Category: My stories

Delays

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Through the tears, the sky glistens like the clouds are coated with glass dust, spread across a smear of powder blue.
Beyond, stars twinkle in the darkness. You can’t see them during the day, but they’re out there, all around us, a snapshot from tens, hundreds, thousands, and millions of years ago as the light tries to get here as fast as it can.
Once, I heard thunder a year after lightning had struck a tree. I was walking past a tree stump when a loud blast shattered the air.
Better late than never, I always say, but enough’s enough.

The Monster Under The Bed

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Every kid has a monster under the bed, but I’m grown up now.
And yet, right under our bed, there’s a monster.
No, not the orange fluffy cat down here. His grabbing at ankles and biting hands trying to pet him are behind him now.
He’s sleeping, or…
The monster under the bed is not knowing what I’ll find when I look under there again.
The monster is my fear.
The monster is his suffering, and not being able to do anything about it.
The monster takes away every good memory, and replaces it with the sadness that is now.

Jacob

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Jacob”s violin was the pride of Minsk. But that didn’t matter, because the Nazis put everyone on the trains.
The commander of the camp was also from Minsk, and he knew of Jacob. He commanded him to play for the officers during dinner.
Jacob refused, demanding to play for the workers.
So, they let him. And after a minute of playing for us, he was shot.
The commander was Klaus Gustav. Years later, I found Klaus in Cairo, and I strangled him with one of Jacob’s violin strings.
The sound of Gustav’s croaks doesn”t haunt me at all.
Only Jacob.

The Scissors

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Hi, my name is Roy. I have a pair of scissors.
They’re big sharp scissors, with thick plastic handles.
Hold them up, and they look like eyes.
Open the scissors and it looks like a bird’s beak. Or a mouth.
I open and close the scissors, and it looks like it’s talking.
Then I played a song by Britney Spears on my radio, and it looked like the scissors were singing.
My scissors were singing like Britney Spears.
I love Britney Spears. She’s so hot.
I wonder if they give head like Britney Spears, too.
Oh, okay… let’s find out!

On TV

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The cable company sent a new lineup card in the mail.
So, we told the television to scan channels, and two minutes later it finished.
There’s more stations in Spanish, shopping channels and religious channels.
You know, the junk you never watch.
More sports. And National Geographic, too.
Then there’s this weird station with a security camera. It’s overlooking a parking lot gate, but it’s all hazy and blurry.
Hey, is that our gate?
I’ll get my cell phone and call you. Then I can jump around and wave and you can watch me on television.
It’ll be so cool.

The Happy Pie

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It was an ordinary pumpkin pie, fresh from the bakery.
We were finished with the roast beef, so it was time for dessert.
Victor grabbed the can of whipped cream and added two dots for eyes and a long curled smile.
That’s when it became the happy pie.
“Come on, Victor,” I said. “Let’s have the pie.”
We all wanted a slice, but Victor shouted “THE HAPPY PIE IS TOO HAPPY TO EAT!” and he ran off with it.
Victor wasn’t hard to chase down. He was sitting on the curb, the pie splattered against the sidewalk.
Happy, no more.

Calendars

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Okay, so you got a bunch of calendars for Christmas and you don’t know which to use when the New Year rolls around, right?
Well, you could use them all, but that would cover all your walls. And windows. And floors. And ceilings. And-
You get the point.
On the other hand, you could use just one,. But when someone comes over and sees you’re not using their calendar, they’ll say “You’re not using the calendar I gave you for Christmas? I thought you liked puppies!”
Well, I do, but hey – check out the puppies on Miss January. Oh, momma.

My First Midnight

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The first time I saw midnight, it was New Year’s Eve.
Well, sort of. It was really nine or nine thirty. Later than my bedtime, but still, not the real midnight time for New Year’s for Chicago.
My mom had moved the clock forward so it looked like eleven. My dad had popped popcorn for us all.
By the time it was fake midnight, we were out of popcorn except for two pieces.
Tossing those two pieces into the air, one after the other, yeah, it was silly. But if that’s all you’ve got, it’s the thought that counts, right?

The Windup Cupcake

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She knew I was coming, so she baked me a cake.
She’s baking me a windup cupcake, my favorite kind of cupcake.
Watchmaker and confectionist, lover and friend.
It’s in the oven, baking.
Can you smell it?
It’s good.
If you listen closely, you can hear the ticking of the gears, counting down the time.
It’s its own timer, it’s own oven timer.
When it goes off, it’s ready.
And then, light the candle, and make a wish.
Know what my wish is?
That I just lick the frosting, and I don’t break my teeth on this lovely windup cupcake.

Up A Tree

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I was walking home one evening when I saw a kid sitting by a tree and crying.
I stopped and knelt by the kid.
“Why are you crying?” I asked him.
“My cat is caught up the tree,” he whined.
I started to climb the tree, but he yelled for me to come back down.
So I did.
“What is it, kid?” I asked.
He handed me a pair of very sharp tin snips.
“What are these for?” I said.
“To cut the cat loose from the bailing wire I used to tie him to the tree branch,” he said.