Box of Sunshine

                                                                              Box of Sunshine

                              It was one of those hard days when the rain had just passed and the threat of a storm hung in the air like the bad stench of a rabid skunk. He was tired of the hassle of the job he worked and the absolute ass of a boss for whom he worked. Tiger Town was one of the worse cesspools in the county, filled with black and white trash, horny pimps with old whores and dope dealers on every other corner. The man’s name was Otis and he was in his early twenties with a brief background in juvenile hall. He’d recovered from his bout with the law and was trying to become an upstanding citizen. After he managed to free himself from the constraints associated with being a ward of the state, he found a job in the cologne factory moving freight.

　

                            His old advocate, a gentleman who simply went by the name Stubbs, was still a part of his life supervising his career and always right by his side for support. Stubbs was pleased with Otis and the life he was leading; to the point where the two would have dinner a couple times, a week and Stubbs would share advice on how to make it in the world with a smile. Stubbs thought he was lucky to be able to aid a young man in his search for contentment.

　

                               Contented, however, was the last thing Otis was. He looked at the street where the bus had just dropped him and felt something clawing in his gut. The room he called home was in the back of a hotel that didn’t do any business since 1896. It was  pleasant enough (in terms of the people that lived there and the little fat guy that ran the place, Jerry) but it never really was homey enough. Clyde Street and Dexter Avenue looked like their usual mess and he allowed a short grin to grace his features as he considered everything. He’d just been paid and the rent was taken care of, so before he went home he would stop in Clyde’s Pub and have a couple beers.

　

                               The thought of getting completely drunk crossed his mind, he decided against it because he knew what a jerk he became when he was trashed and there was a cute raven haired chick that tended bar. Her name was Cyndi and he often considered asking her out but never had the stones to do it. Clyde’s was a dump that smelled like a pile of shit but it’d work.

　
                                 Otis walked in and saw the acrid smoke that filled the air, shook his head in silent expectation, and stepped to the bar. The place wasn’t crowded just yet but steady streams of people were entering. There were two bartenders that night. An old man with no hair and more wrinkles than anyone alive named Stuie, and Cyndi (who had her hair cropped short and excessively much bright red lipstick on) spotted Otis and shot a questioning look at him.

　
                              He winked as he snapped his fingers and pointed at the dirt spot on the bar in front of him. She laughed a little and nodded as she grabbed a mug and drew a draft. He sighed as he tried to breathe through the stink of the room. She brought his beer to him and put it down, smiled as she licked her lip, then turned away as a group of firefighters entered the bar. With a mild shrug of annoyance, Cyndi shot to the register and started taking orders.

　
                           Otis let out a short chuckle as he considered himself lucky to have a job where he was required to deal with only one ass. The room was getting busy and the noise the customers were making all but drowned the raucous music the jukebox was making. Otis felt a certain sadness wash over him as he thought of how frustrating it must be to make music that no one would enjoy. The brief desire to cry came over him and he gulped the beer. 

                         Soon there was a real party going and Otis was on his fourth beer and tempted to either scream or cry. When the bar went black and silence overcame the noise, he was convinced, at first, there was a blackout. The light that flooded the doorway had him do a double take. A youngish woman with long flowing white hair, a bright silk gown, and the most riveting eyes Otis could imagine, graced the dingy bar with her presence. She stretched a hand in the young man’s direction and drifted toward him. Pointing her index finger at Otis, she smiled brightly. “You, are the one, I have to speak to. The road has been long and troubling for you my friend. Fear not, the storm is truly gone and you are still here. I know that you wonder why it is that you struggle. Are you prepared to know?”
　

                        Otis was taken with this lady and saw no choice but to listen to everything she had to say. He nodded unconsciously as she lifted his face with her hands and held his eyes with hers. He couldn’t even think of anything to say or do so he relaxed and just enjoyed the moment. It was more than simply erotic, far more than romantic, and even greater than anything he could compare. With a blink, the two were skyward and Clyde’s became a passing thought.

　

                         “What the hell is going on? Do I know you from somewhere?” Otis asked his guide.
When they were high above the city, hovering there in the silent night, she wrapped her arms around his middle and laughed happily.
　

                         “I am a special place deep in your heart. I know you are confused right now but wait a moment and look at what I have to show you.”

　
                           His eyes were opened bigger than they’d ever been and he saw Baybridge from an entirely new perspective. Never before did he notice how beautiful the city was. With its bright lights reflecting off the majestic buildings, the soft ocean breeze blowing peacefully across the public gardens, and the gentleness of loving people with each other and their children sleeping. He was filled with awe and wonder (agog if you will) as he took in the sights.
　

                          With a sideways glance, he checked his guide for her reaction. She whispered to him. “This is life, as people have been living for years, and it is all yours if you want it.”

　
                          After a second of confusion, he replied with a sarcastic laugh. “Sure thing, all I have to want it badly enough and I can be happy?”

　
                          She nodded with a quiet sigh and said, “Yes, it really can be that easy. Do you honestly think these people and this place just came to be without desire? Come on, even you can’t be that stupid. It takes time, yes, and effort, you have to try. Think about it for a moment Otis, what is it that YOU really want? If it’s to live in a room populated by rodents and work in a cologne factory, then what are you bitching about? Your life is perfect. If you are yearning for something different than you have, or what other people think you should have, the change is up to you. See it, dream it, and one day (sooner than you think) you will live it.”

　
                         Otis could almost feel the truth of her words before he realized he must’ve been drunk and passed out. He studied the scene before them once more and felt the urge to sing. She kissed him gently on the forehead and waved her arm. “Take this,” she seemed to have a third arm emerge from nowhere and it held a small package, “it’s a box of sunshine to remind you of all the possibilities.”

　
                        He grinned and then a song poured out of his soul and danced with the stars that filled the sky. He winked at her and she smiled in reply then shot up and away as if a very large straw had sucked her up. He watched the magical dust she’d left behind slowly dissipate and held the small box tightly to his chest. He closed his eyes as the song drifted its way to him again. The putrid smell of stale piss awoke the young man and he looked around to figure out where he was. There was light everywhere and he was lying on a bed with his arm bound by a small tag. Quickly he read the tag and had a brief interlude of peace as he realized he was in Tiger Town Hospital. He had no memory with the exception of seeing the city from the clouds.

　
                        That’s when Stubbs walked over with a goofy smile and an extended hand. “Holy shit, boy you scared the hell out of a lot of people. Thank God you’re okay.”

　
                       Otis smirked back and responded, “Stubbs, nice to see you friend, what am I doing here?”

　

                      “The doctor said you might suffer from temporary amnesia, so don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for right? To remind us of everything we’ve forgotten.”

　
                       Stubbs explained the blackout caused by a couple of dope dealers running from the law, the fact there was a small explosion, and that a piece of the roof landed on Otis’ head. Then the advocate started a short tirade about the dangers of alcohol and Otis turned his ears off.

　
                     “Any idea when I can get out of here, Stubbs?’’

　
                    “To tell you the truth, the doctor told me to let him know if and when you woke up. I think you can go as soon as he checks you out.” Stubbs said then turned to find the doctor.

                     Otis smiled sincerely to himself for the first time in years as he realized how lucky he was to still be among the living. Feeling his body to be sure nothing was broken, he had a surge of awe wash over him as he felt a tiny box planted on his chest. He picked the box up and opened it. The room became filled with the scent of flowers and the brightest sunlight he’d ever seen. He could feel sweet music vibrating through his body then. He laughed happily as Stubbs and Dr. Morris walked inside the room.

　
                     “Doctor, I really want to say thank you. That goes at least double for you, Stubbs. I am fine and will be leaving now. I have a dream that needs chasing.”

　
                      Before either man could utter a sound, Otis climbed off the bed and danced his way to the door.

　
                     His box of sunshine has been with him ever since and the city of Baybridge, as well as the county, state, and country, is proud of the man who changed the face of music to a medium everyone can enjoy. That is right; this is the fictitious story of how Maxton Lee became aware of his talent and real dream.

　

　

                                                                              -Finis-

Open Your Eyes

                                                                        Open Your Eyes

                       He was trying to be honest but failing miserably, the fact was that he had fallen desperately in love with the idea that she’d always be available only to discover she was engaged to a loser named Buck who looked like road kill. Now, because he drove for a limousine service, she was asking the guy she’d thought of as a really good friend to participate in the service by driving road kill’s Lincoln Continental. Actually the car belonged to road kill’s old man (a rotund sort that was no prize either) and was all set up to look like a Duke’s chariot.

　

                      It was a beautiful spring day in the mid-west as the perfumed lady of this poor man’s dream smiled brightly and asked whether or not he’d like to wear a tux. He wasn’t sure if he should just come right out and tell her she was making a mistake or keep his trap shut and agree to show up wearing a penguin suit. That’s when she put her hands to her face and laughed a little. “Who would’ve thought that you’d be my driver? After the crush I had on you when we were in high school and the goofy way we’ve always managed to be good friends, my mom thinks-get this: you and I were meant for each other. Do you believe that?”

　

                      He could feel his face warm as her laughter trailed off. Angry that the idea the two of them never really made, it as a couple and angrier that she deemed the whole thing as nothing more than a bad joke, he was certain of the last thing she wanted to hear. So he just grinned peacefully which she took to mean he would do what ever she wanted.


                      A slight breeze picked up and he turned to the sky. After a shudder, “We better not stay here, it looks like it’ll rain in a few seconds,” he helped her stand and they made their way from the trees in the small common toward the gazebo that was in the center of the park. By the time they made it to shelter the rain had become a mess. Dropping down in sheets as he thought about the drought the local farmers were complaining of.

　

                     He let go a deep breath as the ground drank in the sky’s gift and caught a glimpse of her face in the mist. She was breathtaking at that moment and the way her smile changed from jovial to serious told him there was maybe a chance they could become an item after all. She found her spine tingling as the cool wind shot at her and she shivered a little. Her arms wrapped around her body and he moved. Without knowing why his impulses and desires had become so clear, and not even questioning, he held her and she dropped her face into his chest.

　

                   For a moment, the world was perfect in his arms and she could no longer resist the urge to kiss him. They’d known each other for years and, despite the hints both of their parents had given, never truly considered the real possibilities that existed. Sometimes people are so blinded by life they miss what’s right in front of their eyes. Their lips met and the sky exploded in a terrific display of fireworks.

　

                 The whole world became a spectacular playground of love, hope, and the splendor of passion. As if they were always meant to be together, the young couple intertwined their bodies and became as one. After what seemed an eternal second was ended as the thunderstorm passed. Still in each others arms, they stopped kissing and stared at each other.

　

                 She spoke first, “Oh wow, um. . . Sorry?”

　

               “Sorry for what? I don’t know words that well,” he was stunned as his mind raced in search of what to say next, closing his eyes and praying to himself, he continued, “I am in love with you and don’t think you should marry that road kill. What the hell, we’ve come this far, marry me and I’ll show you life and love the way it’s supposed to be,” he finished with his breath behind him.

　

                She squeezed him more tightly, “I really hate when my mother is right about something,” she looked up at him and his eyes opened, “but yeah, let’s do that.”

　

                They hugged each other then laughed merrily.


                Soon they stepped down from the gazebo and she grabbed his hand, “Road kill, you think Buck looks like road kill?” her laughter was infectious, “You know something, my dad does too?”

　

                The common’s trees seemed to give each other high-fives as the young couple made their way to his car. Sometimes all it takes is one thing for you to open your eyes, you know?

　

                                                                       End.

Todd's Revenge

                                                                      Todd’s Revenge

                         Playing the songs that brought a confident smile to his face was only one of the things he did to annoy the bullies in school. Todd Germain wasn’t as helpless as everyone thought. Granted his parents were religious nuts who forbade the kid from having any kind of gizmo (with the notable exception of a cell phone which was only to be used for emergencies) he was virtually without any of the modern gadgets. Still he managed to get through the daily struggles of an elementary student. His mind was a crystal clear music studio with amphitheater for his entertainment.

　

                          It was a typical lunch recess where the tough kids played a quick game of kickball, the popular kids traded stories about themselves and the ‘losers’ sat back and inwardly wept. Todd wasn’t a weeper and decided not to become one of the lonely kids. He just laid back in the early afternoon sun and closed his eyes as the mental music played. Everything was going according to plan as he beat the drums for the crowd of fans that had gathered to see “Todd and the Germains”.

　

                             Spike Swarovski was a punk whose older brother, Slick Jr., was in the midst of a gangland battle against a group of toughs called the Savages, determined it a good idea to beat the hell out of Todd. Slick and three of his fellow one day felons, snuck over to the boy they assumed was sleeping and kicked dirt on the boy. Spike was eager to see the reaction of the kid and put his ugly twisted face directly in front of Todd’s.

　

                             Todd grinned as the dirt landed on his body. Feeling Spike’s breath on his face he almost laughed. He knew there were at least two other guys with the twerp and was able to estimate their location. With the casual look of a boy that had every answer to any question, Todd quickly grabbed Slick’s head and brought it down for a kiss. Kissing his worst enemy was something of a surprise to him but he also knew how much he’d laugh about it later. After the smooch, Todd pulled his arms back and slid them below his body. He chuckled at Spike’s response and said, “Boy, I didn’t know you cared that much Spike. You’re gonna make me blush.”

　

                            Spike was too busy spitting and holding his belly to hear what the loser was saying. That’s when he heard the entire fifth grade class breaking into a loud chorus of laughter. He turned from a pale white to tomato red as even his thug mates took to laughter. The bell rang as the teacher, a short man with a big belly and thick moustache named Mr. Hill, stood by the door and waited for the kids to line up. Mr. Hill was no stranger to trouble so he recognized that something had happened between Spike and Todd. He carefully walked to where Spike was still holding his belly and staring at the dirt. “Hey Spike, what’s wrong? Something tells me that Todd somehow got the better of you.”

                              Spike peeked around Mr. Hill to check on the line. After reassuring himself that no one could see him, he bawled. “Mr. Hill, I’m not gay!” The punky kid wrapped his arms around the man as tears flooded his eyes.

　

                               Hill had no idea what Spike was talking about but consoled the boy anyway and repeated: “It’s okay, don’t worry about anything.”

　

                               Todd watched the display of Spike’s with joy. Then he mentally photographed the punk and teacher. The second bell rang and Mr. Hill disengaged from Spike. Spike searched the teacher’s eyes for a moment. “Sorry Mr. Hill, you won’t tell anybody will you?”

　

                              Mr. Hill sent a calm understanding smile at the boy. Then the two turned to head back into the school. Todd stepped carefully to the back of the line and marched back inside with silent victory written on his face. Once inside he returned to the concert. As he sat down at his desk Todd was surprised to see Spike humbly walking to his seat.

　

                             After looking down at the floor the punk slowly drew his gaze toward Todd. He cleared his throat. “I gotta give you credit man. I don’t know how you do it but I respect you now. Can we keep it cool between us?” Spike was whispering and Todd understood why.

　

                            Considering all of the bad blood that had gone between the two boys and the fact that he’d finally gotten the better of Spike, Todd returned with a positive grin. He put his open hand above his head. “We can be cool with each other, gimmie five.”

　

                           Spike felt the air rush from his lungs as he slapped the other kid’s hand. He was relieved and then swore to Todd that he’d never again be picked on by anyone. If anyone wanted to screw with the gizmo less kid they’d have to go through the Swarovski clan.

　

                          Todd nodded his appreciation and they both turned their attention to the front of the classroom where their teacher, Mrs. Ishanti, had just returned to take control of her class.

　

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                         This story might be a crock of baloney, but who cares? It lightened you up a little right?

　

                                                                    End.

The Old Man & the Storm

                                                        The Old Man & the Storm

　

                 I was scared out of my wits as we listened to the radio and it told horrifying tales of a wicked storm that was coming our way. Only seventeen but becoming aware of the dangers that life is all about, I was working as a gardener/ man-servant in the lowlands. My dad was a farmer who, in his infinite wisdom, had taught me the only way a man could consider himself such was if he found his own way. Meaning, to him, my manhood depended on me making my own breaks and establishing my own pattern of ethics. Thanks, dad for your support, I thought to myself as I bit the last of my fingernails.

　

                  The old man was a farmer himself and was fascinated by birds, cats and raccoons. Watching the seasons shift seemed to give him the greatest pleasure and I found it amusing when the drought started that he looked worried not one bit. Mother Nature has a way of setting her own redemptive paths and it looked like we were going to be walloped badly and the much need rain would be the consequence. the much-needed rain to the area. Whether I wanted it or not it became my responsibility to ensure the old man’s safety. For reasons I don’t feel like getting into the farm hands had abandoned us and I was alone.

　

                Sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch while petting his calico (for some imbecilic reason he called the cat Lew) he was humming to it and rocking. From where I sat, by the fire, which had just been stoked, I could see him through the window. I heard the wind echo from across the canyon and it sounded like a woman screaming in terror. I leapt to the door and opened it as the old man smiled. Lew jumped off his lap and scurried to the basement. For such a stupid animal, he seemed to have the right idea, I thought as I approached the old man.

　

               Mr. West we have to go inside before that storm hits. Come on, I’ll help you,” I stammered as he gazed at me.

　

             Placidly his eyes sparkled with some excitement, “Calm down okay? It’s only a storm, they happen all the time and this one’s no different,” he replied more audibly than I had ever heard.

　

            “Calm down,” I was incredulous, “for what reason do you think I should do that? That storm is killing people, animals and everything else in its wake. We have to go to the cellar before it’s on top of us,” I reached my hand to grab him and he flopped the other way to prevent it.

　

             After a gentle laugh from the old man, I saw Lew rush upstairs and abandon the basement. The cat bolted through the grass as the rain started to fall. Then lightning blew across the sky and in the brief flash of light, I saw my entire life drift. A falling tree hit the house, the power lines then burst into flame and the roof caught fire. The old man moved with a serenity I’d never seen from anyone. He slowly got off his chair and shrugged. Then skated toward the oldest willow tree in the valley. There he stood and pulled a pipe from his pocket. I do not think I will ever know how but he lit the pipe with a match as the wind picked up. Nearly blowing me off my feet as I forced one leg in front of the other to reach the safety that was the pick-up truck.

　

            The storm was upon us and I climbed into the cab I was not sure if I should turn around and lift the old fart to carry him. I never had the chance as the sheets of rain washed from the sky with an angry fury and I was tossed into the cab. I closed my eyes and prayed for the deluge to end as the windows became covered with water and my vision was lost. The last thing I remembered was hearing the sound of a timber cracking and I was out.

　

            By the time, I awoke in the truck it was morning and I could hear bird’s singing softly. I opened my eyes and then remembered the old man. Rushing out of the cab I almost tripped on my way to the willow. By the time I got there, the old man was still smoking his pipe. He looked happily at me and motioned for me to look behind. I turned and saw the house was completely destroyed and there was nothing left but a blackened wall and a pile of smoldering ash.

　

           I felt horrible, as I wasn’t sure what to say when I heard the relaxing laughter of the old man. I thought for sure he had lost whatever was left of his mind. Said I, “Are you going to be okay Mr. West?”

　

        “I told you not to worry boy,” he began without a condescending tone, “Everything is going to be fine, see that? Didn’t I tell you these storms have been happening for all my life and yours? It’s no problem.”

　

        I was aghast, as he really seemed to think there was nothing wrong. I said, “What the devil are you talking about? The house is burned to a crisp, the cat’s gone and the farm is flooded,” I was almost breathless.

         He looked at me, winked, took a puff from that pipe and said, “I know, but the storm’s gone ain’t it?”

                                                             End.