Tag: society

My Spot

639171

There are five booths in Bill’s Diner.
This is my spot.
Second to last booth, seat facing the door.
Nobody takes my spot. If someone does, Bill tells them to sit somewhere else.
If they don’t move, he puts their coffee down at the counter.
Even the mailman knows this is my spot. He doesn’t even bother to deliver my mail to my apartment or my office.
He puts it down at my spot.
Same with the paperboy.
Bill asked if I wanted like a metal plaque or something to mark my spot
There’s no point, really.
Everybody already knows.

River Rock

639174

Eloise noticed a strange bit of data in the mortality report.
Nobody had ever died in Rock River County on the weekend in the past forty years.
She thought it odd, even if it was a backwoods town of barely 1,000 people.
No email address for the local clinic.
She tried calling them. Busy.
When the clinic did pick up, it was the doctor’s wife. She acted as nurse and secretary.
“Earl goes hunting on weekends,” she said. “If someone dies, well, they can wait till he gets back Monday to pronounce them dead. Ain’t like they’re in a rush.”

The Lobster Races

639181

I’ve got a special treat in store for you.
No, we’re not going to the movies. There’s no good movies out right now.
We’re going to the lobster races tonight!
They take a pair of lobsters and strap them to roller skates.
Then, they roll those roller skates down a street.
First one across the finish line wins. The loser gets eaten.
Okay, so they eat the winner too. Nobody wins this race.
Except for the people who eat the lobsters.
Know who loses the worst?
Me. Because those are my roller skates.
On second thought, let’s see a movie.

The Dead Lawn

639177

The lawn is dead.
I tried watering, fertilizing, sod patches – you name it, I’ve tried it.
You know how some kooks tell you to play music for plants? Well, I tried that too. I guess those kooks were as kooky as I’d thought.
There’s nothing left of the lawn. It’s all blown to dust.
It’s a shame, because I bought a shiny new lawnmower.
The neighbors come by to borrow it. They expect me to fill it with gas.
Why? What’s the point?
They have lawns. Let them gas it up.
I’ll just sit here, watching Dust Devils graze.

Lasso

639155

You don’t need a license to carry a lasso.
That’s why I carry one of those instead of a gun.
Guns are aloud and messy. Lassos are a lot friendlier.
But have you ever tried robbing a bank with a lasso?
The teller laughs like you’re crazy.
If you’re robbing a bank with a lasso, you are crazy.
The teller says for me to hold out my hand.
“Why?” I ask. “What for?”
“Just do it,” she says and smiles.
So, I do it, and she puts a penny in my palm.
“That’s for being cute,” she says. “Next!”

Felver Rate

639161

The government reports appear on my desk on the third Tuesday every month.
It is my job to inspect them for investment opportunities or legal loopholes.
Every month, a new statistic appears. This month I noticed a label called Felver Rate.
There was no explanation or formula. Just a graph showing a slow decline over time.
Is this a good thing, like unemployment, or is it a bad thing, like graduation rates?
I call the author… Dr. Daniel Felver, but I got a recording.
He’s at a Weight Watchers meeting.
I look at the graph… Those numbers could be pounds.

Roadkill

639172

Usually, we see dead possums and armadillos by the side of the road, but this was the first time I’ve seen a panda.
Turning it over with my shovel, sure enough, it was a panda.
Big bastard. I couldn’t lift it. So, I had to call for help.
The county cut back to one-man crews a few months back to save on costs.
Instead of jabbering in the truck cab, we jabber over the two-way.
Joe pulled up, and looked at it.
“Can you eat panda?” he asked.
“Let’s find out,” I said, and we loaded it into the truck.

The Cloud Whisperer

639183

He lays back in a field, guiding the clouds across the sky.
The Cloud Whisperer rules the heavens by sheer willpower.
The clouds are happy to do his bidding. It delights them to float where he asks.
He hardly notices the roar of the crowd around him, the players in their helmets and pads.
This championship needs to be played. the rain needs to stop for just a few hours.
“Please,” he says to the sky.
The clouds shift slowly, rising and thinning.
The game will be played.
“Thank you,” says the mayor. “Now get your clothes back on, Bill.”

Elevator

639172

The elevator doors open and I step in.
The doors close.
Usually, it’s a smooth ride. And very peaceful.
But I can hear breathing.
Loud, heavy breathing. Raspy. Angry.
I don’t want to look… I watch the numbers.
More breathing.
It’s starting to scare me.
The numbers go up… and up… and up…
The breathing is unbearable.
The elevator stops and the doors open.
I run out of the elevator and watch the doors close, sealing the breathing in once again.
Hopefully, they’ll switch the tape back to the elevator music. This Halloween loop tape is really creeping me out.

Yazghar

639157

I list my race as White.
I’m proud to be a Yazghar, sure, but I would rather not end up dissected at Area 51.
The Field Operations Manual says to blend in as best I can. Carnival jobs when possible, or work from home doing technical support.
Do I look like a Steve? Do Steves have bright orange war-crests and talons?
Usually we outsource observation duties to the Ofokos. They look more human than us, despite the lack of earlobes.
Easily concealed with wigs or floppy hats.
The fangs aren’t. We just tell them not to smile, or go Goth.