'd lawn. Ivan admired it, leaning on his rotary lawnmower, in his Madras shorts and sandals. In the corner, he noted one stray blade, much taller than the rest, right against one of the pickets of his white fence. He pulled scissors from shorts and stormed towards it. No. The would be no mars on his American Dream here!
Kneeling down, he noted the other men, mowing their lawns but eying him suspiciously. It was the accent, Ivan knew. He had been working on it, but it was still there. They liked his strength, but they distrusted his accent.
He snipped the blade and stood up and waved across the street at Steve Holt. "Mornin'! How ya doin'?" he said. It was one of his only decent phrases without an accent.. The other was "I sure do love........"
[ Edit: Edited on 19-Apr-2009, at 21:53 by Piecar ]
..."will keep us together. Think of me, babe, whenever..." Oh how Marjorie hated Captain & Tennille but that was the last song she heard while leaving the supermarket. Now, it would be stuck in her head for hours. Why did her car radio have to give up the ghost last week?! Yes, she realized she could buy a computer and an MP3 or an iPod and move into the 21st Century but technology scared her. Marjorie was a simple woman of simple means. She didn't need more than her 1953 Zenith B&W 13 inch television and RCA Victrola that only played the old 78 RPM albums she'd inherited from Mom and Dad. All she wanted to hear was George Gershwin's Rhapsody In Blue (the original recording from 1924, of course) to sooth her soul...
As she pulled into the parking lot of her next shopping day destination, Marjorie braced herself for the onslaught of Musak that would accost her as she entered the store. "What will it be this time?", she thought to herself, "Bad Billy Joel? (Because they never pick his good stuff.) Beatles done by the Boston Pops? Maybe Jewel's sappy You Were Meant For Me. George, oh George, where are you when I..."
...look around, all I can see is crud....But the real estate agent is keeping a brave face. He's got that shit eating grin plastered all over it. He is under the impression that I'm buying his line.
"That's why the price is so low. There is some fixing up to do. For the right, discerning eye, this could become a jewel."
I nod, and try out a grin of my own. It feels oily to me, but the agent takes it well and warms up to his patter as we go room to room. I tune him out while nodding in the right places and keep smiling. All the while my eyes are searching the place for the door. It's here somewhere. My point guy is never wrong.
We enter the Master Bedroom. I'd seen the pictures. Mr. Leeds was dead there. Mrs. Leeds there. They've ripped up the carpet, and the pictures told me why. No way to get that kind of stain out....but....no door.
"Now the Master Bedroom is huge, the smaller bedrooms go down in size from there. The smallest is a great room for lil 'un...."
And we move down the hall.
Second room. The oldest, Bobby, had fought. He made it to the doorway.
Third, well, it was better not to think about that room.
Baby room. The Leeds didn't have one....But there was a crib....Why? The room is empty now, and the carpet is old fashioned white shag....And then I see it. If you didn't know what you were looking for you'd miss it, but there it.........
Wow Derek, let me know when that comes out in book form. I want to know what happens next - besides my entry, which follows, won't finish that story - it is Non Sequitour after all.
...lay like a dead fish on the shore... Just waiting for someone to shovel it up and dispose of it. "What's wrong with people?" said Vernon out loud, "Don't they know there's a law? Dog sh*t is not suppose to be left in the park for other people to step in." Vernon pulls a clump of grass from the lawn and tries to wipe the sole of his shoe clean, but to no avail. "Dogs should be outlawed as pets! If you can't clean up after them, you shouldn't own them!" Distraught, he heads across the park to the boulevard and hails a cab...
Vernon: "Twenty-first and Pleasant."
Cabbie: "Twenty-five dollars, please."
Vernon: "Twenty-five dollars for a five block cab ride? No f*cking way!"
Cabbie: "No pay. No ride."
Vernon: "This is highway robbery!!! It's only five blocks!"
Cabbie: "Yes, five dollars per block - going rate."
With that, Vernon exits the cab and decides to walk home. Actually, the walk would do him good and calm his nerves a bit. It may even help clean the sole of his shoe if he takes the shortcut through the neighbor's backyards. Vernon sets out...
....of the room. It worried at me like an intent dog scratching at his master's door. But it was going to be no three second thing....and the Real Estate Agent had been given the impression that he had a wriggling fish on his line. I doubt that anything short of DetCord would blow him away from me. He won't be leaving.
I have a moment where I feel for the guy. Either he is the agency's best, and the only one that can pull off the sale of a house tarnished by a multiple murder....Or he is their grinder sap. Given all the garbage and expected to fail. I guess, if was going to expend any energy, I would say he's the sap.....Did they give him the full details? He marched me through a massacre without much change in facial expression.
....but who cares? I see the latch. It's a push and shove disguised as a crack. My point guy IS NEVER WRONG! The door!!! If even half of what they say......
I make an INCREDIBLE effort and divert my eyes away and go to the window....But I was there a second too long, and I can feel the guy's eyes going to where I was looking. I can't look at him though. I start talking about the view through the window. My back mind is calculating who and when....
"When did the community centre go up" I ask. I can see some kids coming out of it with gym bags....Hats on sideways the way a simpleton would wear them ten years ago. Pants ridiculously low...They style themselves as criminal badasses, but make their pants so they can't run or move quickly?
Why didn't the Other Party find the door? The crib? That's all it took? What if they did see it? What if they....
The Real Estate Agent says " Of course, we'll fix all the cracks in the baseboards!" His grin widens until I fear the top of his head may just fall off. "No extra charge!"
He's interpreted my look...Thank Odin and Set and any other Fake God, that he didn't interpret it right.
I turn my oily grin to an acquiescent one. I am scrambling for words, but it comes out pretty smooth..."No, don't worry about that. A place should have....."
Thanks, Is. It is from an idea I've had. But it was mostly just spitballing for ol' Non Seq
[ Edit: Edited on 02-Jun-2009, at 16:23 by Piecar ]
Is this the end - or just a siesta??
Is this the end - or just a siesta??
Just a siesta - I've been busy today... Stay tuned...
Hey Redpaddy....and anyone else...This is an open forum...Anyone can add...Jump in and fool around....
The last sentence was....."A Place Should Have...." It's out there for anyone to take in a new direction.
.... A place should have just a small amount if tartar sauce on the side of the plate and a generously sized slice of lemon. Then again, my hearing was distorted due to a low flying....
"Blast that confounded fellow", the General cried from the next table, "a man can't hear himself think with that racket."
General Alexander Barton-Gilmartin was wont to shouting at aircraft, something to do with Algiers Alicia said. "I don't recall exactly what he has against them but I do know it involved a naked man, two rump steaks and a five gallon drum of magnolia paint."
That was Alicia all over, vague but to the point simoultaneously. She leaned towards me and whispered...