When Killer Met Sally

2010
08.22

By Jon Richards

“Killer” was the most irritating little dog in the world, and he ruled the neighborhood. No bigger than a half loaf of bread, he would bark and attack anything within his reign of terror. His owner was our next door neighbor Miss Betty, the sweetest blue-haired old lady you’d ever want to meet. 

When I was a kid my bedroom window on the second story gave me a bird’s-eye view of the neighborhood. I was able to keep a watch on everything. I spent a lot of time staring out the window, knowing it would be healthier to play outside. Mother was always harping on me about it . But who would want to have to deal with Killer? I would keep an eye on Killer for the lack of anything better to do. Miss Betty’s lawn was the cleanest in the neighborhood. Our lawn was yellow and spotted with poop, courtesy of Killer. Occasionally I would see a salesman running for his life; that was always good for a guilty laugh. Nowadays you would report such a dog to the police or your city’s animal control bureau, but back in those days you just put up with it, or hoped someone got really fed up and put a rifle to good use.  

That was the way things were — then Sally moved to town. Directly across from Miss Betty. Killer gave the moving van and all of its contents his best and longest barking spree of the year. Sally must have been 5 years old, if that. A sweet red-haired little thing, Sally was deathly terrified and ran screaming to her mother. I could hear her crying  deep inside her house from my bedroom. 

I stretched out on my bed listening to the distant sobs. After awhile the crying stopped. Startled by the sudden silence I looked out my window. I saw Sally step out of her house, cross the street, and walk directly into Killer’s yard. Killer had a fit! Sally calmly reached down and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and tossed him into Miss Betty’s bird bath! It was like she was tossing an old rag doll! 

Killer lay on his back in the bird bath, I think in shock, flopping around. He rolled over and onto the ground, sulking his way back to the house.

After that we did not see much of Killer. We actually had a few salesmen come to our door selling their wares. Our lawn became clean and green again.

Several months later we moved away. After all these years I still wonder what became of Sally. She must have become quite a woman. Maybe a high-priced lawyer who never loses a case? A celebrated African game hunter? I like best to think she grew old as we all do, becoming a sweet, old blue-haired lady living alone with her little runt of a dog terrorizing the neighborhood.

The Last Time I Saw Janis

2010
08.13

By Kevin Moriarity
 
The last time I saw Janis was on Lake Michigan. It was a hot, muggy day in August. I had taken my Grand Banks  trawler out for a day trip from Chicago to New Buffalo.  The engines purred as we moved through calm water at a leisurely 12 knots.  The slight breeze created from the movement of the 45-foot yacht was refreshing. Janis was on the foredeck working on her already deep tan.
“I don’t know how much more of him I can take,” she shouted back at me.
“Why don’t you just leave him? Why do you keep going back to take his crap?”
We had hung around together as far back as our teenage years. All the guys wanted to go out with Janis, but she picked Jerry. He was in trouble a lot. Most of us thought Jerry was destined for hard times, but Jan stuck with him. For a while, it looked like things might work out for them. Jerry found he had a talent for trading commodities and he did quite well until his cocaine use got out of control. That’s when we noticed signs of abuse, bruises with odd explanations. Now, Jerry teetered on the verge of bankruptcy.
She  walked back to the helm and sat next to me.
“This boat can go a long way. Let’s just keep going. We could live aboard and take it down to Florida and live on the beach, sell little trinkets to the tourists.”
“That’s really tempting Jan, but I have work to do here. My clients depend on me to fix things for them. They are very demanding.”
“I wish you could fix Jerry.  You know people that could fix Jerry, don’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember the wedding we attended years ago? All those big guys in black suits? You know people. You could make a phone call and fix my problem with Jerry, right?”
I did remember the wedding and she was right. I did know people.
Chicago was just a blur on the western horizon, the tall buildings visible, but indistinct. We were halfway across the big lake.
“I wish I could, Jan.” Uncomfortable, I stood. “I feel like having a sandwich and a beer. You hungry? Want something to drink?”
I throttled back the engines and slipped the boat into neutral. Without the breeze the heat and humidity was immediately oppressive.
“Sure, I could stand something to eat. Do you have any wine chilled?”
“Head on to the back,” I told her.”I’ll make you a sandwich and bring out some chardonnay.”
I went to the galley and opened the cabinet above the sink. My face felt flush and ached as I fought back tears. I took the Glock 9 mm out of the cabinet and walked to the back of the boat.
“I’m so sorry Jan; Jerry made his phone call yesterday.”

Pandemonium Unleashed

2010
07.27

This is the third of three stories being published as part of a series called “Coins.”

By Suddhasheel Ghosh

As I walked into the office that day, an eerie silence prevailed. With waste paper strewn all over, everybody stood in attention as if they were in a parade.
World history had seen maniacs grow and mislead entire civilisations, but it was the first time I had been witness. Sateesh Paange was over-committed to his job, acting as if every paisa* on the university account was his own, and he would be the one to decide the way it would be spent. If unsatisfied with any expenditure, his comments would be as hard hitting as a Goran Ivanisevic serve.

The Rector had always been pleased with Paange’s work, often praising him in public, rubbing his ego the right way. The other authorities cribbed, but buttered him up with sweet words often. And I being the timid guy, what would the world have expected of me? Follow suit?

I happened to choose the obvious option, and therefore followed the others. It wasn’t the way I was taught in school, but it was life teaching me. I did crib, one way or the other, but with a meager pay and no other option, what confidence would anybody have to go another way? But as luck would have it, with the words of the Rector, my ego started swelling up as well. The Rector was intelligent, wasn’t he?  He knew how to get the work done in difficult circumstances.

The day had to arrive, when Paange and I crossed paths. My interest, was the betterment of the facilities and execution of work, countered his interest which was to boost his own ego. Conflict of interests, as they call it in chaste English. The Rector, easily convinced by situations and my arguments, decided that a certain contingency sum be allotted to me to facilitate matters. The other authorities sensed betterment of their positions and conditions and took my side – for the day. When Paange reacted negatively though, the authorities restarted their oiling strategies starting the very next day.

A little indiscretion in the allotment of expenditures resulted in the contingency sum being spent in about a fortnight’s time. Paange challenged the bills submitted for reallocation, claiming that a pencil, worth three rupees, was the problem.  His note accused me of misusing the funds for purchasing personal assets. I sat with the note cribbing to myself under a tree. I remembered Lord Buddha. And then the lightning struck. I was reawakened.

I replied to the Goran Ivanisevic with the class of Agassi, speed of Sampras and technique of Edberg. Paange was beaten down on all counts. That evening one of the authorities read aloud my note in the presence of the Rector, Paange and other staff. A public humiliation had struck the maniac. The pandemonium struck the next day.

*paisa is the smallest denomination of the Indian currency.

Two Bucks

2010
07.26

This is the second of three stories being published as part of a series called “Coins.”

By Suddhasheel Ghosh

Mangal Singh frowned upon himself, cursing his bad luck. He had been waiting under the sun, almost for half an hour. He had been outwitted by a rather timid looking, bespectacled, seven-year-old boy, who duped him of two rupees. As he pedalled his way back to the school servant quarters where he lived, he dreamt of what he had planned to do with the two rupees, if he would have gotten them. He had no idea that a kid could do THAT to him.

Earlier in the day, the seven year old had been lazy with his notes and with his walk. Bespectacled as he was, it took him time to copy the English grammar exercises his teacher had put up on the blackboard at school. The school bell had gone off and it was all for the day. However, the boy was still busy copying the exercises while his teacher rubbed off the blackboard. He tried hard to read through the dust, but alas! He might get a “stand-up-on-the-bench” punishment the next day. He frowned at himself, cursed at his slow speed, and ran towards the neighboring girls’ school, where a bus would be waiting for him to drop him at home.

 The bus was just leaving as he ran towards it. He shouted in its direction, but his cry drowned in the crowd. His home was quite at a distance from school, and it would be a long walk. He was small and laden with books in his backpack. He hadn’t even finished the tiffin his mother had packed for him. A lazy guy, wasn’t he?

The boy took a deep breath and prepared himself to walk the distance and for a possible scolding from his parents. Suddenly, the chowkidaar (watchman) caught him by his shoulders. The young boy was determined to get away, but he was overpowered easily!

The chowkidaar asked Mangal Singh to drop the boy at his home, and said the boy was to pay him two rupees. “My poor parents!” thought the boy and asked himself, “They can barely make the ends meet, how can they arrange the two rupees?” However, he could only nod in agreement.

When the car was about a kilometer from the boy’s home he asked Mangal to stop. Mangal wondered at the situation. “Where is your house?” the driver asked. “It is just a few minutes from here!” replied the boy innocently. “OK! Go and get my two rupees! I will be waiting here,” Mangal said, almost barking.

The scared boy ran towards his home. It wasn’t a straight road and a kilometer was sufficient to conceal where he was running.  Mangal lost sight of him in the curves. 

Back home with his worried parents, the boy did not even mention the two rupees. But he would, once in a while, come to the balcony and look for Mangal Singh, to check if he had followed him to his house.

Kulbhaskar

2010
07.25

This is the first of three stories being published as part of a series called “Coins.”

By Suddhasheel Ghosh 

The beggar crept close to my father and requested, “Babu, thora paisa de do, hum thora khai lei (Saheb, give me some money, so that I could eat).” Father was not in one of his best moods though. He shooed her off. But her wrinkled face, white hair and the tears in her eyes moved me. She reminded me of Kulbhaskar. 

Kulbhaskar means the sun of the family. Quite a heavy name for a dark-skinned, not-so-attractive boy with pearly white teeth. He and I were classmates since the second standard. Occassionally violent but otherwise cute, that is how one would describe him, if one were to interact with him for a day. He would often say things that were too big for his mouth, things which were related to sexuality and sexual acts. He was pretty convincing in his speech. Timid people would usually believe him.

 It must have been difficult for his father to afford the school he attended. In a menial job, and with three children, an English medium school was a great risk to take. But Kulbhaskar was rather undeterred by these facts of life. At the age of six, who cares to take on the worries of the world?

But perhaps, the supernatural power had different plans for him. By the time he was ten, our other classmates had started pointing fingers at him for his strange behaviour. I often ask myself if it was his caste that mattered to us and caused others to point their fingers at him. Perhaps not, for at that age neither the school nor our parents talked of castes and religions.

It was a dull afternoon when I missed my one rupee coin. I started looking for it everywhere. Everyone pointed to Kulbhaskar. I looked at him with a question in my eyes and expression. He was ready to strip down to his birthday suit to prove his innocence. His school bag was checked, but the coin was nowhere to be found. “He has perhaps had a samosa or two,” everyone shouted. The class teacher was informed.

Back home, I emptied my back pack, and the one rupee coin rolled out. But by then, the damage had been done. Telephones weren’t a very popular possession of the town residents at that time, and Kulbhaskar couldn’t be reached. He didn’t come to the school for the next week, and the next …

One day, it was recess time and I was walking past the principal’s office when I saw Kulbhaskar and his father. They saw me. “Here is your one rupee,” his father called out to me. But I ran away. I hid myself until the break was over. Kulbhaskar never returned to school.

 I still search for him on social networks.

Ralphy and Joey

2010
07.14

Editor’s note: This is the eighth and final installment in The Waves Project writing series. Writers were asked to write a short story using the word “waves” as inspiration. 

By David Cox

The boys were young, cocky, large and newly formed during the birth of a storm a few hundred miles to sea. They had snuck into a line of swells, riding the leading edge of the soon-to-come Nor’easter. Closing on the beach, Ralphy saw a sandbar close to shore. It was there they would break and crash on the beach, bringing mayhem to the unsuspecting bathers. This would be the first venture ashore, and if they hit just right, it could lead to the ultimate goal, Rogue Wave!

“Ralphy, if you tighten up on me, we can hit the beach as one wave. We’ll crush these mindless tourists. C’mon man, get right up on me. Whoa, easy where you put that white water, killer.”

The boys were so close they could taste Coppertone, but first came Constance. She was older, mellow, world savvy. She came in gently, caressing feet and ankles with her easy approach, creating tranquil sounds with her passage. Like a visit from grandma she left children happy, anxious for her next visit. Like a Lifetime movie, she left lovers hand in hand, sharing the sensual bath of her retreat. Sand left moist, smooth, inviting, this was her life.

 ‘Hey Constance, how ’bout moving your low tide ass and let a real wave hit the beach.’

 ‘Be patient, Ralpy. You’re young, a lifetime of seashore awaits, and from where I’m floating, you look more like a puddle than a wave.’

 ‘Ya well, ever hear of cold water shrinkage’, shouted Ralphy.

 ‘If that is the case, Tadpole, perhaps you should visit a kiddy pool where size doesn’t matter.’

 Ralphy, at a loss, gurgled to his friend. ‘Can you believe this bitch, Joey?’

 Joey grew tired of his crabby mate. ’Ralphy, suck seaweed and shut up! Look at the beach! All those people thinking another gentle Constance is rolling in. They have no idea the hurt we’re bringing. She’s leaving us a human raw bar. Let’s knock ’em down and eat some skin!’

Now was the time. The boys rose high, moving quickly forward, becoming one, hitting the sand bar as white water tumbled from their peak and roared down their face. They expected to own the beach, but by lusting for tourist skin, failed to notice the surging rip tide now viciously pulling at their backs. They had barely run onto the beach before being yanked from it’s sand.

 “Sorry, boys. Did I rain on your little tsunami party?’ Constance had lingered just off shore, waiting to pull the sand out from under the punk’s beach parade.

 ‘I’ve been smackin’ down dumb ass dip shits like you since I sent Noah surfing up a mountain. Time to take you sorry excuses for waves out to sea, and watch you get slapped around by the real rogues. Have a rainbow day, Bitches!’

 And so, the gentle surf recedes from shore, only to return with the next wave.

Drowning Judgment

2010
07.13

Editor’s note: This is the seventh installment in The Waves Project writing series. Writers were asked to write a short story using the word “waves” as inspiration. 

By Joan Kathryn Hartman

The waves rolled and crashed, one after another, throwing debris onto the shore as if the ocean was cleansing itself of filth in a fit of temper.  Seaweed, wood, plastics, glass bottles, dead creatures, all mixed with a foamy yellow vile, some unnatural waste churned from its depths.  

The full moon’s light momentarily slid through a break in the storm clouds illuminating a lone figure on the beach bent and panting from exertion.  Clinging, rain-soaked clothing revealed a woman.  A large bundle lay at her feet, her footprints and deep drag-tracks following in the sand.  Her bowed posture mimicked despair  seeing the refuse thrown back onto shore.  But, it was either this or discovery.  She’d never be able to bury her burden in this last hour before dawn.  

She stooped, used her body as a counter to the weight and pulled, first one step, then two to the water’s edge, then in – the ice-cold temperature stinging, numbing her feet.  The bundle rose on the crest of a surge threatening to return to the beach.  She strained against it.  A wave broke across her back nearly knocking her down.  She gasped from the force and frigid drenching, fought to stay upright and not lose her grip. 

To strengthen her resolve, the woman bellowed a roar to challenge the sound of the sea.  This was battle – herself against its waves.  It didn’t want what she would deposit.  If she relented, the waves would spit it out covered in foul yellow like lungs coughing out disease. 

Setting aside thoughts of morbidity, she thought, “It must be done.”  She’d not be lynched by society’s judgment.  Her mother was blessedly better off dead. Alzheimer’s was a living death, torture for her mother, and left the woman pushed beyond her care-taking limits, sleep-deprived, stressed.  Her promise kept no stench-filled, poor person’s nursing home for her mother.

A wave broke over her head, knocking her down.  She fought to hang on to the body and keep her feet planted in the seabed.  An unknown power welled within, some massive determination.  Her energy exploded into something larger than herself as she pushed back against the water’s force.  She felt out of her body and out of her mind. 

As another swell made an entrance she recognized, “This is a strength borne of madness.”

The wave buried her under water.  Terror urged her to fight for the surface.  Instead, she struggled to find bottom for traction.  She would not give in, be blamed, hung and quartered.  She fought a panic she denied as hers.  It screamed, but she wasn’t there.  Her lungs burst gasping for air, sucking water instead, frantically inhaling liquid in, out.  Black followed, hands still madly grasping her mother.

The waves rolled and finished the job. Two, not one, spat-out, covered in vile yellow.

Gasping Green Beret

2010
07.02

Editor’s note: This is the sixth installment in The Waves Project writing series. Writers were asked to write a short story using the word “waves” as inspiration. 

By Murray Carlson

Charlie Barrow woke with a cough. When his eyes burst open, he thrust the last of the sea from his lungs. Slowing his breathing and heart rate, the Green Beret took stock of his surroundings. He was in his survivor’s suit floating on a body of salt water, the sun was nearly overhead and he had to pee. Charlie tried to remember what happened that landed him alone in this piece of shit ocean.

His analytical mind sorted out the facts: first, he was on a routine patrol covering the eastern edge of the sea of Oman; second, he heard the alarm whistle signal they had been painted with radar; and third, he was flying through the air watching a fireball slowly circle him as they both fell out of the sky. “So that’s it,” Charlie said to himself. “We were shot down by some goddamn Talibans.”

The Green Beret organized a mental list of his gear: Survival suit with extra compressed air canister, K-bar survival knife, 45-cal pistol with 28 rounds ammo, flare gun, water purification tabs,  four protein bars and GPS transponder. Charlie pulled the GPS unit from its hidden pocket and looked at it. He was about to switch it on when a large wave broke over his head and pushed him under water. Charlie coughed and swore after he righted himself and looked around to prepare for the next wave. The sea was calm as glass, but the GPS was gone.

Charlie took out the purification tabs and read the instructions. “Place quart of sea water in overturned hood, dissolve three tabs, wait 20 minutes then drink.” Charlie looked at the sea, he didn’t want to get ambushed by another wave. It was dead calm so he prepared the water for drinking. Just as he was placing the tabs in the hood, a wave broke over his head and pushed him a dozen feet under water. A very angry Marine broke the surface in a hail of swearing and spitting. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

Charlie was still for a long time listening to the sea. It was dead calm.

Six hours later as the sun started to set, he was famished, thirsty, pissed off and a bit scared. He very slowly drew a bar from his vest and began to open it. Nothing happened. His hand raised slowly and was at chin height when he heard a low rumble. He stopped. The sea was like glass all around him. He quickly jammed the bar in his mouth and snapped off a large bite. The sea around him rose up and he was thrust into a hole at the center. He was looking up at the surface several meters away. Two agonizing minutes later a gagging and screaming Charlie Barrow gasped for air.

 Twenty six hours later a defeated Charlie Barrow said goodbye to his wife, put the rest of the protein bar in his mouth, smiled and drew his last breath.

Castles Made of Sand

2010
07.02

Editor’s note: This is the fifth installment in The Waves Project writing series. Writers were asked to write a short story using the word “waves” as inspiration. 

By Manasvi Mudgal

The sea as I remember it was crimson red, the sun was resting by the horizon and the stars were not yet out. It was before I had closed my eyes, I don’t know how long the darkness lasted? But when I opened my eyes, the deep blue night had fallen over the sky and the sea glittered in the sky’s shadow.

The waves came forward and fell back, the sand castle that I had built stood, its moist brown walls defiant, of the waters that fell a foot short of it. I have a very distinct memory of building it; I remember every grain of sand I had deposited in its making. I remember with every handful of sand I deposited a dream, for me it was not just castle, but a life gone by, a structure of dreams fulfilled, unfulfilled, lost and broken. The memories were the minarets, each having its own joy and sorrows, the walls were the people I loved, all holding my life together, supporting it and making it strong. This sand castle was my own life, a life that had passed me by.

As I looked in the sea, the waves were rising, higher with every passing moment. My heart grew weak, a fear of loss gripped it, fear of losing everything I had stood by and stood for. The waves charged forward, rising, and then fell. With the impact of the deep blue waters, my castle crumbled.

The castle’s walls fell first, and then fell the minarets. Like a deep brown leaf that falls dead from a tree, my castle fell. Every grain which was like a moment in my life was washed in the sea. Everything slipped into the sea, every happy memory swept away, along with every sorrow. Not only had my cherished dreams settled down in the bottom of the sea, but my failures had gone there too.

This castle’s death gave way to realization. The realization washed over me like the waves. Nothing is permanent, everything changes. My perception of myself was washed away in an instant. What are we all but castles made of sand, waiting to be washed by the sea of impermanence? It neither allows our happiness to stay nor does it stagnate our sorrows. With the waves of life, everything is washed, everything renewed.

As I stood by, the last remnants of my castle slowly dissolved in the salt water. All I could see was more sand of life, inviting me, asking me to build yet another castle.

Not Crazy, Not Quitting

2010
06.23

Editor’s note: This is the fourth installment in The Waves Project writing series. Writers were asked to write a short story using the word “waves” as inspiration. 

By Michael Sol Pollens

They say I’m crazy.  They say I can’t stop the Waves.

But I can – I have stopped the Waves for weeks, why not for eight months?

They should see me at night — working furiously, checking the booms.  The booms keep me on Top.  They’re high-tech, with polymer curtains reaching all the way to the shallow floor of the inlet – but that’s to catch what comes under – it’s the big floats atop that stop the Waves.  

 Those little lappings that make it the 200 yards to our beach aren’t Waves – they’re little Ripples.  And my Sluice — my, it’s fine. It took me several hours to slice so long a plastic pipe in half, but it was worth it; and it catches every Ripple. As long as the reservoirs I so cunningly conceived are emptied every hour, well, then everything is fine, fine!   All the muck goes into a metal barrel – I’ve already filled eight!  Is that crazy?  Eight barrels of muck that aren’t fouling my beach and yard!

I even have a tent, and often when the alarm clock wakes me on the hour, my wife comes down from the house – it was my father’s, did you know?  She brings me another thermos of coffee, and begs me to come back into the house, tells me to give up.   But I am no Quitter.  So what if the Oil has made it onto all of the beaches of the houses near ours?  Have they been out here every night, fighting the Waves?  I don’t think so! 

And when they make it right, in eight months, when they’ve cleaned all of the Oil out of the Gulf  and my beach is still clean, then all of the world will know why we Louisiana Marshrats aren’t the kind who ever quit.  

So it’s ridiculous to say I’m crazy. One day, they’ll all remember and tell their grandchildren how during the Great Spill, I beat the Waves.