- Lizzie
- Norval Joe
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Planet Z
TOM
Bitter as an empty glass
The bartender looks at me, then posed this question, “An empty glass is often a beginning of someone’s sad story. If you’re willing to talk, I’m willing to listen.” Since the Jack Daniels had been drained a good 20 minutes ago, this was my cue to share the bitter tale of Mary Jane Spanner. All Mary Jane wanted to do is dance on Broadway. Not a big role, just being one of the gypsies. I’d been working lighting at Waverly, she wasn’t that talented nor a real good looker, but the kid and a fire that lite up the stage.
NORVAL JOE
Mrs. Weinerheimer went to the kitchen and, pulling an empty glass from the dishwasher, she filled it with ice water and followed Sabrina.
Mandi sat on the couch next to Billbert and said, “That girl is such a drama queen.”
Billbert raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think she had a horrible experience in that basement?”
Mandi shrugged. “Maybe. I think she’s just bitter that you want me to join you on your mission and not replace me with Bobbie.”
Mr. Weinerheimer charged into the house. “Where’s your mother? Sorry Billbert, but you’ll be on your own for a few days.”
SERENDIPIDY
It’s on nights like this, bitter cold, when frost covers the ground that you’ll find me about my business.
Even the freshly dug soil is hard as iron, and it’s difficult, exhausting work to dig down the full six feet.
It warms me up nicely in no time though.
Why not wait for warmer nights, you may ask, when the soil is soft and the digging easy?
But that, my friend, shows just how little you know.
It needs to be cold, as cold as ice. The ground frozen almost solid.
Because that way, the bodies stay fresh, and tasty.
LIZZIE
He slumped into a rusty chair someone left by the outside wall. He was the epitome of an empty glass. No car, no house, no pet, no marriage, no kids… in this order. “Believe in yourself,” someone told him. Oh, he believed, alright, because his wife sold the house, kept the car, took the cat, asked for a divorce, and told the kids he had died. Just because the car was more important to him than the kids. Frosty, she called him, frosty. Imagine that. Then, the lighthouse spun its light across the horizon, and the chair collapsed under him.
RICHARD
Greatest Hits
The old man drained his drink and looked meaningfully across the table at me.
‘Can’t abide an empty glass” he muttered, “mine’s a pint of bitter’.
I made my way to the bar, ordered, and smiled at the barmaid expertly pulling his pint, she smiled back icily, frost in her eyes.
‘That’ll be four eighty, luv’.
This better be worth it. My music journalism career had hardly been stellar so far. I returned to the table.
‘So, tell me what it was like being a mod, back in the day!’
‘Mod? I was never a mod! Way after my time!’