So, back for more are ya? Let's continue with my quirky (sounds better than insane) super short stories.
The court order was quite clear, it didn’t belong to her and she needed to return it as quickly as possible. When she gave in to those fleeting moments of reality she knew they were right, the Moon wasn’t hers to keep. Besides, it took up way too much room in the back yard. It sure was pretty though and when she left her bedroom blinds open it made an excellent nightlight.
story #7 (incomplete - work in progress)
The Socks were greedy and conniving. They were encroaching at an alarming rate, relegating everything else in the lingerie drawer to the far dark corners. The irony was not lost on the Undergarments, who, as we all know, suffered their own horrors during their civil war with their brethren, the Lingerie. But, the fight had gone out of the Undergarments, they were losing the war. Their numbers were great in the Panties era – they stood together in a multitude of colors made of silk and lace. They didn’t need to cover much, they were effective despite lack of yardage. Then the Child Years fell upon them and the power shifted. There came new recruits who prided themselves on their ‘breathability’ and ‘comfort’. They were a disgrace - a mockery of the Lingerie heritage. The years since have not been kind and little remains of the proud Panties who, like all old war hero’s, are only paraded about during special events. There will be new soldiers soon, no longer arriving in pink tissue paper - their efficient mode of transportation the dreaded MUC (Multi-Undergarment Carrier – also known as the 6 pack). With each new arrival, there comes a motley crew of Socks. They were unthreatening at first, taking up little space – folding in on themselves into tight white ‘balls’. They were the runners, the scouts, who apparently sent word out to the universe inviting all merit of Sock to set up camp in Lingerie territory. Their numbers swelled from the half dozen White Wicking to include the Crew and Low Rise and the plush multi colored breed that seem to arrive via Christmas Stocking (again, irony).
It was her 5th city in 3 months – the hiding and running were wearing her down. The day before her hasty departure she’d had lunch with a dear friend who was all smiles when she boasted of her 25 pound weight loss. Before She could even utter congratulations the Friend said, with a twinkle in her eye, “You do know that for every pound I lose, SOMEONE will gain it – it’s the law of balance after all.” Friend thought it was funny, but She wasn’t laughing and wasn’t going to stick around to find out.
Her first clue came she drew the small pond with little yellow ducks and one of the neighborhood kids fell in while riding his bike down the sidewalk. The second clue was the purple, pink and yellow volcano that caused the shoes of all passersby to melt instantly. Who would have thought plain old sidewalk chalk could be enchanted? Well, she finally had the means to get back at the cranky old man who let his dog poop on her lawn every-single-day. Drawing the river was easy, but the hundreds of tiny piranha took her all night - it would be worth it she told herself. She grabbed her coffee and settled into her favorite chair by the big window to watch, confident that her lawn would go unmolested today.
She didn’t understand how this was possible. She was NOT a believer in supernatural superstition, not one little iota. But there IT was, staring right back at her. When She first saw it she let out a little scream, but sensing that this entity wasn’t an intruder standing behind her, she became thoroughly perplexed. Was this the childhood chant coming back to haunt her? If so, She would start a huge internet campaign to warn children never to invoke the name of Bloody Mary in the bathroom mirror EVER again. She took a step back, ready to bolt from the room and stepped on the empty cardboard light bulb containers the workman left behind after he installed the new light-bar. She now had 4 light bulbs instead of 1. Reality slowly started to sink in. “Damn” was all She could say to her reflection.
The Wanna-Do’s kept nagging, pushing her to action and threatening abandonment if she didn’t act and act NOW. She resisted, always busy with this and that, that and this. Time flew, reasons swelled and the Wanna-Do’s grew anxious. She ignored their pleas, She was busy and had responsibilities, people relied on her, needed her. She never noticed the construction happening around her; the slow building of her Comfort Zone. Still the Wanna-Do’s waited, fearing the worst. What she didn’t know was that when Wanna-Do’s die they become Regrets. One day her reasons and excuses let their guard down and She was able to see their true nature, they were Fear in disguise. She’d been tricked into turning her back on the Wanna-Do’s. It was too late to save them all, some had already morphed into Regrets and was gone forever. She salvaged the remaining Wanna-Do’s and with their help created a few more. She also remodeled her Comfort Zone – She wasn’t going to take the chance that She’d get stuck with any more Regrets!
It took her a whole year to construct the tiny building that occupied the entire floor of her garage. The utmost care given to every detail – each bench, basketball hoop and set of monkey bars in the right spot, exactly where she remembered them. She felt so strong and powerful now, looking down on all the little marzipan people she made to resemble the bullies and their desperate to belong followers. She hesitated, She almost couldn’t do it – couldn’t destroy her work of art. As soon as her foot came down upon the cafeteria, She knew there was no going back. Next, the bullies and their minions, the soft marzipan yielding to the soccer cleats with spikes She bought just for this occasion. The rest was a blur of balsa, almond paste and maniacal laughter. When it was over, She felt elated; the demons of 5th grade had finally been vanquished. She figured that turning 40 was as good a time as any to bury the hatchet and get on with her life.
Piers Anthony called. He wants his with an creativity back. Post Haste.ReplyDelete
WIT! not with! phooey!ReplyDelete