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Tuesday Tales: Short Stuff

10/19/2015

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Today's prompt is corn.
“Okay, radio spirits, or whatever you are. Tell me what I need?” The light turned green allowing her to shoot through it. Almost there, if Karma, Fate, or whatever possessed the radio could put some speed on. Static filled the speakers as the search progressed. A swell of big band music filled the car reminding her of all the old black and white movies she watched with her grandmother. The actors and actresses were always so elegantly dressed. Even the not so perfect men left merely with a door close or a regretful glance.  They never had to be a jerk about it.

A singer with a voice like a nightingale sang about someone to watch over her. A snort of disgust escaped her lips. “Really car radio. Is that the best you can do? I’ve never had anyone to watch over me, except for my grandparents.”

Her hand brushed against her cheek to wipe away any telltale moisture that might have somehow appeared. She always got emotional when it came to her parents. Never talked about them. Ever. She made the mistake of mentioning them once to Elle. Her best friend couldn’t understand parents who would drop off children at the grandparents and disappear for all practical purposes. No tragic story about an accident taking both parents at the same time. Some of the other students lived with grandparents because their parents were deployed, in rehab, or prison. Hers just left her and her brother with maternal grandparents. No lead up to it, no reasoning, just a promise to see them later. One they never made good on.

Stupid radio. She pulled into the parking lot and turned off the ignition. She took a couple of deep breaths to get herself together. Didn’t need parents who didn’t need her. Her grandmother assured her that her daughter and son-in-law were too immature to be parents. Of course, they must have realized this after she was ten and her brother eight. It wouldn’t help thinking about it. It never did. Ellie slammed the car door hoping she could close the subject of her abandonment just as easily.

Her boss stepped out of the door and tugged on his ballcap. Elle smiled at him. Harry was like a big, gruff bear. Make that a bearded, balding bear.  That’s what the ball cap was for. It allowed him to pretend there was more hair underneath beside the broad fringe at the rim of the cap.

“Hey there, short stuff, I was starting to worry about you.”
Short stuff again, didn’t anyone remember her name?  Her lips pulled up into a tired smile. “I had some problems this morning.”

He held up one hand. “Say no more. You’re here that’s all that matter. Termite has already called about paychecks for his crew.” The gurgle of the phone ringing through the door indicated someone else needed to comment on the lack of paychecks.

She pointed to the office. “I bet that’s Lightbulb calling.”

“Probably.” Harry agreed with a nod. “Thought I’d meet you at the door with the checks.” He held out a handful of envelopes to her. Her hand closed around them as she spoke.

“Are you sure they’re all there?” Typically, she didn’t question her boss. “Last time, Thor’s check was missing and it wasn’t pleasant. “ The Nordic giant they hired recently bore a striking resemblance to the actor who play Thor. The resemblance stopped there since their version had no personality. He hardly talked and answered more in grunts and with the occasional withering look.

Her boss laughed and slapped her on the shoulder. “No worries. I think he might be sweet on you. Go spread your payday magic. I know the men and Robby will be delighted to see you.”

Robby, the only female carpenter, somehow escaped her boss’ fondness for nicknames. All in all, short stuff wasn’t too bad considered one of the men he labeled ass dragger. The other employees just called his ass for short. Another unfavorable nickname was Turd for the plumber journeyman.  Short Stuff sounded better than better.

“Okay.” She waved the checks in her hand. “I’m out on delivery duty. I’ll be back before lunch.” She pivoted to leave wondering if the car radio would offer any more romantic tips.

“Take lunch out,” Harry yelled after her. “You look like deserve a treat.”

His words stopped her in her tracks. Harry never offered her any extra lunch time. He expected everyone to work as hard as he did, which was pretty doggone hard. Luckily with his old fashioned views he believed as a delicate female she shouldn’t work past four since she came in at seven. Normally, she didn’t, but a few times she worked long into the night.

Usually when it was tax season or she had to prepare for an audit. On those days, Harry apologized at least three to four times a day for her extended work day.

Back in the car, she started it and turned on her radio. Commerical played from everything from corn chips to freezing your fat surgery. Nothing sounded prophetic or related to her in any manner. The previous stuff had to be a fluke. 
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Tuesdays Tales: The Radio Talks Back

10/12/2015

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We return to Ellie's story. We left her late for work, rushing out of her apartment and bemoaning her no-show boyfriend. We join her as she drives to work. The prompt is box.
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The song ended with her belting out the chorus. The smooth voice of the DJ came on. “For those of you experiencing romantic problems today, this one is for you.” The music started soft but gradually became loud enough for Ellie to recognize the words. A terse ballad about taking an arrow straight to her heart. Instead of falling in love, this arrow just hurt.  Even her favorite radio station was against her.

“That’s it. You’re history.” Her fingers punched scan, which enabled the radio to find the next strongest signal.  Anything would better than the previous song. The scan stuttered over a couple of weak signals settling on a woman speaking. “Do you ever wonder why you have never met your soul mate?”

Ellie sighed. Again. The scan would move on in a couple of seconds if she didn’t touch it. “Yes, I do,” she decided to answer the radio box voice. Couldn’t talk it out with Mr. Bigg aware her property owner might overhear.
“It could be your choice of dating material.”

Wait a minute, shouldn’t the scan move on. “Nina, is that you? Are you playing the world’s most elaborate practical joke on me?”

Her right hand felt around the radio to see if any wires lead away from it. Her friend might be able to manage a feed into her radio system. Nothing. Although, it sounded exactly what Nina would say. Her principle complaint was she dated men who didn’t treat her well. Her response was that Nina didn’t date at all. That wasn’t entirely true, but it shut her friend up for a while.

The radio voice continued, “Do you long for a man to accept you as you are and not some knock-off copy of a celebrity?” Her eyes widened considering how radio voice knew that Justin always wanted to role-play with her assuming the role of a famous singer while he was the music, producer. The wig she always had to wear made her head itch.
Being herself would be nice for a change. Going out and having other people fix meals would be nice too. There was so much she wanted to do, but never mentioned it knowing that Justin would shoot down her ideas. It was easier not to suggest things and face rejection.

“Yes, I do radio voice. Any suggestions?”

The voice continued, the accent more pronounced than before. “What you need is a romance aid.”

Her eyebrows shot up at the word, romance. “Seriously. I’m sure that would be in four convenient payments of $19.95.”  The aid would consist of a minuscule vial of pheromone oil that smelt like sweaty gym socks.  Not sure, how that attracted anyone.

Static filled the air as the radio searched for another station. Now. The radio changes stations. The theme music of the old-timey gospel hour filled the car. Elle recognized it since her grandmother always listened to it.  A gravel-voiced minister spoke. “Believe. You have to believe. There is no power without belief.”
​
“Believe what?” Listen to her talk back to the radio, was she in a current day version of The Twilight Zone where everyday device offered advice. Worse yet, she not only talked back but was actually starting to consider the random words as directions for living. 
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Tuesday Tales: Breakfast of Champions

10/4/2015

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PictureThe meal Mr. Bigg preferred, but didn't get.

Update:
Hello All,

I'm back with The Love Talisman, a sweet romance.

Ellie has woken up late after drinking too much after her jerky boyfriend stood her up again.

Today's excerpt starts with her getting ready for work.




EXCERPT
​
Ellie almost had the door closed before Kelley called back.
​
“He’s not good enough for you.”

She closed the door without answering. Even her landlady felt the need to comment on her love life. Mr. Bigg plopped down by the kitchen entrance and meowed plaintively several times. A non-cat person would think he was merely hungry. She knew better. Got the coffee maker going before she finished listening to her feline dress down. “I know you don’t like him either, I’ll admit he’s not good with cats.”

Her cat gave a definite meow. The cat agreed. Of course, he did.  A juicy exhale of the pop-top of his cat food causes an impatient tail switch. In too much of a hurry to scrape the food out, she placed the can on the floor. Her fluffy Persian cast a disdainful look at the can before he picked at the food.
Ellie rolled her eyes. Mr. Bigg could outdo any diva, feline or human. He had definite preferences and Justin wasn’t one of them. “I know you don’t like him,” she responded as she pushed the bread into the toaster. “It isn’t so easy to meet men after a certain age. The majority of them are married or in a relationship by twenty-five. As for the rest,” she sighed before continuing, “it’s obvious why they aren’t.”

The image of Kelley listening while scrubbing her kitchen sink, which happened to be on the other side of the wall, stilled her explanation. Mr. Bigg stopped eating and looked up at the interruption.
Um yeah, she usually talked as he ate. It made her feel less lonely and apparently, he expected it. The coffee gurgled to a stop and the toast popped up. Breakfast of Champions or time-stressed accountants. Coffee in one hand and toast in the other she made her way to the bedroom.

As she dressed and munched her way through breakfast, she glanced at her rumpled bed. How much did Kelley hear? Memories of her previous apartment with the loud talker underneath her made her cringe a little as she stepped into her flats. Often, she wore heels or even platforms to compensate for her height. Not today didn’t have time. The clock, which hadn’t gone off for some reason, showed she was already ninety minutes behind schedule. She’d have to drive to each construction site to hand-deliver the checks before she could even start today’s work.  “Thanks, Justin, you A-hole.” Mr. Bigg strolled into the room adding his meow to her complaint.

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    Morgan K Wyatt

    Secret Cravings author of contemporary and historical romances.

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