The Apaloosa State University Homecoming of 2010

Roddy Nelson sat quietly in his office for what he was sure would be the last time. Leaning back in his leather chair he wondered how it all went so wrong.

He’d been the Athletic Director of the Apaloosa State University Hippos for sixteen years. During his tenure, Apaloosa State had thirteen winning football seasons; four times winning conference championships. Then there was the thrilling run to the division 2A nation championship in 2002. All that good will would not protect him from the furor over homecoming 2010.

How was he to know that hippos were such miserable creatures? Initially it seemed like a perfect plan. Holding a hippo petting zoo before the homecoming game was sure to draw a crowd. During a one and six season he figured it couldn’t hurt. He borrowed a hippo from a local private zoo. A riser was built to allow people closer access to the huge animal.

Before the attraction even opened things started to unravel. The handlers did their best to contain the wild animal, but a wooden picket fence was no match for it’s power. The screaming fans only seemed to anger it more. Three trucks did their best to herd the hippo away from the crowd, but no one guessed that a hippo could roll a pickup truck so easily.

Then it plowed through a sorority house. There was screaming, so much screaming. One girl jumped from the second floor window only to land on the back of hippo. Roddy didn’t know such immense animals could run so fast. The sorority girl rode it longer than anyone expected. It wasn’t until it broke through the backyard fence that she was knocked to safety.

For thirty long minutes the animal raged. The police brought in experts from the local area, anyone who might help end the catastrophe.

It wasn’t until the hippo settled into a neighborhood pool that Roddy’s career truly came to a spectacular end. The pool usurped by the hippo belonged to Harold Kunze, President of Apaloosa State University. Even worse was that his wife was enjoying a swim when the hippo crashed through the fence and dove in beside her.

Roddy gathered a few personal items from his desk, turned off the light and closed the closed the door. Tomorrow he’d meet with President Kunze. At least the Hippos won the homecoming game.

A Sunlit Life Reconsidered

To Whom it May Concern,

I would like it to be stated officially and irrevocably: I don’t do days. I used to be a sun worshipper, but three experiences taught me the error of my ways. When I was fifteen I spent two weeks at a cottage on Pigeon Lake. Two of my buddies and I took a canoe into the middle of the lake and engaged in an activity called power burning. A canoe floating the a lake acts like parabolic magnifying glass. We lay for hours until we turned the right shade of boiled lobster. We wound up suffering from dehydrated delusions for a day and a half and we peeled for weeks. I never tanned again. I didn’t need to.

Four years later I jumped on the cycling craze. It wasn’t a means of transportation as much as an obsession. I also loved the spandex. The only problem with spandex is that you think it looks better on you than it actually does. I was such a gearhead I thought I looked awesome. Then I came crashing back to reality. Literally. One bright bright summer evening I cycled home from work along a wooded street on the outskirts of town. I headed west, straight into the setting sun. I never saw the buck. I’m not sure he saw me either. All I remember was his cry as I tried to ride up his antlers. After a dazed minute or so, the buck and I stared at each other. I’m not sure if I imagined it or not, but I think it laughed at me when it saw me in spandex.

I finally decided to reject all things bright and beautiful the winter of my twenty-forth year. If you’ve never experienced snow blindness, let me begin by declaring that it does exist. But instead of everything going dark, snow blindness is like being hit with a wall of pure, unblemished light. Though I couldn’t see them, the screams of the skiers around me confirmed my conviction that it’s not the sort of thing you want to experience at 12,000 feet racing down a black diamond run. I can’t say with certainty what happened before wrapping myself around a pine tree. I vaguely remember being hit by a ski pole prior to using a snowboarder as a ski jump.

It was during the following month long stay in the hospital that I reversed my days and nights. It wasn’t as difficult a transition as you might think. Nighttime held an exciting new world. I discovered thousands of other lunar connoisseurs. As it turns out, many activities are even better without the annoyance of light pollution. Most sporting events are held at night. Nightclubs are a hub of urban life.

You may adhere to the old adage carpe diem. Seize the day. I ask, what has the day ever done to deserve such reverence? Nothing! I scoff at the narrow mindedness of solar oppressors. I say carpe noche. Seize the night. Break free from great yellow menace in the sky. Give the sun the moon.

Thank-you.

Children’s Beauty Pageant Purgatory

“Now remember, baby, ya gotta smile, ‘specially to the judges, ya hear? Be pretty, Brittany Lynn,” said Becky Sue. She licked her thumb and cleaned a smudge of makeup off her daughter’s face.

Lindsey Ann entered the Holiday Inn conference room and looked around before leading her daughter to the children’s beauty pageant registration table. She spotted Becky Sue and tried to shield her face. It didn’t work.

“Well, look at what the cat drug in. If it ain’t ol’ Lindsay Ann Chisum. And don’t you look sweet, Amy Lee?”

“Hey, Becky. Nice to see ya,” said Lindsey Ann. She lied.

“I’m surprised to see ya here, considerin’.”

Lindsey Ann put her hands on her hips. “Considerin’ what.”

“Well, Amy Lee’s cute ‘n all, bless her heart, sufferin’ from her condition.”

“Amy Lee, why don’t you go play with the others?” The seven year old dressed as Marilyn Monroe ran off to the free juice bar. “Don’t you go messin’ up your dress, baby.”

“She’s just precious,” said Becky Sue.

“What did you mean by ‘her condition’?”

“Nuthin’. Just with her having’ your personality an’ all. It’s amazin’ to think what she’s overcome so far in her young life.”

“Don’t you think I don’t know what you’re doin’. You ain’t usin’ yer Jedi mind tricks on me, missy. Amy Lee’s been practicing her Marilyn for months now. You an’ Brittney Lynn ain’t got nothin’ on her. And just what is Brittany Lynn supposed to be? She looks like a mad scientist.”

“Not like it’s any of your business, she’s showin’ how beautigent she is.”

“You an’ yer ivory tower community college degree. Talk English.”

“It’s the devastating combination of beauty and intelligence. It’s a family trait.”

“It musta skipped a generation for you, bless your heart.”

Becky Lynn and Linsdey Ann stood, locked in a deadly stare down.

A pageant official came over and separated the two mothers. “Save it for the competition, ladies.” Beckey Lynn and Lindsey Ann stormed off in opposite directions. The official sighed, “I’m goin’ to Hell for this.”

Chased By Bears

Tyler sat in the swing on the front porch, plugged into his iPod. His sister Dana burst out the front door and yanked the headphones off his head.

“Wa!” said Tyler as he whipped around. “You scared the living crap outta me.

Dana listened to the faint music from the headphones. “Who is that?”

“John Smith and the Girlfriend Electrics.”

“What kind of stupid name is that?”

“They’re ska.”

“And you’re such a dork. No one listens to ska. That went out in the 90’s. Why don’t you listen to something modern?”

“Because it’s stupid. Pop music is prefab trash. It’s like the trailer park of the music world.”

“Whatever,” said Dana as she started stretching.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going for a run.”

“Why?”

“It’s good for you. It’s called exercise. You should do it once in a while.”

“No way. Running’s a good idea only when you’re chased by a bear. I don’t see any around, so I’m good.”

“Funny. Still, you should exercise more, get rid of some of your flab,” said Dana as she pinched at Tyler’s side. He squirmed away.

“Why, so I can be like you, miss zero percent body fat? Look at you. You look like a famine survivor. When the apocalypse hits, plump people like me will out live bean poles like you. Bear Grylls says the keys to survival are finding food and water. I have enough resources stored up for a least a week,” said Tyler, patting his stomach. “You wouldn’t last a day.”

“Now that’s a Bear I’d like to find in the woods.”

“Careful, don’t overheat.”

“You’re a nutcase.”

“A nutcase who’ll out survive you.”

Dana put her hands on her hips. “That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah, why?”

“When the world falls apart, and we’re struggling to survive, and the bears attack, I’ll be able to outrun you.”

“So?”

“Only the slow ones get eaten,” said Dana. “See ya, bear bait.”

Tyler sneered as Dana jogged down the street. He put his headphones on, leaned back and closed his eyes. Just before he dozed off, he checked one more time for bears.


Why There Ain’t No Blue Collar Starbucks

(Overheard at a Starbucks.)

“Sure, I read John Green’s latest. It’s okay, but it ain’t Shakespeare.”

“How eloquently stated.”

“Whaddya mean by that?”

“You assessment wasn’t exactly Shakespeare, either.”

“Ya know, you always been a snob.”

“Really.”

“See?”

“No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”

“I’ll enlighten you. I’ll enlighten you right in your face.”

“How wonderfully bohemian.”

“Why don’t you shut up?”

“Why should I? I’m the only one with anything intelligent to say.”

“And ya wonder why no one likes ya.”

“I always assumed it was jealousy.”

“Whatever.”

“Ouch. You sting me with your witty repartee.”

Smack.

“You broke my nose!”

“Consider yourself stung.”

Internal Conflict

By 7:45am the break room was already filled with staff waiting for the start of their 8:00am shift. Courtney hesitated in the doorway before committing herself to the day. At a table in the back of the room several employees stooped over their coffees in preparation for ‘senior’s day’ at the store.

“Courtney, you in or out?” said Paula. She sipped a coffee large enough to drown a horse.

“I’m not sure,” said Courtney.

“Ain’t we all,” said Bev.

“Come in and enjoy the calm before the storm,” said Paula.

Courtney stepped inside, letting the staff room door latch behind her. “You call this calm? I had my morning stillness sitting in my hot tub before breakfast.”

“Dang. This here’s my quiet time,” said Riley. She turned to face Courtney. “You obviously don’t have kids.”

“That wouldn’t make a difference,” said Courtney.

“Honey, it makes all the difference,” said Maggie.

“Nuh uh. You just get up before them.”

“My three year old was up at 4:30,” said Paula.

“Then train ‘em to leave you alone for a few minutes.”

Bev shook her head and looked at Paula. “Ain’t it funny, eh? It’s the one without kids that’s the expert. Teach us, oh wise one.”

“Just ‘cause she had a dog once,” said Riley.

“Maybe you should write a book. Go on Dr. Phil,” laughed Paula.

“I didn’t mean to insult you. I was just sayin’,” said Courtney.

Maggie got up to refill her coffee. “Look, quit while you’re behind, Courtney. When you got kids o’ your own, come back and talk.”

“Tellin’ me about kids. What does she know?”

“Paula, let it go,” whispered Bev.

“Smack her in the mouth if she does that again.”

“It’s over, Paula,” said Riley.

Courtney ignored the whispers behind her and joined Maggie at the coffee maker.

“Didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” Courtney whispered.

“Shut up already. Today’s hard enough. We don’t need a fight breakin’ out,” said Maggie.

“I’d kill that…”

“Morning ladies. Don’t you all look radiant this morning,” said Brad as he burst into the break room.

“Look what the cat coughed up,” said Paula.

“Whoa, steer clear of Paula. Obviously she’s enjoying Mr. Cranky’s monthly visit,” said Brad. He was the only one in the room to laugh.

“You sexist pig! I’ll knock that stupid grin right off your face you stupid idiot. Not like it’s any of your business, but she’s been up since 4 chasing her little boy…”

“Girl.”

“Her little girl, got her family off for the day and still made it early to work. She doesn’t need some arrogant pig shaming her character. She should charge you with harassment. Even better, she should kick your butt. You know what? I’ll start,” shouted Courtney. Maggie held her back.

Brad held up his hands. “Hey, look. It was a little joke. I’m sorry, alright?”

“Get out.”

After Brad made a hasty retreat, the break room went still.

Paula broke the silence. “Courtney, thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Still, tell me how to raise my kids and I’ll rip your hair out.”

“Fair enough. Just don’t let Brad know. We can’t show weakness to the other side.”

The Curious Methods of Dr. Lao

“Did you see that interview with Tarantino the other week?”

“Who?”

“Quentin Tarantino. The guy who made ‘Pulp Fiction’ and ‘Kill Bill’ movies,” said Lucius.

“Nah, I must of missed it,” said Mik.

“The interviewer asked him if exposure to his violent movies contributed to violence in society. Desensitizing the masses or something like that. Tarantino went crazy. It was off the hook,” said Lucius.

“That’s great,” said Mik. “Now focus. How do I look?” He was buttoning up a white lab coat.

“Like a scientist.”

“Beauty. Let’s do this,” said Mik. The two entered the lab. Before them were rows of autopsy tables with shroud covered bodies. At the head of the room stood their professor, Dr. Lao.

“Everyone has been assigned a table. Do not peek under the shroud, thank-you. Welcome to Forensics Anatomy and Physiology. This is the a case-based learning lab. Beneath each shroud is a cadaver with unique causes of death. Do not switch tables. Your case is yours for as long as it takes to conclude cause of death. I warn you. This is not like last semester who you studied from a textbook. This is far more…” Dr. Lao paused and looked slowly over the class, “real. You may begin.”

Lucius lifted the shroud from his cadaver. From the table behind came a gasp. The whole room was filled with sounds of shock and horror.

“Beside your tables you will find a bucket. That is for you. Please do not vomit on the cadavers,” said Dr. Lao.

For a few students the warning came too late.

Mik was doubled over beside Lucius. “I shouldn’t ‘ve had scrambled eggs for breakfast,” he said, then ran for the door.

Lucius watched students cling to buckets. Some fled. One was crying hysterically. He turned to Dr. Lao.

Dr. Lao was smiling. “You seem to be the only one to survive the first sense,” he said to Lucius.

“I don’t understand.”

“You are an investigator. You must use all your senses if you are to discover the truth behind your case. Some things you can learn from perhaps, say, smell? Gangrene, for instance, has a particular aroma.”

Lucius looked at his body. A chill shivered down his spine. “Is that gangrene?”

“There is a way to find out,” said Dr. Lao.

Lucius leaned over his cadaver and sniffed. Everything went white. His brain felt like it had been assaulted through his nose. Waves of nausea pulled at his throat. His knees buckled.

“Why,” was all he could force from his lips before running to the door.

Dr. Lao smiled. “Exposure. It is the only way to learn.”

Spy Training

Margie settled onto a bench near the playground and opened her novel. Morgan and Bryce, her six and four year old children, laughed as they climbed the monkey bars. Margie read one paragraph before Morgan plopped down beside her. She lowered her book to discover Morgan staring intently at her.

“Why don’t you go play with your brother?”

“Mommy, I’ve been thinking about an allowance,” said Morgan.

“Have you?”

“Yes, mommy. I know what I could do that you could pay me for.”

“What’s that?”

“I could be your informant.”

Margie suppressed a laugh. “Do you know what an informant does?”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “Of course I do, mommy. They learn things, then sell what they learn to others. It’s kinda like a spy.”

“Wow. Where’d you learn that?”

“You an’ daddy watched that movie last night, after Bryce an’ me went to bed.”

“I didn’t hear you sneak back downstairs.”

“Informants gotta be sneaky. I was practicing,” said Morgan proudly.

Margie tried to think what else Morgan might’ve seen.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I need an informant.”

“Yeah you do, mommy. For all the bad stuff Bryce does.”

Margie watched Bryce climb the slide. “Be careful, Brycie,” she said. “Bryce doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

“He will,” said Morgan.

“Why do you say that?”

“That’s easy. You know how everyone says Bryce is just like daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Member when daddy pinched you in the bum an’ you said he was a bad man? That means Bryce’ll be a bad man, too. You need me to keep an eye on him.”

Margie laughed. “If Bryce is anything like his daddy, he’ll be alright.”

Morgan glared as she stared at Bryce running around the playground. “I dunno, mommy.”

“Trust me,” said Margie.

The two sat for a moment in silence.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Last night, why were you an’ daddy giggling so much?”

Margie quickly closed he book and stood up. “Time to go home!”

Strong Fences Make Good Neighbours

Something made Diana sit up in bed. She couldn’t tell if she actually heard a crash or if it was in a dream. CJ snoozed beside her blissfully. A storm howled outside.

The bedroom lit up with a flash of lightening.

“CJ. Wake up. I heard something.” Diana still wasn’t sure, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

CJ mumbled incoherently and rolled over.

Diana sharpened her elbows. “Wake up,” she said with a jab to his ribs.

“What?”

“I heard a noise.”

“Check it yourself. Feminists unite,” muttered CJ.

“Would you get up? I’m serious.”

CJ groaned. “Fine.”

“I think it was downstairs. Maybe outside. It was loud, whatever it was,” said Diana. Her heart was racing.

Diana followed CJ down the stairs and through the kitchen. They were both momentarily blinded when he turned on the lights.

“Nothing here,” said CJ. “Must’a been outside.”

“You should check.”

“First thing in the morning,” said CJ. He looked up at Diana. She stood with her arms folded and gave him a steely glare.

“In the morning,” repeated CJ. Diana stood firm. CJ shook his head and opened the door to the back yard. “What am I gonna do now? It’s dark?”

“Find a flashlight.”

“It’s raining.”

“They’re called raincoats. Please.”

“If I get sick and die I’m coming back as a ghost to haunt you.”

“It’s a deal,” said Diana, handing him a golfing umbrella.

“It’s not a raincoat.”

“Next best thing.”

The wind pulled the door from CJ’s hand. He slipped on the top step of the porch but held himself together.

“See anything?”

“Not yet.”

A gust of wind pulled at the umbrella. For a few seconds CJ windsurfed across the rain soaked lawn. He held on tight. The golfing umbrella became a giant sail. A sudden gust lifted him from the ground.

Helpless against the wind, CJ was launched across the yard. A flash of lightening lit up the wooden fence just before impact. The was a crack of thunder.

There was another crack. Muddy water splashed over CJ as he and the section of fence landed in his neighbours back yard. With another flash of lightening CJ watched as his umbrella floated off into the stormy night.

Diana’s voice echoed in the wind. “Are you okay?”

The lights of the neighbour’s back porch flicked on. CJ saw the darkened figure of an elderly woman in the doorway.

“What’s going on back there?”

CJ groaned. He was still lying in a mud puddle. “It’s just me Mrs. Peterman. Sorry to disturb you.”

“What happened to my fence?”

“The storm, Mrs. Peterman. I’ll fix it, don’t worry,” said CJ. He slowly rose to his feet. It hurt to breathe. Clumps of mud slid from his face.

“You better. I wonder about you kids, today,” mumbled Mrs. Peterman as she closed the door behind her.

CJ slipped and stumbled back home. Diana greeted him with a towel.

“Are you okay, honey?”

CJ slouched onto a kitchen chair. “I’ve seen the other side of the fence. It may not be any greener, but it’s just as muddy.”

Christmas in the New Economy

Times were tough with the economy teetering on the brink of depression. Jason worked in a factory that made car doors. He worked on a machine used for punching out internal panels. He wasn’t getting the hours from work he’d hoped. Thirty two hours a week was barely enough to make ends meet.

It was especially troubling because Jason wanted to do something extra special for his wife for Christmas. When he proposed, Jason promised Bella a life of adventure. They’d only been married four years, but those years were marred by turbulence and uncertainly. Despite their efforts to get ahead and start a family, they felt trapped in their one bedroom bungalow on the wrong side of the tracks.

Christmas inspiration struck on a snowy day in late November. Jason found a crushed ring in a coffee shop parking lot. He took it to a jeweler who confirmed that the stone of the broken ring was a third of a carat diamond.

Jason decided to create a ring for his newly discovered treasure. An incurable romantic, Jason’s boss was eager to help. He let Jason use shop tools to finish the ring and kept the shop open so he could work after hours.

A leftover byproduct of their manufacturing process were thin washer-like steel blanks. Jason took one of the blanks, heated it in the furnace room and formed it into smooth ring. He then looked online at hundreds of diamond ring styles. After two weeks of trial and error, he became adept at forming tiny steel stems into an elegant setting.

Perseverance paid off when Jason finished the diamond and steel ring the Thursday before Christmas. He could hardly contain his pride.

On Christmas morning he presented Bella with a wrapped jewelry box. She opened it to discover his hand made gift. Bella gave Jason a look of pain.

“It’s… nice,” she said.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s really pretty, but what I really wanted was a toaster.”