Weird Shorts | Page 2

her chair. Those sounds are all that she hears, as she returns to her desk, packs her things, collects a check and leaves that office, for the last time.
EASTER EGG
Admiring the work of my Grandfather, I view the rafters that compose the carport. It's just amazing! Sometimes the neighbors worked with him and sometimes he worked alone. The product of their labor was always beyond reproach!
Walking the length of the carport, I see an oval-shaped, light blue object. It's discolored and dirty. And, it's just sitting there.
Running to the kitchen, to get a step-chair, I return in haste.
Gently removing the object from its lofty perch, I realize that nobody ever found this egg.
I flash to an Easter that I do remember and I'm wearing a t-shirt from a popular radio station at the time. Now, I am 35 years old and my little sister looks so young, here. I badly need a haircut and I'm hating these flair-legged Levi's. And, of course, he's there, looking angry and glum, as he usually does. And, I know that there'll be a price to pay for his mood.
Happy Easter to us.
I HEAR A HEATER
There's no school, today. It's snowing outside and most of the Metroplex is closed today. No school. No work. I'm sitting at the foot of my bed, waiting to determine HIS mood. "Maybe he'll want to spend the day on the telephone?" No such luck. I'm not sitting here long, before he enters my room and announces that I'll be cleaning the bathroom today and that I should report to him afterwards, for further instructions. Sighing, I am angry and somewhat grateful. "At least he's not particularly angry today. God, I hate him!"
Shuddering, my revelry is broken. I am not in eighth grade, today. And I will never be in eighth grade again. Today, I am a grown woman and not someone's helpless victim. And, I don't have to hate anyone.
KARLA'S BACON
"Dude. You got lotsa bacon." There's a pause and I'm still staring at the bacon. "And, it's just -- sittin' -- there -- on your plate."
"Take it," she says, while pushing it towards me. There's a can of Crisco sitting atop the stove and my parents are screaming at each other.
Breakfast is snapping in a skillet and I realize that it's cold outside and I still don't have a coat for the winter. No one realizes that I've left the table and I throw her remnants on top of my fries.
RUMBLE OF THE HALSEY TAYLOR
Rounding the corner, I spot the metal statue. It's a beautiful silver and if I get really thirsty, it will be there for me. Just standing there, prepared with cold water, to sate my parched palette. There it is. Just like in third grade. My friend. My artwork. My Halsey Taylor.
Chapter 2.
Dreams
This chapter is comprised of actual dreams. The only edits made were in minute details (names, etc.). They have occurred over a span of twenty years. Man, I must be old.
But shapes that come not at an earthly call, Will not depart when mortal voices bid.
William Wordsworth, Dion (V)
CONVERSATION WITH NORM
Screeeeeeeeeeeetch!
The wind whipped her five-foot-two frame like a personal tornado.
Is this a car, or a rocket!
"I have someone I want you to see," Shawanda said as she offered the wheel to her still-smells-brand-new, 2006 Ford Mustang. She scooted across the red leather seating, to the passenger's side and fumbled with the sound system before settling on a R&B radio station.
Ann scooted in after her, assumed the wheel punched the rocket's accelerator.
The ride was short-lived.
"Stop, here!" Shawanda announced.
"Thanks for the advance notice," Ann responded with a sing-song complaint.
Shawanda was gone, just as suddenly as she had appeared.
A flash of light rounded her peripheral vision, before exiting the vehicle.
"Ann, how ARE YOU?" Norm asks with his typical enthusiasm and that odd, twisty smile.
Ann was always certain that Norm was laughing at her on the inside. She still loved him.
"I am fine. How are YOU?"
Norm is slow on the, "Ahhhhh, we-llll..." And, he's fast on the, "You know."
Norm isn't alive. Ann just knows this, by the end of Norm's last sentence. How is this conversation even possible? Ann wonders.
"Thank you, Norm. I loved our many and long conversations..." Ann pauses. There are tears in her eyes and she looks at him like she's capturing a mental photograph of him..."do you have any final advice for me?"
Shrugging he responds, "Yeah, Ann. Me, too. I guess I was your best girlfriend."
He smiles. She laughs, "Yeah. I guess you were." She affirms with a wry/sad smile. She looks at the ground and grimaces at the slight pang in her chest. Reaching for a hug, he confirms his love for her, in a non-physical way.
The sentiment's end and Norm shoos Ann away. "You gotta go, Ann. You can't stay here," he