WHAT CAN I SAY?

I didn’t take anything. I’m waiting for a friend of mine.

Yeah, I have a wrench under my coat.

No, I don’t have a receipt for it. It just looks like one of yours.

So you’re stuck with me. How long does this usually take?

Look, I just blew it. Just kick me out. It’s cool. 

I’m sick of waiting; where’s the “man” when you want him?

Changing of the guard, eh? 

They’ve had me in here for over an hour.

I’m so sorry. Can’t I just pay for it and never come into the store again? 

Sorry about the tears, man. My kid is so hungry and what if I lose my place? 

We’d be on the street!

But you can do something, can’t you? I won’t ever come in here again, I swear!

Thank you so much, man! I won’t ever do anything this stupid again. Really!

***

coming in UMM Binnacle Ultrashorts 2017 

(This Flash is expanded into a 10-minute, one act play: let me know by comments if you would like to see it up.)

UNDETERRED

                               .published June, 2013 

About six years ago, a dark-haired, thirtyish man in a white T-shirt pushed an arresting young woman in a wheel chair up the main aisle of the hardware store. She had intense brown eyes, smooth tan skin, like her companion, and exuberant, thick eyebrows.

He approached me. “Do you have a little time you can spend with my sister? Anna has a few questions.”

“Sure. What can I help with?” I said. I was grateful. I am a rover in the store, free to help almost anybody with pretty much anything, but especially a pretty girl.

The girl had the same shiny rich, black hair as her brother, shoulder length. Her upper body was brown and broad; her legs were in jeans, but Velcro-wrapped to the foot rests of the chair.

“Well, I hope you can help me with pulleys, because I have to invent some things. I can picture it, but I need help to get the pieces together.”

Her eyes were mirrors into which I didn’t dare look. “Okay.  Anna, I’m Jerry. What are we building?”

Keeping Time

It was close to 9 A.M. when he hoisted his case and stepped outside. He felt late. The day had started badly. Green Bay was out of Super Bowl contention already. Shake it off. The street was filled with black grit and slush and snow lay like old manna on strips and patches of grass. Up the street, pitch and run. Sell. Tune in. Make it.

“Look, just bear with me a minute,” he told the short, shiny man wiping the snow from a parked car. “How many ways do you know to boil an egg? One. How many ways to chew it? One. You sleep, you wake up, you chew your eggs the same way every time. Do you want to just hang around till you die of old age?”

The little man was listening. He was buying, Diskus knew. 

“Break your wife out of the ordinary. Surprise her. No occasion. It’ll mean a lot to her. The gold in this chain is worth $15.00 by itself.” Diskus proffered a delicate pendant and chain.