Month: May 2008

Fiction: The Beholders

Posted on by bryon

In one week, a massive hurricane swept up a continental coast, flattening and flooding; an art museum burned to the ground, taking priceless treasures with it; a national leader and his family were assassinated; drought deepened across a formerly fertile region; and the seams of a cruise ship opened and hundreds drowned.

As his mother watched, he lined up automobiles on a bridge just before creating an earthquake.

She shook her head. “He’s so hard on his toys.”

His father smiled indulgently. “Yes, but he’ll grow out of it. Besides, it’s just a training planet.”

Fiction: The To-Do List

Posted on by bryon

A stray piece of paper is more likely to be picked up if it’s light pink with cute artwork of a kitten and some handwriting on it.

That was the stray piece of paper Denise saw on the grocery store floor, near the customer service desk and picked up. Next to the kitten, at the top of the page, was printed: “Things CONNIE Needs To Do Today.” It was from the sort of notepad advertised in junk mail, and Connie had ordered some. There was, indeed a list of things to do:

1. Call Mom
2. Deposit check
3. Pay rent
4. Take movies back
5. Get haircut – Fran
6. Wash car
7. Go to work
8. Get CheezPuffers, Bloody Mary mix, rat poison
9. Meet Terry at hotel
10. Put rat poison in Terry’s drink
11. Go home, wash clothes & clean out fridge!
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Fiction: Interesting Company

Posted on by bryon

When one lives on the wrong side of the edge of the desert, and when one is as aged as I am, one accepts that he will see certain things that other people would not. Mostly this is good, as the things I see are interesting.

I was sitting in my chair in the shade of the little porch I added to my little wooden home, which is built well enough to keep out most of the wind and sand and rattlesnakes. This is where I often am when I see interesting things. This day, I saw in the far distance an upright line. As I watched, the line grew and became a man. Although he walked upright with dignity, his gait told me he was tired. By the time he reached my little home I had water from my good well and a plate of food from my little garden ready for him.

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Fiction: Death in Store

Posted on by bryon

“Good morning, ma’am. Welcome to Op-Mart.”

“Good morning, sir. Welcome to Op-Mart.”

“Good morning, ma’am. Welcome to Op-Mart.”

“Good morning … Death.” Fred laughed.  “Welcome to Op-Mart. That’s quite a costume, sir. Or ma’am. But I’m going to have to ask you to leave the scythe either in your car or over at the help desk while you
shop.”
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Fiction: Illegal Aliens

Posted on by bryon

For all practical purposes, it was just the two of us in the little bar in Las Tres Mujeres, New Mexico. There were five other guys in the place, but two of them had passed out, two were more legitimately asleep, and the fifth was an intensely quiet drunk off in his own little world. That left me and the Mexican-American bar owner named Germán.

The bar, El Cantinero Solo, boasted few modern amenities save the cooler for the cerveza and the satellite TV. The drunks didn’t seem to mind so I overlooked it too.

The TV was showing an American newscast; a superannuated U.S. senator was halfway through a sound bite. I’d been mildly captivated by the fifth drunk and caught only the last part of it.

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