grab and go
I’m three bites into my enchilada when Ava hurls herself towards me, cartwheeling between and over tables, landing in my lap. Before I can react she’s got my face in her hands. My waitress/dream girl pulls me close, her breaths warm and her dark eyes swimming in mine. I attempt to speak when she whips... Continue Reading →
It was the bottom of the fifth, during the Winkton Wingtips/Puttingham Red Sox game—just as the horizon treated the fans of Henkin Stadium to a dreamy pink backdrop—that Jimmy Spencer stepped up to the plate for the Wingtips. Bill Hargis made the call from the booth. “Hey Wingtip fans, remember that Thursday is WPD night, so... Continue Reading →
I pull the car into the driveway and the headlights sweep across our neighbor’s house. I catch a glimpse of what could be a bushy fox tail or rodent, but upon closer inspection turns out to be Edna's frizzy white hair. Amy scoffs, because our pugnacious neighbor is caught in a tangle of blinking white Christmas lights. I’d love to help... Continue Reading →
“Barb, I think we’ve got it.” “Got what?” “Everything. It’s all here. The MoneyMakers case.” “Remind me again, that one?” “Jeez, Barb, what’s going on with you? And why are we meeting at this dive bar at six in the afternoon?” “Evening.” “Whatever. MoneyMakers, I’ve got it, now we just need—” “Moneymakers…Moneymakers…” “Are you serious... Continue Reading →
Lieutenant Edgar Crank had one day left. In his estimation, that put roughly four cups of black coffee, one ham and cheese sandwich, a bag of pretzels, two aspirin, and give or take thirty ounces of tap water between him and retirement. But these sentimental types, with all the well-wishing and congratulating. Balloons and gifts, even... Continue Reading →
That Monday after Step-gate, I find a cookie on my desk. Chocolate chunk, gooey, still warm in the plastic. Kurt’s version of an apology. I eat the cookie, but I’m still pissed. It’s all his fault that we got thirty hours of WEDT—which isn’t a classic rock station, but Workplace Ethics and Diversity Training. It... Continue Reading →
The Powers That Be got creative. First, they broke ground on a gym. Then, they had us jump through literal hoops and tires with CrossFit incentives and motivation strategies. Flu shots and motivational seminars followed, anything to cut premiums. Kurt and I joked that they were trying to cull the baby boomers. Then came the... Continue Reading →
A gun rests on my passenger seat. It’s a pistol—a.38 revolver, Smith and Wesson—I paid cash for it at the pawn shop an hour ago, even registered for a safety class while they did a background check. It sits snug in its holster, a box of bullets on top of the receipt like a paper... Continue Reading →
I don’t do CrossFit, I do grocery shopping with four kids. Eli and Rudy like to sprint the aisles, slaying dragons, while Ella prefers cartwheels. Lea likes to scream full tilt from the cart, tossing loafs of bread overboard. It’s a sinking ship, my cart. My car. My house. With laundry and lunches. Dishes and... Continue Reading →
It's a few minutes before nine and the street is mostly quiet. Errant candy wrappers lay shredded, casualties of dusk, a few goblins and stragglers in the shadows but otherwise dark porches, houses closed up for the night. Only the flicker of the immaculately carved pumpkins sitting on the porch of my old house shed any light on the... Continue Reading →
Lunch Break Fiction 