February, 2010 Archives
Feb
A Wonderful Guy
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
At some point in his late sixties, his life became a cliche.
Most afternoons were spent on the park bench, feeding the pigeons. He stopped buying clothes more than a decade ago. He was mortified at wearing anything that might be considered fashionable, for fear of being laughed at.
He voted Republican. He drove a Cadillac, erratically. He visited the cemetery every Sunday.
Even his children knew their roles, urging him to move into a nursing home.
So close to the end, these routines were all he had left. That, and his memories of playing the lead in South Pacific.
Feb
The Bridge To Nowhere
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The bridge attracted all sorts of people. Haggard old men and women, driving mobile homes. Young families, on a weekend sojourn. Teenage lovers, joined at the hands. Once, many years ago, a man came riding a camel.
“What’s at the other end?” They always asked the same question.
“Nothing, as far as I know.” He had never actually been down the bridge himself. It was just his job to collect the tolls.
He always wondered what possessed people to drive the bridge. Was it curiosity? A sense of adventure? Boredom? Desperation?
Whatever the attraction, no one had ever come back.
Feb
The Good Lieutenant
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Recently, Officer Hanson spent most of his days seething. It seemed almost every cop in the city was on the take, whether for the mob or the corporate executives. It was giving him and the entire department a bad name.
With all the internal affairs investigations, it was becoming impossible to write a simple traffic citation without getting hauled before the citizen’s review board.
Hanson prided himself on being a by the book cop. Sure, he might kidnap the occasional tourist and murder them in cold blood, but that was on his own time.
Maybe it was time for retirement.
Feb
The Librarian
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Carmichael perused the aisles one last time before locking up, straightening any book out of place. This was his favorite time, with all the patrons departed, and a true silence blanketing the building.
When he was younger, Carmichael used to spend the night in the Library, reading by one of the desk lamps. He would read as many books as possible, adventure stories, how-to-books, encyclopedias. Everything.
Carmichael was just entering his office when he heard the scream from outside. It sounded like someone was in danger. He ran fervently towards the exit.
He’d waited his whole life for this moment.
Feb
The Bee Farmer
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The idea had been simple enough when his editor proposed it, a story about the mysterious fate of the disappearing bees.
Now, after weeks of interviews with scientists and bee farmers, he found himself on this lonely road, in the middle of nowhere Arkansas.
As he pulled up a long gravel drive, he noticed the air was pregnant with bees.
He knocked on the farmhouse door. A grizzled, bearded bear of a man answered.
“I wanted to ask you about the bees on your farm.”
“I reckon I’ll have to kill you like I killed the others,” sighed the farmer.
Feb
Office Drone
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He adjusted his tie, making sure the knot was centered, and returned to his keyboard. He added a macro to the spreadsheet.
He stood up, and took a lap around his desk. Maybe if he took off his jacket. He shrugged his shoulders, stretching out his arms, then returned to his keyboard. He double checked all the numbers for the third time.
His pants were starting to bunch up. He stood up to straighten out his pleats, and returned to his keyboard. He’d be finished with the spreadsheet in another hour. Maybe he’d have time to fit in some minesweeper.
Feb
Jake And The Chrononauts
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Jake, the only remaining Chrononaut, skated to a stop on top of the telephone pole. He was out of bullets, and his knife had broken off in the helicopter propeller. Percival still clung to his back, but using the three-toed sloth as a weapon would be too risky, not to mention politically incorrect.
I never should have dropped that alligator.
The Baskerville hounds blocked his escape. The Redcoats advanced with precise timing, firing shots every five paces. And the Voodoo priestess was still alive, hiding somewhere in the catacombs.
Jake finally conceded trusting the Hitler clone had been a mistake.
Feb
The Longest Night
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Carter paused to rub his hands. Callouses had already started to form. Dawn was fast approaching, and his aching muscles longed for repose.
Why not give up this tedious digging? What rewards could he expect at the bottom?
But he continued. The men stared down at Carter from above, perched like gargoyles, or maybe angels gazing down into hell.
Carter resented their leisure. “That’s it. I’m not digging anymore.” He threw down his shovel.
“That’s deep enough.” Carter saw the flash before he heard the shot, and he realized in that final instant his childhood nightmare had finally come true.
Feb
Survival Stories
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A dim blue light manifested over the valley. The crisp breeze squeezed even the rumor of moisture from the air.
A spot of water, too meager to be named a drop, formed on the needle of a cactus. It clung near the edge, threatening to plummet into the abyss.
Gravity pulled, the breeze tugged, but the droplet’s tensile strength held firm, and rather than fall, it rolled the length of the spine, reaching the porous membrane at the cactus’s heart.
The water seeped inside. The cactus sprang to life at the sudden nourishment, enough sustenance to endure another few weeks.
Feb
The Brubaker Spectacular
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The Brubaker Spectacular trundled down Main Street, festooned with ribbons and fur, exploding confetti at every corner.
The children trailed after the wagons, quivering in epileptic fits of joy. The Brubaker Spectacular had arrived.
Elephants trumpeted at the sky. Acrobats danced from the rooftops. Giants wrestled lions, while swinging from trapezes suspended over fiery pits.
The Brubaker Spectacular promised two weeks of bewitching sensation, exceeding even the most remarkable dreams of splendor.
Shops closed their doors. The school master tossed aside his exams. Reverends and ministers forgave a fortnight worth of transgressions.
Nobody ever said no to the Brubaker Spectacular.