After countless surgeries Bob took a final look around, glancing past the sterile hospital room now lavishly decorated with cards and balloons, instead allowing himself long moments with those precious loved ones who had supported him all along and even at the end were standing at his side, and having said a silent goodbye died.
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Having sat in this theatre so many times his nerves surprised him. Familiar beads of sweat trickled under his collar, down his sides and behind his knees.
“A few more seconds; it’ll all be over,” he mumbled through a few slow breaths.
*****
“Smile,” he told himself as sweat became tears. “The cameras are still running.”
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“It’s time…”
“Really?”
“Yep. I’ve got ‘em all right here.”
“Cool! I’ll grab the matches.”
—
“How high do you think they’ll get?”
“Way high…”
“Way high… This is gonna be awesome!”
“Totally awesome.”
—
“So, is that it, then?”
“Guess so.”
“Bummer.”
“Bummer.”
“What do you wanna do now?”
“Go home I guess.”
“Cool.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
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Startled, I arose and stumbled into the den of our old home. Earlier that winter I had given up, but the sounds above me rekindling my dreams. Amidst a muffled cacophony I heard one rafter after another creak and moan. With a crash the red-suited man landed before me in a pile of debris.
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One winter Wolf visited his friend, Fox. “Can you spare some food?” asked Wolf.
“No,” said Fox. “I can spare nothing.”
Wolf was angry. He decided to eat Fox. He began chasing Fox.
But Fox was crafty, and he lured Wolf into a trap.
Wolf fell into a deep pit and was never seen again.
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She had been there for hours silently praying the Rosary. Her knees ached, and her cheeks were crusted with salt. As she passed each bead between her fingers she wondered, “Will I ever see him again? Is anybody even listening?”
As the sun set Mary blew out the candle she had been holding and left.
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Our second story is from the irrepressible Mort Ginsberg.
Lorna and Janet were standing in front of Rodin’s statue, “The Lovers”. Lorna said, “We do it three times a day!”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Janet, “that’s got to be exhausting!”
“Not really,” said Lorna, “and our doctor said walking a mile that often should add years to our lives.”
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Two reader stories today. The first comes from Joseph Price. Thanks, Joesph!
“I’m excited you’re going to meet Bryce,” she said. “He’s not like other guys. He treats me right, you know, pays for dinner, opens doors–”
“–wears a suit of armor, wields a broadsword…” he said, sarcastically.
“No armor,” she said, “but kinda jealous.”
…
As his head rolled along the floor he swore he saw kilt.
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“Can I open them yet?”
“Hang on; we’re almost there.”
“Now?”
“Patience. Turn around… and open!”
“Oh, it’s… um… a family portrait. Nice. Thanks, hon.”
“What’s wrong?”
“No, nothing. I was just expecting something… bigger.”
“What, like the flat panel TV I had installed in the den?”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
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She sat on her bed Indian-style staring at the phone. Every few minutes she’d lift the receiver and only to drop it quickly.
Finally, with a deep sigh, she dialed from memory. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. She started to hang up when a hopeful voice on the other end said, “Hello?”
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