Category: “Quotes”

Steve Conway’s “Don’t sit on my flag,” is my next volunteer for my “Quotes” story collection.

The doorbell rang…

Brian looked at his alarm clock and cursed. 6:28 in the morning. Fricking garage sale.

It didn’t matter that his whole garage was filled up with crap that he never threw away, his neighborhood was populated by the blue hairs and the bargain hunters and they all expected his garage to be open by at least 6:30.

He opened the door and looked at the man in the wheelchair who stared at him as if he was violating the Geneva Convention.

“Is this where the…, “the man started to say.

“The signs, everything says 8 A.M. Not 7, sure as hell not as early as 6:30 in the morning sir,” Brian said yawning.  Realizing that he was still in the off white wife beater, plaid pajama shorts and pink bunny slippers he closed his Dallas Cowboys robe and yawned again.

“You know son, the early bird gets the worm,” the grizzled man said back to him.

“And he also gets a door closed in his face until 8 A.M. See you then,” Brian said as he shut the door.

Brian started making coffee and changed into a pair of shorts and a “Tom Landry for President” T-Shirt. He ate his cereal as the line around his house got larger.

“Don’t people have better things to do at 7 in the morning, like SLEEP” he yelled to no one in particular?

As he walked to the garage he looked at the collection of junk that he had out for sale.  From the gas weed eater that he couldn’t use anymore because the fumes bothered him too much to the collection of Clearly Canadian salt and pepper shakers that he had almost a case of.  He had an American flag draped over a chair that he intended to fly on the flagpole. His girlfriend was tired of tripping on the “treasures” that she said had to leave so she can move her stuff in. But of course, she stayed over at her apartment last night.

She laughed as she left last night, “See you in the morning. I’ll be there about 10 when everyone starts showing up.”

Yeah, right.

“Let’s release the assholes,” Brian said as he started to open his garage door.

“I’ll give you $5 for the weed eater,” an old lady started the haggling.

“What’s it say on the price tag?”

“I won’t pay that much, this is a garage sale, not K-Mart,” she countered back.

“Look lady, it’s 8 in the morning and you guys are pawing through my crap like it’s the Holy Grail,” Brian said with a sigh, “so pay the damn price or…”

“Wait till noon when all the vultures are gone and he really wants to get rid of the stuff,” said a voice.

Brian turned and it was the man in the wheelchair.

“They’ll steal you blind if you aren’t watching son,” he said as he started to carve something out of a block of wood.

“What do you want? I feel bad for slamming the door in your face,” Brian said as his eyes wandered from left to right as he started to move tables of junk out into the driveway.

“Just give me first chance on whatever isn’t sold son, you wouldn’t let me be the early bird, but I’ll still get the worm,” the man said as he continued to carve without even looking up.

As minute by minute passed he watched the people who were trying to screw him become more plentiful.

He caught some kids trying to get through the locked back door to see “what other shet this guys got”.

And while he tried to help everyone, the man carved.  Brian tried to figure out what he was carving but was too busy helping the “customers” and putting the fear of calling the cops on the crooks.

At one point the man growled at a kid “don’t sit on my flag,” as some 300 lb kid tried to take a rest on the chair that the flag had fallen down into the seat.

“I’m sorry, I meant to put that up,” Brian said as he shooed away the kids.

The man rolled over to the flag and reached for it, cradled it in his arms and wheeled himself over to the flagpole.  He leaned over and connected the flag and raised it, saluting it when he was done.

Brian went over and wheeled the man over the grass to just inside the garage when all of the sudden the man’s eyes turned red and a gun appeared out of nowhere.

“Mamm, I suggest you either pay the man twice what he’s offering or leave his property, cause if he doesn’t shoot you for theft , I will.”

The woman who had tried to walk away with the gas weed eater placed it on the ground.

“Along with everything else that you have taken mamm,” the old man said as he cocked the gun.

People were scattering and I could hear the cops coming.

“I wouldn’t run if I were you,” Brian said as he tried to inch closer to the man’s right side, “his hand seems a bit shaky but I think he could nail you from that distance.”

“I left some money for the weed eater while you were busy with him,” she motioned over to the table.

Brian walked over and saw a single $5 bill on the table.

The police car came out and the old man put his gun down in his lap and held his hands up in the air.

“What do we have here Frank,” the cop said to the old man.

“We’ve got theft and attempted breaking and entering by Lucy and her kids again Steve,” the old man said with a laugh.

“Why can’t you just RETIRE Frank?”

“I’ll retire when I’m dead Steve,” the old man said as he started to wheel himself two houses down, “You know where to find me when you need to fill out those reports and check the kids too, I think they stuffed his baseball cards down their shorts.”

The woman knew she was caught and laid on the ground with her hands behind her back, her sons joined her as more police cars joined into the situation.

The old man turned back to Brian and told him, “I’ll give you a fair price for everything else for the youth and senior center if you never let anyone sit on MY flag again.”

Brian just nodded.

 

“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 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?