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My Writing… – Page 3 – Instant Sean

Category: My Writing…

  • “Oh Sean, I just want to box your ears” – Leslie C.

    “Hey hey hey, close the dvd case,” Leslie said.

    “I did,” Sean said as he yanked the case away from his sister, “Don’t tell me what to do or I’m telling dad.”

    “You didn’t do it right.  I don’t want you to ruin Mom’s DVD.”

    “I’m not going to! Why don’t you just work on losing the 12 lbs that you gained after leaving fat camp!”

    “Oh Sean, I just want to box your ears,” she said as she started to pout.

    “Box my ears, you really scare me Les. Shut up or I’m telling your boyfriend that you wear falsies.”

    “I don’t, you just need to stop looking at me that way,” Leslie said as she flipped her blonde hair out her face.  “I’m still a virgin.”

    “Yeah, and Osama Bin Laden is still hiding in a cave in Afghanastan.”

    “He is Sean, Jeremy told me that his brother’s best friend told him that we never buried Bin laden but we buried an imposter that you could only tell the difference by looking at the mole on his ass.”

    “Leslie, there are times that I wonder why mom had to hook up with her gym teacher.”

    “I look like Dad and you know it.”

    “If Dad’s IQ was 170 points lower. The only think that makes you look like him is your mouth and anyone could have lips like yours with enough botox.”

    “Whatever, jerk.”

    As he watched his sister walk away in her pink pants and white blouse Sean realized that Leslie did look like their father but he would never admit it to her.  It was too much fun messing with her and making her think that she was her late mother’s gym instructor.

    He looked at the DVD case that had broken spine from the time opening and closing the various times.  Thank goodness his father had a backup copy of the video because his sister and the entire family would just look and stare for hours at her.

    She had long flowing brown hair that almost came to the middle of her back , a small petite nose that almost looked out of place on her round, full face with the blue eyes that would search deep into your soul.  That was her before the chemotherapy reduced her to a bald headed, sunken eyed, well monster.

    Sean never looked past the first 2 ½ hours of the DVD.  He would prefer to remember his last football game with her there, cheering him on from the ambulance. The four touchdown catches he made meant nothing.  The only memory he had from the game was when he ran over to the ambulance and handed his mother the game ball.

    “You take it Sean, you’re the hero,” Sean’s eyes watered as he could remember the moment, even tasting grass in his mouth.

    “But I want you to have it mom, don’t you understand?”

    Sean’s eyes misted up as the team took a knee in front of his mother.

    “We won this game for you,” they said in unison.

    “You won it for yourselves. Each one of you has made mistakes and has paid for them.  Listen to your parents; love them even when you don’t think they deserve it.  For if your heart is in the right place and your love is eternal, you will always,” she started to cough and took a whiff from the oxygen. “win.”

    She fell back onto the stretcher and the medics wheeled her away.

    Every boy had a patch on their uniform for Sean’s mom.

    It wasn’t her initials. That would have made her furious.

    “No one person is above a team Sean,” she yelled the day he skipped practice because he didn’t feel well.

    He ran bleachers, not for the coach, not for his dad (who was the assistant coach).

    But for his mother, who taught him better.

    As for those patches, each one of them had one word on them.

    Mom.

    Happy Mothers Day.

  • “In life you have 2 options. Either you can live in a world others have created for you. Or you can create the world that others live in.” -Jeff J

    “In life you have 2 options. Either you can live in a world others have created for you. Or you can create the world that others live in,” Jeff told his best friend Allister the other evening.

    “Oh really,” Allister said with a plan to dis-ravel his well thought out plan.

    “Don’t you understand the pressures of this world is so tough, the expectations that we all have on each other and on ourselves is so great that if we don’t hit the goals that we are given we are labeled a loser,” Jeff continued with a gleam in his eye.

    “But don’t you agree that with reality handing everyone expectations of mediocrity that we allow ourselves to be trapped in a cube of our own making.  We don’t have winners or losers when growing up anymore. We don’t let kids have to earn anything. Everything is given to them, everyone gets to run the bases and nobody is ever out. That isn’t how the real world works Jeff.”

    “Allister, you are a very cynical man,” Jeff said as he started to drink his Whisky and Coke, “continue.”

    “We let everyone have a trophy, we let out kids have whatever they want, the television has 500 channels and there still isn’t anything on the damn thing. We’ve gone from being a society of producers, proud of the things that would last, to a society of locusts, producing what we need to survive that moment. We’ve transformed from a country of deep thinkers to barely thinkers.”

    “So, what’s the solution?”

    “An EMP, remove technology and we force our kids to talk to us,” Allister said with with a smile on his face.

    “Like that’s going to happen.  If we create the world that OTHERS live in, we make the choices. If you don’t like handing out trophies to the kids who couldn’t tie their shoes without a diagram and a YOUTUBE video, then don’t,” Jeff said starting to pace around the room.

    “What about the pinheads that force us to live in their world? You can’t tell me that your boss Dawn lives in a perfect world. She barely gets out of bed on time and smells like cheese,” Allister countered.

    “It’s a matter of mind over matter. I don’t mind because she doesn’t matter.  I live in a world where if I want to sit with others drinking, carousing and causing trouble and having fun, I can. If, however, I want to spend my time at the bar eating my steak while the world carries on without me I can,” Jeff said as he puts his weathered hands on Allister’s shoulder.

    “But others force their ideas upon you.”

    “Only if they let me Allister. There are some days that I just go, grab some food and watch people. I’m not forcing my world upon anyone, I let them come into my bubble only if I want them to.”

    “Sounds completely looney to me Jeff.”

    “Look Allister, my world is filled with continents, water, land, arguing alliances and countries just like yours.  My world has blue skies and gray days, baseball, popcorn, and Cracker Jack,” Jeff started when Allister interrupted him with “as does mine.”

    “But my world, I look toward to not the cleaning of the ball park afterwords, I don’t look to the parking and the traffic.”

    “You look toward the game,” Allister says quietly.

    “And it doesn’t matter if I am a Lord or a peasant, all that matters is that I experience everything that is around me, taking in each sunset, each sound, everything that is around me, trying not to miss a moment.  For if I miss that magic moment, it will never be there ever again. It was never about the game, it was never about the party, it was never about those moments that everyone holds so dear to them.  It was the look on your face when you first met your wife.  It was the look on your face when she came down the aisle at your wedding. It was even the sadness when you lost your son.  The moments that we have can either be hidden or shared, rejoiced or cursed,” Jeff said as he saw a solitary tear come down Allister’s right cheek which was immediately brushed and cleaned away.

    “In life you have 2 options. Either you can live in a world others have created for you. Or you can create the world that others live in. Which do you choose Allister?”

    “I choose to have another drink.”

    Which do you choose?

  • “Their small enough for you to do them in a bucket” – Don Carpenter

    Jake looked at his brother Troy and knew it was the day.  The day he dreaded for weeks, but he was committed now.

    “Look Jake, it’s easy for me to show you how to do it , but you can’t call yourself a man until you do it yourself,” Troy said with a smile on his face.

    “Yeah, yeah, I know. I have to do it because you did it when you were 16, and Dad did it when he was 16 and Pappa did it when he was 16.”

    “We did it because of tradition. You have to do it because, we’re assholes.”

    “Great.”

    As Jake looked at the task at hand he examined the bucket that his brother gave him in the morning with the encouraging words, “their small enough for you to do them in a bucket,” but he wasn’t sure what size bucket his brother, father or grandfather were given.

    As he approached the area , his stomach turned as he could smell the acid from the pen.

    “Why am I doing this again?” he asked as his brother started to laugh.

    “Because it’s our Saturday afternoon entertainment,” Troy said.

    “Stop pussyfooting around there boy, get yourself busy,” his father laughed as he spit out the chaw from his mouth grabbing the beer bottle and yelling again, “Come on Jake, get yourself some!”

    Jake approached his opponent looking to the left and to the right trying to find away out of the pen. The bucket filled to the brim carefully held as not to spill any of the contents.  If he spilled, he’d have to start all over again.

    His eyes locked him as his nemesis looked casually around knowing what was coming but not showing fear. Jake had enough fear for both of them.

    Jake started to walk slowly toward him and watched as his opponent backed up in a circle, every step closer was followed by one step back as each tried to outsmart the other.

    Finally his opponent had enough. He ran and dove between Jake’s legs, confusing Jake for a second and followed it up with a bark of dis-encouragement from his father.

    “Who has the bigger brain son, just get him in a corner and get the job done dammit, the sun is awastin!”

    Jake put the bucket down and decided to do it his way chasing his opponent down, cornering him in the southwest part of the pen.

    “Wish you had your bucket now eh Jake,” Troy said with a laugh.

    “Shut up Troy, I’ve got him right where I want him,” Jake said turning his head away for a second, which was long enough for his opponent, who slipped to the right, to get away.

    Cursing, Jake chased him down finally wearing his opponent down and grabbing him, running toward the bucket.

    “I’ve got it, I’ve got this,” Jake says as his opponent tries to wiggle away but to no avail.

    Into the bucket, his opponents head is dunked, taken out and dunked again.

    “I did it, ” Jake said as he held his wet opponent in the air. “I won!”

    “Yeah you did,” his father said. “Now dry the dog off and get ready for dinner.”

  • “I didn’t get this way by not eating”

    (Yet another in my under 750 word Short story challenge pieces.  This concludes the Dusty Rhodes Submissions. )

    Artie looked at his doctor in amazement.

    “Your blood pressure is amazing. When I took your blood it was like sludge,” Dr. Hargrove said.

    “I’m a perfect specimen of health,” Artie said with a smile.

    “If you were 80. But you are just 37 Artie.  I’m going to have to put you on a diet.”

    “A diet?  I’m not going to start eating rabbit food.  What pill can you give me to get the weight off? How about we go in and cut it out? You can use a rusty butter knife as long as you knock my ass out.”

    Dr. Hargrove just shook his head.  “This isn’t a quick fix solution Artie! You have to make severe lifetime changes if you intend to be successful. Do you want to live till you’re 60, do you want to walk Trisha down the aisle?”

    Artie shook his head, “Sammy, look at me. I didn’t get this way by not eating doc, Angela doesn’t make it easy on me with fried this and fried that. How can I say no to a woman that can eat all of that and still look like she was when I married her after high school?”

    “You have to make changes Artie or you won’t make it to 40.”

    “What do you want me to do?”

    “Eat one hamburger instead of 4, drink water instead of those milkshakes that you pound down like we were back in high school. Then I know this one will shock you,” Dr. Hargrove started but was interrupted by Artie.

    “More Sex,” Artie said with a full deep throaty laugh that started him coughing.

    “No, something other than letting Angie go down on you, why don’t you try walking with her.  She walks every day in the park. I see her as I drive into the office each day. You could join her.”

    “Walking, and then I’m going to have to listen to her jabber about how Eliose had this incredible idea and blah, blah, blah.”

    “It would help your marriage and your heart too Artie.”

    “I’m in the restaurant business. Who would trust a tiny chef?”

    “You can have a big heart because of your generosity or because it’s struggling to keep you alive. Your choice Artie. I can’t make the first step, you do,” Dr. Hargrove said as he put his hand on Artie’s shoulder.

    “Let’s have dinner next week.”

    “Okay Artie, we’ll check in on you and see how you are doing,” Dr Hargrove said as he walked out.

    Artie hopped down off the table, put his pants up and walked to pay his bill, popping a candy bar in his mouth.  “Yeah, like I’m going to stop eating. ”

    He started to walk to his car and felt a pain in his chest. Damn indigestion Artie thought to  himself.  The sweat of walking to the car in the 100 degree heat started to get to him and he felt like he had to sit down.

    And then he blacked out.

    When he came to he had an oxygen mask on his face and his old high school friend looking at him.

    “You had to have a heart attack in my parking lot.  You had to …,” Dr. Hargrove’s face fell as his voice quivered. “I’m serious Artie. We saved you this time. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

    Artie tried to talk but was unable to. As the blackness came over him he looked, smiled and tried to pat his stomach, but his arm went limp.

  • “It’ll feel better when it stops hurting…”

    (More writing inspired by quotes my friends send me. This one is inspired by my good friend Dusty Rhodes who told me the story of a guy who broke his ankle sliding into second base at a softball game.  I thought, let’s take it a bit darker. Today the mob makes a visit to a quiet sales office in the east coast.)

    Richard was dressed in a orange and red plaid  suit.  His hair slicked back with grease, but it might have well enough been lard as much as it had been put in. His bookcase had cereal boxes from the sport teams that he supported because they were winners.  He once tore down a sign that had the letter D and a symbol of a fence and replaced it with a sign that said “Speed Kills”.  His championship debate trophy from high school as well as all of his achievements were on the wall behind him. Everything was about winning.  He never liked to lose. He lost once and his opponent sent him a cake in the shape of a tombstone.  He took a picture of the tombstone and showed it to anyone who didn’t understand why he didn’t like losing.

    But in this moment of his life, it didn’t matter.

    “Now Sally, I told you that I wasn’t going to take your smart ass bullshit anymore.  You’ve made my boss very angry,” said the 5′ pinstripe wearing guido that was watching as his “associates” repeatedly kick him in the groin and face.

    “Please stop, I refund your money,” Richard said to Pinstripe.

    “Look at you, what would your mother say?  Your ethics have gone to places where people don’t return.  You killed that kid.”

    “I didn’t do anything, I was just trying to show her how to sell,” said Richards as Pinstripe called the beating to stop.

    Pinstripe’s face turned into a stop sign.  His eyes bulged and he started to kick Richard in the balls repeatedly. “You call late night calls and harassment teaching son?  That was my niece.  She finished her life because you told her that she wouldn’t amount to anything. SHE KILLED HERSELF,” and with each word the cracking of the ribs continued to sound like popcorn.  People rushed up to try and stop the carnage but they were unable due to the 2 AK’s held in the hands of Pinstripe’s associates.

    “I’m in so much pain, make them stop,” as the blood started to bubble from his mouth.

    “It’ll feel better when it stops hurting, ” Pinstripe said as he kicked Richard in the face.  He slumped over and listened as the sounds of the police sirens got closer.  His associates had already left the building as people gathered around Richard.

    “I can’t bring Sharee back, she was all my wife wanted in a child.  But you took that away.  So I’m taking it all from you.  You’re nothing but a two bit used car salesmen disguised as management.  Everyone will look at you and pity you because of what I did.  I’m warning you… if you hit on another woman in the office and I hear about it I’ll come back and remove your jaw with my bare hands.

    “Come on boss, we gotta go,” said one of the gunman as he ran up the stairs.

    “See ya later Dick,” Pinstripe said as he walked up the stairs to the exit.

    As he passed the receptionist who stared in horror, Pinstripe turned and smiled “Have a nice day sugar tits!”

    Richard never talked again.