Mugger and Killer
Short Story by Diana Weeks
Mugger felt hot July sunlight against his sleepy eyelids and slowly raised his nose and sniffed the air. He could smell Mistress Carol's "Shalimar" fragrance. Carol let them sleep in the big bed with her now. She wouldn't when her husband lived there.
Mugger hopped down, slowly heading for the kitchen, stopping in the hall to sniff his Master Cliff's faint scent on the coat rack. Yawning, he shambled along, his nails clicking on the shiny mahogany wood floors. He stopped in front of the curved bay window and looked toward the driveway.
His sister, Killer, stretched her lean golden retriever body and arguing, followed Mugger. "It doesn't matter how long you wait, Cliff''s never coming back. He strayed, got caught and POW he's gone".
"But Carol didn't have to throw his clothes in the magnolia tree", said Mugger, growling in displeasure, "Or pitch his golf clubs in the deep end of the swimming pool". Mugger howls and bared his teeth.
"She had to...", Killer said scolding Mugger. "That was the tree her father planted outside her kitchen window, when he gave them this house. Her Daddy wanted some sweet smells in her yard because he said she married a shit".
"He is charming". Mugger woofed he couldn't stop looking at the driveway where Cliff parked his car. "Every morning when he went to work he waved at us." Mugger's head drooped. "On Fridays he even tapped his horn, to tell us 'so long'. Cliff hugged me first when he came home!"
"Oh stop it"! Killer barked biting his neck, "Carol was the one who got up in the night to bottle feed us when we were tiny blind puppies...He didn't even fill our water bowls twice in the last year. Sometimes he stepped in my dish when he was drunk!"
Mugger ran to another window. "Hey, there's the bug van on time. I wonder where Carol went?"
Killer looked around the kitchen. "Well, she left out the empty coffee canister, and I see a Wild Turkey bottle in the trash ".
Suddenly a neighbor's alarm system goes off. Killer howls, "I hope she didn't urgently break into a neighbors for coffee."
Mugger heads back to the big bay window. "Here she comes, oh Killer, she almost hit the police car that just pulled up down the street."
Killer goes to look and walls her eyes at her brother, who is compelled to describe what they were both looking at... Mugger insists "She's wearing her jaunty red hat."
Both dogs watch as Carol turns the corner into their culdesac in the ritzy part of Phoenix. Mugger continues, "She made it into the driveway without cutting through the flower beds."
Killer licks her shoulder. "I'm glad she got custody of us when he ran off with his red headed dental hygienist".
Carol bursts through the kitchen door clutching a grocery sack weighted by a large bag of hazelnut coffee, she hurries to open. Mugger bolts and escapes to scare at the bug guy...because he makes the whole house stink. Mugger jumps toward their exterminator, growls and barks loud.
Carol sees the open door... tells Killer to "stay"... grabs a leash calling loudly, "Mugger! Mugger!" Suddenly two police officers run into her yard with drawn guns held with both hands...pointing straight armed, right at the bug guy. "Spread and prong," an officer calls. The bug man quickly parts his legs and leans his palms against the van.
"Wait...wait...no...no...wait..?" Carol yelled as Mugger ran a circle around her and leaps to lick her face. "He's not a mugger, that's my dog's name..." She made dimples at the cops and looks back at the other dog standing still in the kitchen door. "Her name is Killer".
"Lady," the Sargent who had gray hair said walking up, "You better give her a nickname", his tone filled with cynical empathy. Killer licked his hand and it tasted like a doughnut not the flat dull taste of bagel.
The officer pats Killer's head and frowns at Carol. "If you had run out calling "Killer, Killer!" there could have been bloodshed." He squats and strokes Killer's smooth satin head. "Good work". Killer wags her yellow tail at Carol, who smiles with engaging desperation, hugging Mugger and Killer.
That night Mugger licks his sister's ear and whines a whisper. "You're my hero, you saved the bug guy's life."
"Well yeah..." Killer nudges her brother, "I do know how to 'stay', but Carol knows if she lets Cliff come back... I'm running away!"
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
I Really Wanted a Kitty Cat
I Really Wanted a Kitty Cat
a short story by Diana Weeks
I really wanted a kitty cat, but Mike said “Oh no…mmmmm you’re my kitten” and hugged me around the waist… and lightly bit my ear lobe… right there in the middle of the shopping mall. I love public displays of affection. My first husband would never do it. Mike would stop people on the walkway to point at me and say “I love her”. That’s why I moved in with him, even though… he never wanted to get married again
A fluffy puppy was yelping and pawing the window at the pet store. Mike laughed, a deep earthy sound, as I tapped the puppy’s nose through the glass pane. “Let’s don’t go nuts… there’s a 200 dollar pet deposit” he whispers taking my hand to lead me to the back to see the fish….colorful exotic fish.
I had no idea how expensive tiny fish could be. We split all household costs down the middle… including the lighted Aquarium. It was so expensive we bought the last seven plain gold fish.
We named them after Snow Whites’ seven dawarfs. “See you’ll have company when I have to work out of town”, Mike told me giving me a full body hug with his hands pulling my hips closer, closer. A passing sales clerk mutters… “Find a motel”.
We were so happy on Sundays. We didn’t ever go to church. He paid our bills while I read the Chronicle. We grocery shopped and did chores together since we both worked. He’s a salesman, I’m a secretary. Mike would wash his car while I fixed supper.
Mike became so fond of the gold fish he talked to them, and read books to learn more…He went around singing “Off to work we go”. I nick named his tally whacker “Moby Dick”. Mike began to fear I might accidently over feed them. So he took over all care of the fish except cleaning the fancy aquarium …to me it was a big boxy fish bowl.
But Mike let me select the ceramic fish castle and silk sea weed for the bottom and the bubble sound did comfort me when I felt lonely. When Mike did have to travel, he left written “instructions for fish care”. He fed them at certain times.
I thought we had a very romantic relationship until I noticed his credit card bill between books on our book shelves. There was a purchase I knew nothing about…it was for a diamond tennis bracelet… for me? My birthday was three months ago. I got a box of candy. Christmas was three months away and we had decided to cut back from last years three hundred dollar Christmas budget.
On my lunch hour I called to question him…Long pause.. “Well, I hope you’re happy,” he snapped, “You’ve ruined your surprise.” Wow!
I hopped up and down…I never thought I’d get to wear diamonds. “Since I know, give it to me now…don’t make me wait for Santa Clause” I begged. “And bring Mr. Moby home quick…so I can thank him “
Mike did come home early and Moby Dick got to dive deep. He put the bracelet on my wrist. Mike was in the shower when I noticed the gift box thrown aside when he opened the door and saw me completely naked.
Inside was a forgotten card “To Cindy…my little kitten…happy 22 birthday”. Cindy works at the cleaners where we take our clothes every Sunday. He had given her my “nick name”.
I see red…angry red… dark as blood and pick up his new blackberry to verify his betrayal …and the first number in it is labeled “Cindy.”
I’m feeling so hurt I want to kill him…but that wouldn’t hurt him enough.
I punched the text buttons saying “Cindy…my girl friend left me…we can get married!”
Let him get out of that. I hit send… and turn off his blackberry…and slip it under the mattress. Then I barricade the bathroom door with his chest of drawers…and quickly dump my drawers in a large box and throw my things in the closet on top. Mike is singing in the shower…”and they swam and swam all over the damn”…stalling to give me time to fix supper. “Gone fishing…” he sings on…liking to hear his voice bounce off the tile.
I’m suddenly hungry for fresh fish. I put my things in my car. I find the small wired white catch net and turn the stove burner on and throw butter in the skillet and slice a large yellow lemon and dump all seven little fishes in the bubbling butter and brown them on each side, and put them on the plate sprinkling on tangy lemon drops.
I ate the tiny fillet from each side of all but one…I wrote my farewell note…and left it by the plate of small golden bug eyed heads and tensy bones. “I’m gone you double crosser... I had fish for supper… but I saved Dopey for you”.
THE END
"I Really Wanted a Kitty Cat" (c) 2009, Diana Weeks, All Rights Reserved
Special thanks to Linda Douglass for inspiring this story.
a short story by Diana Weeks
I really wanted a kitty cat, but Mike said “Oh no…mmmmm you’re my kitten” and hugged me around the waist… and lightly bit my ear lobe… right there in the middle of the shopping mall. I love public displays of affection. My first husband would never do it. Mike would stop people on the walkway to point at me and say “I love her”. That’s why I moved in with him, even though… he never wanted to get married again
A fluffy puppy was yelping and pawing the window at the pet store. Mike laughed, a deep earthy sound, as I tapped the puppy’s nose through the glass pane. “Let’s don’t go nuts… there’s a 200 dollar pet deposit” he whispers taking my hand to lead me to the back to see the fish….colorful exotic fish.
I had no idea how expensive tiny fish could be. We split all household costs down the middle… including the lighted Aquarium. It was so expensive we bought the last seven plain gold fish.
We named them after Snow Whites’ seven dawarfs. “See you’ll have company when I have to work out of town”, Mike told me giving me a full body hug with his hands pulling my hips closer, closer. A passing sales clerk mutters… “Find a motel”.
We were so happy on Sundays. We didn’t ever go to church. He paid our bills while I read the Chronicle. We grocery shopped and did chores together since we both worked. He’s a salesman, I’m a secretary. Mike would wash his car while I fixed supper.
Mike became so fond of the gold fish he talked to them, and read books to learn more…He went around singing “Off to work we go”. I nick named his tally whacker “Moby Dick”. Mike began to fear I might accidently over feed them. So he took over all care of the fish except cleaning the fancy aquarium …to me it was a big boxy fish bowl.
But Mike let me select the ceramic fish castle and silk sea weed for the bottom and the bubble sound did comfort me when I felt lonely. When Mike did have to travel, he left written “instructions for fish care”. He fed them at certain times.
I thought we had a very romantic relationship until I noticed his credit card bill between books on our book shelves. There was a purchase I knew nothing about…it was for a diamond tennis bracelet… for me? My birthday was three months ago. I got a box of candy. Christmas was three months away and we had decided to cut back from last years three hundred dollar Christmas budget.
On my lunch hour I called to question him…Long pause.. “Well, I hope you’re happy,” he snapped, “You’ve ruined your surprise.” Wow!
I hopped up and down…I never thought I’d get to wear diamonds. “Since I know, give it to me now…don’t make me wait for Santa Clause” I begged. “And bring Mr. Moby home quick…so I can thank him “
Mike did come home early and Moby Dick got to dive deep. He put the bracelet on my wrist. Mike was in the shower when I noticed the gift box thrown aside when he opened the door and saw me completely naked.
Inside was a forgotten card “To Cindy…my little kitten…happy 22 birthday”. Cindy works at the cleaners where we take our clothes every Sunday. He had given her my “nick name”.
I see red…angry red… dark as blood and pick up his new blackberry to verify his betrayal …and the first number in it is labeled “Cindy.”
I’m feeling so hurt I want to kill him…but that wouldn’t hurt him enough.
I punched the text buttons saying “Cindy…my girl friend left me…we can get married!”
Let him get out of that. I hit send… and turn off his blackberry…and slip it under the mattress. Then I barricade the bathroom door with his chest of drawers…and quickly dump my drawers in a large box and throw my things in the closet on top. Mike is singing in the shower…”and they swam and swam all over the damn”…stalling to give me time to fix supper. “Gone fishing…” he sings on…liking to hear his voice bounce off the tile.
I’m suddenly hungry for fresh fish. I put my things in my car. I find the small wired white catch net and turn the stove burner on and throw butter in the skillet and slice a large yellow lemon and dump all seven little fishes in the bubbling butter and brown them on each side, and put them on the plate sprinkling on tangy lemon drops.
I ate the tiny fillet from each side of all but one…I wrote my farewell note…and left it by the plate of small golden bug eyed heads and tensy bones. “I’m gone you double crosser... I had fish for supper… but I saved Dopey for you”.
THE END
"I Really Wanted a Kitty Cat" (c) 2009, Diana Weeks, All Rights Reserved
Special thanks to Linda Douglass for inspiring this story.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Deeply Buried
Deeply Buried
a short story by Diana Weeks
Back in the 90s…our neighbors Carol and Harry played bridge with us once or twice a month. We never partnered with our spouse. Harry cursed when Carol trumped his Ace and frogged her on the shoulder like it was a joke. She didn’t laugh she groaned.
We all worked and didn’t have much time to socialize. Carol and I never had any “girl” time…so we weren’t really close. I did notice a bruise under her sunglasses…when they came back from a skiing trip. And she had to go to the hospital when she fell and broke her arm. Harry said Carol was clumsy.
I was glad when Harry decided to move them to a new sub division where they had room to have a swimming pool. We meet them for dinner once in a while. Harry was very good at telling jokes. The guys both liked to fish and play golf.
I suspected Harry was an abuser…their kids left home as soon as they could and didn’t visit. I knew he had a nasty put down mouth…and she had a jewelry box full of “make up” gifts she never wore. I knew she left him several times but he must have made love like x times squared and promises to stop drinking… to get her back.
Widowed now I was living alone and got a call from Carol and Harry’s oldest son saying his mother had shot and killed his dad. I brought Carol home with me after the funeral. She spent the night and sadly admitted that Harry was rough…he had put her in the hospital twice and always rapes her every month during her period. I didn’t question…Carol needed to voice her life of hidden terror.
“The final argument was when he wrecked his new truck and instead of having it repaired…went out and bought another one. When I questioned him he was insulted, he yelled ‘You cunt, I’m going to break your nose!’ …with evil shining in his eyes…he slammed his left fist into his right palm…the pop sound reminded me what it had felt like to get a broken nose. He’d given me two.
“You’re dead bitch” he growled…at.me and I knew he made good on his threats… I panicked …reached in his night stand drawer and got his gun and shot at his right arm, the one with the swastika and lightening bolt prison tattoo…he chuckled sharp and surly… and I shot him in the shoulder with the one percent tattoo…he still swaggered at me pointing… ‘ Now you’ve made me angry, I’m going to kill you with my fists and then I’m going to cut off your ears…like I did the Gooks”.
Then she tells me, “Really, I was aiming for his other shoulder but he bent down and got hit in the chest. I didn’t mean to kill him. I wish I’d let him kill me…but I couldn’t take another broken nose”.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
a short story by Diana Weeks
Back in the 90s…our neighbors Carol and Harry played bridge with us once or twice a month. We never partnered with our spouse. Harry cursed when Carol trumped his Ace and frogged her on the shoulder like it was a joke. She didn’t laugh she groaned.
We all worked and didn’t have much time to socialize. Carol and I never had any “girl” time…so we weren’t really close. I did notice a bruise under her sunglasses…when they came back from a skiing trip. And she had to go to the hospital when she fell and broke her arm. Harry said Carol was clumsy.
I was glad when Harry decided to move them to a new sub division where they had room to have a swimming pool. We meet them for dinner once in a while. Harry was very good at telling jokes. The guys both liked to fish and play golf.
I suspected Harry was an abuser…their kids left home as soon as they could and didn’t visit. I knew he had a nasty put down mouth…and she had a jewelry box full of “make up” gifts she never wore. I knew she left him several times but he must have made love like x times squared and promises to stop drinking… to get her back.
Widowed now I was living alone and got a call from Carol and Harry’s oldest son saying his mother had shot and killed his dad. I brought Carol home with me after the funeral. She spent the night and sadly admitted that Harry was rough…he had put her in the hospital twice and always rapes her every month during her period. I didn’t question…Carol needed to voice her life of hidden terror.
“The final argument was when he wrecked his new truck and instead of having it repaired…went out and bought another one. When I questioned him he was insulted, he yelled ‘You cunt, I’m going to break your nose!’ …with evil shining in his eyes…he slammed his left fist into his right palm…the pop sound reminded me what it had felt like to get a broken nose. He’d given me two.
“You’re dead bitch” he growled…at.me and I knew he made good on his threats… I panicked …reached in his night stand drawer and got his gun and shot at his right arm, the one with the swastika and lightening bolt prison tattoo…he chuckled sharp and surly… and I shot him in the shoulder with the one percent tattoo…he still swaggered at me pointing… ‘ Now you’ve made me angry, I’m going to kill you with my fists and then I’m going to cut off your ears…like I did the Gooks”.
Then she tells me, “Really, I was aiming for his other shoulder but he bent down and got hit in the chest. I didn’t mean to kill him. I wish I’d let him kill me…but I couldn’t take another broken nose”.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Friday, April 9, 2010
Resourcefulness
Resourcefulness
A short story by Diana Weeks
Ellen had looked forward to summer every day of the fifth grade. She absolutely hated to get up early. The only day her mother let her sleep late was Saturday. They both slept in that one-day of the week. Sunday's they had to get up to visit sick relatives or help some friend move. It was good deed day.
This was the first summer her widowed Mom had agreed to let her stay home alone. Ellen promised to clean the house and have supper ready when her Mom got home from work, just like the housekeeper they had last year, before the insurance money ran out.
"Wow, she thought and hugged herself. "After Mom goes to work I can read". Ellen could read all night if her mom didn't wake up and lecture about your body needing sleep...and turn the light out…it's getting in her eyes.
Big brother, Sam, had given her a powerful flashlight, for her ninth birthday, for just such occasions. Oh, Sam could make her laugh. And cry, when he would tell her a bedtime story wrong. "Cinderella's mean step-sister sees the Prince coming and gets a jar of Vaseline and spreads it all over her foot, and gets her foot in the glass slipper and the Prince has to marry her".
Ellen would cry and sob. "Tell it right. Dad, make Sam tell it right". Her daddy would laugh, and come in and put his arm around her and say "You're too good for any man, even a Prince. And mean bad things happen". That turned out to be too true.
Reading was the only thing that captured Ellen's mind enough to block out the couldn't hide hurt. Her daddy and older brother had been killed when she was nine, their car hit head-on by a drunk driver.
The second day of the new "summer deal", their electricity was turned off. It had been on last night, after they had eaten dinner, her mother bragged on how cool and neat Ellen had made the house, the table set with fresh flowers, savory pinto beans, cornbread and cantaloupe.
"You made me feel so welcome." Her mom smiled and smiled and kissed both her cheeks three times.
"Daddy always said he loved to come home, because he felt so welcome, we all went to the door to hug him". Tears tracked both their cheeks, but they didn't go into boo-hoos like they did for weeks, after the accident. "I am so pleased, if you keep this up, I won't wake you up to tell you what to do, before I leave in the mornings. I'll let you sleep. How 'bout that?" Then they both bawled and hugged. "You are so good. You don't worry me" her mother told her and hugged Ellen again for a long time.
Ellen felt like she was in heaven and didn't even have to die. She didn't wake up until ten the next morning and read the last two chapters of Rebecca Wells' "Little Alters Everywhere", before she got out of bed. She was surrounded by the "Princess' pillows" her daddy had given her for Christmas in 2001.
Her parents did not let 9/11 spoil their Christmas. She had a million funny family memories. Her parents could make everyday a party.
She splashed cold water in her face and put her Matt down and did her exercise routine. Mostly stretching. Before the unthinkable, and her mom had to get a job as a doctor's receptionist, they did it together every morning. Now her mom gets up at five to do her yoga, but she didn't wake Nita until she was ready for work.
The sluggish youngster didn't know the power was off until she started to cook bacon for her favorite breakfast, a BLT, waiting for the pan to warm, she opened the fridge to get a tomato, and the light didn't go on. She held her hand above the heating coils on the stove and felt nothing. Still in her nightgown she went around the house clicking the light switches.
Yes, the power was off in their all electric home. That meant she couldn't turn on the air-conditioner at four to cool the house down. Had her mother forgotten to pay the bill?
Ellen knew things were tight, the television had gone out and not been replaced, and her mother liked to watch the news. Plus her grandmother had put in a garden on her spring visit, and taught Ellen how to weed and water the vegetables.
How could she have supper ready? Ellen knew better than to call her mother at work. If they were behind on bills, she sure couldn't ask her to bring home fast food.
Ellen got their big foam ice chest from the garage and filled it with everything out of the fridge, having a baloney sandwich for breakfast.
She hurried and made the beds and picked up dropped clothes and the scattered free weekly newspaper, and sat the table for supper, while she tried to think of a solution.
First, she would walk the six blocks to the neighborhood library, the only place she was allowed to go alone. Her books were due and she had read all five, including "Simple Recipes". She dressed in her red shorts and tie-dyed yellow tee shirt. "I'm going to look bright, anyway" she told herself.
Slowly Ellen paced the aisles between the tall brown wooden bookshelves, distracted by her problem. She had to keep her end of the bargain. Her mother had bragged so on last night's supper.
Her grown-up friend, the librarian Mrs. Simmons, was putting up a display on solar energy. "What's the matter Ellen, have you already read all our books"? she teased.
"No, but I want to", Ellen assured her, stopping to look at the arrangement of new books. Her heart thumped and jumped like a frog, right there like magic, "Cooking with the Sun". She leafed through it and quickly found directions with a drawing of a simple solar cooker. All she needed was cardboard, aluminum foil, a clear plastic bag and a black pot. They had a navy blue roaster, that should be close enough. "What a great idea" Ellen thought.
She rewarded herself with a thick adult book, "The Red Tent", and hurried out. Stopping behind the new dollar store, she picked up a large cardboard box. At home she cut out pieces and covered one side with foil, propping them inside her plastic baby bathtub from the attic, creating a big bowl shaped sun cooker.
In the garden she quickly gathered a small head of cabbage, onions, carrots, sweet yellow peppers, butter lettuce and two red ripe tomatoes for a salad.
Ellen retrieved two lamb chops from the freezer, They were the last of the spring lamb, saved for a special occasion but she didn't want to risk letting them spoil. Her daddy's parents raised lambs, and gave them a slaughtered frozen lamb every Easter, so good and easy to cook. It was always eaten fast.
The girl carefully cut the vegetables in small pieces. She buttered the inside of the roaster artfully arranging the food, and put the covered pan inside a large plastic bag. She placed it in the center of her solar stove, and carried it to the sunniest spot in the yard.
Relieved that the book said you couldn't burn food in a solar cooker, Laurie sat in their shady porch swing and luxuriously read, intimate details about the women in the Bible…all afternoon. She had closed all the blinds and curtains and opened the front and back doors to suck a breeze through the house.
Ellen's sun cooked supper was a huge success. "You are resourceful and that's a great blessing" her Mom told her that night, giving her a humongous hug. "Paydays tomorrow and I can get the bill paid".
That night, her mother did not wake up and say one time, "Turn off the light and go to sleep".
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A short story by Diana Weeks
Ellen had looked forward to summer every day of the fifth grade. She absolutely hated to get up early. The only day her mother let her sleep late was Saturday. They both slept in that one-day of the week. Sunday's they had to get up to visit sick relatives or help some friend move. It was good deed day.
This was the first summer her widowed Mom had agreed to let her stay home alone. Ellen promised to clean the house and have supper ready when her Mom got home from work, just like the housekeeper they had last year, before the insurance money ran out.
"Wow, she thought and hugged herself. "After Mom goes to work I can read". Ellen could read all night if her mom didn't wake up and lecture about your body needing sleep...and turn the light out…it's getting in her eyes.
Big brother, Sam, had given her a powerful flashlight, for her ninth birthday, for just such occasions. Oh, Sam could make her laugh. And cry, when he would tell her a bedtime story wrong. "Cinderella's mean step-sister sees the Prince coming and gets a jar of Vaseline and spreads it all over her foot, and gets her foot in the glass slipper and the Prince has to marry her".
Ellen would cry and sob. "Tell it right. Dad, make Sam tell it right". Her daddy would laugh, and come in and put his arm around her and say "You're too good for any man, even a Prince. And mean bad things happen". That turned out to be too true.
Reading was the only thing that captured Ellen's mind enough to block out the couldn't hide hurt. Her daddy and older brother had been killed when she was nine, their car hit head-on by a drunk driver.
The second day of the new "summer deal", their electricity was turned off. It had been on last night, after they had eaten dinner, her mother bragged on how cool and neat Ellen had made the house, the table set with fresh flowers, savory pinto beans, cornbread and cantaloupe.
"You made me feel so welcome." Her mom smiled and smiled and kissed both her cheeks three times.
"Daddy always said he loved to come home, because he felt so welcome, we all went to the door to hug him". Tears tracked both their cheeks, but they didn't go into boo-hoos like they did for weeks, after the accident. "I am so pleased, if you keep this up, I won't wake you up to tell you what to do, before I leave in the mornings. I'll let you sleep. How 'bout that?" Then they both bawled and hugged. "You are so good. You don't worry me" her mother told her and hugged Ellen again for a long time.
Ellen felt like she was in heaven and didn't even have to die. She didn't wake up until ten the next morning and read the last two chapters of Rebecca Wells' "Little Alters Everywhere", before she got out of bed. She was surrounded by the "Princess' pillows" her daddy had given her for Christmas in 2001.
Her parents did not let 9/11 spoil their Christmas. She had a million funny family memories. Her parents could make everyday a party.
She splashed cold water in her face and put her Matt down and did her exercise routine. Mostly stretching. Before the unthinkable, and her mom had to get a job as a doctor's receptionist, they did it together every morning. Now her mom gets up at five to do her yoga, but she didn't wake Nita until she was ready for work.
The sluggish youngster didn't know the power was off until she started to cook bacon for her favorite breakfast, a BLT, waiting for the pan to warm, she opened the fridge to get a tomato, and the light didn't go on. She held her hand above the heating coils on the stove and felt nothing. Still in her nightgown she went around the house clicking the light switches.
Yes, the power was off in their all electric home. That meant she couldn't turn on the air-conditioner at four to cool the house down. Had her mother forgotten to pay the bill?
Ellen knew things were tight, the television had gone out and not been replaced, and her mother liked to watch the news. Plus her grandmother had put in a garden on her spring visit, and taught Ellen how to weed and water the vegetables.
How could she have supper ready? Ellen knew better than to call her mother at work. If they were behind on bills, she sure couldn't ask her to bring home fast food.
Ellen got their big foam ice chest from the garage and filled it with everything out of the fridge, having a baloney sandwich for breakfast.
She hurried and made the beds and picked up dropped clothes and the scattered free weekly newspaper, and sat the table for supper, while she tried to think of a solution.
First, she would walk the six blocks to the neighborhood library, the only place she was allowed to go alone. Her books were due and she had read all five, including "Simple Recipes". She dressed in her red shorts and tie-dyed yellow tee shirt. "I'm going to look bright, anyway" she told herself.
Slowly Ellen paced the aisles between the tall brown wooden bookshelves, distracted by her problem. She had to keep her end of the bargain. Her mother had bragged so on last night's supper.
Her grown-up friend, the librarian Mrs. Simmons, was putting up a display on solar energy. "What's the matter Ellen, have you already read all our books"? she teased.
"No, but I want to", Ellen assured her, stopping to look at the arrangement of new books. Her heart thumped and jumped like a frog, right there like magic, "Cooking with the Sun". She leafed through it and quickly found directions with a drawing of a simple solar cooker. All she needed was cardboard, aluminum foil, a clear plastic bag and a black pot. They had a navy blue roaster, that should be close enough. "What a great idea" Ellen thought.
She rewarded herself with a thick adult book, "The Red Tent", and hurried out. Stopping behind the new dollar store, she picked up a large cardboard box. At home she cut out pieces and covered one side with foil, propping them inside her plastic baby bathtub from the attic, creating a big bowl shaped sun cooker.
In the garden she quickly gathered a small head of cabbage, onions, carrots, sweet yellow peppers, butter lettuce and two red ripe tomatoes for a salad.
Ellen retrieved two lamb chops from the freezer, They were the last of the spring lamb, saved for a special occasion but she didn't want to risk letting them spoil. Her daddy's parents raised lambs, and gave them a slaughtered frozen lamb every Easter, so good and easy to cook. It was always eaten fast.
The girl carefully cut the vegetables in small pieces. She buttered the inside of the roaster artfully arranging the food, and put the covered pan inside a large plastic bag. She placed it in the center of her solar stove, and carried it to the sunniest spot in the yard.
Relieved that the book said you couldn't burn food in a solar cooker, Laurie sat in their shady porch swing and luxuriously read, intimate details about the women in the Bible…all afternoon. She had closed all the blinds and curtains and opened the front and back doors to suck a breeze through the house.
Ellen's sun cooked supper was a huge success. "You are resourceful and that's a great blessing" her Mom told her that night, giving her a humongous hug. "Paydays tomorrow and I can get the bill paid".
That night, her mother did not wake up and say one time, "Turn off the light and go to sleep".
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Thursday, April 1, 2010
...Byline Houston
...Byline Houston
A short story by Diana Weeks
Jack makes it to the hotel room death scene before the cops. He was in the Rice Hotel bar when the maid Irene came out of the elevator screaming. "He's naked and dead. His face all blue..."
The manager Jeff, races out of his office and Jack catches up with him. In the elevator Jack grins. Jeff frowned, "How'd you get here so fast? Who tipped you off?"
Jack smile widens splitting his freckled face into deep dimples and his red hair flops over his forehead. "I'm abundantly adroit at covering my crime beat."
Jeff shakes his index finger at him. "You were drinking in the bar."
Jack’s brown eyes light up. "You know, Jeff, that's usually where trouble starts. Don't you agree?"
Jeff scowls looking at his watch, "And it's just one in the afternoon."
"It's my lunch hour." Jack winks.
Jeff Charles looked around the elevator, though the two friends were alone, "Jack, I'll pay your bar bill if you don't use the hotel's name."
Suddenly, the elevator stops and they have a clear view past the open door. They see a face down thin man with a red silk tie between his teeth, his rear end still resting on his folded legs..
"Let's look" Jack whispers, walking ahead into the room to circle the corpse. Jeff heads for the phone to call the police, his back turned. Jack felt for a pulse. "He's gone. I guess it was too good… for his own good."
Jeff didn't turn. Jack slips a photograph from under the man's face. The nude woman looks familiar. He puts the photo on the nightstand.
While Jeff is still distracted. Jack goes through the guy's clothes thrown neatly across a chair. Jack tries to get a better look at the dead man, turns to open the curtains and gasps. He knows him; Tom worked for another paper but drank at Al's Bar and Cantina. Damn, a drinking buddy.
Jack moaned remembering who the girl was. The "chip" of a jealous married police officer.
Jeff hung up and turned. "Come on this side so you can see his face," Jack said.
"I don't want to look" Jeff answers. "I'll wait in the hall."
"No, stay in here just cover your eyes, first look at this picture pointing to the nude blond. "I bet you recognize her."
Jeff looked. "You think he was with her?" Jeff asked.
"No. You know who she mostly hangs with?"
Jeff nods "Mickey Mandell, the cop who killed an unarmed teenager and got off?"
Jack's head leans up and down. "The dead man is a pal. Worked for the Post, his wife is nice.” Jack pulled the curtains closed. “Did you see Mandel around today?"
"He never comes in here. Do you think your friend was murdered over a dame?"
Jack frowns in thought…as tears slipped down his boyish face. "I think he had a heart attack. He must have hired Big Red, the whore from England that likes to paddle bad boys."
"I don't understand that fetish." Jeff confessed..
Jack sniffed and blew his nose. "I think Tom went to boarding school. Let's keep Tom's wife from being hurt thinking there was another woman.. Help me put him on the toilet. Then I can make my story nasty but innocent.
"You're going to get us in trouble." Jeff argued.
"Will you back me up, Jeff?" Together they carried the man into the bathroom and propped Tom on the toilet. As they turn the body falls. Jeff yells.
"Don't worry that looks more natural." Jack assures picking up the phone and dialing, "Stoppp, the presses...have you got your pencil? Or have you learned to type?" speaking into the mouthpiece and signaling Jeff to shut the door and lock it.
"An unidentified body has been found at a downtown hotel at noon by maid, Irene Fisher who screamed "He's naked and looks dead.
“Jeff Bennett, popular Rice Hotel manager said a bar customer borrowed a room key because he was having chest pain and needed to lie down. "I was calling an ambulance from my office when the man was discovered." Bennett says.
"See the next edition" Jack concludes "as names are being withheld pending family notification and results of the police investigation." Jack pauses. "Gotta go the cops are on the way."
"Popular, you say?" Jeff grins.
Jack speaks very clearly. “Jeff, tell the cops Tom was sweating and looked sick” Just then sirens wailed.
Jeff walked into the hall. "Popular? I guess that means I'll have to pay your bar bill and lie for you?"
"A beat reporter who can't write something the desk likes… can't add two plus two."
The sirens stopped. Jack grinned at his friend. “Thanks.” Jack slaps Jeff on the shoulder, and hums a bar from his song, THE GOOD TIMES and they wait in the hall. Seconds later Police are rushing out of the elevator.
Jack laughs. "Remember what happened to Trent at the grave digers convention?"
The lead cop answers Jack. "Yeah, Trent got matched up with a one-tited whore?"
Then the Captain orders "Wait out here, I want to talk to you both in a minute," and closed the hotel room door.
Jack punches the button for the elevator. "Shall we wait in the bar?"
Jeff shakes no. "I'd better get back in my office and call my boss in Pittsburgh."
"I'll have a drink for you just because you're so popular." The men shake hands and part.
THE END
All Rights Reserved
A short story by Diana Weeks
Jack makes it to the hotel room death scene before the cops. He was in the Rice Hotel bar when the maid Irene came out of the elevator screaming. "He's naked and dead. His face all blue..."
The manager Jeff, races out of his office and Jack catches up with him. In the elevator Jack grins. Jeff frowned, "How'd you get here so fast? Who tipped you off?"
Jack smile widens splitting his freckled face into deep dimples and his red hair flops over his forehead. "I'm abundantly adroit at covering my crime beat."
Jeff shakes his index finger at him. "You were drinking in the bar."
Jack’s brown eyes light up. "You know, Jeff, that's usually where trouble starts. Don't you agree?"
Jeff scowls looking at his watch, "And it's just one in the afternoon."
"It's my lunch hour." Jack winks.
Jeff Charles looked around the elevator, though the two friends were alone, "Jack, I'll pay your bar bill if you don't use the hotel's name."
Suddenly, the elevator stops and they have a clear view past the open door. They see a face down thin man with a red silk tie between his teeth, his rear end still resting on his folded legs..
"Let's look" Jack whispers, walking ahead into the room to circle the corpse. Jeff heads for the phone to call the police, his back turned. Jack felt for a pulse. "He's gone. I guess it was too good… for his own good."
Jeff didn't turn. Jack slips a photograph from under the man's face. The nude woman looks familiar. He puts the photo on the nightstand.
While Jeff is still distracted. Jack goes through the guy's clothes thrown neatly across a chair. Jack tries to get a better look at the dead man, turns to open the curtains and gasps. He knows him; Tom worked for another paper but drank at Al's Bar and Cantina. Damn, a drinking buddy.
Jack moaned remembering who the girl was. The "chip" of a jealous married police officer.
Jeff hung up and turned. "Come on this side so you can see his face," Jack said.
"I don't want to look" Jeff answers. "I'll wait in the hall."
"No, stay in here just cover your eyes, first look at this picture pointing to the nude blond. "I bet you recognize her."
Jeff looked. "You think he was with her?" Jeff asked.
"No. You know who she mostly hangs with?"
Jeff nods "Mickey Mandell, the cop who killed an unarmed teenager and got off?"
Jack's head leans up and down. "The dead man is a pal. Worked for the Post, his wife is nice.” Jack pulled the curtains closed. “Did you see Mandel around today?"
"He never comes in here. Do you think your friend was murdered over a dame?"
Jack frowns in thought…as tears slipped down his boyish face. "I think he had a heart attack. He must have hired Big Red, the whore from England that likes to paddle bad boys."
"I don't understand that fetish." Jeff confessed..
Jack sniffed and blew his nose. "I think Tom went to boarding school. Let's keep Tom's wife from being hurt thinking there was another woman.. Help me put him on the toilet. Then I can make my story nasty but innocent.
"You're going to get us in trouble." Jeff argued.
"Will you back me up, Jeff?" Together they carried the man into the bathroom and propped Tom on the toilet. As they turn the body falls. Jeff yells.
"Don't worry that looks more natural." Jack assures picking up the phone and dialing, "Stoppp, the presses...have you got your pencil? Or have you learned to type?" speaking into the mouthpiece and signaling Jeff to shut the door and lock it.
"An unidentified body has been found at a downtown hotel at noon by maid, Irene Fisher who screamed "He's naked and looks dead.
“Jeff Bennett, popular Rice Hotel manager said a bar customer borrowed a room key because he was having chest pain and needed to lie down. "I was calling an ambulance from my office when the man was discovered." Bennett says.
"See the next edition" Jack concludes "as names are being withheld pending family notification and results of the police investigation." Jack pauses. "Gotta go the cops are on the way."
"Popular, you say?" Jeff grins.
Jack speaks very clearly. “Jeff, tell the cops Tom was sweating and looked sick” Just then sirens wailed.
Jeff walked into the hall. "Popular? I guess that means I'll have to pay your bar bill and lie for you?"
"A beat reporter who can't write something the desk likes… can't add two plus two."
The sirens stopped. Jack grinned at his friend. “Thanks.” Jack slaps Jeff on the shoulder, and hums a bar from his song, THE GOOD TIMES and they wait in the hall. Seconds later Police are rushing out of the elevator.
Jack laughs. "Remember what happened to Trent at the grave digers convention?"
The lead cop answers Jack. "Yeah, Trent got matched up with a one-tited whore?"
Then the Captain orders "Wait out here, I want to talk to you both in a minute," and closed the hotel room door.
Jack punches the button for the elevator. "Shall we wait in the bar?"
Jeff shakes no. "I'd better get back in my office and call my boss in Pittsburgh."
"I'll have a drink for you just because you're so popular." The men shake hands and part.
THE END
All Rights Reserved
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