Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Roughnecks' Luck
Roughnecks' Luck
A short story by Diana Weeks
Cliff whistled to the tune on the radio and realized he was feeling drenched in peace and happiness. At the red light he closed his eyes and saw his wife that morning leaning over him… using a strand of her red hair to tickle his lips. Connie teased him with her cheer leading rhythm, whispering “Let’s do it…Let’s do it…Let’s do It.”, while climbing on top of him. ..And just breathing against her freckled shoulder … let her take him to her heaven.
Afterward he followed her into their shower and washed her back and they talked about the ‘Wonder” in their passion and Connie giggled and kissed him between pantyhose and blouse while she dressed for work. Honk, honk, honk! Blair jumped and laughed at himself...marveling at how much his new wife enjoyed loving on him.
His first brief high school wife did nothing but complain about his off shore drilling job. He liked the money. He liked using his muscles and being active…but a job on land … spending every night with Connie… instead of having to be apart for weeks at a time.
Cliff shook his head… he couldn’t believe that he was even thinking about changing jobs. It surprised him…so much that he decided to go on out to the rig early. They had hired a new cook… Cliff’s oil patch pal, Bobby, had worked for Red who said “That Chef could stop a mutiny”.
From Skip, the boat captain taking him to the deep water rig in the Gulf…he learned that the bossy boss had flown in from Europe and been taken to the rig earlier…”Yes, he came with his prissy accent and complained that cagins were too slow and wasted time and time was money”…Skip raised his voice…I wanted to slug him…why hell, we invented oil”.
The men on the crew he had come to relieve were pumping from a gigantic off shore pool of sweet oil… that was light brown and thin, it doesn’t need as much refining as black crude… for double rich profits… Cliff went below to eat and was full of fluffy pancakes when he came back up. Bobby was standing still, taking off his blackened gloves… so Cliff grins and asks “Any thing up?”
“We’re behind schedule” Bobby whispers under his breath and slaps his dirty gloves together. “We’re waiting for the top dogs to get out of a meeting with the rig owner…the alpha dog… before continuing”.
Cliff didn’t stop grinning. Bobby looked at him…”You look like you got lucky.” Cliff laughed. “You’re blushing” Bobby added… poking Cliff in the side.
‘So I may as well let you go home early.” Cliff offered “You know how long those meetings can last…maybe you’ll get lucky”.
“I’ll lay siege to our bedroom, barricade her in with me…and let the kids bang on the door,” Bobby promised, and was gone in a blink.
Cliff joined Bobby’s huddled crew and listened. They were all talking at once… concerned about the bottom pipes. Two miles down… “BB is gonna say to use sea water, a faster but not better stablalizing method” the oldest roughneck explains to himself in a low voice while wiping mud from his jump suit.… The “kid” said “The safety test showed that the cut off cap broke up; and the liquid mud that rained on us … had capping rubber particles in it...”
“Do the big guys know that?”… Cliff asks…and the men laugh…”They know their huge bonuses are at stake”…the old guy whispers “probably they are bumping chests claiming it won’t blow out....it can’t happen Ha Ha Ha”. Just then the crew chief’s phone rang…Cliff watched him listening and frowning darkly even while saying “Yes sir”… and turns to his men “We’ve got to catch up we’re behind schedule”.
Thirty minutes later… they saw the big dogs leaving and noticed their company’s hound had his tail between his legs.
Two hours later….a low rumbling sound started coming from below. Cliff’ was sent to tighten bolts in the pump room. The grumble hick cupped and the sound of a deafening explosion was the last thing Cliff heard…The orange flames the last thing he felt.
TO BE CONTINUED...
NEXT WEEK:
CONNIE FIGHTS BACK
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A short story by Diana Weeks
Cliff whistled to the tune on the radio and realized he was feeling drenched in peace and happiness. At the red light he closed his eyes and saw his wife that morning leaning over him… using a strand of her red hair to tickle his lips. Connie teased him with her cheer leading rhythm, whispering “Let’s do it…Let’s do it…Let’s do It.”, while climbing on top of him. ..And just breathing against her freckled shoulder … let her take him to her heaven.
Afterward he followed her into their shower and washed her back and they talked about the ‘Wonder” in their passion and Connie giggled and kissed him between pantyhose and blouse while she dressed for work. Honk, honk, honk! Blair jumped and laughed at himself...marveling at how much his new wife enjoyed loving on him.
His first brief high school wife did nothing but complain about his off shore drilling job. He liked the money. He liked using his muscles and being active…but a job on land … spending every night with Connie… instead of having to be apart for weeks at a time.
Cliff shook his head… he couldn’t believe that he was even thinking about changing jobs. It surprised him…so much that he decided to go on out to the rig early. They had hired a new cook… Cliff’s oil patch pal, Bobby, had worked for Red who said “That Chef could stop a mutiny”.
From Skip, the boat captain taking him to the deep water rig in the Gulf…he learned that the bossy boss had flown in from Europe and been taken to the rig earlier…”Yes, he came with his prissy accent and complained that cagins were too slow and wasted time and time was money”…Skip raised his voice…I wanted to slug him…why hell, we invented oil”.
The men on the crew he had come to relieve were pumping from a gigantic off shore pool of sweet oil… that was light brown and thin, it doesn’t need as much refining as black crude… for double rich profits… Cliff went below to eat and was full of fluffy pancakes when he came back up. Bobby was standing still, taking off his blackened gloves… so Cliff grins and asks “Any thing up?”
“We’re behind schedule” Bobby whispers under his breath and slaps his dirty gloves together. “We’re waiting for the top dogs to get out of a meeting with the rig owner…the alpha dog… before continuing”.
Cliff didn’t stop grinning. Bobby looked at him…”You look like you got lucky.” Cliff laughed. “You’re blushing” Bobby added… poking Cliff in the side.
‘So I may as well let you go home early.” Cliff offered “You know how long those meetings can last…maybe you’ll get lucky”.
“I’ll lay siege to our bedroom, barricade her in with me…and let the kids bang on the door,” Bobby promised, and was gone in a blink.
Cliff joined Bobby’s huddled crew and listened. They were all talking at once… concerned about the bottom pipes. Two miles down… “BB is gonna say to use sea water, a faster but not better stablalizing method” the oldest roughneck explains to himself in a low voice while wiping mud from his jump suit.… The “kid” said “The safety test showed that the cut off cap broke up; and the liquid mud that rained on us … had capping rubber particles in it...”
“Do the big guys know that?”… Cliff asks…and the men laugh…”They know their huge bonuses are at stake”…the old guy whispers “probably they are bumping chests claiming it won’t blow out....it can’t happen Ha Ha Ha”. Just then the crew chief’s phone rang…Cliff watched him listening and frowning darkly even while saying “Yes sir”… and turns to his men “We’ve got to catch up we’re behind schedule”.
Thirty minutes later… they saw the big dogs leaving and noticed their company’s hound had his tail between his legs.
Two hours later….a low rumbling sound started coming from below. Cliff’ was sent to tighten bolts in the pump room. The grumble hick cupped and the sound of a deafening explosion was the last thing Cliff heard…The orange flames the last thing he felt.
TO BE CONTINUED...
NEXT WEEK:
CONNIE FIGHTS BACK
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Monday, July 19, 2010
Connie Fights Back
Connie Fights Back
A short story by Diana Weeks
Connie got to the Memorial Service for the deep well men on time… but she couldn’t make herself go in. She screamed in surprised agony… when she heard his name on the radio driving to Louisiana and had to pull off the highway until she could stop sobbing. Her scream was as piercing as the wicked witch from Oz.
She knew Cliff would be mortified if that happened to her in public, that’s why she wouldn’t let her mother come. .when her mother, cries she cries. .Connie had gone to her mothers as soon the well explosion hit TV screens…Connie wanted to hide and pretend she was a little girl again.
Cliff had called her from the well sight while he was waiting for his pancakes… to tell her… he’d let Bobby off early and he thanked her for his hot sex-sational wake-up call. The last thing she heard from her beloved husband were his wet smacking sounds of telephone kisses.
Memories were interrupted when she saw a back door open and a Leslie another new oil widow she recognized tip toeing towards the parking lot, a long walk. Connie started her car and went to pick up Leslie. They are both reporters, who had bonded at the last Christmas Party. Connie pulled up by her and shouted through the open window “Get in!”
“Thank goodness Connie, it’s awful…they keep talking about it.” Leslie gets in… just as they see Bobby come out slowly and stand with his face in his hands… Connie… whistles softly and gets his attention.…Bobby gets in…rubbing his leaking eyes.
Connie asks “Where’s your wife?”
Bobby leans against the front seat gap. “In there…She made me promise to quit drilling wells…take a desk job… we’ve got three kids”.
“If only they hadn’t said their names” Leslie moaned. …”like we didn’t know…”
”I’m friendless…Bobby puts the heel of his hands over his eyes. “my wife made me leave when...I lost it… Cliff had my back since 7th grad …they kept saying it couldn’t happen…”
Leslie turns and pats Bobby’s hand, like a Sunday School teacher. “My guy knew what he was up against. Before he went back out the last time… he made out his will, paid off our car and wrote notes to our grand children.”
Connie drives slowly to the shady edge of the parking. “Let’s walk; awhile”. … Bobby walks backward in front of the women. Connie..speaks softly “ Alpha dogs ..don’t just want a fair share…they want it all”
Leslie jumped in, “I’m not going to be a good sport. I want the cheapskate CEO held responsible.”
Bobby cleared his throat, “Remember that toxic gas leak in India that killed over 15 thousand of their people. India just won their law suit and ordered two years jail time for the seven top dogs at Union Carbine for…neglecting the employees safety. Greed may be going out of fashion.”
“I researched the web yesterday” Connie confided, “and found out lots about our Alpha… like he lives with his Widowed Mother…He’s certainly not a son of a bitch…She is a Lady who cares about the future of our planet.. I e-mailed her and told her our side and she actually answered.
“His mother is royal… a daughter of a Knight…. She’s on the Board of Directors for an active charity favoring moderation and peace. Tuesday she’ll be at a charity committee meeting for high tea at the London Savoy….She invited me to come over the pond and speak to them. Leslie I hope you’ll go with me.”
“I’ll go and take pictures…Leslie agreed. “Alpha’s lied to governments, employees and John Q.”
Connie smiled. “We’re going to tell… his mother… on him.”
“Oh look, the people are getting out” Bobby says hurrying toward the crowds.
He shouts back at them…”Don’t get too frisky”.
“The Lady said she was already mad at her son…for risking lives for money. His dead father would just die if he knew. she confessed. She may decide to run for office…to write tougher rules for safety”.
“You never know what will happen when you get a British Lady angry…she might take him out of her will!” Leslie announced and they laughed… really laughed… for the first time in weeks.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A short story by Diana Weeks
Connie got to the Memorial Service for the deep well men on time… but she couldn’t make herself go in. She screamed in surprised agony… when she heard his name on the radio driving to Louisiana and had to pull off the highway until she could stop sobbing. Her scream was as piercing as the wicked witch from Oz.
She knew Cliff would be mortified if that happened to her in public, that’s why she wouldn’t let her mother come. .when her mother, cries she cries. .Connie had gone to her mothers as soon the well explosion hit TV screens…Connie wanted to hide and pretend she was a little girl again.
Cliff had called her from the well sight while he was waiting for his pancakes… to tell her… he’d let Bobby off early and he thanked her for his hot sex-sational wake-up call. The last thing she heard from her beloved husband were his wet smacking sounds of telephone kisses.
Memories were interrupted when she saw a back door open and a Leslie another new oil widow she recognized tip toeing towards the parking lot, a long walk. Connie started her car and went to pick up Leslie. They are both reporters, who had bonded at the last Christmas Party. Connie pulled up by her and shouted through the open window “Get in!”
“Thank goodness Connie, it’s awful…they keep talking about it.” Leslie gets in… just as they see Bobby come out slowly and stand with his face in his hands… Connie… whistles softly and gets his attention.…Bobby gets in…rubbing his leaking eyes.
Connie asks “Where’s your wife?”
Bobby leans against the front seat gap. “In there…She made me promise to quit drilling wells…take a desk job… we’ve got three kids”.
“If only they hadn’t said their names” Leslie moaned. …”like we didn’t know…”
”I’m friendless…Bobby puts the heel of his hands over his eyes. “my wife made me leave when...I lost it… Cliff had my back since 7th grad …they kept saying it couldn’t happen…”
Leslie turns and pats Bobby’s hand, like a Sunday School teacher. “My guy knew what he was up against. Before he went back out the last time… he made out his will, paid off our car and wrote notes to our grand children.”
Connie drives slowly to the shady edge of the parking. “Let’s walk; awhile”. … Bobby walks backward in front of the women. Connie..speaks softly “ Alpha dogs ..don’t just want a fair share…they want it all”
Leslie jumped in, “I’m not going to be a good sport. I want the cheapskate CEO held responsible.”
Bobby cleared his throat, “Remember that toxic gas leak in India that killed over 15 thousand of their people. India just won their law suit and ordered two years jail time for the seven top dogs at Union Carbine for…neglecting the employees safety. Greed may be going out of fashion.”
“I researched the web yesterday” Connie confided, “and found out lots about our Alpha… like he lives with his Widowed Mother…He’s certainly not a son of a bitch…She is a Lady who cares about the future of our planet.. I e-mailed her and told her our side and she actually answered.
“His mother is royal… a daughter of a Knight…. She’s on the Board of Directors for an active charity favoring moderation and peace. Tuesday she’ll be at a charity committee meeting for high tea at the London Savoy….She invited me to come over the pond and speak to them. Leslie I hope you’ll go with me.”
“I’ll go and take pictures…Leslie agreed. “Alpha’s lied to governments, employees and John Q.”
Connie smiled. “We’re going to tell… his mother… on him.”
“Oh look, the people are getting out” Bobby says hurrying toward the crowds.
He shouts back at them…”Don’t get too frisky”.
“The Lady said she was already mad at her son…for risking lives for money. His dead father would just die if he knew. she confessed. She may decide to run for office…to write tougher rules for safety”.
“You never know what will happen when you get a British Lady angry…she might take him out of her will!” Leslie announced and they laughed… really laughed… for the first time in weeks.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Monday, July 12, 2010
What’s in a Name?
What’s in a Name?
A short story by Diana Weeks
Bubbles stood a foot back from the 125th Street apartment window… even though she was four stories up. She didn’t want her date to see her watching him. She had spotted his car roof the second time the red and white convertible passed by. Oh… he’s looking for a parking place she thinks. But he drives away to leave? What? There he is again… he gives up on street parking and goes to the “ten bucks for all night” lot across the street.
She picks up her bird-watching field glasses and clears the focus. She can’t help smiling watching… seeing how he bends his tall lanky body in half to get out. He reaches to retrieve his jacket and puts it on…looks at his reflection in the window… and dusts his hands like a cowboy on his way into a clean farm house… he grinned and looked up…and dusted his hands again.
Bubbles decided to be herself with this guy… just plain ole Norma Jean. She grabbed her coat and left her apartment with all the lights on…she wanted to go meet him… go someplace to talk… so she could explain that her nickname was because she blew bubbles with a wooden spool... after the thread was used up.
He hadn’t gotten fresh on their first date… the next day… after a neighbor introduced them… in an aisle at Central Market. From the things in his basket… a whole raw chicken, box of rice, colored sweet peppers, fresh basil... and a small watermelon. She knew she was going to like him. Her father could cook.
Buck had taken her to a chick flick last night and bought her… her own box of popcorn. He didn’t talk much but he kissed her... at her apartment door after… and she thought she would faint. She had not planned to ask him in. During the long kiss she wanted to drag him in and kiss him all over. But her late mother’s advice… to not let her ovaries make decisions for her…made her send him home.
The second Buck saw her in the lobby he put out his arms… like a soldier home from the war… And she walked right into them. They kissed until the doorman cleared his throat… and waved them out the door. Buck put his arms around her waist as they walked. “Mom invited us over for dinner. Have you ever been to Brooklyn?”
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A short story by Diana Weeks
Bubbles stood a foot back from the 125th Street apartment window… even though she was four stories up. She didn’t want her date to see her watching him. She had spotted his car roof the second time the red and white convertible passed by. Oh… he’s looking for a parking place she thinks. But he drives away to leave? What? There he is again… he gives up on street parking and goes to the “ten bucks for all night” lot across the street.
She picks up her bird-watching field glasses and clears the focus. She can’t help smiling watching… seeing how he bends his tall lanky body in half to get out. He reaches to retrieve his jacket and puts it on…looks at his reflection in the window… and dusts his hands like a cowboy on his way into a clean farm house… he grinned and looked up…and dusted his hands again.
Bubbles decided to be herself with this guy… just plain ole Norma Jean. She grabbed her coat and left her apartment with all the lights on…she wanted to go meet him… go someplace to talk… so she could explain that her nickname was because she blew bubbles with a wooden spool... after the thread was used up.
He hadn’t gotten fresh on their first date… the next day… after a neighbor introduced them… in an aisle at Central Market. From the things in his basket… a whole raw chicken, box of rice, colored sweet peppers, fresh basil... and a small watermelon. She knew she was going to like him. Her father could cook.
Buck had taken her to a chick flick last night and bought her… her own box of popcorn. He didn’t talk much but he kissed her... at her apartment door after… and she thought she would faint. She had not planned to ask him in. During the long kiss she wanted to drag him in and kiss him all over. But her late mother’s advice… to not let her ovaries make decisions for her…made her send him home.
The second Buck saw her in the lobby he put out his arms… like a soldier home from the war… And she walked right into them. They kissed until the doorman cleared his throat… and waved them out the door. Buck put his arms around her waist as they walked. “Mom invited us over for dinner. Have you ever been to Brooklyn?”
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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