrostic haiku poetry that is much better than my paltry attempt above. Happy Friday everyone!
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Sunday, October 4, 2015

College Life, Greeks, Creepy Guys with Houses

I was just thinking the other day about labels, putting labels on people, and the problem of labeling. In one of my classes this week, I was notified by a student sitting a table who was mad at the others around him. He looked at me and said, "They called me blonde!!" Hmmm. I thought, is that a bad thing, I mean teacher girl here is, umm, blonde. I've always kinda liked my hair and never paid attention to blonde jokes. Another student in second grade was upset and came to tell me, "They are saying that I'm OLDER than they are!" Well, hmmm again, somebody has to be older, but not me, I don't even want to talk about age, ha ha.
I guess it is not always about what is being said, but who happens to be saying it. If they don't like you, then it can't be good. Take the Teenage Hunk who is now College Boy. I'm not labeling him, that's what I call him. College Boy, however, is too busy to call his mom so I hear from him infrequently and usually when he:
Runs out of money
Runs out of food
Runs out of homework excuses
I do have to give him credit for laundry. He does his own quite well. He was actually voted best dressed in high school. Seriously, with two older sisters, this kid can appreciate a shopping mall with the best of 'em. I'm learning a lot about campus life these days as College Boy, who is still technically a Teenage Hunk is taking over the world at the university. Sadly, I do believe that the labeling system which is put into place in Pre-K is still alive and well in college. College Boy was just explaining his social life to me the other day. His social life consists mainly of a fraternity, and I must say, I have never really thought that was a good idea although I must say again that the local college has many Greeks (the inclusive name for all sororities and fraternities) that take on many terrific community volunteer causes.
Many people believe that these organizations formed to continue the clique lifestyle that we all experienced in high school. By many people, I specifically mean Bowling for Soup as evident in their song, High School Never Ends. Anyway, after all the dirt settled, College Boy was cut from his first choice of Greek Coolness, but seems to be happy with the group that he landed in. He was apparently thankful that he did not end up with a couple of fraternities as he commented:
"The TKEs and the Sig Eps, well really mom, they are just creepy guys with houses."
Of course, that is his assessment and not mine as I am completely ignorant regarding who is this or who isn't,but I'm sure the second graders will be informing me shortly, and now I strongly caution all of you to stay away from those "creepy guys in houses." Also if you are going to label someone else, make sure they are truly creepy.
Photo Credit: The Scream Meets Creepy Clown by A-Dawg13 @ Deviant Art.com
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As Doves Fly

I had but one important task to do that summer and that was to take care of Little Dove. My husband had befriended him in early spring and the bird had become a special feathered friend. In fact, he would see us sitting on the porch and land first on the shed, then come down onto the sidewalk where he practically waddled right up to us. Little Dove would turn his head sideways and look at us with that small round eye as if to ask “What about fresh bird seed?” So when the music circuit called and my husband packed his gear and left for summer performances, he said “Don’t forget about Little Dove, remember his feeding times.”
Summer came, I revived my drought weary lawn, planted new things and of course, I remembered the backyard birds, especially Little Dove. He didn’t seek me out like he did the Music Man, but I could tell he liked me as I would catch him giving me that small, slanted dove look.
One Saturday I put water on to boil for iced tea as I was doing yard work. I had put the bird food down and and was watering some plants. I remembered that the water might be boiling so I clicked the shut-off nozzle and ran inside to the kitchen. I had only been inside a couple minutes when I returned and saw an unwelcome sight. There on the sidewalk was several feathers and drops of blood. Blood so dark red that made my heart sink in severed sadness. I turned to look and that’s when I spotted Miss Fuzz sitting on the perimeter of the sunflowers. The cat had severely injured a bird. What bird? It was nowhere to be found. I hoped it wasn’t Little Dove. I prayed it wasn’t. Do I know for sure? No. What I do know is that I never saw him again after that. I looked for him everyday to come waddling up the walkway, but he never comes. So now I watch the doves gather, some of them are staying and some are migrating away. My heart sinks with sadness and the guilt of a trust that has been broken.
Watering the grass
Little Dove came down to eat
The cat sprang swiftly
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Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Teaching Is...

Turning in my P.R. keys
Going back to those
who might need me
Classes full of
boisterous, jostling
kids
talking too loud
not worrying
about the mechanics
of English grammar
they say
The Count of Monte Cristo
is too boring
Pride and Prejudice is also
I almost might agree
but its really about
building character
deepening understanding
as I well remember
my own distaste
for A Tale of Two Cities
meaningless outline
crafted by a would-be
English teacher long ago
I must make them see
knowledge is power
build in them
the drive to succeed
teach them a little
something about humanity
and respect
Respect others
Respect themselves
I will have
50 minutes per day
to accomplish this
Teaching is a lot
of things
and not for the
faint of heart….
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