Month: May 2009

Fiction: Keeping Cool

Posted on by bryon

“OK, Mr. Avers,” said Detective Curtis. “Let me make sure I’ve got your story straight. You got here a little after 1 p.m. and had been working on the central air unit in the basement for about half an hour when you heard the shots.”

“That’s right,” Avers agreed.

“You waited several minutes and when you didn’t hear anything else, you came upstairs and looked around.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should have come up sooner, but I was afraid.”

“Afraid isn’t a bad thing when you hear gunshots, Mr. Avers,” the detective told him. “Then you looked around and found the bodies in the living room and you called the police on your cell phone.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Curtis tipped his head a bit as he looked at the clipboard. “Then you went back downstairs and completed your work on the central air unit, after which you gave an officer your statement.”

Avers nodded in agreement.

“Mr. Avers … I hope you don’t mind my asking, but why did you continue to work on the unit when the people who hired you were dead in the living room? I mean, you’re not likely to get paid for it.”

Avers shrugged. “I never leave a job unfinished. I’ve got my pride, y’know? And besides … isn’t it about 101 in the shade out there?”

“Yeah, it’s a scorcher, all right.”

Avers motioned toward the living room. Curtis looked around the corner where the bodies were lying in blood. It was about 75 degrees in the house.

“Aren’t you glad I kept working?” Avers asked.

“That’s all I need for now, Mr. Avers. Thank you for your help,” Curtis said. He extended a hand to the repairman. “And yes, thank you very much. I guess we’re both making the best of a bad job.”

“Life’s all about keeping cool, Detective,” Avers said. “You can see in there what happens when you don’t.”

Fiction: Ancestral Home

Posted on by bryon

It rained all day on the Gulf Coast of Arkansas. It was a steady, drizzling acid rain that kept 14-year-old Jaci from going down to the shore to see if anything interesting from the Gulf’s past had washed up.

A huge underwater net prevented most things from reaching the massive seawall, but once in a while something interesting from sunken Louisiana would get through a big hole or over the top and through the seawall’s little channels. The Coast Guard’s hazmat beachcombers notwithstanding, it was usually a local child who found it first and then ended up in the hospital for treatment of a wound or decontamination or both.

Jaci didn’t complain to her parents about not being able to go to the beach. She’d been told often enough not to go there anyway; she’d just get another lecture and no sympathy.

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Fiction: Their Serene Majesties

Posted on by bryon

Once upon a time, in the faraway land of Arevnia, there lived a handsome king and a beautiful queen. Their Serene Majesties lived in a strong, beautiful castle set midway between the top of a beautiful mountain and a beautiful valley with a long, beautiful lake that trailed off beautifully into the distance. And all their people loved them, and they were very happy.

Just not with each other.

Theirs was a match made in, at best, one of Heaven’s slums, where the Protestant work ethic had never taken root. Heaven’s management held to a strict policy of “no comment” on the matter.

They had loved each other well at first, and had gone to the altar full of joy. Shortly thereafter, however, they began to notice little habits and idiosyncracies and one strained nerve led to another, as will happen. Passion’s flame flickered and faded and they then saw each other in the light of cold wax and charred wick and took a dim view of the subject. Rather than live and let live and love, as wiser couples learn to do, King Arvid and Queen Shelly took counsel of General Grant near Spotsylvania Courthouse and fought it out on that line all summer. And into the fall. And winter…

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Fiction: One True Man

Posted on by bryon

“Let me be certain I understand you,” the president said. “You are arguing against prosecution.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” he said.

“Even though we have clearly identified the lawbreakers and have ample evidence to prosecute and gain convictions.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” he repeated.

“You’ll need to explain why again.”

“Mr. President,” he began, “I firmly believe it is in everyone’s best interest to simply move on from this point; my colleagues and I all agree on this. We don’t wish to wallow in the past. The people are tired of this matter and want to put it behind them.”

“How can we possibly do that?” the president cried out.

“Mr. President, those at the top who organized it all are gone. There is, obviously, a new administration in power and we know that similar things will not happen. To hold these people accountable for the things they were ordered to do would be unfair. They were doing their jobs to the best of their abilities, and even though matters went much further than any of us would have wanted, prosecutions won’t change what has happened.”

“What about the simple, old-fashioned concepts of law and order and justice?” the president demanded.

The other man sighed slightly. “Sir, those are very high-minded ideals, but many of us believe following them blindly is not pragmatic at this time. These men who could go on trial were among the brightest and most capable. If we prosecute them, it will send a signal that government service is dangerous and no place for bright, capable people.”

“These men have lied, have sanctioned torture, and have had people killed. That doesn’t deserve a response from our legal system?”

“Mr. President, we greatly fear that any prosecution could establish the precedent for a new administration taking revenge on the previous one every time there is a regime change. It would be politically destabilizing.”

“The people we’re talking about prosecuting deserve their day in court to plead their cases,” the president replied, “and the rest of us deserve to see that no one, no matter how highly placed, is above the law. Tamper with that and you tamper with the foundation of civilized society.”

“Mr. President, again, these are fine ideals, but…”

“But nothing!” the president fumed, and he slammed his open hand down on his desk. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit! The trials will go forward, as scheduled, in Nuremberg. And I hope I never again see the day when any official of the United States would shy away from our sacred responsibility to justice. Get the hell out of my office!”

The defeated bureaucrat slunk out of the Oval Office in the direction Truman’s finger pointed.

“How do people get into government without understanding its most basic functions?” Truman mused. “I can only hope this pusillanimous attitude doesn’t spread.”