Wordsmith Holler

Original Pulp Fiction

Category: My Craft

  • Driving Back from Spring Break

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    Three days earlier I studied all night with a girlfriend for a physics exam and afterward drove four classmates 12 hours to San Diego for spring break. The entire trip the girls giggled and cackled behind me while a Korean kid sat silent up front. I decided we scared Jae. Although, being a confused immigrant might also explain his silence. Either way, he only said thanks when I dropped him off at his house. For that matter, Cindy told me how to find it.

    The rest of the trip to Oceanside I drove in a blur on autopilot. All of the lights merged into a slow motion light show and I doubt I could even tell you about the trip. I arrived at the motel, went to bed, and slept nearly all Sunday despite my mother’s pleas to come to the beach. In the morning, I drove her north to Anaheim where we rode the teacups, stood in a long line for the bobsleds, and paddled a canoe. We ate dinner on the bayou, visited the pirates, posed with Mickey Mouse, and explored the Swiss Family Robinson tree house. Overall, mom had a great time and I played the sweet son. By nightfall, the sky exploded with fireworks and we headed back south. Mom slept pressed into the window missing the nuclear power plant, the Marines, and the moonlit beach. As the tail lights on the interstate blurred into red, I again drove like a drone.

    Tuesday, I left mom in the room sadly wondering why I was heading back to college. I made Spring Break last only as long as a three-day weekend with an irritating baby. At the studio I planned to make a lot of cash in the remaining days of my break.

    Before I left, Cindy called to say she wanted to ride back with me to school.

    (more…)

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  • Christmas Drabble Collection

    Christmas Drabble Collection

    Ah, Christmas. The time of year when all humanity’s doubts become hidden by hope. Some people thrive in the bustle and others wither. What better way to celebrate the holiday than to write a 100-word Drabble about Christmas?

    You can read my Drabble about two children expecting to miss Santa in a new anthology of stories published by the Fiction Writers Group.

    Get the free PDF here: http://writersanarchy.com/press-releases/all-i-want-for-christmas

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  • Joann Jett Joined The Stage Band

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    Behind the library, between the quad and the band room, the Stoners smoke packs of red Marlboro’s. For all practical purposes, this might as well be no man’s land. Only sand dirt seems to grow and the green soccer field starts 80 yards farther away. I imagine the area remained hidden before the school added the soccer field and a football arena. The area is the perfect place to hide and smoke.

    I have never been back there. I only see it when I sprint over to the band room. I doubt I would ever hang out there. It is the end of April and school is winding down. Spring fever grabbed us a few weeks ago. The weekly ski trips to Mammoth ended in March, so we all need something to take our minds off school. Boredom fails to describe the feeling; I guess the warm days make us want to play hooky.

    I am late for stage band. As I rush past the Stoners, a girl with punk black hair, torn jeans with a hole in her knee, and a bandanna around her neck carries a bass guitar case toward me. I swear she is Joann Jett come to life. She walks my way with attitude. I switch my trumpet case to my other hand and hold the door open for her. She smells like cigarettes as she slides into the band room.

    (more…)

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  • Decisions, decisions

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    Oh, the mysteries
    Ever pondering why.
    Should I dive in?
    Or should I just try?

    The decisions I must make
    Compel me to giggle.
    I never seem to have
    Any room to wiggle.

    If only I had a way
    To make decisions play.
    I’d put them to rest;
    Deciding what’s best.

    I think I know
    Just what to do.
    I’ll ask my Magic 8 Ball
    Instead of throwing my shoe.

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  • Wakan Tanka Waits For Me

    Wakan Tanka Waits For Me

    Taking the mother road east
    Seemed like a rewind trip
    Into the dreams of west bound
    Men and ladies who left Chi
    Town for Santa Monica; they
    Sought the sunny shore to rest.

    Sunset at our back door down
    Somewhere in Arizona
    The passenger trains replaced
    By cargo trailers never to stop
    At wide clips of towns built only
    For fuel or Indian trinkets.

    In the distance a tee pee
    Settled between branches of
    Mesquite or salt cedar brush;
    Train cars rushed by to show
    A cluster of modern tents
    Circled to prevent attack.

    “Sleep in a Wigwam” the sign
    Urged motorists to stop
    Away from the freeway noise
    Tucked next to the train whose
    Resonant horn warned hostiles
    To leave the sleepers alone.

    The white dashes coming far
    Faster than the midnight
    Static of dull hypnotic
    Beats pounding a rusty hole
    Deep in the driver’s brain
    Making kitsch palatable.

    We stopped to stay in a
    Stucco cone banging our heads
    On the slopping walls to peer
    Into fun-house mirrors near
    Blankets with Wakan Tanka;
    Red and black on double beds.

    Staring at the tapered top
    Of the ceiling seeing stars
    Aerial above the black desert night
    Musing about ghostly riders
    Traveling the mother road
    We dream in deep sleep slumber.

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  • The Baby Picture

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    “The usual?” Mary grabbed two slices of sourdough from a bag before slapping on some tuna salad.

    “Yeah,” Tom replied looking around the deli.

    Two small puddles of rain water merged on the floor. He shook the drops from his umbrella before sticking it into a cloth grocery sack. Water leaked through the canvas of the heavy bag. He looked around to see if anyone saw its contents.

    Mary sliced through his sandwich, placed it on a plate with pickle, and pushed it toward him. He placed on his tray a banana from the fruit basket and a cello-wrapped brownie from the deserts.

    “Just a cup of ice water,” he said paying for the lunch.

    (more…)

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  • A Short Cut to the Dining Room

    A Short Cut to the Dining Room

    The man stood by the glass door with a bag over his hand and he nodded his head back. Danny looked at him through the water gurgling up from the water fountain. He swallowed another mouthful and considered opening the door.

    The man wore a beanie cap, a blue work short, jeans, and he held a green bag with his left hand in front of his right. Behind the bag he appeared to hold something in his right hand. Danny thought about the bag as he returned to his seat.

    Mary, his mom, sat on his right holding baby Jeff. His dad, Jeff Senior, sat across from him. Danny shared the same bench with his sister Ann. At every other table in the dining room families talked in pleasant harmony.

    A man wearing a green beret teased a woman wearing a flowered muumuu with a french fry. She giggled and grabbed at the fry when she missed. A woman poked into her chili, while a man rested his cheeseburger to steady her bowl. The sun reflected off the glass and the beaded crystal curtain. Behind it a sign invited guests to visit the American Freedom Train at the Naval Air Station.

    Danny slurped a gurgle of remaining soda out of his empty cup. Two drops rose up the straw with a slurp, slurp sound. He dropped the cup behind his sister’s and reached for her grape soda.

    “Danny is trying to drink my drink,” Ann said.

    “You know better,” his mom scolded.

    He fingered his empty cup. More soda would be nice, although refills cost money, and his mom already made it clear this was a treat. He still wished for another. He looked back at the water fountain and the door. The man still stood there. Danny went to get another drink of water.

    (more…)

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  • Taking the Road to School

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    He hid behind a branch, yet she found him. A pink travelers case, with a dancing ballerina inside, hung at his hip. She packed inside his breakfast of creamed wheat and bobbing raisins. Now she wondered if it sloshed inside covering the ballerina with a sticky sauce.

    He refused to eat his breakfast. Definitely, he announced he would leave home forever. She packed up his suitcase and made sure to add his bowl. He took the case, stumbled down the deck, and ran for the road.

    The road started from their trailer. It circled through meadows, pine trees, a one-room library, and finally a Spanish-styled market. A second road crossed it leading to a brown church with a tall steeple on one end and a cluster of houses on the other. A few feet away from the crossroad, a power pole buzzed. Before, she had invited him to lean against it and listen to the buzzing. He buzzed his lips all the way to the market.

    His fleeing took him no farther than start of the road. Between them a dry creek full of grass and saplings cut them off from each other. He inched along the shoulder kicking up old asphalt along the edges. His eyes met hers in a dance of cat and mouse. He moved to hide himself and she followed. The case became too heavy to hold so he set it down. His mother reached out both arms from her side of the creek. He laughed and toddled around to embrace her.

    (more…)

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  • Retirement Tomatoes

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    His tomato plant stood in the middle of a mound of sand as a brittle stick with two wilted branches. He tried more water, which puddled around the stick. Water seemed to only lubricate the small grains before they cut into the base of the $2 plant. If a man could grow a field of potatoes on Mars, he should be able to grow a tomato. Or could he?

    Across from his garden, the neighbor grew tall corn, squash, and tomatoes. The garden bloomed with buzzing bees, ladybugs, and pesky worms. In comparison, his garden looked worse than a desert with cactus flowers and burnt grass. He grew dirt.

    The neighbor amended manure from rabbits, goats, and a horse mixed with straw. A goat would just eat the garden and he had no room for a horse. He decided he could raise rabbits.

    The price of one rabbit totaled $12 at the feed store. He bought two. The rabbit hutch cost $54 and the clerk warned him she couldn’t tell a male from a female. If he had two females, then great. Otherwise, he should expect kits in 30 days. More rabbits meant more manure, so he agreed. Rabbit feed totaled $16 a bag and fed four rabbits a month. He was now a rabbit farmer.

    (more…)

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  • Scarlet Ribbons

     

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    The trip required three bus changes, a slight wait, and the chance of no seat. He just wanted to forget work on the humming bus ride home. Before noon, someone clogged the sixth floor toilets. The backup sent water over the walkway as he returned to lunch. After a shower of piss water, Robert Lotz needed a seat.

    The bus lurched to the stop letting out a whoosh from its brakes. Second stop on Robert’s trip. He waited behind a college girl in a running suit, a boy wearing eye shadow, and a shopping cart pulled by a hunched-over woman. In college, he organized each weekend frat party dressed in modern pop.  Tonight, he was the old man at the end of the line with four kids, two dogs, and a wife who saw him more as a burden than the wild guy she married. Waiting to board, he read the newspaper folded to the business section. The economy needed this market to come out of its flats. He pushed up a pair of bifocals as the hunched woman struggled to lift the shopping cart.

    He reached to help. The woman turned, gave him a look of contempt, and smacked his hand back. She pulled the cart into the step again. Unable to lift the cart, she turned and gave him a look of “what are you waiting for.” He picked up the cart and raised it on the bus.

    He dropped three quarters in the meter, turned inside, and shook his head. Just as he predicted; no seats. Robert walked over to the straphangers, propped his briefcase between his feet, and folded the newspaper under his armpit. The bus jumped forward and he grabbed a hanger. With his hanging hand he pushed up his glasses. Another night of standing unbalanced. He stood opposite of where the shopping cart woman had managed to wedge between an angry fat man and the skinny track girl. She shoved to position further into the seat, the fat man nudged back, and the reaction slid the college girl off the seat. Catching herself, she grabbed a hanger just as the bus turned onto the highway.

    The driver made a fast pace over the rolling hills. The girl, the fat man, and the shopping cart woman all left the bus. Robert sat down three stops from home and scrunched up his toes seeking freedom. He set the newspaper down beside him and watched out the window. The highway gave way to a street lined with elm trees, white cupboard houses, and Halloween decorations. He hit the buzzer and the driver stopped two houses from home.

    Children dressed as villans, superheros, princesses, and ghosts jumped on the sidewalk or scurried across the grass. They popped up beside him or in his path in spurts excited by the night of tricks and treats. He marched through the costumes pausing and pitching from side to side. With his dance, he managed to miss most of their twists, turns, and orbits. A crowd of kids blocked his porch scampering for the treats laid out by his oldest daughter Cindy. She ignored him as she dropped small candies into each bag. He cleared the horde of small monsters into the house. (more…)

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