Written for Shweta’s Saturday Six Word
Story Prompt #146 – ‘serendipity’.
Here’s where the prompt took me.
Tag: Prejudice
THE DANGEROUS GAMES WE PLAY
Thursday, 10/26/1961
Dear Diary: There’s a new boy in school named Carter. He’s so cool. He’s half black …. his skin is the color of milk chocolate and he’s got amazing green eyes. I dig him. If my parents find out, I’m dead! They’re so prejudiced!
Friday, 10/27/1961
Dear Diary: Great news! Carter is now my Biology partner! I know he’s into me. He winks whenever he sees me. My friends giggle; they’re so childish. Really! We’re 15. The black girls are giving me dirty looks. Beverly bumped me hard when she walked by. Carter likes me! He’s so hot!
Monday, 10/30/1961
Dear Diary: We were sitting real close in class, sharing the microscope. Carter’s arm brushed against my boob. I liked it. I leaned in closer and placed my hand on his leg. Then the bell rang! Carter whispered “Give me your phone number”. I scribbled it down and he winked at me.
Tuesday, 10/31/1961
Dear Diary: Teacher’s Conference Day. No school and my parents are at work. The ringing phone woke me. I was stunned to hear Carter’s voice: “Pretty Lily White. I’m bored. Come to my place. We’ll listen to music.” I said “Okay“, and got his address. I walked the three blocks to his house. The radio was playing Motown and we started dancing. He gave me a drink …. Scotch, I think …. and he laughed when I coughed. He took my glass and kissed me. I’d never been kissed like that before. We were drinking, smoking and dancing. I must have passed out. I only remember bits and pieces. I woke up in Carter’s bed. The Miracles singing “Ooh, Baby, Baby”. Carter’s friends Warren and Kevin appeared in a cloud over my head; I have no memory of them being there. What did I do? What did they do? Next thing I know I’m dressed and Carter’s helping me down the stairs, mumbling something about having to “clean up the mess”. He opened the front door and I staggered out, the cool air clearing my head a bit. I smelled like smoke, Scotch and sex. Somehow I made it home, showered and crawled into bed. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
Wednesday, 11/1 – Friday 11/3/1961
Dear Diary: Faked bad period cramps. Skipped school and missed the Halloween dance tonight. I just couldn’t face anyone..
Monday, 11/3/1961
Dear Diary: This morning at school I saw Carter walking with his arm around Beverly. He winked at me as we passed and Beverly bumped me hard. Carter’s friends laughed. I’m sure they all know what happened. I could just die.
NAR © 2023
This is Three Dog Night singing “Black or White“.
It’s all new
Birthday Thursdays
at The Rhythm Section.
No talk, no fuss, no muss.
Just wall-to-wall music!
Stop by and check it out!
🎂
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THE GRAND OPENING
Trigger warning: offensive and insensitive language, racial slurs.
“Didn’t touch! Only looked!” wailed Eddie, the dishwasher at the Q.E.D. Lounge. The waitstaff came running into the kitchen upon hearing a tremendous crash. Shattered crystal covered the kitchen floor – the new shipment of assorted glasses for the lounge’s grand opening.
Eddie huddled in the corner wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, whimpering like a frightened boy. Due to that one decisive extra chromosome, Eddie was very much like a child – a 32 year old man with the mind of an eight year old. Just a little thing called Down Syndrome. Eddie’s brother Jay, the maitre d’, crouched down next to him while everyone stood in stunned silence.
“Eddie, accidents happen. It’s gonna be ok” Jay said calmly. “C’mon, bud. We’ll help you clean up.”
Without hesitation the crew grabbed brooms and dust pans – everyone except Lou, the belligerent bartender.
“Don’t look at me. I ain’t helping!” snarled Lou. “It was that goddamn retard’s fault. He shouldn’t even be around normal people, fucking mongoloid!”
Jay clenched his fists, eyes glaring at Lou.” Shut your filthy mouth, you miserable son of a bitch! Don’t ever talk about my brother like that!”
Martin Byrnes, manager of the Q.E.D., stormed into the kitchen. “What the hell’s going on?!” Slowly he looked around, taking in the whole scene. Martin asked everyone to leave except Eddie, Jay and Lou.
Martin spoke softly. “Eddie, it’s ok. I’m not mad. Can you tell me what happened?”
Eddie glanced over at Lou, then shook his head ‘no’.
“Mr. Byrnes is real good to us, Eddie. He deserves the truth” Jay added encouragingly.
Eddie sniffled and rubbed is swollen eyes. “I saw all the boxes and I was curious, Jay, but I didn’t touch them, cross my heart and hope to die. Then Lou, he came rushing in the back door and pushed me into the boxes and they fell.”
“You lying freak!” yelled Lou. “I was out back chasing that bum who’s always looking for a handout. Eddie’s mangy mutt was there and he tore a hole in my pants cuff!”
“Yeah, after you kicked him, I’m sure” declared Jay.
“Ok, Lou. What happened when you came back into the kitchen?” asked Martin. “Were you so ticked off at the dog that maybe you bumped into Eddie?”
“Look, Mr. B. I’m telling you I didn’t do nothing” sneered Lou. “Who you gonna believe – this idiot or me?”
“Alright! That’s enough! What’s done is done.” Martin sighed. “Jay, you and Eddie finish cleaning up in here. Lou, go down to the basement and bring up whatever glasses you can find. We’re opening tonight as planned.”
Disgruntled, Lou headed for the basement. He remembered a prior shipment of glasses that Martin didn’t particularly like. Rather than return them, they were put in storage. And there they were, two towers of boxes at least four feet fall.
“Why am I stuck doing this shit job? Where’s that lazy spic busboy?” Lou grumbled. He walked to the delivery entrance and shouted “Hey, Manuel! Get in here!” Then he gave a shrill whistle.
Manuel didn’t answer Lou’s command but Eddie’s dog Arlo did. He was still smarting from the swift kick in the ribs from Lou’s pointy patent leather shoe. Arlo growled and inched closer, baring his sharp canines.
Lou backed up as fast as he could but he wasn’t fast enough. Arlo sank his teeth into the bartender’s calf and wouldn’t let go. He meant business and was out for revenge – for himself and for Eddie.
Spinning around like a whirling dervish, Lou smashed into the stacks of boxes. He fell to the floor as splintered wood and jagged glass rained down on him. As a final coup de grâce, Arlo lifted his hind leg, pissed on Lou’s patent leather shoes and trotted out the door.
NAR © 2023
It’s all new
Birthday Thursdays
at The Rhythm Section.
No talk, no fuss, no muss.
Just wall-to-wall music!
Stop by and check it out!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/
SAFE IN A BUBBLE
September 12, 2001 – The Bronx, New York
“Arabic For Dummies”? The Qur’an? What the hell are these disgusting books doing in our house? You’re still associating with that … that … savage, aren’t you, Gloria? Answer me!”
“Papa, please, calm yourself. It’s not good for your blood pressure. If you’re referring to Yusuf, he is not a savage. He’s a sweet, gentle and loving man and you’d realize that if you got to know him. He’s a student at the university studying religion and…..”
“And the making of bombs and God knows what else! Gloria, he’s an Arab, a Muslim, for the love of God! Haven’t you seen enough on tv to know what these people are capable of? You saw with your own two eyes what happened yesterday! Here, on American soil. Crashing planes into buildings! Innocent people jumping to their deaths because it was preferable to being burned alive! We wept for people we don’t even know, Gloria. We witnessed the unimaginable. They are animals, mass-murderers, all of them!”
“You’re right, Papa; what happened yesterday was unspeakable. We will never forget such horror. Yusuf and his family are appalled and overcome with sorrow over this tragedy. But Papa, tell me – when did you become an expert on Muslims or Arabs? You’ve never even tried to get to know them. All my Arab friends are good people, decent, peace loving people. We’ve spent hours talking, exchanging philosophies and sharing meals.”
“I cannot believe what I’m hearing. You actually sit down and eat with these people, if you can even call them that? This is a nightmare! How can you do this to me?”
“What am I doing to you, Papa? You haven’t even given Yusuf a chance. You refuse to meet him, to sit down and have a conversation with him. You’d see he is a man of peace, a good man incapable of hurting anyone.”
“Are you nuts? Have you lost your mind, Gloria? Do you actually think I would sit with him in my house? Please, God, don’t tell me he has you brainwashed already! That’s what they do, you know … draw you in to their cult and before you know it you’re hooked and there’s no way out. Why can’t you stick to our own kind, find a nice Jewish boy? An Arab and a Jew … whoever heard of such craziness?!?
“I can’t believe we’re fighting over this again! Why must you keep bringing it up, Papa? You didn’t give Evelyn a hard time when she said she was going to marry Gino. And what about Kenny when he and Makayla got engaged? You now have an Italian son-in-law and a black daughter-in-law who you welcomed with open arms and you don’t want me seeing Yusuf simply because he’s an Arab!”
“Oh no, do not be fooled, Gloria. There’s no such thing as ‘simply an Arab‘. They all have a hidden agenda! Are you blind to what’s going on around you?”
“Papa, look at me. I’m a grown woman capable of making my own decisions. Why can’t you trust my judgement like you did with Kenny and Evelyn?”
“Gloria, you’re not thinking clearly. Gino is a doctor, making an excellent salary. Your sister and their kids will never want for anything. Makayla’s parents are lawyers and she’s in law school herself. Your brother and sister made smart choices. They didn’t bring some maniac suicide bomber into our family.”
“STOP! Stop saying that! You know nothing about Yusuf and you have no idea what you’re talking about! He’s a wonderful man with a big heart and we have developed deep feelings for each other.”
“Deep feelings. Deep feelings? What are you saying, Gloria? Are you sleeping with him?”
“Oh my God! I can’t believe you just asked me that! I’m not a child and, frankly, that’s none of your business.”
“None of my business? As long as you’re living under my roof, it’s my business.”
“Here we go again! Well maybe it’s high time I moved out of this prison and found a place of my own!”
“PRISON! After all your mother and I have done for you, you have the nerve to say that! And by ‘a place of your own’, you mean shacking up with that terrorist, don’t you? Why don’t you just stab me in the heart and put me out of my misery!”
“Genug! Enough! Sei still!!
What’s going on here?
I can hear the two of you all the way downstairs!”
“Hilda, אהובתי (“my love”) I didn’t hear you come in.”
“As if you could hear anything over all the yelling in here!
What’s gotten into the two of you?”
“It’s your daughter. She’s being absolutely unreasonable. I don’t even know who she is anymore.”
“Oh, mein Gott! So now she’s MY daughter? Sheldon,
the last time I checked she was OUR daughter.
Is this about that Arab boy again?”
“Mama, please! I can’t talk to Papa about this any more. If anyone is being unreasonable, it’s him.”
“Gloria, calm yourself, meine liebe Tochter.
Why don’t you go out for a while,
go to that nice coffee shop near the university?
Spend some time with your friends.
Sheldon, come sit with me.”
“Hilda, are you crazy? She’s going to run right to him! Don’t you see what you’re doing?”
“Just like you ran to me, Sheldon, when your parents called me a filthy Nazi?
Look at me, Shelly. Do you remember what it was like for us
when we first met? You a Jew and me a German.
Ach du lieber Gott! What were we thinking?
My father was so furious, he wanted to kill both of us.
But we knew we’d rather die than be separated.
Sheldon, you should know better than anyone
that you cannot judge one man
simply by the sickening actions of others,
by his looks, what country he’s from
or what god he worships.
You’re a good man, liebchen.
You were a good man when we were teenagers
and you’re a good man now.
You’re scared, Shelly, just like we were scared back then.
But we persevered and in time my parents saw the real you
and your parents saw the real me.
Do you remember what you told your parents
all those years ago?”
“Of course I do. I said ‘I love her and I would die for her’.”
“Ja. And do you remember what I said to your parents?”
“Like it was yesterday. You said ‘I love him and I would die without him’.”
“Things haven’t changed that much, Sheldon,
except now WE’RE the parents.
Shelly, you have to let Gloria fly on her own wings.
You have to trust her.
If you don’t we will lose her.
I hate to burst your bubble, meine schnitzel,
but they love each other
and it’s as simple as that.
Trust them.”
NAR © 2023
I hope you’ll join me today
for some great tunes
straight out of the Motor City!
https://rhythmsection/blog/
A LITTLE RAY OF LIGHT
This is a work of fiction.
In no way is it meant to be
derogatory or insensitive to
any peoples’ ethnicity.
I do not share any of the
disparaging words or sentiments
within this story.
NAR
It was a blazing hot day in August of 1971. Sweaty air conditioners were working overtime, filling the streets of Manhattan with an unrelenting drone. I was in the elevator of my apartment building having just returned from physical therapy. There were four other people in the elevator – a plumber, a mid-twenties hippie chick I knew only as “Rain”, elderly and bitter Abe Morris and a very pregnant Asian woman I didn’t know.
Abe made a big show of moving away from the Asian woman, spitting out the words “savage gooks!” Abe was angry and grieving the recent death of his son in Vietnam. Someone had to pay; why not the only Asian in the elevator? Abe always had some wise-ass comment about the fact that I’m black and relished every opportunity to say something hurtful about my missing arm. Today his vitriol was directed elsewhere. Ignorant, bigoted man.
The doors closed and we began our slow ascent. Old buildings, temperamental elevators and a heatwave – a bad combination. Somewhere between floors 3 and 4 the elevator jolted to a stop. Before Abe could utter a curse word, the elevator churned back to life, coughed and stopped again with an ominous screech. Except for a few groans no one said anything. I pushed the alarm button and reached for the elevator’s emergency phone. Halfway through my call the electricity went out, the AC shut off and my phone connection died. Blackness engulfed us and it started getting uncomfortably warm.
Abe started cursing and banging the walls, all the while ranting “goddamn fucking dinks – I hate them!” The plumber was praying in what sounded like Russian while Rain softly hummed “Let It Be”. I tried unsuccessfully to pry open the doors and reminded everyone that at least part of our emergency call went through so help had to be on its way. It was then that I became aware of low guttural moans coming from the Asian woman; in a language I recognized as Vietnamese, she gasped that the baby was coming.
I asked the plumber if he had a flashlight, which he did. Turning it on, he handed it to me and everyone calmed down just a bit. Amazing what a little ray of light can do. With her back to the wall, the pregnant woman slid down and eased herself onto the floor. I told her I understood Vietnamese from my days as a medic in Nam. I said my name was Jim; her name was Thanh. We talked softly as Abe carried on about his son who died in the war – “And for what?? This slant??” he screamed. The plumber became more agitated and Rain sat by him holding his hand.
With ragged breaths and dry lips, Thanh told me she married an American soldier in early November 1970 and he brought her back to live in the U.S. with his parents. After two weeks he returned to Vietnam; he was killed November 21st in Operation Ivory Coast. Thanh soon learned she was pregnant. Relations with her in-laws became strained and she moved into my apartment building with her cousin.
As we sat waiting, I thought of that November day. I remembered a soldier who flung himself on me as I worked in the MASH unit. He was blown to bits while I only lost my arm. That young hero was someone’s son, a friend, perhaps a brother; he could have even been Thanh’s husband.
Suddenly Abe lost it; he stood and yelled racial slurs at both me Thanh. The plumber sobbed while Rain tried to calm him. I yelled for everyone to “shut up!” And that’s when we heard faint voices.
“Anyone in there?”
“Roger that! We’re down here! Five people, one woman in labor!” I shouted and was rewarded with a resounding “HUA!”
Haltingly the doors were pried open and a rescue ladder was lowered into the elevator. Abe headed straight for the ladder; I stopped the selfish bastard in his tracks.
“The pregnant lady goes first.”
Abe called me “a no good spook” and blindly took a swing at me; even with my disability I was able to easily block him. I grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, forcing him to the floor where he sat, head in hands, repeating what must have been his son’s name. I pitied the man but he was not the only person in pain.
With my assistance, Thanh gingerly made her way up the ladder; she was pulled out of the elevator and the EMTs rushed her to the hospital. The rest of us slowly climbed to safety.
When I emerged into the lobby of my building, I found one of Thanh’s shoes. Call it whatever you want but in that moment I knew I had to get to her.
NAR © 2023
I WANNA ROCK!!
“‘Cattle Decapitation‘?! What the hell kind of music are you into now, Colin? Sounds like another really depraved rock band from Sweden or Britain – that’s what you’re listening to these days, isn’t it? Like that other group you worship – ‘Liquid Graveyard’. What the hell does that even mean, Colin? Your mother and I have had it with this heavy metal music, if you can even call it music, which you insist on blaring down here; we’re losing our minds. You have absolutely no respect for anyone else. Your poor grandmother is afraid to come out of her room and eats all her meals behind her locked door. Frankly it’s nothing but noise and I can’t blame her one bit for keeping herself locked away. I mean, it was bad enough when you were into ‘Motörhead’ and that Lemmy freak but we kept our mouths shut; kids go through phases, I know that. Then you started getting into some pretty disturbing stuff, groups like ‘Autopsy’ and ‘Cannibal Corpse’. Really, Colin! It’s damn upsetting to the whole family and we’re seriously on the brink of kicking you out of the house. What do you have to say for yourself? What do you want to do with your life?!” Colin’s father, Mark, was apoplectic with rage.
“I WANNA ROCK!!” Colin wanted to scream at the top of his lungs but he wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction. Instead, he looked up at his father from the beach chair in his basement bedroom and calmly asked “Are you done spewing your uninformed and ponderous statements, Dad, or do you have more to say? If you’re done, I’m gonna ask you to leave my room and let me enjoy my music. If you’re not, feel free to continue your rant. You don’t mind if I put on my headphones, do you?” Colin knew he was adding gasoline to the fire but at this point he didn’t care any more. Obviously his father had been going through his stuff; he never takes the time to listen to what he has to say and has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Actually comparing ‘Cattle Decapitation’ to ‘Motörhead‘ – what a pedestrian misconception!
“Why you little son of a bitch! You’re telling ME to get out of YOUR room? This is MY house; I just let you live here! We fixed up the basement for you when your grandmother moved in. We could have easily had you share a room with Kyle but we realized you needed your own space. And how do you repay us? By turning this place into a shit hole! Look at your crap – magazines, posters, CDs, video games, boxes of God knows what spread out all over the place. No wonder your mother practically has a panic attack every time she has to come down here to use the washing machine. She’s almost as scared as your grandmother! It breaks her heart seeing what you’ve done to this room. You know, she always wanted to make this her arts and crafts area but gladly gave up the space to accommodate you. Have you ever shown your appreciation, even once? No, you haven’t! You’re such a selfish and spoiled ingrate!” Colin stared at his father, fascinated as he watched his eyes bulge with every word and the throbbing veins in his neck looked like they were going to explode.
“Since we’re talking about me, Dad, other than my taste in music and the fact that you think I’m a selfish ingrate, have I ever done anything you‘re ashamed of? I’m a good student and I’ve got a job. All the stuff you call “crap” – I bought everything you see here with my own money. I never asked you for a dime to buy CDs or video games. That’s a lot more than you cay say about other kids my age but you‘ve never acknowledge that. You just constantly browbeat me about my music. Dad, let me ask you a question. Didn’t you have your favorite groups when you were my age, maybe even some your parents didn’t approve of?” Colin asked.
Mark was momentarily caught off guard; he’d never heard Colin talk like this before. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time they actually had a civilized conversation; they always just screamed at each other. Who was this kid?
“Of course we did, Colin. We listened to lots of different groups like ‘Guns N’ Roses’, ‘Mötley Crüe’, ‘Whitesnake’ and ‘Quiet Riot’ but that music is no comparison to the crap that’s out today, especially this garbage you’re listening to. Yeah, maybe my father gave me some grief now and then – it’s a father’s job to keep his kids in line – but back then the music we listened to was really good. You know, your mother still loves The Beatles? You can’t get any better than that.”
Colin sprinted out of his chair. “Dad, do you honestly think you’re telling me something new? I know all about those groups you used to listed to. You think I’m only aware of what’s popular now? Give me a little more credit than that! At least my mind isn’t closed off like yours. I like ‘The Beatles’, ‘Stones’, ‘Led Zeppelin’ and ‘Deep Purple’. But I accept the fact that my music isn’t for everybody and you should at least acknowledge that and try to be a little more broadminded instead of sticking it to me every chance you get. Did you ever think the reason I stay down here listening to my music is because you and I never just talk about stuff?”
Mark exhaled deeply. “You make some valid points, Colin, you really do but at least the names of the groups we were into weren’t twisted. Tell me, what the hell kind of name is ‘Cattle Decapitation’, for crying out loud? It’s not normal! What the hell am I supposed to make of that?”
“Come on, Dad. It’s just a name. Didn’t you listen to ‘Poison’ and ‘Fine Young Cannibals‘ and ‘Nine Inch Nails’? And since you mentioned “twisted”, what about ‘Twisted Sister’? What kinds of names are those? Besides, you don’t know the first thing about ‘Cattle Decapitation‘” Colin replied.
“Well, it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what the name means, Colin. It’s repulsive!”
“And there you go again, making a judgment call with no real information to back it up! Dad, can you cool down long enough to let me tell you something about them?”
Mark sat down heavily on the side of Colin’s bed. “Go ahead, Colin, but it’s probably not going to change my mind.”
‘‘Well, you might be surprised. And I’m not making any of this up. It’s all on the internet so Google it if you don’t believe me. ‘Cattle Decapitation’ is an American group, not Swedish or English. That’s right – from right here in the US of A, just like your good old boy Ted Nugent! And they aren’t famous for cutting off the heads of innocent cows or sheep. Their songs actually protest the mistreatment and consumption of animals and the abuse of the environment. I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear that the members of the band are vegetarians, just like me – or haven’t you noticed I gave up eating meat two years ago? They aren’t savages. When you think about it they’re not all that different than ‘that fab little group’ Mom loves so much; they’re just expressing themselves in a different way.“
Mark looked at his son with skepticism. “I don’t know, Colin. That just doesn’t make much sense to me. I mean, listen to them; that lead singer sounds like he’s possessed by demons!”
“That’s because they’re angry about the situation of the world and they’re trying to get our attention! Their song ‘Bring Back the Plague’ is all about COVID-19 and is the painful, truthful humor we all need right now. And it was filmed responsibly on cell phones while the band was in self-isolation. Do us both a favor, Dad. Forget the music for now and just read the lyrics to their songs, then compare them to the groups you listened to. That’s all I ask; think of it as a compromise. After that, if you still want to kick me out of the house, that’s your right.”
“Ok, Colin, I’ll take a look but I can’t promise anything.”
Mark went to the fridge and grabbed a Bud Light. He climbed the stairs to his den, flipped on ‘Metallica‘ and Googled ‘Cattle Decapitation‘.
“Well, I’ll be God damned! he said after reading for half an hour. “The kid actually knew what he was talking about.” Mark switched off ‘Metallica’ and searched YouTube for ‘Bring Back the Plague’. Putting on his headphones, he took a swig of his beer and for the first time in ages he actually paid attention.
NAR © 2023
Originally published in 2020.
Resuscitated, reprised and revamped
to complement my post for
today’s edition of In The Groove
at The Rhythm Section.
Please stop by and check it out.
https://rhythmsection.blog/
THE NAME GAME
When Chris woke up Monday morning, he knew something was not quite right. He was always the one to jump out of bed full of energy, ready to start the day. Not this morning. His neck and shoulders felt stiff and achy, probably from helping his brother repair his deck over the weekend. He didn’t overthink it, figuring a couple of Advil and a hot shower should do the trick.
And they did. Chris felt much better but by noon the tightness in his neck and shoulders was back. Rubbing his neck made the soreness feel a little better; that was when he remembered the masseur at his gym. He decided he’d stop by after work for a massage.
When Chris arrived at the gym, Rick – the front desk guy – told him the masseur was no longer there and his replacement hadn’t started working yet. Rick leaned forward a bit and quietly said, “Look buddy, I could get in trouble for telling you this but my cousin Alex recently opened a massage therapy practice. It’s not easy getting a practice up and running so I offered to help out by referring a few gym members. If you’re interested, I’ll share Alex’s contact info with you.”
Chris knew he didn’t want to spend another night suffering so he decided to take Rick up on his offer. Rick sent his contact information to Chris and five seconds later he had the number for ‘Alex Brody, Massage Therapist’ in his phone. Thanking Rick for the tip, he left the gym and headed to his car.
Chris always kept his gym bag in the car with a fresh change of clothes. He sent a text to Alex, saying he was referred by Rick and explained his situation; Chris added that he hoped he could get an appointment that evening. It didn’t take long for him to receive a reply; Alex agreed to see him in 45 minutes. He was good to go – just enough time to grab a cup of coffee and head over.
Chris arrived at Alex’s place with a few minutes to spare. He grabbed his gym bag, climbed the stairs and rang the bell. The door was opened by an attractive woman in shorts and a t-shirt. She extended her hand and said “Hi. You must be Chris. I’m Alex. Nice to meet you.”
A look of surprise and confusion registered on Chris’ face, then he gave a little chuckle and said “Oh, I see what’s going on here. What’s your full name, Alex? Alexandra?”
Alex withdrew her unacknowledged hand. “That’s right. Is there a problem, Chris?”
“Yeah there is, Alexandra. The problem is women like you who dupe unsuspecting people like me by using a guy’s name simply because they lack the confidence to make it in the big bad world by using their real name. I thought I’d be dealing with a man tonight.”
“You know what, Chris?” quipped Alex. “I thought I’d be dealing with a man tonight, too.”
And she shut the door in his face.
NAR © 2023
Don’t forget to join me today
In The Groove at The Rhythm Section;
we got a thing going on over there.
https://rhythmsection.blog/
HOME OF THE BRAVE
“Settlers from the east, father. When will they stop?”
Chief Yonaguska looked down at the boy. “Never, my son, but if we are respectful of each other’s ways, there will be no trouble.” Father and son sat atop their horses, staring down at the wagon train.
Wagon master Patrick Hall spied the Cherokees and whistled a Celtic melody, their established warning signal. The women and children took cover in the wagons while the men remained on their horses – one hand on the reins, the other fingering a shotgun.
Cautiously, Yonaguska raised his arm in a sign of peace. Patrick did the same. Slowly Yonaguska and his son turned their horses around and returned to their tribe.
“We’ll be gettin’ no trouble from those Cherokees” declared Patrick.
“They’re all savages!” argued Donal Byrne “Ya shoulda just shot ‘em!”
“I’ll not hear another remark like that again, Donal!“ replied Patrick angrily. “This is a good spot to camp for a few days. We’ll give the horses a rest and do some huntin’ and fishing’.”
When Patrick and a few men left, Donal and the others stayed behind to protection the women-folk and work on the wagons. The women baked bread while the younger children napped. Some older girls went to gather fruit and berries to make preserves. They were given orders to remain together and not go far but as young giggly girls are often wont to do, they didn’t pay attention and wandered off.
Anxious about the girl’s tardiness, Donal and some of the men went looking for them. They became aware of faint screams in the distance. The men searched but couldn’t find the girls. Then they noticed discarded baskets, remnants of cloth and blood. Gathering the items, the men found their way back to camp just as Patrick and the hunting crew returned.
Donal raced toward Patrick bellowing “See! I was right! Ya shoulda killed those savages when ya had the chance. Now they’ve taken our girls and God knows what they’ve done to them! I say we go get our girls back, even if we have to kill all them stinkin’ bastards!”
Just then Yonaguska and several braves appeared on the hilltop, the chief sitting imperially on his stallion. As they cautiously made their way down the hill, the settlers could see each brave carried a girl on his horse. Some of the girls were bleeding, their clothes rent.
“Ya blasted barbarians! What have ya done to our girls?!” shouted Donal and he aimed his gun at Yonaguska.
“Donal! Drop it or by God I’ll shoot ya where ya stand!” threatened Patrick. Begrudgingly, Donal lowered his gun. “Now, Donal, take a look behind the chief’s horse.”
Only then did everyone notice a giant dead grizzly bear. The girls explained how the bear had attacked them and the braves came to their rescue. The braves gently lowered the girls to the ground and they ran to their parents.
With raised hand, Patrick stepped forward. “We have nothing to offer ya but our thanks and friendship for protecting our girls.”
Yonaguska replied “Your girls were in peril. It is fortunate my braves were there to help. All we want is peace between us.”
Then with a slight tug on his stallion’s rein, the Cherokee chief withdrew. He and his braves silently disappearing over the hill.
When cooler heads prevail, there will be no trouble.
NAR © 2019
The Elephant's Trunk 