Tyrone and Turner
A short story by Diana Weeks
Tyrone and Turner had been adversaries since birth. Tyrone was four when his brother Turner came along and spoiled Tyrone’s pampered “only child life”. Turner quickly began hogging all their working parents’ attention. Fate had put them together in retirement.
Turner left a career as an ace crime reporter. He took early retirement, at the request of his Paper’s Publisher, to stop the City editor from firing Turner, who missed a story… due to… what the Publisher called… Turner’s “large capacity for having fun”.
Turner was a copy boy when he got drafted in 1941… returning from three years in the South Pacific… married his high school sweetheart…went to college…and was welcomed back to a reporters job held for him. by his daily paper where he worked another thirty-five years.
Poor Tyrone,who daily exercises his neck… had never thought he’d get old…He is a retired health inspector…living on his paltry Social Security…it barely covers his beer and cigarettes. First he had tried to be a door to door vacuum cleaner salesman…but found it impossible to pass up a housewife’s come on. He felt the women took advantage of him when they didn’t buy a vacuum cleaner. He went on to become an insurance actuary.
Its Christmas Eve morning. Tyrone and Turner are finishing breakfast at the Early Bird Café. Turner watches Tyrone… concoct the recipe for his second cup of coffee… combining one and a half teaspoons of sugar and three packets of… torn… one at a time… powdered creamer. Turner mutters “’what delicate taste buds you must have.”
“My tongue has precise requirements.” Mack replies. “Redheads”.
The old men both laugh…and begin reading their papers. Turner starts at his first section, Tyrone his sports section…”Ty, look at these low sale prices…”
Tyrone, deeply into a football story doesn’t look or listen…Five minutes later, he looks up and asks Turner, “Have you finished your Christmas shopping?”
“Two weeks ago. That little TV you couldn’t afford to buy your son … is on sale for $19.99…Tyrone you have enough money to buy it at that price”.
Tyrone looks for the waitress for more water and holds up his empty glass... “Where is it? I don’t want to go all the way downtown. “
“Macy’s is all over town. There’s one at The Mall”…Turner bounces, eager to go somewhere. Tyrone is back to reading…three minutes later…Tyrone looks up again. “Okay… let’s drive into town this afternoon and I’ll get it for Mark.”
Turner moans “Let’s go now; we’re already fifteen miles on our way.”
“We can’t… I don’t have my checkbook.”
Not wanting to offer a loan he wouldn’t get back, Turner drives them back home.
They live forty miles outside Houston…on Turners’ G.I. Land deal… 20 acre ranch property…Turner in a converted Santa Fe Railroad caboose, Tyrone in a small trailer Turner had found for his ‘poor mouth’ brother… Tyron’s check book is found and he robustly agrees to go now.
From the look of the crowded parking lot…everyone had waited for sales. “Do you want to stay in the car? Tyrone asks “I’m just going to run in and buy the TV and be right back”.
Turner shakes his head “I need the exercise.” The two men look at each other and laugh… Turner the shortest takes the lead. Tyrone stops suddenly in panic…when they reach the automatic doors…opening into dense strolling shoppers. Fight or flight juice zoomed through Tyrone’s body.
Turner didn’t know Tyrone was missing until he got to the store directory. Turner climbs on a foot high display base and looks around the crowded store, he sees Chili, a cop he knew…outside talking to Tyrone, taking Ty’s arm and leading him inside. Tucker whistles loudly like a tropical parrot call and waits for Security officer, Chili, and Tyrone to look his way… then he waves his baseball cap…and points.
They meet in the men’s room. Tyrone had taught his energetic little brother Turner…that if he got lost in a store to go to the men’s room. The men’s room was where they made Santa a list of gifts…later waiting for their mother to get off at Neiman Marcus they went to the men’s room to tell nasty jokes…and talk about the girls they liked.
Turner‘s voice is firm. “You can’t be a quitter Ty. Your kid wants the TV on sale…you’ve got to complete your mission. … Making your little boy happy on Christmas morning…”
“This is like running with the bulls” Ty;s. head drops down so far his chin is covered with his brown muffler. Turner talks faster..”Why I bet our pal here will escort you to the electronic department. Do you have time Chili?” Turner slips him a five dollar bill,
Tyrone tells Chili. “Don’t hold on to my arm or people will think I’m under arrest’.
Turner speaks up. “Ty just pretend you’re blind”, hands his brother his sunglasses.
Tyrone puts them on and lets Chili lead him to the elevator. When the elevator opens they see a long line of folks clutching the little TV on sale… in their arms waiting to be checked out.
“Where’s the display of sale TVs, Chili?”
“Around to the left” All three hurry but discover only an empty shelve...Tyrone softly cusses.
Tuner picks up a slightly larger TV that’s on sale for $30.00 “He’ll like this bigger one even better and I’ll pay the difference!” The deal was done…Tyrone offered to tell Mark it was from both of them. Chili got Tyrone …still as a blind customer to the head of the line and Tyrone happily held the TV in his lap…all the way home…smiling at his little brother…and getting a grin back..
THE END
All RIGHTS RESERVED
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Thanksgiving Murder
Thanksgiving Murder
A short story by Diana Weeks
Mom told me not to name the turkey the church ladies gave us. It was my job to feed the bird corn to get her fat before she gets the ax on thanksgiving.
I named the fowl Jean Harlow after Pa's favorite movie star. I had noticed our scrawny turkey had a “sure” natural stride like Miss Harlow.
I started talking to her, assuring her that I would help her escape. Yes; I wasn't going to stand by and watch the murder of my new friend.
My folks had to send my twin brother Bubba to work on Uncle Al's farm. I'd been alone with 'them', our parents, who were both out of work and cranky. I had heard one of the church ladies call us 'the most pitiful family in the congregation, a pure insult.
Miss Harlow would strut around the empty chicken yard. Our flock of chickens had been sold the week before the early frost had killed ma's kitchen garden.
“Don't worry about a thing” I told Miss Harlow. “There's a bunch of wild turkeys in the woods. I'll take you there.”
“Hey kid, I like it here” she insisted.. “Food hand delivered.
“Are you crazy? They'll kill you!
“Of course…the way I taste…it thrills the tongue. Yum yum … eating a drum stick or thick slices of my breast. I makes people happy”
“For one day” I say.
I like your folks. I want them to get to keep their turkey eating tradition. Getting together to eat gives families comfort.
It's barbaric. I've got it; you could start laying eggs to earn your keep.”
“No, that hurts. I want to be a thanksgiving turkey. I'll get all the praise! I don’t have to compete with decorated trees or presents for attention. A turkey spirit never dies. I'll come back as. Santa’s elf, the Easter bunny…or the tooth ferry.
I don’t think…I'll be able to eat you. I threw Miss Harlow some more corn…from my apron pocket…and told her. I don’t thing I’ll be able to …eat you.
You must…you can’t ruin the balance of nature. While I’m being stuffed…I’ll find out what the children want for Christmas and be sure they get it.
I can till you right now…I told Miss Harlow… I want a bicycle. But I still won’t eat but maybe one drum stick.
“Gobble, gobble…enjoy me”…she shook her turkey tail feathers.. “Cheer up…a turkey’s spirit never
dies.
My brother made up a Thanksgiving poem last year…when he had to feed the Thanksgiving turkey.
A TURKEY NEVER DIES
Turkey dressing hotly roasted
Turkey sandwich lightly toasted
Turkey salad made of legs
Every meal it’s on your plate
I use mine for fishing bait
Two weeks past Thanksgiving Day
You may turn up in a soufflé
Enchiladas stew or hash
Even Turkey succotash
With imported caviar
Or a chocolate candy bar.
You can feed all the troops
On the Turkey carcass soup…on the Turkey carcass soup.
Miss Harlow flapped her wings, laughed loud and gobbled. Yes child, it’s true. …Turkeys never die…
Mom just doesn’t want you to land on her hips or Pa’s tummy.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A short story by Diana Weeks
Mom told me not to name the turkey the church ladies gave us. It was my job to feed the bird corn to get her fat before she gets the ax on thanksgiving.
I named the fowl Jean Harlow after Pa's favorite movie star. I had noticed our scrawny turkey had a “sure” natural stride like Miss Harlow.
I started talking to her, assuring her that I would help her escape. Yes; I wasn't going to stand by and watch the murder of my new friend.
My folks had to send my twin brother Bubba to work on Uncle Al's farm. I'd been alone with 'them', our parents, who were both out of work and cranky. I had heard one of the church ladies call us 'the most pitiful family in the congregation, a pure insult.
Miss Harlow would strut around the empty chicken yard. Our flock of chickens had been sold the week before the early frost had killed ma's kitchen garden.
“Don't worry about a thing” I told Miss Harlow. “There's a bunch of wild turkeys in the woods. I'll take you there.”
“Hey kid, I like it here” she insisted.. “Food hand delivered.
“Are you crazy? They'll kill you!
“Of course…the way I taste…it thrills the tongue. Yum yum … eating a drum stick or thick slices of my breast. I makes people happy”
“For one day” I say.
I like your folks. I want them to get to keep their turkey eating tradition. Getting together to eat gives families comfort.
It's barbaric. I've got it; you could start laying eggs to earn your keep.”
“No, that hurts. I want to be a thanksgiving turkey. I'll get all the praise! I don’t have to compete with decorated trees or presents for attention. A turkey spirit never dies. I'll come back as. Santa’s elf, the Easter bunny…or the tooth ferry.
I don’t think…I'll be able to eat you. I threw Miss Harlow some more corn…from my apron pocket…and told her. I don’t thing I’ll be able to …eat you.
You must…you can’t ruin the balance of nature. While I’m being stuffed…I’ll find out what the children want for Christmas and be sure they get it.
I can till you right now…I told Miss Harlow… I want a bicycle. But I still won’t eat but maybe one drum stick.
“Gobble, gobble…enjoy me”…she shook her turkey tail feathers.. “Cheer up…a turkey’s spirit never
dies.
My brother made up a Thanksgiving poem last year…when he had to feed the Thanksgiving turkey.
A TURKEY NEVER DIES
Turkey dressing hotly roasted
Turkey sandwich lightly toasted
Turkey salad made of legs
Every meal it’s on your plate
I use mine for fishing bait
Two weeks past Thanksgiving Day
You may turn up in a soufflé
Enchiladas stew or hash
Even Turkey succotash
With imported caviar
Or a chocolate candy bar.
You can feed all the troops
On the Turkey carcass soup…on the Turkey carcass soup.
Miss Harlow flapped her wings, laughed loud and gobbled. Yes child, it’s true. …Turkeys never die…
Mom just doesn’t want you to land on her hips or Pa’s tummy.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Christmas Party Crasher
Christmas Party Crasher
A short play by Diana Weeks
Set – The Apex Oil Company's conference room.
Characters : Sonya – Executive Secretary
Shirley – Sonya's best friend and room mate a secretary
At rise: Sonya is on the phone listening and making notes.
SONYA
Yes sir...yes sir...(pause to listen and make notes) Yes sir...
Shirley enters and flops down in the Chairman's puffy dark leather arm chair .Sonya puts her finger across her lips.
SHIRLEY
Yes sir, yes sir...sort of has a rythumn...
SONYA
Thank you sir. (hangs up phone)
SHIRLEY
Our land lord called and threatened us with eviction.
SONYA
My boss just promised me a nice bonus if I host the company Christmas party next week. Mr. Charley's got a date to go to the Mayor's party so he can't stay.
SHIRLEY
You said they weren't giving a party this Christmas.
SONYA
True...but in September, the Chairman's wife spent four-thousand dollars for a designer dress to wear to the office Christmas party.
SHIRLEY
So now they're optimistic. What's the budget, do they get us a couple of boxes of doughnuts?
SONYA
No. My boss Charley is giving me a company credit card. We're going to be okay.
Shirley puts her hands together pointing under her chin.
SHIRLEY
Thank you Jesus for another month we don't have to move back home.
SONYA
Plus ...the company party will be the same night we had invited our friends over for wine and crackers, bring your own cheese bash. Now they can enjoy smoked turkey and baked hams.
SHIRLEY
We call our friends and change the address to here?
SONYA
The lady needs people to see her dress.
SHIRLEY
Do you think the Chairman will notice fifty people he doesn't recognize?
SONYA
No, we don't have faces to him.
SHIRLEY
Wait a second. Most of them are looking for jobs.
Are you inviting company vendors. (Sonya nods yes.) Our friends can make contacts.
They laugh and hug.
SHIRLEY (con't)
How did you find out about the four-thousand dollar dress?
SONYA
A pal...his secretary, who he makes do his personal bills. I had her remind the Chairman
of the pity of not getting to wear such a dress. He's the type who wants to get his money out of everything.
THE END
All Rights Reserved
A short play by Diana Weeks
Set – The Apex Oil Company's conference room.
Characters : Sonya – Executive Secretary
Shirley – Sonya's best friend and room mate a secretary
At rise: Sonya is on the phone listening and making notes.
SONYA
Yes sir...yes sir...(pause to listen and make notes) Yes sir...
Shirley enters and flops down in the Chairman's puffy dark leather arm chair .Sonya puts her finger across her lips.
SHIRLEY
Yes sir, yes sir...sort of has a rythumn...
SONYA
Thank you sir. (hangs up phone)
SHIRLEY
Our land lord called and threatened us with eviction.
SONYA
My boss just promised me a nice bonus if I host the company Christmas party next week. Mr. Charley's got a date to go to the Mayor's party so he can't stay.
SHIRLEY
You said they weren't giving a party this Christmas.
SONYA
True...but in September, the Chairman's wife spent four-thousand dollars for a designer dress to wear to the office Christmas party.
SHIRLEY
So now they're optimistic. What's the budget, do they get us a couple of boxes of doughnuts?
SONYA
No. My boss Charley is giving me a company credit card. We're going to be okay.
Shirley puts her hands together pointing under her chin.
SHIRLEY
Thank you Jesus for another month we don't have to move back home.
SONYA
Plus ...the company party will be the same night we had invited our friends over for wine and crackers, bring your own cheese bash. Now they can enjoy smoked turkey and baked hams.
SHIRLEY
We call our friends and change the address to here?
SONYA
The lady needs people to see her dress.
SHIRLEY
Do you think the Chairman will notice fifty people he doesn't recognize?
SONYA
No, we don't have faces to him.
SHIRLEY
Wait a second. Most of them are looking for jobs.
Are you inviting company vendors. (Sonya nods yes.) Our friends can make contacts.
They laugh and hug.
SHIRLEY (con't)
How did you find out about the four-thousand dollar dress?
SONYA
A pal...his secretary, who he makes do his personal bills. I had her remind the Chairman
of the pity of not getting to wear such a dress. He's the type who wants to get his money out of everything.
THE END
All Rights Reserved
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Halloween Lovers
Halloween Lovers
a short story by Diana Weeks
The idea of visiting an old cemetery was Kyle’s and it was their first date. Joyce was skeptical. Why do you want to go there? Kyle dropped his head. “My Grandmother died last month and I promised to keep flowers on her grave. It won’t take long and then we can go to the party your friends are having. I want to meet all your friends because you look darling in your doctor’s costume”. This appeased Joyce...
Joyce looked around “I don’t see any flowers”.
“I thought we’d drive by a Kroger. There’s a vase already there because she was buried next to Grandpa so their double headstone is up...
Grandpa picked the best flower from his garden everyday, he put it in a crystal bud vase he gave her the first Christmas they were married in 1952..It was kept in her kitchen window over the sink. And she’d give him a bodacious kiss so mushy my Mom would say “Mother, not in front of the children”.
Joyce was touched… that this leather clothed motorcycle riding tough guy talked about such sweet family feelings. Joyce had run to the window when she heard the throbbing cycle motor stop outside. Her mother looked and turned white. “That thug must have gotten lost from his, from his, Hell’s Angels gang!”
“Mother, he’s a very nice guy, don’t be so judgmental.”
“Oh yeah, where did you meet him?” She stood with her hands on her hips and made Joyce feel five years old.
Joyce’s mind whirled…do I tell the truth or lie?”
“Well…answer me.”
“In the grocery store…last week when you sent me to buy bread because Dad forgot.”
Her mother walled her eyes and held on to her hips until her finger tips pressed into her tummy. “What department? I want details”.
“He was looking at the steaks”. Joyce stopped there and left out… in the mark down nook where she was looking for lamb. He joked with the butcher and said to me” The butcher ought to wear a blue bandana to hide his face. He can’t even look me in the eye.”
I couldn’t resist answering “He would if you smiled at him”. Kyle laughed and smiled at the butcher and got a smile back. “Just for that he told me “I’ll buy one for you, we’ll grill em at the park this weekend.”
“Oh heaven help me…Joyce, you’re in love! She looks out the window. Her mother presses her hands against her heart and takes deep breaths…and says a quick soft “Hello” and left the room at a run to get her husband.
“I’m sorry you have to meet both my parents” Joyce whispered.
“Heck…” he gave her a ‘You can trust me” smile. “I want to meet them”…Joyce wanted to hug and kiss him right there.
The cemetery was very dark. But as soon as they got parked, he pulls out the biggest flash light Joyce had ever seen, hands her the yellow tulips and took her free hand. They started walking towards the darker wooded section. They stopped behind a large hedge and heard a low giggle. Kyle pulls Joyce behind it,. “That’s Grandma?!”
A ghostly male voice speaks as Joyce squats to sit on the ground…”Darling I’m so longing to hold you”. Kyle curiously peeks over the hedge and whispers “It’s them”. They hear the ghosts breathing softly at first, then harder and faster…then the sound of the spirits falling easily to the ground…”Darling, it’s king sized…let me help you off with your dress…” A soft female voice...”…It lifts up you know.”
Kyle squeezed her hand…”I think we better leave them alone…I’ve got a blanket in my saddle bag…I don’t want you to get grass stains on your white coat…we’ll come back later with the flowers. I want to get to know you! Did I mention that I’ve heard you sing at Jane’s Place….I was in the patio but you made my heart jump. Did you really write that beautiful song?”
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
THE END
a short story by Diana Weeks
The idea of visiting an old cemetery was Kyle’s and it was their first date. Joyce was skeptical. Why do you want to go there? Kyle dropped his head. “My Grandmother died last month and I promised to keep flowers on her grave. It won’t take long and then we can go to the party your friends are having. I want to meet all your friends because you look darling in your doctor’s costume”. This appeased Joyce...
Joyce looked around “I don’t see any flowers”.
“I thought we’d drive by a Kroger. There’s a vase already there because she was buried next to Grandpa so their double headstone is up...
Grandpa picked the best flower from his garden everyday, he put it in a crystal bud vase he gave her the first Christmas they were married in 1952..It was kept in her kitchen window over the sink. And she’d give him a bodacious kiss so mushy my Mom would say “Mother, not in front of the children”.
Joyce was touched… that this leather clothed motorcycle riding tough guy talked about such sweet family feelings. Joyce had run to the window when she heard the throbbing cycle motor stop outside. Her mother looked and turned white. “That thug must have gotten lost from his, from his, Hell’s Angels gang!”
“Mother, he’s a very nice guy, don’t be so judgmental.”
“Oh yeah, where did you meet him?” She stood with her hands on her hips and made Joyce feel five years old.
Joyce’s mind whirled…do I tell the truth or lie?”
“Well…answer me.”
“In the grocery store…last week when you sent me to buy bread because Dad forgot.”
Her mother walled her eyes and held on to her hips until her finger tips pressed into her tummy. “What department? I want details”.
“He was looking at the steaks”. Joyce stopped there and left out… in the mark down nook where she was looking for lamb. He joked with the butcher and said to me” The butcher ought to wear a blue bandana to hide his face. He can’t even look me in the eye.”
I couldn’t resist answering “He would if you smiled at him”. Kyle laughed and smiled at the butcher and got a smile back. “Just for that he told me “I’ll buy one for you, we’ll grill em at the park this weekend.”
“Oh heaven help me…Joyce, you’re in love! She looks out the window. Her mother presses her hands against her heart and takes deep breaths…and says a quick soft “Hello” and left the room at a run to get her husband.
“I’m sorry you have to meet both my parents” Joyce whispered.
“Heck…” he gave her a ‘You can trust me” smile. “I want to meet them”…Joyce wanted to hug and kiss him right there.
The cemetery was very dark. But as soon as they got parked, he pulls out the biggest flash light Joyce had ever seen, hands her the yellow tulips and took her free hand. They started walking towards the darker wooded section. They stopped behind a large hedge and heard a low giggle. Kyle pulls Joyce behind it,. “That’s Grandma?!”
A ghostly male voice speaks as Joyce squats to sit on the ground…”Darling I’m so longing to hold you”. Kyle curiously peeks over the hedge and whispers “It’s them”. They hear the ghosts breathing softly at first, then harder and faster…then the sound of the spirits falling easily to the ground…”Darling, it’s king sized…let me help you off with your dress…” A soft female voice...”…It lifts up you know.”
Kyle squeezed her hand…”I think we better leave them alone…I’ve got a blanket in my saddle bag…I don’t want you to get grass stains on your white coat…we’ll come back later with the flowers. I want to get to know you! Did I mention that I’ve heard you sing at Jane’s Place….I was in the patio but you made my heart jump. Did you really write that beautiful song?”
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
THE END
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Mother's Funny Halloween
Mother's Funny Halloween
A short story by Diana Weeks
I had been feeding a stray Halloween orange and black calico cat on the sly for two weeks …I got caught when I used the last of Mothers’ coffee cream…only because we were out of milk.
The back kitchen door bangs open…her “Greatest Mom” coffee mug splashed black coffee on her hand…and made her howl …in her rush to find me…Mother points with her elbows, hands on her hips, “Betty, is that a cat?”
I tried to lie my third grade… troubles away. “The cat just turned up hungry this morning… I was afraid she was going to starve to death.” I rambled on tenderly stroking the cat’s silky back. My red headed brother Steve, who’s ten and thinks he owns the world, looks out the kitchen door…watching Mother give me “the magnet look” that grabs and holds on.
Mother walks around me. “What’s her name?”
“Princess” I blurted. “Feel how soft she is.”
Steve proclaims… “Caught red handed” and goes back in. Mother comes over and pets Princess…and picks her up. “This cat is probably just lost…her family may be walking down the alley now”…Mother put her hand around an ear “Yes…here kitty kitty”…as she’s walking toward the back alley.
“I know Daddy doesn’t want us to have cats… ever since he accidently rolled over the neighbor’s “…but Princes’ll stay in the back yard and Daddy won’t even know she’s here.” Mother puts her down on the ground and Princess runs away up the alley.
“She’ll come back”. Mother takes my hand. “You don’t find cats…cats find you. Don’t ever ever …let her in the house…” Mother ordered. “This afternoon we’ll fix a box for her under the back porch… get ready for school”
I might have gotten away with a secret pet…Daddy runs a grocery store and leaves before we wake up and comes home after we’re asleep…He is too tired to complain.
@#$%^&(*_+ my Princess sneaked in and had a litter of six kittens in my parents closet…and best of all…it happened on the next Saturday and we got to watch the last three kittens come out. It was so exciting.
Daddy came home for lunch and was greeted by my little sister Kimberly… who told him she discovered our cat having kittens and took his hand and pulled him to his closet. “I didn’t know what was happening” she explained “but I saw blood”.
“Debora!” Daddy called. Mother came in and gave him a hug…and a long kiss.
“Isn’t it great …they’re getting to learn about life…just like you did living on a farm”.
Daddy had helped us move Princess and her still wet kittens…to my closet. He barely gave me time to get my ballet shoes out of the way. I heard Mother tell him several times…just till they’re weened”...And give him a deep kiss. Mother thought I couldn’t see them.
. …Finally, its Halloween my favorite holiday and Mother is baking cookies to give trick or treaters. She let us eat two each right out of the oven.
Mother didn’t believe in buying Halloween costumes. “What fun is that? You all get to create your own costumes. You can be whoever you want to be”.
“Can I be a ghost? I found the sheet” Steve waved it in my face and threw it over Kim’s head.
“Steve, you were a ghost last year. This year you can be really scary…a mummy” then she laughed her cackling “witch” laugh and started tearing the sheet into long strips and wrapping them around Steve’s limbs taping the ends with scotch tape. I stepped on strips as they fell rounding on the floor. …Kim joined me stomping. Steve yelled. “Mother make them stop getting my costume dirty”.
“Thank you girls, you don’t want it clean… a mummy has just raised-up-out-of-the-dark ground… he’s been scratching upward from the grave.”
I joined Mother’s movements sing songing “The mummy’s mad with anger about his dirty finger nails…”
We were all laughing when Daddy came in from their bedroom with one of his house slippers in his hand…extended toward us. “Smell this…all my shoes smell like piss.”
Mother smiled. “I’ll have the closet all cleaned out when you get home tonight”.
“I can tell by that determined look…” teased Daddy kissing her goodbye. We waved his 65 ford along. When he was out of sight…Mother pulled us into a huddle.
“Six lucky kids… who come here… to our house… for trick or treat will win …their very own little kitten” Mother jumped her cheerleader dance. “Yea, let’s hear it…I’ll tie a sweet bow around each neck…blue for boys and pink for girls…if we can tell. Steve speaks out…”in my Boy Scout book.”
Mother becomes director of our annual Halloween show. “Steve you go down and scare the kids over to us…I spoke up. “Especially … groups with no adult tagging along”.
Kim put on Bet’s pink ballet tutu…you can pass out the cookies.”
“Betty you can get our laundry basket for the kittens….the basket that’s short enough for them to peek over and look cute. And Betty…you my blond golden girl. can be the judge…you can pick out the winners”.
Until she said that… I was going to cry to keep all the kittens.. I could advise each child who got a kitten…to cross their heart and hope to die… promise to take good care of their new pet.. Honestly I was glad Mother thought of this…I felt so powerful getting to pick winners.
The third “treat” kitten given away was tearfully returned. “If Dad had been driving our group around tonight I could have kept “Frisky”. I’d already named her”. Kim gave her two cookies.
The next gaggling group of five …had two screeching girl twins…dressed as bats…black bats…each won a kitten. And a boy my age smiled and said he’d always wanted a cat to give his mom for her birthday tomorrow. “Go on” Mother laughed.
I had on Mother’s old white waitress uniform that was this years nursing uniform…with a red cross printed on my paper folded nurse hat. I got to use my toy hypodermic to give shots to the boys my age. What a great Halloween.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A short story by Diana Weeks
I had been feeding a stray Halloween orange and black calico cat on the sly for two weeks …I got caught when I used the last of Mothers’ coffee cream…only because we were out of milk.
The back kitchen door bangs open…her “Greatest Mom” coffee mug splashed black coffee on her hand…and made her howl …in her rush to find me…Mother points with her elbows, hands on her hips, “Betty, is that a cat?”
I tried to lie my third grade… troubles away. “The cat just turned up hungry this morning… I was afraid she was going to starve to death.” I rambled on tenderly stroking the cat’s silky back. My red headed brother Steve, who’s ten and thinks he owns the world, looks out the kitchen door…watching Mother give me “the magnet look” that grabs and holds on.
Mother walks around me. “What’s her name?”
“Princess” I blurted. “Feel how soft she is.”
Steve proclaims… “Caught red handed” and goes back in. Mother comes over and pets Princess…and picks her up. “This cat is probably just lost…her family may be walking down the alley now”…Mother put her hand around an ear “Yes…here kitty kitty”…as she’s walking toward the back alley.
“I know Daddy doesn’t want us to have cats… ever since he accidently rolled over the neighbor’s “…but Princes’ll stay in the back yard and Daddy won’t even know she’s here.” Mother puts her down on the ground and Princess runs away up the alley.
“She’ll come back”. Mother takes my hand. “You don’t find cats…cats find you. Don’t ever ever …let her in the house…” Mother ordered. “This afternoon we’ll fix a box for her under the back porch… get ready for school”
I might have gotten away with a secret pet…Daddy runs a grocery store and leaves before we wake up and comes home after we’re asleep…He is too tired to complain.
@#$%^&(*_+ my Princess sneaked in and had a litter of six kittens in my parents closet…and best of all…it happened on the next Saturday and we got to watch the last three kittens come out. It was so exciting.
Daddy came home for lunch and was greeted by my little sister Kimberly… who told him she discovered our cat having kittens and took his hand and pulled him to his closet. “I didn’t know what was happening” she explained “but I saw blood”.
“Debora!” Daddy called. Mother came in and gave him a hug…and a long kiss.
“Isn’t it great …they’re getting to learn about life…just like you did living on a farm”.
Daddy had helped us move Princess and her still wet kittens…to my closet. He barely gave me time to get my ballet shoes out of the way. I heard Mother tell him several times…just till they’re weened”...And give him a deep kiss. Mother thought I couldn’t see them.
. …Finally, its Halloween my favorite holiday and Mother is baking cookies to give trick or treaters. She let us eat two each right out of the oven.
Mother didn’t believe in buying Halloween costumes. “What fun is that? You all get to create your own costumes. You can be whoever you want to be”.
“Can I be a ghost? I found the sheet” Steve waved it in my face and threw it over Kim’s head.
“Steve, you were a ghost last year. This year you can be really scary…a mummy” then she laughed her cackling “witch” laugh and started tearing the sheet into long strips and wrapping them around Steve’s limbs taping the ends with scotch tape. I stepped on strips as they fell rounding on the floor. …Kim joined me stomping. Steve yelled. “Mother make them stop getting my costume dirty”.
“Thank you girls, you don’t want it clean… a mummy has just raised-up-out-of-the-dark ground… he’s been scratching upward from the grave.”
I joined Mother’s movements sing songing “The mummy’s mad with anger about his dirty finger nails…”
We were all laughing when Daddy came in from their bedroom with one of his house slippers in his hand…extended toward us. “Smell this…all my shoes smell like piss.”
Mother smiled. “I’ll have the closet all cleaned out when you get home tonight”.
“I can tell by that determined look…” teased Daddy kissing her goodbye. We waved his 65 ford along. When he was out of sight…Mother pulled us into a huddle.
“Six lucky kids… who come here… to our house… for trick or treat will win …their very own little kitten” Mother jumped her cheerleader dance. “Yea, let’s hear it…I’ll tie a sweet bow around each neck…blue for boys and pink for girls…if we can tell. Steve speaks out…”in my Boy Scout book.”
Mother becomes director of our annual Halloween show. “Steve you go down and scare the kids over to us…I spoke up. “Especially … groups with no adult tagging along”.
Kim put on Bet’s pink ballet tutu…you can pass out the cookies.”
“Betty you can get our laundry basket for the kittens….the basket that’s short enough for them to peek over and look cute. And Betty…you my blond golden girl. can be the judge…you can pick out the winners”.
Until she said that… I was going to cry to keep all the kittens.. I could advise each child who got a kitten…to cross their heart and hope to die… promise to take good care of their new pet.. Honestly I was glad Mother thought of this…I felt so powerful getting to pick winners.
The third “treat” kitten given away was tearfully returned. “If Dad had been driving our group around tonight I could have kept “Frisky”. I’d already named her”. Kim gave her two cookies.
The next gaggling group of five …had two screeching girl twins…dressed as bats…black bats…each won a kitten. And a boy my age smiled and said he’d always wanted a cat to give his mom for her birthday tomorrow. “Go on” Mother laughed.
I had on Mother’s old white waitress uniform that was this years nursing uniform…with a red cross printed on my paper folded nurse hat. I got to use my toy hypodermic to give shots to the boys my age. What a great Halloween.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Driving Lesson
Driving Lesson
a short story by Diana Weeks
"I can learn how to drive!” I thoughtfully celebrated when I woke up on my fourteenth birthday. I had requested a driving lesson as a gift from Daddy. It had been my secret wish when I blew out the candles on my party cake last year.
We lived close to bus lines and hadn’t had a car until after the war, when Uncle Buddy sold Daddy his 1940 Chevy. Bud decided to re-up in the Navy when his wife Ruby left him for a 4F-er who drove a Cadillac.
I could understand Aunt Ruby. I loved cars. My favorite game was identifying makes, model, and year, driving on Berry, the busy street a block away. I got many right, even from that distance.
As soon as Daddy put down his empty coffee cup beside his yoke-stained breakfast plate, I told him I was ready for my driving lesson. He laughed, like he’d hoped I’d forgotten.
I was lucky it was Sunday. Dad was off work from the print shop, and mad at our preacher for starting a building fund and expecting Daddy to sign up for monthly payments. Daddy was on strike against money-hungry Baptists.
Before Daddy would even let me get in the garaged sedan, he raised the hood and showed me the battery, radiator, surrounding hoses, and spark plugs. I bounced on my toes screaming inside “Let’s go!” But no, he showed me how to check the air in the tires with a fountain pen air gauge. Inside I was jumping.
Daddy smiled. “Well, get in!” I bolted for the driver door.
“No,” he strained not to yell. “Let me back us out of the driveway, and drive us where there’s not much traffic.”
“There’s no traffic here on our street,” I said smiling. He backed the vehicle and parked by the curb. Then he slowly exchanged places with me. His face flashed “I’m going to the dentist” fear. Thank goodness I had reached my full height, five foot three. My feet reached the pedals.
Daddy explained the horizontal right pedal was the gas, always to be respected. The clutch is tricky, he explained. It is for changing gears without killing the motor. Reverse is in the far corner of the invisible “H” pattern for the gears. There’s a special quarter-size silver button on the left side of the floor to tap to turn up and down the headlights high beams. By the brake pedal and the emergency brake handle.
I knew how to drive in my mind. Why was he boring me with all this? I did fine with turning on the key and pressing the starter which purred. I slowly pressed in the clutch and gently let it out while pressing on the gas pedal and shifting to first. The Chevy rolled backward. It was a perfect reverse execution. Dad started breathing again.
I turned right on Berry Street and shifted into second, and then to third. Wow, this is so easy. This is more fun than boys! Out of nowhere, a red truck streaked in front of me. “EEEK!” I hit the break so hard, the car jumped and stopped.
I got it started again, just as the light changed to green. But my smooth maneuvers, letting the clutch out and pressing the accelerator, didn’t mesh. The car bucked like a horse. I took my foot off the brake, and the car rolled back and hit a blue 1950 Buick. The whack sounded like a bonk. Oh no, the lady driver wore a purple hat.
Daddy was out of the car, seeing if everyone was all right. Cars stopped around us. I got out to look at the car I hit, and our back bumper, and it all looked fine. The thick chrome bumpers saved both vehicles from damage. I apologized and turned back to the driver’s seat, but it was occupied by Daddy.
“We’ll try again next year,” Daddy told me.
“Next year? That’s forever! I’ll be dead by next year. Or at least you will be,” I thought. But I didn’t say a word. Walking back in the house, I was mentally making a list of every neighbor, relative, and friend who might trade a driving lesson for a car wash.
THE END
© 2009, Diana Weeks
ALL RIGHT RESERVED
a short story by Diana Weeks
"I can learn how to drive!” I thoughtfully celebrated when I woke up on my fourteenth birthday. I had requested a driving lesson as a gift from Daddy. It had been my secret wish when I blew out the candles on my party cake last year.
We lived close to bus lines and hadn’t had a car until after the war, when Uncle Buddy sold Daddy his 1940 Chevy. Bud decided to re-up in the Navy when his wife Ruby left him for a 4F-er who drove a Cadillac.
I could understand Aunt Ruby. I loved cars. My favorite game was identifying makes, model, and year, driving on Berry, the busy street a block away. I got many right, even from that distance.
As soon as Daddy put down his empty coffee cup beside his yoke-stained breakfast plate, I told him I was ready for my driving lesson. He laughed, like he’d hoped I’d forgotten.
I was lucky it was Sunday. Dad was off work from the print shop, and mad at our preacher for starting a building fund and expecting Daddy to sign up for monthly payments. Daddy was on strike against money-hungry Baptists.
Before Daddy would even let me get in the garaged sedan, he raised the hood and showed me the battery, radiator, surrounding hoses, and spark plugs. I bounced on my toes screaming inside “Let’s go!” But no, he showed me how to check the air in the tires with a fountain pen air gauge. Inside I was jumping.
Daddy smiled. “Well, get in!” I bolted for the driver door.
“No,” he strained not to yell. “Let me back us out of the driveway, and drive us where there’s not much traffic.”
“There’s no traffic here on our street,” I said smiling. He backed the vehicle and parked by the curb. Then he slowly exchanged places with me. His face flashed “I’m going to the dentist” fear. Thank goodness I had reached my full height, five foot three. My feet reached the pedals.
Daddy explained the horizontal right pedal was the gas, always to be respected. The clutch is tricky, he explained. It is for changing gears without killing the motor. Reverse is in the far corner of the invisible “H” pattern for the gears. There’s a special quarter-size silver button on the left side of the floor to tap to turn up and down the headlights high beams. By the brake pedal and the emergency brake handle.
I knew how to drive in my mind. Why was he boring me with all this? I did fine with turning on the key and pressing the starter which purred. I slowly pressed in the clutch and gently let it out while pressing on the gas pedal and shifting to first. The Chevy rolled backward. It was a perfect reverse execution. Dad started breathing again.
I turned right on Berry Street and shifted into second, and then to third. Wow, this is so easy. This is more fun than boys! Out of nowhere, a red truck streaked in front of me. “EEEK!” I hit the break so hard, the car jumped and stopped.
I got it started again, just as the light changed to green. But my smooth maneuvers, letting the clutch out and pressing the accelerator, didn’t mesh. The car bucked like a horse. I took my foot off the brake, and the car rolled back and hit a blue 1950 Buick. The whack sounded like a bonk. Oh no, the lady driver wore a purple hat.
Daddy was out of the car, seeing if everyone was all right. Cars stopped around us. I got out to look at the car I hit, and our back bumper, and it all looked fine. The thick chrome bumpers saved both vehicles from damage. I apologized and turned back to the driver’s seat, but it was occupied by Daddy.
“We’ll try again next year,” Daddy told me.
“Next year? That’s forever! I’ll be dead by next year. Or at least you will be,” I thought. But I didn’t say a word. Walking back in the house, I was mentally making a list of every neighbor, relative, and friend who might trade a driving lesson for a car wash.
THE END
© 2009, Diana Weeks
ALL RIGHT RESERVED
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