Adelaide Literary Magazine No. 41, October 2020

Revista Literária Adelaide

wouldn’t have woken up anyway and at- Finn saw it now. “Yeah and he walks around
tributed it to something else? Perhaps if with it.”
he was obsessed with birds he would have
woken up at midnight claiming an owl out- “And he comes up to you,” added Tigg,
side was keeping him up. “and tips the water in it all over your face.”

When I drove Tigg and Finn home from “Oh no!” I said. I slowed down as I ap-
childcare and school, there was an un- proached a roundabout.
written schedule for the music on in the car.
Each of us got a turn, turn and turn about. “And it makes your eyes sting,” cackled
Three adamants, each in his own seat. Finn Tigg. “Oh no,” he squealed, covering his eyes.
usually requested Irish music, sometimes
hip hop, sometimes Michael Jackson. I’d “Hee hee,” came from Finn’s seat. “Dirty
made a playlist for Tigg called Monster and water.”
Creepies. From that he usually requested
Thriller, Ghostbusters or I was a Teenage “Makes your eyes sting,” said Tigg.
Werewolf by the Cramps. Lately in the car
I’d been almost exclusively listening to I beamed. Tigg was inventing monster
1970s and 1980s punk and indie. My tastes lore. This was childhood heartstone to me,
were becoming narrowed to the essential. something I was very comfortable gathering
I’d joked to my friend Yani that I’d stopped around.
watching TV, was listening to only righteous
music, and that soon I’d probably give up People in the Middle Ages had loved
masturbation and live on air and moonlight. bestiaries – compendiums of beasts, some
real, some mythological. In a way they were
The next day it was my turn. The Meat like children, swept up in rumour, grasping
Puppets were playing. It was Buckethead. at facts from far-off lands, mesmerised by
images. The ant-lion: the progeny of large
Got no head and small. The bonnacon – a bull that shoots
shit at you. Helpful creatures like the cal-
It’s a bucket with teeth adrius, an all-white bird that lived with the
King. If it looked into the face of a sick man
It likes to dream he would live, if it walked away he would die
of his illness. You would pray it would look
It likes to sleep at you, for then it would draw your sickness
into itself, then it would fly away, up to the
The pace was truly upbeat. Jangly guitar sun, then sickness would be burned away.
lines. Slightly flat tone to the voice. Kirk-
wood had no time to pitch up to the imagi- The wish fulfilment was charming. There
nary spirit level of 1985. was also a logic to it. Sunshine was good
for you. Ascension was desirable. And the
“Is Buckethead a monster?” asked Tigg. drawing out of sickness from another, the
taking it on, an image saturated with the
“Sure,” I said. “I guess so.” idea of Jesus, reminded me also of myself
as a parent in my best moments.
“Monsters aren’t real,” said Finn. Tigg
and I ignored him. What chaos was Tigg referring to in his
own life through this beast, Buckethead,
“He has a bucket for a head,” giggled Tigg. who tipped his own cranial filth into the eyes

“That seems clear,” I said.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

of others? Was I Buckethead? Did I blind the superiority. Tigg had laid claim to the golden
vision of my children when I dumped out chest. As father I would take on the burden
my mental slosh through those outbursts of of being the worst, which meant I had to
temper? reach the top of the stairs first.

There was no use. I joined in. There was a jostling as I pushed past the
boys and began to manhandle them into
“Buckethead sits in a river,” I said, the correct psychological positions. It was
“and draws up the dirty water through his an interesting moment. Finn, fleetest of
bottom. That’s how he fills his bucket.” foot, naturally competitive and keen to get
to the backyard was resistant to relinquish
There was unshackled laughter from the any advantage. But he knew, he knew he
back seat. This was the kind of mental filth was the best.
that was actually cleansing. Healing.
Tigg was beginning to lay claim to the
“Bottom,” repeated Tigg. A word of power. chest, declaiming. “I have the chest,” he said.
“I have the golden one. I’ve always had the
“No wonder it stings your eyes,” said Finn. golden.” His fists were clenched. Would I fight
him for it? What hero or villain would arise?
“Daddy,” said Tigg. “When we get home
can you bounce on the trampoline with us?” Irrelevant, I wanted to shout at him. The
chant was clear. History was meaningless.
“Trampolini,” sung Finn. Sometimes Things dropped away. Reality was material.
Tigg sounded older, Finn sounded younger. If I didn’t get to the top of the stairs first,
“Bounce-a-rini.” someone else would be the worst, one of
them, one of the boys. It could not be al-
Sometimes I was on the upswing, other lowed to happen. The reverberations would
times on the down. Today I felt capable, last an hour or more.
viable. There were other days, or parts of
days – I called them Awkward Event Hori- There were seventy-two stairs from the
zons – when I felt marooned in space and driveway to the house. I was forty-seven. I
time. It felt unnatural to have a body, to had drunk two mojitos the night before. The
move left knee and left ankle in concert, to mathematics was not favourable. I blinked
have thoughts and motivations, shift mind, and the stairs swam. This was what fathers
witness other. did, perhaps, throwing body and dignity
into the furnace, asking no thanks. I was
As we went up the stairs, Finn chanted selfish. What spring did I have left in me?
a rhyme that came from that peculiar child
world – perhaps picked up from a friend, Of course I made it up first. The drama
perhaps from school. was a game. I took a shuddering breath.

“First is the worst, second is the best, Tigg swung on my left leg and Finn gave
third is the one with the golden chest.” me his bag to hold.

Tigg was ahead of Finn and me. At this “Trampoline!” they cried as one.
chant he turned around, panicked.
“Just a moment,” I said, “just a moment,
“Relax,” I said, and began to push forward. gentlemen, just a moment.”

Group order had been established on
previous recitations. Finn, as eldest brother,
would be second, which granted him

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About the Author

David Leys is the author of The Institute of Fantastical Inventions and its sequel The Institute
of Fantastical Inventions II: Magnetic Attraction released by New Holland Publishers. He has
had short fiction published in The Blue Nib. He lives in Sydney with his young family. His
writing seeks to explore consciousness, mortality and family in a discursive style.

51

THE EMERGENT
IMMIGRANT

by Ivanka Fear

“Vince, are you alright?” cried Jure, running Without thought for his own safety, he
toward his brother. threw it into the air and caught it. Vince
thought, “I wonder how far I can throw
Minutes before, all had been as usual. it.” He had never had a real ball before. All
Every day Vince, Jure, Danica, and Katarina the boys in the village played catch with
walked the road from their farmhouse to whatever they could get a hold of, but this
the village school in Stara Lipa two kilome- seemed like the perfect tool for throwing.
ters away. Only today something had gone Raising his right hand high into the air, Vince
terribly wrong. swung with all his might into the field adja-
cent to the woods. The ensuing explosion
The explosion was heard throughout the and its aftermath left scars in his mind and
Slovenian countryside, resounding in every on his body for the rest of his life.
direction. In the houses, people stopped
midway through their breakfast, while those “We’ll have to carry him home,” ex-
already in the fields dropped their hoes and claimed Katarina, the oldest sister.
sickles. All were overcome with the terror
known only to those who have seen death “Oh, no! What will Mama say? We
approach. The people of Nova Lipa were all weren’t supposed to stop and play on the
too familiar with grenades. way. Now we’ll all be in trouble for missing
school,” Danica worried.
For an inquisitive boy of ten, though, a
grenade seemed like a harmless enough toy. “What a stupid thing to say, Danica!
Vince had seen a dark, oval-shaped object Can’t you see our brother is in pain? Help
glistening under the sun’s rays near the edge him!” Jure cried.
of the bush. Fearless, he ran ahead of the
others toward the foreign object. He picked Vince had lost consciousness for only a mo-
it up in his hands and examined its rough ment. Had he not thrown far enough, he could
exterior, running his fingers over the metal. have been killed, but fate had other ideas for
his future. As he awoke, he screamed, “My
“What a strange ball this is,” he said aloud leg...it hurts, it hurts! Help me!”
to himself.

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Revista Literária Adelaide

Katarina bent over to examine the farm because there was no one else to do
bloodied knee, exposed to the bone. “Can the job. His wife, Iva, was seriously ill with
you stand up if you lean on us?” she asked. a respiratory disease, and his children were
only four and two years of age. There was
“I don’t know! Help me! It hurts so much!” no one else in the household to look after
the family, and so Stefan was obligated to
“Ooh, it’s awful!” squealed Danica. stay at home.

Jure and Katarina gently helped Vince Banging frantically at the weather-beaten
to his feet. Grimacing in pain, he held on front door, Mama screamed, “I need help!
tightly to his brother and sister. Hurry! Someone come!”

“Danica, run ahead and tell Mama that Stefan promptly opened the door to his
Vince has been hurt badly,” ordered Kata- tiny cottage exclaiming, “The explosion...
rina. someone’s been hurt? Where? What can I
do?”
Frightened by the excessive bleeding,
and still in shock from the sudden explo- “Vince...on the way to school. Hurry,
sion, Danica nevertheless found within please come!”
herself the necessary strength to do what
was needed. She turned around and began Stefan turned on his heel and called
to run with all her might in the direction of to his wife, “Iva, there’s been trouble. I’m
her home in the small village of Nova Lipa. going down the road towards the school.
A little while later, she entered the stucco Stay here and watch the children till I come
two-room house, panting and crying. back.”

“Danica, what happened? Where are the Stefan was a strong, sturdy young man,
others? The explosion...I heard it and I was as were most of the young men in Nova
so frightened. They’re alright, aren’t they? Lipa. Years of difficult field work and barn-
Tell me, Danica! Tell me what happened,” building had resulted in toughened, mus-
Mama cried in anguish. cular, hard-working males. Even the women
were coarse and hardened by years of hard
“Vince…” Danica panted, “He’s hurt. He’s labour in the fields and difficult childbirth.
bleeding. Katarina said to get help.”
Without hesitating, Stefan ran down
“Oh my Lord!” the gravel village road in the direction of
the village school. He passed many homes
“It’s his knee, Mama. It’s bloody. It similar to his own. They were small, made
hurts.” of stucco or stone, wth small wooden barns
and sheds surrounding them. Linden trees,
“You stay here with the children. I’m a symbol of the nation, grew everywhere in
going to see Stefan Murkovic for help.” the village, and wildflowers grew profusely.
In the background, the Gorjanci range stood
Mama picked up her skirts and ran down guard over the small communities dotting
the road to the Murkovic house four doors the White Carniola region. This early June
away. Stefan was one of the few men left morning, Stefan heard the chirping of many
in the village. Those who were young and varieties of birds, and he smelled the fresh
physically able left to fight with the Parti-
sans. Stefan had stayed behind with his
wife and children to work on the family

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

country air as he dodged chickens on the “You fool!” exclaimed Mama. “If your fa-
roadway. It took about 5 minutes for him to ther were here he would say you deserved
reach the Jankovic children. to be hurt.”

Scooping Vince into his arms, Stefan “It’s best to let the boy alone, Marija.
swiftly began walking back towards the vil- He’s suffering enough without feeling
lage. “Are you alright?” he asked. blame,” Stefan interjected. “Be grateful it
wasn’t worse.”
“It hurts...my knee,” Vince replied. It had
been about a quarter hour since the acci- “Who will help me in the fields now?”
dent and he had borne his pain well for a Mama asked. Once she realized her boy
ten year old boy. No tears, no whining. Not was not seriously wounded, she became
for Vince. He was brave in spite of the ex- angry with him for disobeying her order to
cruciating pain. Being the oldest boy in the stay away from strange objects and strange
family had its responsibilities. He was the people. Vince’s curiosity seemed to always
head of the house now that his father was get him in trouble.
fighting in the war, and his grandfather was
in America earning money to bring back “Calm down now, Marija. You have a
home. It would be a disgrace for him to act good strong boy in Jure, and besides, in a
like a baby. He was a man and needed to act couple of weeks, Vince will be up and out
like a man. of bed and soon ready to go back to work.
All he needs is some rest and time to heal.”
Vince’s brother and sisters followed as
Stefan carried him home. When they en- “You have Danica and I to help,” offered
tered the house, Mama ran to him and Katarina. “Girls can work as well as boys.”
began to cry.
Katarina was thirteen, and she along
“Lay him on the bed,” she managed to with eleven-year-old Danica helped to take
say. care of little Joze and Tone. Joze was a ram-
bunctious five-year-old, while Tone was only
Stefan set the tall, thin, dark-haired boy two. There had been two other girls born in
on one of the several beds in the room, and the family, but both had died as babies. No
asked Mama for some clean water and a one in Nova Lipa went to see a doctor. Fam-
clean cloth. He then carefully washed the ilies took care of their own. Death was not
wound and examined the knee closely. It an uncommon event by any means, but it
was a deep gash, but Stefan knew enough was dreaded and feared. Sometimes it was
from his own experiences that the wound difficult for the church-going villagers to un-
would heal. “You’re lucky, Vince. You’ll be derstand why God selected some people to
fine. In time you’ll run again,” he said. die young. They knew, though, that He had
a reason for everything He did.
“Thank the Lord.” Mama took out her
rosary and said a silent prayer. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to make the
best of things,” said Mama. “What burden
“How did you get hurt?” Stefan won- will God place on my shoulders next?”
dered, as he wound a cloth around the dam-
aged knee. *

“I picked up a ball and threw it, that’s all The days had quickly begun to shorten as
I know,” replied Vince. September came to an end in Nova Lipa.

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As Katarina prepared the evening meal for whole family. Jure and Vince stoked the
her family, she paused to watch the sunset. fire in the stove, which was off to one side
Glorious shades of purple surrounded the of the room, and talked about the week’s
red ball of fire as it slowly sank in the sky. events at school, and their progress in the
Mauve, violet, lilac, such beautiful colours, fields. September was a busy month for the
thought Katarina. Was it this beautiful any- farmers. Danica and Katarina finished their
where else in the world? chores and sat with Mama at the table in
the corner of the room. Mama had lit two
“Danica, help me set the supper table. kerosene lamps, and both sat on the table.
Soon Mama and boys will be home, and I Saturday night was the time for Mama to
know they’ll be starving after a good day’s mend any tears on the children’s well-worn
work in the fields,” she told her sister, who clothes. Already they had been patched sev-
had been looking after the little ones, Joze eral times. Although she could barely see
and Tone. what she was doing, Mama’s expert fingers
worked quickly.
Darkness quickly descended around the
home. It was nearly pitch black by the time “I wonder if Grandfather is making lots
Mama and her two older boys, Vince and of money in America. He said he would
Jure, arrived home. Exhausted, Mama sat come back a rich man, but we’ve already
by the stove, while Danica and Katarina waited for a long time,” she said cynically.
set out a simple meal of potato soup and
unleavened bread. As soon as the older “Papa said we will all be rich someday,”
boys had scrubbed off the day’s dirt, they said Danica.
seated themselves at the table, with Vince
at the head, in his father’s place. The girls “We’ll have a fine house and won’t need
settled their younger brothers down to eat, to work our fingers to the bone,” added Ka-
and Mama wearily rose to wash up before tarina.
the meal. It was difficult for her to keep the
family farm running without a man. How for- “I wouldn’t get any grand ideas if I were
tunate it was that she had two good, strong you, young ladies. You’ll be working hard for
boys and two helpful young daughters to as long as you’re able, mark my words. And
see her through. Some days it seemed as you’ll be grateful for the bread and milk on
though the war would never end. Would your table,” Mama told them.
she ever see her husband again?
Vince had tuned in to the conversation
After supper, Marija let her girls take and prophetically spoke, “I’m going to leave
care of the dishes and put the children to here someday and go to America, just like
bed. She went outside for a moment and Grandfather. I’m going to have a big, fine
stared at the darkness. Somewhere out house and lots of money, and maybe even
there was her husband, either dead or alive. one of those motor cars. Then I’ll send for
She didn’t know which. Looking towards all of you to come and join me. We’ll never
the heavens, she prayed in silence for the be poor again.”
safe return of her husband, Ivan. Then she
turned around and returned to her children. Mama laughed, “What nonsense, boy!
Joze and Tone were safely tucked into their This is your home. You’re the eldest son,
beds in the second room, which slept the this will all be yours one day. It’s your legacy
and your responsibility. Honestly, the things

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

I hear from you children! You’re off in your this. He had plans for something grander for
own little world!” himself and his family. People talked about
the money that could be made in that far off
“I think maybe there is a different world land. He would see for himself.
out there. I want to see it someday,” Vince
insisted. While the ten year old boy inside
dreamed his wondrous fantasy, the wind
“Well, children, I think we’ve had enough outside shook the branches of the linden
idle chatter for one day. Tomorrow is church. tree in front of the house. The tree had sur-
Time for bed.” vived for hundreds of years rooted in its na-
tive soil. The stone table and benches un-
Katarina and Danica took off their dresses derneath the tree had borne the weight and
and put on their nightshirts, then settled burdens of many generations of Vince’s
themselves into their bed. They whispered family and they would endure. But young
for a while about school and boys. Jure, like men, like trees, can be uprooted by the
Joze and Tone, fell asleep almost before his winds of change. As Vince dreamed of a
head hit the pillow. Mama wondered how better future far from his birthplace, the
much longer she could continue to care for moon shone on the metal plaque nailed to
two small children, run a household and a the house. It read, “13 Nova Lipa”. For as
farm, without her husband. Life was hard long as anyone could remember, this had
and getting harder. Exhaustion set in and been the Jankovic homestead. No member
they all fell asleep eventually. of the family strayed very far for too long.
This was home. There was no escaping it.
All, that is, except for Vince. America, he Unless you were a boy dreaming of America,
was thinking, was the land of opportunity. and destined for a future in Canada.
Someday he would be rich. He would show
them all. There had to be more to life than

About the Author

Ivanka Fear is a Slovenian born writer and retired teacher
residing in midwestern Ontario, Canada. She holds a B.A.
and B.Ed., majoring in English and French literature, from
Western University. Her poems and short stories appear in
or are forthcoming in Spadina Literary Review, Montreal
Writes, Spillwords, Commuterlit, Canadian Stories,
Adelaide Literary, October Hill, Scarlet Leaf Review, Polar
Borealis, Lighten Up, Bewildering Stories, The Sirens Call,
Utopia Science Fiction, The Literary Hatchet, Wellington
Street Review, Aphelion, Sad Girl Review, Tales From the Moonlit Path, Muddy River Poetry
Review, Unfading Daydream, Understorey, and Suspense Magazine. She has recently
completed her fourth mystery/suspense novel, and is currently looking for a publisher. You
can read more about her at https://ivankafear.wix.com/mysite

56

VIRAL BIRTHDAY

by Mohamed Mahou

Tamri village, situated behind the Atlas like the closed room in the Bluebeard fairy
Mountains, had been under the lockdown tale, scary and stifling. But she wanted to
for three months and a day. Before the scream at his face, “Enough is enough! Let
probable announcement of its lifting, the me out, blockhead!” She no longer wanted
cat stood up; her ears were pointed back- to amuse Si Hamu in his old armchair, and
wards and her back was arched and rigid. to behave as a lifeless doll lounging around.
She was staring furiously through the closed
window. A few minutes later, she was sniff- Why do I call him Si . Mr? He is just a
ing and pacing along the closed door. Lights jobless man. He has never worked a single
outside were on despite the total absence day since he got his B.A. ten years ago. He
pedestrians. She was popping out her is neither Si nor Lalla! Jobless Hamu, that’s
eyes through the two holes she managed all! The cat thought for a while.
to dig with her firm sharp claws. For three
months, she was kept indoors, unable to eat The cat kept meowing, hissing and
and defecate properly and freely. She was purring to be heard outside the closed
not made for this stuffy cubby-hole, not door. Accustomed to her noise and her little
made to live like a rabbit in a tiny warren. tricks, Si Hamu was careless and inattentive.
She was hardwired for hunting and stalking He was lolling calmly about, his third joint of
her preys. Probably, her fellow felines were Hashish in one hand and the cat’s fate in the
now feasting on delicious rodents in the other. “Come, Catty. Let’s watch TV! Let’s
backstreets of Tamri. She felt herself under- see the situation outside!” She hated to
going a dangerous metamorphosis from a hear this utterance as much as she hated to
free outdoor cat to an enslaved, untrained be near him. She was bored with his sweet
doll. During all this time, she felt like being sillies, fed up with film fantasies and serial
on stage performing a play, spending time Turkish love stories. She was too weary to
pretending somebody who was not her. Her hear the news of the day’s mortality rate
enthusiasm was flagging; and her meowing and the number of confirmed cases.
and howling were increasing. My life is one
long boring day, she thought, scratching the Though she did not understand all the
closed door for the tenth time this morn- words, she became acquainted with every
ing. For long, she pretended to be his only tune of ads and every TV presenter’s facial
companion and she perceived the studio features. But this was not what she wanted!
This was not it at all! As a living creature,
she could no longer stand it. Silently, she

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

jumped on his lap to play the hated doll “Are you hungry? Take some popcorn!
again, but she determined that it would be Take!” He threw her some popcorn and
in a different way this time. She remem- crashed the last bit of cigarette near the chair.
bered the easy fights she won in the street
before the quarantine; her techniques of Briskly she jumped to the door, scratching
pouncing and stalking mice were excep- the door with her claws and leaning her head
tional and creative. She usually ripped open on its panel until she felt exhausted. She was
their stomachs with little sharp paws. Maybe yowling; her mouth was wide open. All her
she would use them tonight with this gaunt vocalizations and body language expression
and haunted-looking Hamu. She raised were nugatory and indecipherable. Si Hamu
them high to scratch his cheeky face. Giving did not get her message; or he pretended
it a second thought, she stopped abruptly. not to get the hang of it. He ignored her and
She realized that it was not the right time went to a cracked mirror beside his cluttered
for a revolution. Hamu is not a mouse! She bed. He saw himself as a handsome man.
thought. She felt numb in his lap. Though It seemed as if the man loved the mirror
TV was on, she felt silence in the room for and the mirror loved the man. He started
a while. It was the calm that precedes the caressing it and giving lavish kisses. With a
storm, she thought again. A sudden strange strange frown on her face, the cat attacked
feeling warmed her heart and energized her a wad of paper on the filthy floor and moved
suppressed desire to revolt. slowly to her usual place under the bed.

“What’s up, Catty? Why are you in a bad The studio was a pig-sty; it looked as if an
mood again?” he said, taking a puff at his earthquake had hit it. A candle was lighting
doobie. the poorly furnished studio. Si Hamu’s dirty
clothes were scattered all around; unread
She was silent. The cat was hypnotized, books covered the dusty ground; old slices
immersed in an American film on TV. She of bread and empty beer bottles were dec-
watched blond fish, clean and large dens, orating the top of the little set and popcorn
and delicious pots of milk moving in front was dispersed all over the bed. Because of
of her. From now and then, she threw a the increase in the number of cases infected
glimpse through the closed window; she saw with Corona virus, he decided to shut the
stormy waters in the film and she imagined door of his studio firmly; he bought all his
they were all around the studio. I am in a needs during the first days of the quarantine
real trap. I’ll never be out, she thought. For and then he crept like an animal into hiding
her, the mind boggled at the long amount with his cat. He nailed his door all around so
of time that Si Hamu spent within the four that no one would approach him. With the
walls. “Was he blind? Mad? A prisoner?” she door and window closed, the studio stank
murmured every day but with no clear-cut like a rotten fish.
answer. Since Si Hamu was usually alone
and jobless, the nation-wide lockdown did “What a beautiful man I am! Tomorrow
not seem to affect him much. His inheri- I’m going to change my haircut. I’ll look like
tance was nearly at its end; but he would not a prince Ha! Ha!” he said to his reflection on
worry about that during these hard times of the surface of the mirror.
the pandemic. Things got blurred in her mind
and she concentrated on the film once again. “Tomorrow is my birthday! Yes, I’m going
to have a party. But how old am I? Still
young, still young, man! Yeah! I’m going to

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Revista Literária Adelaide

invite my dead parents, my future wife, my from the copybook. He started writing and
Catty, all my friends, my auntie Tamo…No! reading again:
No! No! Not auntie! She stole my dad’s for-
tune! She will never see me again. No! I hate My viral birthday is tomorrow
her! Did you hear me? I hate her to death!
No auntie here!” Si Hamu held the mirror No one is invited but me and Catty…”He
firmly in his hands and started shouting tore it again and shouted: “Rubbish! This is
again, “No auntie! Never mention her name not a catchy beginning! Catty, help! I want a
in my place! I’ll kill her if she comes in. Did verb of action! Help!” He kicked her again,
you get it, Catty?” but this time not so hard. She was still lying
on the floor near the armchair. He started
His shouting bombarded the studio and his poem again:
tuned with the sudden sound of heavy rain
in the outside and the rising crashes of the “BREAKING OUT
wind. The cat stood in fear, trembled and
gaped at her boss. White spume was leaking Of the quarantine
from his wide mouth. To blow off the steam,
he wanted to beat something nearby. He I stealthily snuck out
kicked his coffee-table and shouted out,
“Where are you, Catty? Come out quickly. To invite myself to my thirtieth birthday.
Close the door. Don´t let Tamo in. Quick.
Quick! She is my virus!” Without waiting Tonight was a banner night:
for an answer, he checked both the door
and the window. They were firmly shut. On Myself and I would celebrate
his way back to his bed, he kicked the cat
harshly. Meowing and sobbing began again. The beginning of my second life
The kick was so painful that she lost con-
sciousness. She was numbingly lying on the I washed my hands countless times
floor for some time.
And that made me nearly new.”
“Shut up! I want to write a poem for to-
morrow. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow. He reread these lines loudly and felt ec-
Go to bed and be ready for the party. You’re static over his achievement. He grabbed the
also invited,” said Si Hamu. He picked up a cat with one of his fleshy hand and put her
pen and tore a paper from his old dusty on the bed. He stood in front of her and re-
copybook and started scribbling some read the lines again with a bit of musicality:
words and reading aloud:
“BREAKING OUT
“ Tomorrow is my birthday
Of the quarantine
My viral birthday,
I stealthily snuck out
No one is invited but me and me…”
To invite myself to my thirtieth birthday.
He stopped for a while and said: “this
is not poetry! “He crumpled the paper and Tonight was a banner night:
threw it away. He tore up another paper
Myself and I would celebrate

The beginning of my second life

I washed my hands countless times

And that made me nearly new.

What do you think, Catty? Is this not ge-
nius? This is a good start! In two minutes I

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came up with a poem! A Moroccan Whitman! He grabbed his cat again and threw her in the
This is my first poem in this quarantine! armchair. He started his rehearsal as if he was
I think I have overcome what is called the in a live poetry reading. When he finished,
writer’s block! Great! Ok! Give me some he was waving his hands triumphantly. He
space now. Let me focus!” slapped the cat with his hand and shouted:

He threw her away with his right hand “Applaud me, dirty Cat! Clap your hands
and she magically stood on her paws unhurt to the new Whiteman!”
this time. He carried on with his poem after
reading the first part for a number of times. Unable to speak, the cat watched him
He wrote: uttering words she could not decipher. He
threw away his paper and the pen and
“I made a cake with no decoration or a went to his bed. The moon was looming
candle on top. large in the dark sky. The sound of thunder
was heard loudly outside. The weather in-
I patiently waited. side was freezing and stuffy. The light of
the candle was dim, reaching its end. The
No one called. cat gave a glimpse through the small two
holes in the closed window, her unique
No one cared. thread that she had with the outside. She
felt she was no longer a wild cat. She had
Myself stood leaning on the doorframe lost the skills of hunting and fighting. She
was filled with rage at the thought of her
With a black mask on his face so I could strange transmogrification. In a seemingly
not see full-fledged determination, she stood up
with her hair sticking up and her ears lying
If he was grieving or mocking. flat along the top of her head.

We did not shake hands. It is the right time. I can no longer stand
any further humiliation. Enough is enough!
He did not give me our usual hug. she thought. She frowned at Si Hamu, who
was snoring deeply in his bed. She looked
I told him we should not miss out to- twice at her sharp claws, her only weapons
night’s party. against her new enemy. Her teeth were
sharp and thin. She was raising her tail up
He said, ‘Hush! Hush! Haven’t you heard and took a deep breath. Like an experienced
the news? soldier, she stood up straight and fixed her
eyes on the foe. Without any further hes-
More confirmed cases just a few streets itation, she jumped on Si Hamu’s head,
over.’ scratching and biting with all her strength.
She heard the walls started moaning and
He slammed the door and hurried home shaking. The revolution started. Si Hamu,
a bit scared at the beginning, fought back,
I sat alone, shedding a tear kicking and squeezing the cat’s throat be-
tween his sturdy hands. His face went, his
Though it could be sweat from the fever. eyelids quivered and his fingers writhed. A

I whispered,“ Happy Birthday, Si Hamu

Your first day in the second life is history.”

When he finished his poem, Si Hamu
stood up in front of the mirror to read it
loudly. He imagined his dead parents and his
girlfriend watching reading his masterpiece.

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volcano erupted. Within a few minutes, the Being sure that the enemy was com-
cat was cold dead. His strength and height pletely defeated, Si Hamu stood up proudly
were in his favor. He cursed the day he near his mirror. He looked for his poem and
brought the cat in this place; and he even it was soaked in blood. He felt a strong de-
cursed the day of his birth. He became as sire to celebrate his victory; but a convul-
mad as hatter. He grabbed a knife and cut sion shook him and he fell down, covering
the cat into pieces. Bloodshed added new himself in a mask of dust and blood. Then
touch the disorganized and dirty ground. he was still again for a while. On the mirror
Si Hamu seemed to enjoy the scene and surface, he perceived a disgusting, fright-
started throwing away the pieces of the cat ening face. Out of anger, he smashed the
into different directions. “Take! Take! Take! mirror with his right fist and knelt down,
You are going to regret it. You’re like aunt screaming, “Never! I’ll never have a new
Tamo. Take!” companion.”

About the Author

Mohamed Mahou grew up in the Souss Region in Morocco. He earned his Bachelor degree
in English Studies at Ibn Zohr University in Agadir, Morocco. For twenty years, he has been
teaching English in high school. Mohamed got his Master degree in Comparative Studies at
Ibn Zohr University. Based on his personal experiences, Mahou writes his fictional works in
Tamazight and English. He has participated in various national and local poetry readings. His
publications include the following: Ifrgan (Thorns), a collection of Berber Poems, published
in 2O12 by the Royal Institute of Amazigh culture in Rabat. “To be Abiku”, “Ahmed Porfakir”;
two Poems in English published in the newspaper, Messenger of Morocco in 1996, Iftasn n
Ul (Oceans of Heart), a collection of Berber Poems, published in 2010; and Tamsirdt (the
Lesson), a play written in Berber language, published by the Ministry of Culture and Tirra
Association in 2015.

61

THE SLOW
BREAKUP

by Melody Sinclair

Kelly’s SUV is packed with seventh-grade boys attend. She stops at a red light and ex-
boys going to their first school dance. Their amines their faces in the rearview mirror.
bodies reek of too much competing co- They are such good kids, all joyfully doing
logne, a chemical stench that barely masks the work of God through school-sanctioned
the greasy smell of their fast food dinner service projects—feeding the homeless,
and puberty-induced body odor. caring for the blind, protecting animals, and
never letting their manners drop by forget-
Lake, her son, sits in the passenger seat ting to answer with a “yes, Sir.” All of these
and shouts conversations to his friends in young men are primed to be better than the
the back. He is jittering in his seat, buzzing generation before them, to not repeat the
with palpable excitement. mistakes of their parents.

“Lake,” Kelly says, placing a hand on his “Aced my Algebra test and got the new
bouncing knee. “Calm down.” Gucci kicks,” Kale says, propping a new, but
muddy, Gucci sneaker on Kelly’s console.
Kelly smiles at the memory of her and
John picking the edgy name for their only “Sick,” Lake says, stroking the laces. “I’m
child. They named him in the hopes of of- wearing a cologne that smells like the Gucci
fering a uniqueness that his peers wouldn’t kind. Smell.” He thrust his arm at Kale.
have. The joke was on them though; now
she chauffeurs kids named Ryder, Storm, Not for the first time, Kelly is saddened
Kale, and one pimply boy named Bronson at her inability to buy Lake the things he
Money, who shortened his name to Bro wants. This pack of boys collect brand
Money. Naming Lake after her husband names, live on sprawling horse properties,
John would have been the more unique and carry two phones at a time for reasons
choice. she can’t understand, even with their expla-
nations.
After picking up Bro Money and stopping
for fast food, Kelly still has a thirty-minute The only saving grace is the school uni-
drive to the private Christian school the form; on regular days, the boys are starched

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into button-up shirts, blazers, khakis, and At the next red light, a frail man bran-
ties. Usually, everyone looks the same. It’s dishes a weathered cardboard sign, waving
strange to see them dressed in their own it halfheartedly in their direction. Kelly digs
unique clothing for a school dance. change from the console and hands it to
Lake, who rolls down his window. “God
Kale must not have reacted to Lake’s co- bless you, Sir,” Lake says to the man as he
logne the way he wanted him to, because gives him the change. Lake quickly grabs the
Lake blushes into a deep shade of purple Cadillac hood ornament and adds it to the
that Kelly had never seen before. He digs man’s bucket. “You can sell that for a few
into the pocket of his cargo shorts and pulls bucks,” Lake says.
out a hood ornament.
Kelly’s fog lifts and her heart swells.
“It’s from a Caddy,” he says, brandishing Maybe she shouldn’t worry. Maybe the
the ornament for the boys in the back to see. material difference between Lake and his
peers isn’t important. What is important is
“Sweet! That pulls $40 on eBay,” Storm that he’s becoming a good person, someone
says. “Jack like ten more of those, and you who serves others and has a sense of
can get a designer belt.” The boys laugh. morals, even if it takes practice to act the
right way. She reaches across the console
“Lake, did you steal that?” Kelly asks. and strokes Lake’s soft jawline. He slaps her
“How did you—” hand away, the loud pop hanging in the air.

“Relax, Mom. I pried it off a junker when “You said you wouldn’t embarrass me,”
we were getting burgers,” Lake says, drop- he hisses.
ping the ornament on the floorboard.
At the same time, Bro Money yells in the
“You stole?” Kelly fights to remain fo- backseat. “Fuckin’ lowlife’s gonna spend
cused on her driving. She clenches her jaw, that on booze.”
the raw ache of her bad tooth forcing her
attention on the road. “Sorry,” Kelly says to Lake.

Lake shrugs and rolls the ornament “That’s okay,” Bro Money says. Kelly
under his foot. “It was just some junker,” he hates how it sounds like she is apologizing
repeats. “You gonna tell Dad?” for donating to the homeless man, but the
moment passed, and she can’t correct Bro
It sounds like a dare. Kelly doesn’t reply. Money now.
She hates the silent treatment, but finds
it useful when dealing with Lake because Lake’s green eyes curve into an annoyed
the alternative is yelling at him. When he squint, just like the face he made as a baby,
turned thirteen, like the flip of a switch, she like the infant face of his sister before him,
was dealing with a new person—someone the baby Lake had never met. Kelly wonders
angry, insecure and unhappy with the if the girl resembles her brother, with dark
blessed life he was provided. Kelly knows curls and long, elegant fingers. Maybe Baby
how to parent the tantrums of toddlers but Girl has Kelly’s green eyes, the only phys-
doesn’t know what to do with this adoles- ical feature in common between Kelly and
cent angst. Lake. The baby would be eighteen by now,
probably out on her own at some fancy col-
“Guess you’re not answering me now,” lege, but not too far from home, because
Lake mumbles.

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she might miss her parents. Kelly imagines John could still be attracted to her, before a
they would have a close relationship after more horrifying thought presses.
a happy childhood. Honking abruptly inter-
rupts her thoughts, and she realizes she was “Are you embarrassed by how I look?”
holding up traffic at a green light. she asks Lake.

“Shit, Mrs. Sterling,” one of the boys “Hey, Lake! Annabelle or Annemarie to-
shouts, “You slowing the whole damn lane night? Get that candy—they’re thirsty AF,”
up!” someone from the back shouts, before Lake
could answer.
Kelly twists in her seat to face the
laughing boys in the back, angry that she’d Kelly fights to remain quiet, but she
let the bad language slide earlier. She probes hopes they are talking about literal food and
at the aching molar with her tongue, con- drink. She can’t imagine her sweet baby,
sidering what to say. “What goes into your just a few years out of Spiderman Underoos,
mouth does not defile you, but what comes doing anything sexual.
out of your mouth, that is what defiles you.
The things that come out of the mouth “Don’t know, can’t tell them apart,” Lake
come from the heart, and these defile you. says.
Matthew fifteen—”
The boys laugh, and Kelly whispers to
“Mom!” Lake says, grabbing her arm. Lake. “Are those the Robertson twins?”
“You said you’d be chill tonight.” The unex-
pected contact, the warmth of her baby’s “Yeah.”
hand on her arm, stops Kelly from reciting
the verse number. She remembers how “If you choose to dance with one of
Lake used to hold her hand in the school them, be respectful. Learn to recognize the
hallway, his slightly sticky fingers rhythmi- twins as individuals. Remember, leave room
cally squeezing hers. for Jesus. Your arms should be—”

“Sorry, Mrs. Sterling,” a boy from the Lake turns up the volume on the radio.
back calls, and then quietly adds, “My mouth Kelly trails off and pokes at her throbbing
is going to defile Sadie Jacobs tonight.” The tooth with an index finger. Her eyes blur
boys laugh, and Lake shoots Kelly a warning with tears, a byproduct of the excruciating
look. pain that now shoots up the left side of her
face. The fuchsia lipstick she’d smeared on
“It’s bad enough that you wore that; you in a rush this morning stains her finger, and
don’t need to be so momish,” Lake says. her thoughts jump to Baby Girl’s father, how
they’d made out in the back of his car in
Kelly glances down at the t-shirt that Lake eleventh grade, his face and neck smeared
had made her in Kindergarten. A series of his with the same signature shade of lipstick.
handprints form a flower on the front, under
which his crooked handwriting spells, “Happy “Lift your ass, Kelby,” he’d said, his Dorito
Mother’s Day.” The shirt is threadbare in breath hot on her face. “You’re getting the
places, as are the maternity pants that she seat all wet. My dad will kill me.”
still wears because the waistband is forgiving
of both post pregnancy stomachs and mid- Kelly, her jeans and underwear around
dle-aged sprawl. She suddenly wonders how her ankles, had been too stunned at the
misnomer to fight back. They were neigh-
bors, she was literally the girl next door, and

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he’d known her since Kindergarten; there even though she’d refused an abortion like
was no way he didn’t remember her name. a good Christian girl. Sometimes doing the
Kelly knew it was a tactic he used on the right thing didn’t stain you as much as doing
less popular girls to put them in their place, something wrong.
but never on her. She pushed her shoul-
ders against the seat and lifted her butt. He “Holy shit! It’s The Box,” Lake says,
wiped the leather with his t-shirt and hissed cranking the volume on the stereo.
the wrong Dorito-flavored name into her
face again, “Thanks, Kelby.” Kelly reprimands him for his language,
but she can’t hear herself speaking over the
The boys howling with laughter at some- music. The console screen displays the song
thing on Bro Money’s phone snapped Kelly that plays, The Box by Roddy Ricch. It seems
back from her reverie. She wonders if she to be playing from one of the boy’s phones
should pull over and see what they are in the back, not from the radio. She’s only
looking at, be a reliable chaperone. But the ever heard the radio edited version, and
thought saps all of her energy and she sud- even that was a bit risqué for middle school
denly wants them out of the car, wants this boys. But she promised to go with the flow,
ride to end. She knows this dangerous head- so she clamps her mouth shut as the boys
space. When she is this exhausted, this sort rolled down the windows and shout the ex-
of weary, she wants the truth to come out. plicit version into the wind.

She glances at Lake, his midnight hair “Took her to the forest, put the wood in
shining in the ambient light from the dash. her mouth
Baby Girl was born with the same mass of
raven hair, despite Kelly’s mousy brown col- Bitch don’t wear no shoes in my house
oring, and despite having a different father
than Lake. Kelly shakes the thought, afraid The private I’m flyin’ in, I never wanna
that Lake can read the premarital deflow- fly again
ering on her features and report them back
to John. I take my chances in traffic

Kelly had met John during their freshman She suckin’ on dick no hands with it
year at Wilson, the small private Christian
college where women enrolled to find hus- I just made the Rollie plain like a land-
bands and men attended for more serious ing-strip
degrees that promised careers. John had be-
lieved Kelly a virgin, and she didn’t correct I’m a 2020 president candidate.”
his assumption. He wouldn’t have been able
to handle the truth of Kelly’s high school ex- Kelly’s chest burns like she’d smoked a
perience; he’d wilt at the notion that Kelly pack of cigarettes—another habit she’d hid
joyfully fucked the popular boy until he re- when she met John. She’d read somewhere
membered her name and shouted it in the that having a son was like going through a
middle of orgasms. If Kelly confessed that slow breakup, and suddenly she under-
she’d become pregnant her junior year, car- stands. Lake still looks like the infant that had
ried Baby Girl to term and gave her up for depended on her, his baby-fat cheeks smooth
adoption, John would deem her unclean, to the touch, his long eyelashes, dark and full,
fluttering against his face the same way they
fluttered against her skin when she cuddled
him. He’s still her baby, but now the rosebud
mouth that she nursed is shouting, “suckin’

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on dick no hands with it.” He’s pulling away, experience, hiding her past. She’d been a
had been the whole time. mother pretending at virginity. The fear of
getting found out by John had waned over
She’d known other slow breakups. At the years, but obsessive thoughts about her
first, Baby Girl’s father had seemed un- lost Baby Girl stalk her nonstop. She doesn’t
bothered by news of Kelly’s pregnancy. For wish these obsessive thoughts onto Lake.
weeks he’d been even more attracted to her,
probably because of her swollen breasts. He “Have fun at the dance,” Kelly says, pulling
didn’t offer solutions or make plans with into the school parking lot. “When it is over,
Kelly beyond the carnal. As her belly grew, I will be at—”
he called less often, slowly leaving her to
understand that her body housing the baby “That girl’s wearing a half-shirt and a
in between them wasn’t sexy anymore. mini skirt!” Bro Money interrupts.
The last time she saw him was in the mall
when she was seven months pregnant. She “T and A,” Lake shouts. The boys in the
was gripping her lower back and fighting back laugh as they exit the SUV.
off nausea from the variety of food court
smells. He walked toward Kelly with an “Lake!” Kelly says, grabbing his arm.
arm draped around another girl, a rail-thin “Where did you learn that?”
freshman. Kelly stopped and stared, barely
resisting the urge to shake the girl and “God, Mom!” Lake says, shaking off her
warn her away. He didn’t bother to wave, hand. He watches his friends run up the
only made brief eye contact, and dipped his sidewalk and into the gym. “You’re such a
head, a minimal nod of acknowledgment to hypocrite.”
the mother of his child.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kelly
Kelly turns down the music and clenches asks.
her jaw, sending jolts of pain through her
face. The boys quiet as if suddenly stunned Lake assumes his most annoying sar-
that an adult had been driving the entire castic teacher voice. “Hypocrites appear
time. They examine their phones without good and virtuous, but it’s all false. You’re
talking, but even this action irks Kelly. She concealing your real self behind all this
suspects the boys are talking about her via Jesus bullshit.”
text, and each new chime puts her on edge.
But hadn’t she grown accustomed to that as Kelly is momentarily proud of Lake’s
well? The small town she grew up in was a knowledge of the word hypocrite. “How do
hotbed of gossip, and becoming a pregnant you know that?”
teenager sent whispers roaring around her.
“It was a vocab this week in Language
Hadn’t she made big mistakes, learned Arts. I’m not an idiot,” he says.
her lessons early, and turned out okay,
despite everything? Kelly pushes her chin Kelly drums her fingers on the wheel be-
to the side to crack her neck and reminds fore pushing the child lock button. For once
herself that her mistakes never stopped her overprotectiveness works in her favor too.
haunting her. When she first met John,
she’d used all of her extra energy hiding her “This is bullshit!” Lake yells, tugging at
the door handle.

“Your internet time is gone. After your
behavior tonight, the punishment should
be much worse,” Kelly shouts, spittle flying.

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“I already found all I needed anyway,” them. You might think you’re worldly and
Lake mumbles. that you understand things that are larger
than you, but you don’t. You’re still just a
A powerful tingling runs through Kel- kid.”
ly’s hands and feet, as if they suddenly fell
asleep. Could he know about his sister? She “A kid with power,” Lake says. His eyes
fights to swallow, but her mouth is too dry. are hard, and his jaw set in a way that Kelly
She tries to convince herself Lake is talking has never seen before; she’s staring at a
about something different. stranger. “I want a phone and a later curfew.
Don’t make me tell Dad.”
“Are you looking at porn?” Kelly asks,
even though she knows he wouldn’t do that. Kelly studies Lake’s traitorous face, and
despite her anger, her hand drifts up to
Lake rolls his eyes, the whites flashing softly stroke his velvety earlobe, as if she’s
in the dim light. Kelly clamps her jaw shut, making sure he’s still there, that she’s not
focusing on the pain shooting from her dreaming the whole encounter. “Did I do
tooth and up the right side of her face; it this to you by hiding my past? These de-
is somehow more bearable than the con- mands, the way you’re coming at me, it’s so
fusing look on her son’s face. vile. I’ve never known you capable of black-
mail. You must be very upset because you
“I sent in one of those spit tests for sci- are normally such a sweet—”
ence lab. A DNA test,” Lake says.
Lake slaps Kelly’s hand away for the
Kelly floats somewhere outside of her- second time that night. “Don’t make me tell
self, somehow not even feeling her tooth Dad,” he repeats.
anymore.
Shaking, Kelly studies Lake’s infuriated
“You register online, and the results green eyes, eyes that he had the audacity
show all of your relatives. Turns out I have to steal from her. She wonders again if Baby
a half-sister,” Lake says, “and there’s no way Girl has the same gaze, but more under-
Dad knows.” standing. She feels a hot tear trail down her
cheek and hides her face in both hands.
He looks triumphant and smug, and for
maybe the first time ever, Kelly wants to hit “Mom?” Lake whimpers in a way that
him. It’s pointless to deny that she’s been would have made Kelly hug him minutes
lying to John. Lake knows his dad and his earlier.
strict values just as well as Kelly does. In-
stead, she exhales hard and leans back. Kelly removes her hands from her face
and pushes the master button, rolling
“Your breath smells like shit,” Lake says. down all of the windows. She waves Bro
“Get that rotten tooth removed.” He makes Money away when he steps out of the gym
brief eye contact and dips his head, a min- and looks toward the car for Lake. With a
imal nod of acknowledgment to the mother shaking hand, Kelly turns the radio up loud
he’s disgusted with. enough that the parents with their children
on the sidewalk stop to look at her, dis-
The echo of the familiar gesture infu- mayed. “Let’s go home,” she says, suddenly
riates Kelly, and she pants with rage. “I’ve exhilarated. “I’ll tell your dad.”
lived lifetimes before you were born,” she
says, “and you only know about one of

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About the Author

Melody Sinclair graduated from the MFA program in Creative Writing at Regis University
in Denver, Colorado. She has been published at Heavy Feather Review, Bull: Men’s Fiction,
Avalon Literary Review, Adanna Literary Journal, Prometheus Dreaming, Donnybrook Writing
Academy, and 303 Magazine. She’s won the Denver Women’s Press Club Unknown Writer’s
Contest and is on the Fiction Reading Committee for Carve Magazine. Melody lives in
Highlands Ranch, Colorado, with her husband, dog, and two kids. www.melodysinclair.com

68

ISABELLA OR
PENELOPE

by Edward Sheehy

Cassandra’s Unisex Hair Salon and Psychic pulled back in a tight bun gleamed with
Palm Advisory occupied 700 primo square perfumed oil. An ebony complexion glowed
feet in a renovated strip mall fronting Co- with lotions of aloe and jojoba. When she
lumbia Pike just minutes from the Penta- spoke to the barista, her Creole accent rose
gon and a nine iron shot across the Poto- and fell like birdsong. Intrigued, I initiated a
mac River to the District of Columbia. The conversation that led to happy hour drinks
highway was a clogged artery, carrying at a Tex-Mex joint with live Mariachi and a
over a hundred thousand vehicles a day fajita with lobster tail that would make your
endlessly driving in and out of DC as if con- eyeballs salivate.
demned to a concentric circle of commuter
hell. The turnpike itself dated back to 1807 Over beers and lime, Cassandra confided
when toll takers charged farmers twenty that her real name was Betty Vegas and that
cents to bring a team of hogs into the city she’d emigrated from Trinidad. She took my
for slaughter. I remembered this last tidbit right palm and traced my heart line. The tickle
from a divorced docent I’d recently met on of her polished nail uncorked a torrent of
one of those dating websites. A firehose of blood rushing to fill every available chamber.
historical minutia, she barely paused to take She identified the shape of an X that crossed
a breath while I sipped my third margarita. my lifeline. A warning sign, she said, but not
I said I’d call her but never did and now I something to worry about for now.
was attempting a left turn across turnpike
hell during rush hour to surprise Cassandra I didn’t worry about it since I didn’t be-
at work. lieve it. We’d been hooking up on a semi-fre-
quent basis ever since. When I walked in, a
Unlike the docent, Cassandra and I had young woman stylist with dreadlocks was
hit it off immediately. The first time I’d laid sculpting an intricate Lakers logo into a
eyes on her was at the coffee shop when boy’s scalp. “Is Cassandra around?” I said.
she’d breezed in to take out. Her brightly
colored caftan reached sandal tops en- The stylist’s eyes remained focused on
crusted with jewels and stones. Raven hair the logo. “She’s finishing a webcam reading.
She’ll be out in a few minutes.”

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Sirens and squealing brakes punctuated whispered, “Jeremy says you wouldn’t be-
the hip hop playlist. I grabbed a celebrity lieve the money pouring into the cannabis
magazine and parked in the salon chair next sector.”
to the boy. I’d almost caught up on a pop di-
va’s colonic cleansing ritual when Cassandra “Who’s Jeremy and why are you whis-
appeared in the door frame. Her black pering?”
tank-top dress with Rasta stripes of red,
yellow, and green clung tight to a willowy “A lobbyist for legalization. He comes in
frame. Bangles of copper and silver circled for a trim every two weeks and keeps hitting
her wrists. She flashed a high beam smile on me.”
and hooked a finger toward the backroom
of the salon. I followed her into the office. Competition. I signaled my displeasure.
The webcam on a laptop screen showed an
empty chair behind a desk. On the wall, a “Relax. He’s not my type.”
multicolored tapestry depicted the seven
energy chakras in the human body. Which made me wonder what type I was.

Cassandra motioned me to sit. She “Anyway, Jeremy gives me a tip, hoping
swung a chair around, so we sat knees-to- I will go out with him. Gold Leaf is a global
knees. Her hand hovered above my fore- cannabis company about to go public. The
head. “Your aura is like a sunspot,” she said. company is partnering with a German
“A black splotch against a yellow radiance brewer rolling out a line of infused bever-
from your electromagnetic field. You’ve got ages that will totally dominate the market.
blockage.” Plus they have a franchise model that will
put McDonald’s to shame. Jeremy can get
“Could be,” I said. “I had Mac and Cheese me shares at the low IPO offer. He claims
for lunch.” the stock will skyrocket. We’re talking major
windfall.”
Cassandra responded with a gentle love
slap. “Why do you come here if you don’t Franchise? Now she had my attention. I
believe?” ran franchise ops for Yo-Yo, a new chain of
botanical frozen yogurt shops alongside a
“Because you believe. And I believe in hot yoga studio. Royalties pouring in kept
you.” the suits at corporate, and me, extremely
happy. A global company with deep pockets
Cassandra exhaled and stretched her might need an experienced hand to help
arms. “I’m exhausted. I had back-to-back with franchising. Maybe Cassandra’s client
appointments all morning: a spiritual en- could put in a good word for me.
ergy evaluation, a chakra reading, then an
aura cleansing.” I whistled. “Wow! And you trust this guy,
what’s his name?”
Her face brightened as if a cloud had
passed. “Good news, though. I picked up “Jeremy—a lobbyist, so about what
a new sideline, psychic stock picks. I al- you’d expect. But I talked him into letting
ready have over a hundred subscribers. 3-D me read his aura. He had an imbalance in
manufacturing is booming. Commodities his manipura.” Cassandra indicated her
are doing well, although meat and dairy tummy region and giggled. “An excess of
may slow.” Cassandra leaned forward and gas. Another reason why he’s not my type.
But his Ajna, what we call the Third Eye

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chakra,” she pointed to a spot between her briefest of moments, I would have sworn
eyebrows, “checks out indigo. He’s not bull- she levitated. Then she began her story:
shitting about Gold Leaf.”
“As you know, I was born in Trinidad.
“Interesting,” I said, still mulling the fran- When I was a young girl, I loved to spend
chise angle. “Let’s get something to eat. My time at a nearby lagoon known for its
treat.” habitat of butterflies. Once, when I was
ten years old I walked to the lagoon and
“I’ve got something better.” She walked brought an overripe banana in my knap-
over to the fridge and retrieved a plate of sack. I mushed the fruit into my palm. Very
cold jerk chicken and two Red Stripes. We quickly, one butterfly, then another, gently
balanced paper plates on our knees and dug landed on my hand to feed. I stood motion-
into the leftovers and beer. Our small talk less as more and more butterflies fluttered
hit a lull, and just out of curiosity, I nodded to my hand—Sippers and Monarchs, Swal-
toward the chakra tapestry, and asked Cas- lowtails and Peacocks, and Tiger Wings. It
sandra when she first discovered she had was so amazing! Soon my hair, arms, and
psychic powers. legs were encased in a magnificent cocoon.
I was covered head-to-toe in butterflies. The
Her lips pressed tight in a line. “You’ll laugh.” tremble of wings tickled my face. It was all I
could do to keep from giggling. Slowly, I had
I held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor, I a sensation of being lifted. Then, my feet
won’t laugh.” floated off the ground entirely. I rose higher
and higher, above mangrove swamps, and
“You were never a boy scout.” white sand beaches, then over the tidal flats
and rainforest. Looking down between my
I scooted closer to her chair and put my feet, I saw the mottled shell of a hawksbill
lips next to her ear. “Promise I won’t laugh.” turtle skimming below the ocean’s surface.
The butterflies turned inland and lowered
A woman’s voice called out from the me gentle as a feather into my own back-
salon. “Cassandra, I’m leaving.” yard. I ran inside to tell my mother about
the magical experience and found her
“Okay, Glendale, thanks, ” Cassandra asleep in bed, a radiance emanating from
replied. “Please turn off the music and re- her flat belly. I don’t know how I knew, but
member to lock the door.” I just knew with absolute certainty that my
mother was pregnant with twin girls. Sure
I heard the front door slam and latch. enough, eight-and-a-half-months later, my
Cassandra dumped our paper plates with mother delivered two baby girls. And wait
the chicken bones in the wastepaper for it—the names my mother chose for the
basket. The only light in the office filtered twin girls just happened to correspond with
through a rectangle of wire security glass in two native butterfly species—Isabella and
the backdoor, casting the room in a grayish Penelope.” She paused. “Which reminds
pall. She lit a scented candle and scrunched me. I must get back to Port of Spain soon. I
down on the floor on a large throw pillow haven’t seen my mother or sisters in years.”
and patted a pillow next to her. “Grab an-
other Red Stripe while you’re up.” After a moment’s pause, chin out and
wide-eyed, Cassandra said, “Well, what do
I lowered my creaking joints onto the
pillow. Cassandra rested in a lotus posi-
tion; her shift gathered in folds. Candlelight
shadows danced upon the walls. For the

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you think now, Mr. Don’t Believe Anything.” waist, forming a circuit she said, to facilitate
Her glare pinned me like a moth to a spec- the flow of electrons between our chakra
imen tray. energy centers. Foreheads touching, we
gazed inward at the Third Eye point, our
What could I say about a story like that? breathing and movements synchronized. A
A hawksbill turtle, you say. Are you sure? low level current buzzed up my spine, from
my Muladhara (tailbone-scarlet red) to my
Cassandra pounced on my silence, as if Sahasrara (crown-whitish violet) with inter-
I’d missed the obvious point. “Don’t you get mediate stops at every color-coded verte-
it?” The butterfly is the universal symbol of bra along the way. It’s hard to put the climax
magical transformation. It starts out as an into words but it was as though the top of
egg on a leaf. Then it becomes this incred- my head exploded and a rainbow river of
ibly hungry caterpillar.” Cassandra’s pearly chakra energy gushed out like a burst dam.
whites chomped up and down by way of An exchange of electrons never felt so good.
demonstration. “The when fully grown, the All I know is that the release left me feeling
caterpillar forms itself into a pupa or chrys- supercharged, and ready to go again—and
alis, and finally emerges as a beautiful but- again. Forget what I first thought of Cassan-
terfly. See, that’s exactly what happened to dra and her butterflies, I was definitely a be-
me. A personal metamorphosis. And now I liever now. Chalk it up to tantric afterglow;
have this amazing gift, to read chakras, and my chakras firing on all cylinders. Before
help others transform into their inner but- leaving for the west coast, I liquidated a size-
terfly.” able portfolio and handed over a six-figure
sum to Cassandra to pass on to Jeremy to go
Tell the truth, I wasn’t much interested all in on the Gold Leaf IPO. Jeremy’s insider
in my inner pupa, but I was captivated by trading tip was illegal, but I didn’t care. I’d
how Cassandra positively glowed as she re- been checking the market every day since
lated this fantastic fairytale. Gold Leaf execs rang the bell at the New
York Stock Exchange and announced a new
“Now do you get it?” she asked as her derivative to counter a recent outbreak of
hand finger-walked to my belt buckle. colloquiums. Sure enough, the stock shot
up like Jeremy had predicted. A week lat-
What I got was the biggest load of crap er, while waiting for my flight back to DC, a
I’d ever heard. But what I said was, as I headline in the Wall Street Journal caught
reached over and snuffed the candle, “That my eye. The SEC was investigating Gold Leaf
is one beautiful miracle!” for trading irregularities. Indictments pend-
ing. Five paragraphs down, Jeremy’s name
* was mentioned. The stock cratered. I called
the salon, but the number was not in ser-
I was in LA conducting sales seminars for vice. Email and text messages to Cassandra
Yo-Yo franchisees but all I could think about bounced back as undeliverable. My chakra
was that evening at the salon with Cassan- energy nose-dived along with Gold Leaf
dra. Our previous encounters had never stock. I slammed the armrest with my fist.
been anything like this. She’d slowly, and What a sucker I’d been. A dupe. I pictured
expertly maneuvered us into the Yab-Yum Cassandra and Jeremy on a tropical beach
position—the Buddhist posture symboliz-
ing divine union—a tantric unification of
the masculine and feminine. Cassandra sat
upright in my lap, legs wrapped around my

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enjoying pina coladas at my expense. At my arm and led us to a Mini-Cooper with
that point, all I thought I really knew about the top down that looked brand new. She
Cassandra, aka Betty Vegas, was that she slid behind the wheel, cranked up “Jammin”
longed to visit her mother and two sisters and blasted out of the airport complex and
back in Trinidad. If any of that was true, I onto the main drag, heading south. Miles
knew where I had to go to get some an- of mangrove swept past. Cassandra stared
swers. A few minutes on my phone and my straight ahead, eyes on the road, her profile
flight arrangements were changed. a quick sketch of line and shade. The wind
and Marley howled so loud Cassandra had
* to shout to be heard. “There’s an envelope
in my handbag.”
As soon as we touched down at Piarco Inter-
national Airport, I was the first passenger to I rummaged in her satchel and found an
muscle my way out of the hatch and clear envelope marked Barclay’s Bank of London.
customs. My only luggage was a shoulder Inside was a check made out to me for triple
bag containing clean underwear and socks. my Gold Leaf investment.
I was powerwalking out of the terminal to
get a taxi when I heard my name. I turned at “I pulled your cash out before the SEC
the sound of the voice but did not recognize stuck their nose into Gold Leaf.”
anyone in the crowd. Then I picked her out.
Instead of a slicked-back bun, her hair was I had a million questions, but the one
frizzed out in a supernova of tight curls. She I started with was: “How the hell did you
wore oversized sunglasses and a sleeveless know I would be on that flight today?”
yellow dress. I was stunned to say the least,
but then remembered I was supposed to be She turned and flashed that high beam
angry. Cassandra lifted a finger to her red smile. “A little butterfly told me.”
lips and hushed, “Not now,” as she threaded
I had to laugh. “Which one,” I asked, “Isa-
bella or Penelope?”

About the Author

Short stories by Edward Sheehy have appeared online in
the Boston Literary Magazine, The Write Launch, Frontier
Tales, and the Book Smuggler’s Den. His novel, Cade’s
Rebellion, was released by Dog Ear Publishing (2018). He
lives in Minneapolis on the west bank of the Mississippi
River.

73

BLESSED ARE THE
CURSED

by Bryan Grafton

“Magda, Magda dear have you made up There was no right or wrong here, only her
your mind yet?” asked the social worker. decision.
“These people deserve an answer.”
“Okay talk to the legal aid attorney again
She hated her name, a name from the and get back to me as soon as possible,”
old country, a grandmother’s name, a Star replied somewhat huffily.
grandmother she never knew. At least it was
better than this social worker’s name. Who Her tone was so condescending to Magda
names a kid Star anyway? Flower children that she could barely control herself as she
hippies from the sixties that’s who. eked out through gritted teeth, “I will.”

“This young couple is quite anxious. Star put her papers back in her briefcase
What should I tell them?” and slammed it shut. She stood up abruptly,
straightened out her dress out and marched
“I need to talk to my attorney some to the door. Magda closed the door on her
more,” Magda answered, stalling for time. as Star left Magda’s one bedroom low in-
come government subsidised apartment.
“I can give you their names if you wish.
You know what they do for a living. You She had one child sixteen years ago and
know that they will be able to provide a swore that she would never have another.
good home. They’re even willing to meet Now she was pregnant again due to her
with you, talk with you.” own stupidity, getting drunk for a week and
forgetting to take her free birth control pills
“Star please I can’t decide now. I’ll get during and for some time after that. She
back to you in a couple of days with my didn’t remember how long. This was all her
decision okay?” Magda felt put out. Her at- own stupidity getting pregnant. She con-
torney had told her to look at the pros and stantly screwed up. She really didn’t want
cons of this, argue both sides of the issue another child.
in her mind. She could guide her through
the legal procedure she assured her but the This young couple wanted her baby. Star
actual decision was hers and hers alone. told her that the husband had a good job

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as a car salesman at one of the big dealer- that she repeated over and over. It wasn’t
ships here in town and that the wife would hard to comply with the demands of her case
be a stay at home mom able to devote full worker. Just act sincere and do whatever they
attention to the baby. Probably some Gen- say. Play their game. She knew the system by
xers with names like Dustin or Justin and Tif- now. These do-gooders always seemed to get
fany or Brittany. What would they name the so much personal satisfaction out of helping
baby? Probably one of those stupid popular her, believing that they made a difference in
names of today, Hunter, Jagger, Madison, this world, as she wallowed in her misery.
McKenzie. At least it wouldn’t be an old
fashion grandparent’s name. So now she wondered what to do. Look
at it from both sides. Her boy was sixteen
Magda started to weigh the pros and but didn’t live with her. He was in a juvenile
cons in her mind. She had been a lousy ter- facility on the other side of the state thank
rible mother, if she had even been a mother God. A high school drop out, no job, he
at all, and she knew it. Furthermore she stole things, repeatedly, was finally caught
knew that she wasn’t even a decent re- on camera, and was dumb enough to try to
spectable human being. She was sure that sell them on the internet. Did everything by
these people would be good parents. Of impulse, no self control. Couldn’t help him-
that she had no doubt. Anybody would be self, just like his mother. Lost his license, too
better than her and at least there would be many tickets. Never appeared for his traffic
two of them. Not a single screw up mom tickets and was picked up on warrants for
dependent on government programs to failing to appear. Didn’t pay his fines. There
support her. was nothing she could do with him. Nothing
the courts or anyone could do with him to
She also had a criminal record. She’d get him straightened out so he went to a
been in the county jail a few times for her juvenile detention center.
‘poor decisions’ as her probation officer
called them. Nobody committed crimes Right from the start she couldn’t handle
anymore. That wasn’t politically correct. him, couldn’t change him, couldn’t fix him.
They made mistakes or poor decisions. Like The boy never got along with kids his own
that mattered when it came to bouncing age in grade school. Once he started high
checks, shoplifting, driving under the influ- school it was downhill in overdrive. Didn’t
ence. Still they were minor ‘poor decisions’, do his homework, just sat there in class,
at least no felonies. When she got off super- never participated, never studied for a
vision or out of jail it was only a matter of test, never passed a course. She wanted
time until she screwed up again. the school authorities to send him to the
alternative school but they said that they
Every one of those times a social worker couldn’t do that because he was not a disci-
would place her son in foster care, have pline problem. Then she asked about special
Magda attend certain classes that were ed but they couldn’t put him there because
court ordered, classes that would miracu- he tested out average. So his sophomore
lously change her somehow. Then her case year he had to take all freshman classes
worker would pronounce her fit for society again and again he wasn’t passing when she
again after she had successfully completed gave up and pulled him out of school. He
all her programs and return her son to her. had fallen through the cracks.
Magda kept getting one more last chance

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During all this time she had sent him to fit into the pattern perfectly. They had come
a psychiatrist as the school requested her to this country at the close of World War
to do. She did so because none of this cost II. They were seeking freedom in a sense,
Magda anything except her time which didn’t they were fleeing the law. Magda never
matter as she seldom had a job. Everything’s knew what crimes they were running from
free for the poor downtrodden in America, because her parents’ marriage was a di-
free welfare, free subsidized housing, free saster and her folks divorced when she was
medical, free etc etc. and Magda took ad- quite young. She grew up with a broken
vantage of these freedom things, a/k/a free down drunken dysfunctional mother and
dumb things, as she called them. with a felon father who never saw her again
once he was incarcerated. She knew now
But nothing got resolved with the psy- that these genes kept getting passed one
chiatrist either. He put her son on drugs but generation to the next. That idiots breed
they didn’t change his behavior. What the with idiots and produce more idiots. That
doctor really wanted to do was to talk to they were all doomed, fated to a miserable
the father. He wanted to know about the hellish existence.
father’s psychological makeup. What traits
could he have inherited from his father. So now with all that information behind
Sometimes it was just in the genes he said. her and all that information still looming in
Drugs might help some in altering behavior front of her, what was she to do. It was de-
but you can’t alter genes. Sometimes it’s cision time. It weighed heavy on her simple
just the way you were wired he said and mind that this child she carried was one
medical science hasn’t advanced enough more set of defective genes. One more poor
so that we can go in there and tighten up malfunctioning human being who would
the loose screws and rewire the mind back bring grief, heartbreak and despair to who-
to normal. Genetic makeup had a lot to do ever raised him or her.
with diagnosing behavioral problems and
he was short on information here. That night she met with her priest, the
man to whom she repeatedly confessed
Magda thought of all her own problems her sins and to whom she had entrusted
growing up. She and her son shared many her soul.
of the same behavioral characteristics. She
knew that she had passed her genes on to “Father I want to know what God, not
her son. Jesus, would do.”

As to the father, the same result. She “God has given us free will Magda. The
told the doctor that he was in prison in an- freedom to make our own choices ever since
other state for a number of things the worst Adam and Eve were in the garden. Whatever
of which was involuntary manslaughter. The you do will be the will of our Lord.”
psychiatrist gave up and told her there was
nothing he could do to help her son. Some That made no sense to Magda. God gives
things just can’t be fixed and we have to live us free will all the while knowing that some
with them for better, and in this case for the of us will make bad choices. That some of
worse, he said. us can’t help but make bad choices. God
has programmed us that way. That was not
And as to her parents what difference free will, making humans that were doomed
did it make at this point because they also to fail. People make machines, cell phones,

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computers and a million other things and could not deal with. One that had caused
didn’t program them to fail. Why can’t God her and her son countless problems, disap-
make perfect human beings thought Magda pointments and grief. Her dna was a curse
as the tears welled up within her. that no prayer or penance could foil. If she
had only been blessed otherwise, blessed
“You have made the right choice in not with normal genes. Thus her decision had
aborting your child Magda for that is a sin in already been made for her when the priest
the eyes of the Lord. The Lord guided you in repeated for the umpteenth time, “What-
not taking a life because the Lord has a plan ever you do Magda, it is doing the Lord’s
for you and this child, just as He has a plan will.” But she knew the priest’s real angle
for all of us.” on all this when he ended with, “I’m sure
that your decision will bring so much joy
She could never have killed the living and happiness to this young couple.”
human being in her womb. She would not
have a child sucked from her uterus and Two days later she was called into the
flushed down the toilet or whatever they do adoption agency by Star to deliver her an-
with them she thought. Nor could she bear swer. As Star showed her into her office
the thought of her child being butchered Magda needed no introduction as she
up for parts and ‘donated’ to scientific re- glanced at the young couple already there,
search. She was not the most moral person, the prospective parents. Star introduced
just a simple person but this was a line that them by first names only, Jason and Ashley.
she would not cross. She chuckled to herself when she heard the
names.
She remembered when she went to
Planned Parenthood and they had been no After the formalities were out of the
help. They pushed the abortion angle for way, Star once again sang up the praises
her ‘health problem.’ Very little time was of the young couple. It was way more in-
devoted toward selling her on adoption. formation than Magda cared to know.
She left after a heated argument with one Complete family histories from both sides
of those well intentioned young women including those of the potential loving and
pressing the issue of women’s health rights adoring grandparents. Complete education
upon her. What right did that woman have to and work background history. Even hints as
tell her, another woman after all, what to do. to their wealth, the size and cost of their
home, what kind of cars they drove. But
Her mind continued to ramble. Perhaps what stuck in Magda’s craw most were the
God would forgive her for her past sins if plans that the couple gleefully told her that
she put her child up for adoption. It would they had for her child’s college education
be her way of doing penance and or a way and their belief that a child, with the right
to redeem herself for a lifetime of sins. A guidance and help, can grow up to be any-
way to do something good in her life for a thing he or she wants to be, and that they
change. would always be there to make this all pos-
sible for him or her.
She thought of all these things as the
priest droned on. But the bottom line kept The longer and more fluently they elabo-
coming back to her. It was obvious. To her rated on the pros of the adoption, the more
way of thinking God had doomed her with it confirmed Magda’s decision.
bad genes. A genetic makeup that she

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They had no idea what they would be in the child would have turned the corner and
for. This problem was given to her by God. been fine. It would have drained them men-
It is His will. She must not foist it off onto tally, physically, and financially. Strained
anyone else. She must take responsibility. She their marriage. Little did they know that it
must spare them. That was the right thing to is better to be heartbroken now only this
do. Abruptly she stood up and point blank one time rather than endure a lifetime of
shouted out to the prospective parents in no broken hearts, hopes and dreams.
uncertain terms, “You can’t have my baby!”
That pushy do gooder Star will find
They both broke down. Ashley started them another baby that’s for certain. Per-
crying incessantly and her husband could haps some knocked up college kid. They’d
hardly control his fury. Star got up and took be better off taking their chances from that
Magda by her upper arm and drug her to gene pool than the pool that I have created
the door saying, “Now look what you have thought Magda.
done. Are you proud of yourself? Well
you ought to be ashamed.” She continued Her thoughts from the priest now
screaming as Magda freed herself and ran flooded her head. Oh God has a plan for us
out onto the street. all right. His plan is brilliant. It is for people
like us to serve as screw ups so that we
Magda said nothing in response as she create jobs for social workers, psychiatrists
started walking back to the projects. She and their staff, government workers pro-
kept her thoughts to herself. I don’t owe viding welfare, law enforcement officers,
these people an explanation. How dare attorneys, bailiffs, court reporters, judges,
them think that they were entitled to my prison employees, parole officers. Why
baby. I didn’t want to meet them anyway. there were probably countless others out
That was that goofy Star’s idea forcing them there that were counting on us to screw up
upon me. What gives her the right to treat so that they can have jobs to provide for
me like that? their families? People like myself, my son
and yes my child to be, we all do a good
Those people have no idea what I have useful job in the scheme of God’s plan.
done for them. I have spared them a life-
time of grief, heartbreak and disappoint- Then she stopped, shook the cobwebs
ment. I have spared them countless hours from her head, collected her thoughts,
of school conferences, psychiatrist confer- and tilted her head upwards toward the
ences, lawyer conferences, court dates and heavens and shouted up to God, “Why me
jail visits. All their love and money would be God? Why me? Why must I be cursed with
foolishly wasted on someone who cannot these genes?” Then she mocked God with
be fixed. But no they would have never the answer that she imagined God would
given up trying, always believing that if they give her, “Blessed are the cursed for they
had done this or done that, that somehow too do the will of the Lord.”

78

BEING GOOD

by L.A. Robbins

‘I am going to kiss you so hard you’ll never because if we touch a boy, coodies could
forget it,’ Rod announces as I leave his yard jump on him and make his head itch. John
to go home for dinner. I smile uncertainly doesn’t run so tag isn’t his sport anyway.
because I want to be polite and because Dad says there’s no such thing as coodies
Melanie and a few other kids have heard but I lean close to the bathroom mirror,
this pronouncement and because I don’t parting my hair to look for creepy crawlies
know if I want to be kissed. just in case.

Rod Sanders is oldest and tallest of the On this day John has come chugging
three boys and two giraffe-high parents in down the hill from his house. He stands,
his family. His hair curls at the back of his chest heaving, cheeks, red apples, pudgy
neck and a few golden corkscrews dangle fingers wiggling on his blob arms. We are
over deep-set blue eyes. When he smiles cross-legged on the grass, holding dog-
his braces glint above a strong jaw. With his eared cards; Rod is teaching us to play
wide shoulders and narrow hips he could be Hearts. John stands over us, demonstrating
a male model or a young Charlton Heston. a movie kiss - he saw it, live, when he was
At dinnertime Mrs. Sanders always stands at waiting for the school bus with the older
the back door, arms akimbo on her broom- kids. I already know what a kiss is, of course,
stick body, her hair, a spray-gold helmet but the idea of mouth mushing makes me
above an aquiline nose: Charlton Heston in squirm. I climb trees and paralyze frogs by
a wig. stroking their stomachs and I don’t flinch
when Peter’s pet tarantula places its hairy
It’s fat John from up the road who intro- appendages on my palm, one after the
duces the idea of a kiss. He joins us some other. The Maidenform trainer bra that
days, though I am happier when he doesn’t. Mom bought lies in my dresser drawer, bris-
John always finds a way of making mischief. tling with price tags.
He waves his arms and shouts ‘boo!’ when
we walk across the makeshift balance beam ‘Like this,’ John says. We look up from
and then derides whoever who falls off. our cards and he has crossed his arms. He
John himself doesn’t attempt this feat. Or whirls around, back to us, and his stubby
he screams that Melanie and I have coodies hands slide up and down on his swaying,
‘like all gir-els’ - he morphs the word into blimp torso. His sneakers take turns lifting
two sneered syllables. Nix on playing tag off the grass and ‘mmmmmmm’ is the

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sound as his head rocks slowly back and jumping rope and John is not there. ‘Chris-
forth on his thick neck. topher Columbus sailed across the ocean;
the waves rose higher, higher, higher and
Yuck. I look back at my hand - I have the OVER!’ The rope arcs up, then scythes the
Queen of Spades so need to collect all the grass. The little fingers that were fidgeting
hearts as surreptitiously as possible - but in my stomach have vanished. After jump
something makes me look up again. Rod rope I practice my back walkover, which I
is staring at me and I know he is thinking can do on a hill but not on the flat. We start
about movie kisses and for a moment my a game of tag. Rod has forgotten about the
heart is bigger than the ones I need to col- kiss; I am relieved and maybe a little disap-
lect - ba bump ba bump ba bump - and then pointed but alas, too soon. As the sun filters
I swallow and put down a ten of hearts to pink through the chicken-wire fence Rod’s
see what I can rein in. big man voice barks ‘OK’; we all look up and
the fingers in my stomach start fidgeting
In a few minutes the screen door opens; again because he’s looking straight at me
Mrs. Sanders pokes her head out and her long with that hard, narrow look.
fingers tap on the door frame like the fore-
legs of a hungry praying mantis. I straighten ‘C’mere,’ his pointer finger is hooking
up. Her flat Midwestern voice calls to the and flexing. My eyebrows meet and he
beanpole son that’s nearest: ‘Peter, tell your jerks his head to indicate that I am to follow
brothers to come warsh up for supper.’ She him around the back of the house. ‘And
retracts her head and fingers before the door you,’ Rod uses the same finger to jab at
thwacks shut. We throw our cards in a pile our small group, some winded, hands on
and get up. I dust my shorts. Melanie and knees, some keeled over, chests rising and
I start to head out of the yard. That’s when falling. ‘Stay put. Back in a tick.’ Ba bump
Rod says it and it comes out all in a rush, his Ba bump ba bump, I follow him, tripping
eyes, hard and narrow, his voice, the same: over my feet and then, speeding up when
‘I’m going to kiss you so hard - ’ he has rounded the corner and I can’t see
his broad back. Part of me would rather be
In bed that night, I worry what this ‘kiss on the grass with the others and part of me
so hard’ is all about. The words don’t fit with feels that I have to follow him because I
my nighttime romantic ritual. I lay on my need to be polite and of course, I’m curious
back, wafting the see-through curtains this and anyway, it won’t last long, so let’s see.
way and that. I am a singer in a gossamer
robe that flutter-flows as I glide across the I round the corner and Rod clamps my
stage, one bejeweled wrist holding the mi- arm in the vice of his fingers and pulls me
crophone near my sumptuous lips. A tall, close and then, eyes blinking rapidly, he
elegant black woman with enormous eye- stands there, breathing. After a minute he
lashes and long, silky hair - and a deep, shoves me so that I am against the rough
honey voice that spellbinds listeners. Never brick wall of their house. In the movies they
mind that really I am a pale, freckled, pi- close their eyes, so I do. Nothing happens.
geon-toed adolescent with pointy breast I slit my eyes open and see the large bump
buds and a second toe longer than the first. in Rod’s throat, up and down, a turkey neck
Which looks fine on Dad but not on me. gobbling food. I close them again. His musty
sweat smell is near and now his braces are
The next afternoon in the Sander’s yard,
it’s as if nothing has been said. We are

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pressing into my lips. In the movies they neat handwriting on the brown envelopes
open their mouths but his pressure is too of pennies and nickels, dimes and quarters.
strong; my sealed lips are caught between I show up early, take short lunches and
the metal cross-hatchings in his mouth and skip breaks if they need me. I follow store
my own teeth. I listen to the snorts of his protocols. I also look forward to the end of
long nose. Grinding into me with his mouth, each shift, when I can go home or to singing
the rest of his body, somewhere else. I don’t lessons with Peggy. She has a voice with a
breathe. I feel the stony wall behind me and capital ‘V’.
I wait until for it to be over.
During this time I meet a first boyfriend.
On the way home Melanie gives me Steve’s long, brown fringe sweeps sideways
a quizzical look and I say, ‘yeah, he did. It across his face, a scalloped shade pulled
hurt and it took too long - like the dentist.’ I halfway down over long-lashed green eyes.
roll my bruised lips together gingerly, then A lot of girls say he is a ‘looker’ and they
let them roll out. Up between my ribs the have boyfriends so, when he asks me, I say
air siphons out in a slow whoosh, like it did ‘yes’ and I get one, too. Steve’s romantic
when I left Rod’s house. In the kitchen I do evening doesn’t cost a cent. We descend
my chores and even some of Melanie’s. Not to his rec room where he turns on the gas
like in the movies or in the books. No soft, fire and The Moody Blues and snaps off the
subtle undulations of warm lips on lips. lights. He lies on top of me on the orange
No body to body, arms around arms. No shag rug and kisses me. He is good at this,
‘mmmmmm’. More like the 15-page report maybe because he plays the sax. His warm,
I slaved over for Social Studies. I stayed up ardent lips stir a funny pulling in me. His
until midnight to finish the table of contents feverish hands move from my neck to my
and paste in the pictures. I always complete shoulder, then roam over my clothes and
homework on time, in neat, cursive hand- inside them, and he climbs me and mashes
writing. I have to do my homework before me until he sighs. Sometimes he asks me
I am allowed to go out and play and that to take his hot penis in my mouth, which I
means sometimes I’m late for playing. I don’t like to do. Yuck. Swallow a snake that
don’t know what would happen if I didn’t might spit? Sometimes it does, and there is
get mostly ‘A’s on my report card because I hot, sticky semen that I don’t know what
always do. John says I’m a ‘spring butt’ be- to do with. Steve is Catholic: real sex is ver-
cause my hand shoots up when the teacher boten, but anything else is fair game. Real
asks questions. But I don’t know any other sex must be better than snakes and ladders,
way to be and I don’t like John, anyway. I think, but if I suggest this, how I can be
good?
When I am 16, I get a part-time job in
a department store. We have moved to a At the department store one night,
new neighborhood and I’m way more inter- Mr Sorenson, Assistant Manager, asks me
ested in singing than kissing. I sell handbags what kind of panties I prefer. I am subbing
and gloves to permed, blue-rinsed ladies in Lingerie, arranging lacy bikinis into rows
mostly, but once a Frenchman bows over of beige and white. His brown hair is shel-
my outstretched hand and says ‘enchanté‘ lacked behind his ears and the moustache
and I am, briefly, enchanted. Every night I over his thin lips is wax-curled up at each
count the money in the till and write in my end like the thin wire strands that wrap

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speaker cable to input. Since it’s closing condoms,’ he announces, as if addressing a
time and no one is around I have been chemistry class. He is unrolling a thin, pow-
practicing a passage from Bach’s Mass in B dery cap over his dick, then using thick fin-
Minor. The other altos are quicker to find gers to insert his dick into me. Ouch, ouch;
the notes and Janice said I sang a B sharp, my waterworks contracts to shrink from the
not a B. I need to get better at sight-reading; dry, pinching pain. Why would anyone con-
they’re all experts. A jangling of keys startles sent to this? Will I have to do it again? Can’t
me: Mr Sorenson is unlocking the register I be his girlfriend and not do this? We could
to collect the day’s proceeds. I cough and talk about Socrates instead.
say ‘ahem’ so my Bach humming sounds
like throat clearing. Then he saunters over I wonder why sexually attractive people
with his panties query. I smile politely, won- are boring and why nondescript, down-
dering what is the right preference. Through right nerds like Pointdexter are compelling
the thin wool of his suit jacket I feel the heat conversationalists. How to want to kiss the
of his arm. I sidestep to the left. He points nerds? No matter what kind of upright and
to the fancy ladies’ briefs on the mannequin proper girl I want to be, now that I have
that maidenheads the display table. done it, sex is bestial and urgent and, it
seems, necessary. What a sacrifice to pro-
‘A full panty, up to the waist, is the best create. Peabody wears a coat and tie to
kind.’ His lips purse, making the curlicue our choral concert. We singers stand on
moustache wires quiver and he steps close a red carpet, a semicircle of white uppers
to put his mouth near my ear. ‘That way you and black lowers: ‘a mouth “opening wide”
get to open the whole package.’ His fingers for the dentist,’ says Peabody later. In his
rifle through the bikinis that I am organizing. bed the final measures of Bach’s Mass in B
‘These panties spoil it because the package Minor replay in my head: bass, tenor and
is half opened - nothing left to the imagina- alto - do-oh-na-ah no bi-is pacem. Do-oh…
tion.’ I nod and bend down to pick up a price
tag so he doesn’t see my red face. I let out ‘The Puritans believed that sex was only
my breath when he pockets the keys, tucks for procreation,’ our American History pro-
the fat envelope of cash under his arm and fessor announces, attracting the attention
walks over to handbags. of students who have been daydreaming
or half asleep. ‘If your urine issues forth
My virgin status changes at college. in a forked stream, that means that your
Pointdexter Peabody (OK, not his real thoughts stray in nefarious directions. If
name) is three years my senior, a be-specta- urine comes out in one twisted stream,
cled intellectual, who seduces my mind with this reflects the mental concentration of a
fascinating talk of Socrates and poet philos- pure, incorrupt soul, who engages in co-
ophers. I occasionally come up with pithy itus to produce offspring. He pokes at the
ripostes but usually remain silent, affecting metal-framed glasses saddling his nose. ‘In
the air of a pensive scholar or a nodding his essays, Benjamin Franklin advocated
sage: all I need is a beard to stroke. Peabody following tenets of austere, religious faith
asks, ‘have you ever?’ I shake my head, ‘no’, to extol the virtues of frugality, hard work
and then my eyebrows go up because he is and thrift. Interestingly,’ the prof studies us
suggesting practicalities. I should go to the over his specs, ‘Franklin’s Protestant Work
infirmary, get protection. ‘For now, I will use Ethic has become a crucial foundation of

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contemporary capitalism. Planning, hard the cab enroute to mine, our mouths are
work and self-denial lead to financial suc- together and each shift and jolt spawns
cess.’ a delicious pull of longing. But at the flat,
sex doesn’t play out like the scene in Ayn
‘Puritans knew how to be good,’ I tell Rand’s The Fountainhead, when Dominique
Peabody later. ‘They practiced peeing in struggles while he brutally penetrates her.
straight lines to become the Elect.’ On the Afterwards she doesn’t wash, savoring the
toilet seat I crane forward and open my legs memory.
slightly, to monitor my purity and wealth;
a forked stream, every time. I am impure ‘Are you sure?’ Mark hovers in plank
and doomed, having engaged in non-pro- pose over my nakedness. ‘Yes,’ I sigh, dis-
creative sex and worse, before matrimony. mayed that he has asked. He is gone before
breakfast and I hurry to expunge the traces
Why were Puritans pious? Only a few, of my sinful seduction. Slap in the face for
chosen by God as Elect, could boss the indulgent hedonism.
others in His name. Anyone who diverged
from common morality was ostracized. Even now, with a long time lover, when
Did some pay lip service, secretly tired of kissing and sex are familiar and experi-
being goodie-two-shoes? They were born ments, safe, the faraway echo of a Puritan
doomed sinners so couldn’t help their tres- hymn sings that I must be gracious and so-
passes. And surely their bifurcated urine licitous, satisfy him, pay piety. But piety to
emissions would have dampened enthu- what? to the institution of coupledom? to
siasm for rigorous obedience. tabloid braggadocio: ‘Harold and I Have Sex
Seven Days a Week’ or ‘Ten Ways to Please
The night before my Puritan essay is Your Man in Bed’? How much sex is driven
due, I haven’t begun and don’t know what by male ego and female acquiescence? Do
to write. I am singing while my friend Jojo partners ever explore what works for each
plays harmonica. We sit on a high hill, fuzzy of them?
orange-purple ribbons of sunset painting
the sky before us. In the valley below a I dream I am in an Australian desert, a
train slides along, a shiny dark serpent, ar- saxophone riff playing in my head. I plea-
ticulating as one boxcar after another takes sure myself in a shallow valley of warm
the bend. ‘Let’s go down there and hop on,’ sand. The sun’s heat lessens abruptly and I
he suggests lazily. ‘Let it take us where it open my eyes; a fierce-faced aborigine, nos-
will.’ Yes, I think. Jojo and I talk-dream of a trils flaring, is peering into my sandy nest.
new life somewhere that doesn’t have es- Sitting up, I reach for my thin shift but he
says and exams. When it’s dark, I go back has plunged down the incline to pull it from
to my dorm and stay up all night and write my grasp. He drops his bow and shrugs off
the essay. his quiver of arrows in slow, liquid move-
ments. His erection makes a tent of his
It is after Peabody and after I start work loincloth. With a dry, black hand he gently
as a bank representative in another city that pushes me onto the sand and swings astride
I do jump a boxcar of sorts, with a one-night me. Warm thighs flank mine. Heat brushes
stand. I meet Mark at a party after work. He up into the V of my crotch, nuzzling my bush
is a swarthy, dark-eyed man, with a black of pubic hair. I pull him in, embrace him, like
caterpillar monobrow. I invite him home. In a long-forgotten passage of beloved music.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

When our languorous rhythm presses my more mellifluous voices than I do. I watch
back into the hot, grainy sand bed, I close the tapping of Debbie’s black boot as she
my eyes and exhale - yes - the sweet irony of conducts. ‘Every note is right but you try
letting rather than doing. His smile is wider too hard,’ she tells me afterward, when I
than the horizon when I open my eyes. He complain that I am not a black singer with
bends to place warm, surprisingly soft lips sumptuous lips. She smiles. ‘’Too hard” robs
on mine and my juices flow. you of a relaxed vocal register.’ She stacks a
chair and then another. ‘It isn’t about the
It is a short while after the dream that notes. And you know the dynamics and
I join a jazz ensemble. We are a female the timing by heart.’ I make a leggy pile of
octet that meets Wednesday nights to syn- chairs beside hers. When I turn to face her
copate, harmonize and finger-click, shiv- she says: ‘It’s about going where you don’t
ering me to joy. We sing by ear and our know where you’re going, letting the music
jazz is soft and warm and smooth. Several sweep you along.’ On her cleavage, a gold,
singers, especially Debbie, have stronger, heart-shaped pendant catches the light.

About the Author

L.A. Robbins: I am a published American and British author and an editor with work
placed in the UK and the US. Two stories were placed in Storgy Magazine in 2019, one of
which made the long list for the Fish Publishing prize, the other, now part of a published
compilation. I received an Honourable Mention in The New Writer for another story and
a London Writer of the Year Award for yet another. I placed a two-part children’s story in
Aquila Magazine. I edit non-fiction for European scholarly publications and fiction for The
Literary Consultancy in London. I judge for the Bridport Short Story and Novel competitions.
http://www.robbinsskyward.com)

84

FOR THE COST OF A
STEAK DINNER

by Randy McIntosh

“I love a good steak,” the old man held up “So, you are interviewing me for a book
his fork with a cut piece of meat dangling you’re writing?”
on the end, “it’s so hard to get these days.”
“Exactly,” I opened my tablet and took
Looking closely at his face, it was hard to out a stylus to start making notes, “As I
imagine that he was a hired Killer. The wrin- told you in my message, I’m writing a novel
kles were more consistent with someone about the old criminal underworld and need
who loved to laugh rather than someone some real stories to inspire my characters.
with his reputation for discrete and efficient
assassinations. “I promise that I won’t reveal any names
and the characters that come out of this will
“Well, this place is the last bastion of our be a mash-up of stories I collected and my
carnivore cravings,” I forced a smile. Though own embellishments. I’ve done this before
I used to like meat, the change in diet for with a few short stories about the protests
most of us made it a tremendous luxury. I that happened before the Global Council
hadn’t had meat in several years, though was formed,” I reached for my glass of wine,
now I found the aroma intoxicating. taking a sip.

He laughed aloud and chomped down. “I didn’t know that you’ve already pub-
lished. Is your stuff out?” He cut another
We’d spent the last several moments slice of steak.
in small talk, covering issues about the
weather and climate, the history around the “Naw, the stories aren’t that good. I
political changes in the US and the UK, and think I’ll do better with a novel.”
the formation of the new Global Council,
whose role it was to advise and coordinate “Well, I’d be interested in reading what
resource allocation between national and you’ve written,” he bit down on the piece,
international governments. chewed and swallowed, “and you found me
how?”
He took a gulp of wine and looked over
at me. I made a few notes on the tablet, which
gave me time to formulate my answer, “I

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used to work with the Special Attorney’s of- at the last minute and decides to spare
fice and had access to many of the files. Ev- the target’s life. Usually the target is a kid
eryone knows your reputation in the enter- or maybe a women who is pregnant sur-
tainment business, but of course very few rounded by family.
know about your work as a gun-for-hire.”
“You might remember about twen-
“You know I have immunity from prose- ty-years ago there was a scandal in a world
cution,” he was stern. bank, where their CEO, Frank Costa, disap-
peared?”
“Of course. I don’t want to make you un-
comfortable and assure you that my only in- I nodded, making a few notes.
tention is to interview you as an anonymous
source for my book.” “So that was one of those times where
the contract didn’t go quite as planned,” he
He stared at me. In all his years as a suc- cut into his steak and then continued the
cessful entertainer and as a successful Killer, story.
he probably could tell when someone was
trying to hide something. He told me he was contacted by a repre-
sentative of the board of the bank.
“No worries,” he smiled and gulped
more wine, “let me just free associate “Seems the board was concerned that
then. I didn’t really prepare anything so I’ll Frank was siphoning off money to a com-
just start talking about whatever comes to petitor with the intent of defecting to that
mind.” company once enough finances were in
place,” he took another piece of steak into
“Perfect.” his mouth.

He turned his attention to his plate He said the board was concerned that
again. I breathed a slight sigh of relief and if they went public with this, it would dis-
moved my leg a bit closer to the chair. The credit their organization and their competi-
metal in my boot was cold against my flesh. tors could take advantage of their perceive
incompetence. They felt the best course
* would be to have Frank eliminated quietly
and then have the executive VP, Dennis
One of his earliest memories was a job he Sturm, take over.
did when he was still playing piano in small
jazz clubs. He gulped more wine, “Sturm was a
pompous ass, but the board thought they
“Most people probably think that we could control him. I don’t care about poli-
just do what we’re told. You get a call, you tics, so I just went along with it.”
get a contract, you execute, simple as that.”
He poured himself more wine, offering to He went on to say he got a file that con-
top up my glass. tained the details of Costa’s itinerary. The
schedule during the week was hard to pre-
“No, thank you. My writing is bad enough dict, with some set morning meetings, and
without being half drunk,” I held my hand in others that were scattered across locations.
front of my glass. The one consistency was a Sunday morning
slot that wasn’t in the official calendar, but
I felt like he was going to bring up a tired Costa’s security detail kept clear.
cliche where the killer finds his conscience

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“It was weird. Costa had this space from “When Costa got in, he leaned back in
about eight to eleven AM, every Sunday the front seat and then looks in the rear
morning. His office didn’t have it down of- view mirror.
ficially, so I wasn’t sure if he would have his
security with him. “He stared at me, or really into me, ‘So
today’s the day?’ he says.
“I followed him from his condo to his
meeting place the first Sunday. He drove “I was stunned, like he knew I’d been
alone into a dodgy neighbourhood to an following him all along. I asked him how he
old brownstone building that looked like a knew.”
school or something. He parked in the back
and went in and then came back out around ‘Things have been getting pretty tense
two hours later. in the company so I figured something was
going to happen. I saw you following me
“The next week, same thing. I decided to two weeks ago. I know your reputation.
hang back at the building to see if anyone Your real reputation, so it was just a matter
else came or went. I saw a couple of ladies of time.’
leave about thirty minutes later, and then
another couple show up. “You can imagine how much this freaked
me out. I mean, if he knew, then my chances
“I tell ya, I didn’t know what was going of succeeding were zilch! I asked him what
on. I thought maybe he was having an affair, the place was we were at.
or maybe it was a brothel or something. I
did a bit of searching on the property and “‘It’s a group home. It’s a private group
sure enough it was a school, but had been home that takes care of people with severe
closed for at least five years.” mental disability.’

I watched as he cut another piece of “Just then this little girl comes runnin’
meat. For the first time I noticed his right out the back door towards his vehicle. She
hand seemed oddly immobile, like it was has a stuffed animal in her hand and is
artificial. The fingers moved in unison, waving it at him.”
grasping the fork.
“‘You forgot to say bye to Felix, Daddy!’
He noticed me watching his hand and she yells out.
tried to hide it, “So, you’re wondering what
happened next, I bet?” “Turns out it’s his daughter. She’s got a
problem so she stays there and he visits her
“The fourth time I decided I could act. every Sunday morning. Frank tells me that
He never brought security, and it was early he’s kept her a secret because she’s from
on Sunday, so no one would be around. The his first marriage and if anyone found out,
easy thing would be to wait in his car and they could use it to embarrass him and the
take him out when he came back out.” bank. No one knew about his first marriage.
Frank had been moving all his bonus pay to
The Killer managed to get the vehicle the school. ‘If you kill me here, promise me
codes from his contact on the board so that you will find a way to take care of my
got into the empty vehicle while Costa was daughter.’
in the building. He watched as Costa ap-
proached the car, withdrawing his gun to “Well that really put a wrench in the
prepare himself. works!” the Killer said sitting back, “I mean,

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

I know my business and it’s not my place to already,” he smiled tilting the bottle in my
be second guessing a contract, but this just direction.
didn’t seem right.
“Sure, just a little.”
“So I told him that if I wasn’t the one to
do him, they’d send someone else. ‘I know,’ *
he says to me, ‘that’s why I am trusting you
to take care of her.’ “You probably remember what a disaster
Sturm was as CEO,” he began as he pushed
“I figured at that point it would be better his empty plate forward.
for the girl to keep her real Papa so I came
up with another idea.” “The bank ended up doing worse after
he took over, and he actually tried to blame
He leaned towards me and asked me to Frank for the problems,” he laughed, “I
swear that I keep these details confidential. mean Sturm was spending money on all
the lavish golf trips and big parties and then
“Of course,” I replied, “I told you I am blamed his predecessor when the board
using these stories for inspiration. No de- called him out!”
tails will appear anywhere.”
I was frantically making notes. I didn’t
He nodded and went on to tell me that have this level of detail on the fall of the
he arranged to make Frank Costa ‘disap- bank, and this could come in handy at some
pear’ by entering him into a protection ring. point. He mentioned, by name, many polit-
He and his daughter would be safe. The ical leaders that were getting nervous be-
Killer took Costa’s vehicle and set it ablaze cause they could no longer trust the bank
with pieces of a cadaver inside, which he to manage their finances.
got from a contract in the coroner’s office.
“It wasn’t surprising that they’d call
“I know it wasn’t the most elegant cov- me in to take care of it. He pissed off so
er-up, but I figured the company wouldn’t many people, and probably bankrupted
push too hard to investigate. Frank and his even more. It was just a matter of time be-
daughter left the country for a while to let fore he was going to be taken out. People
things cool off. They’re back now, living a thought that if they aligned themselves
different, but happy life. with him, they would get the benefits, but
all the ended up happening is that they got
“I got paid well for the job, but I don’t screwed and he got all the rewards.
feel bad about screwing them over. Frank’s a
good man. I found out later that someone in “Believe me, when I got the message I
the company, probably Sturm, had framed was almost gonna do it for free!”
Costa to discredit him, so the board got
what they deserved.” Something wasn’t right with my recollec-
tion, “I don’t remember Sturm being killed
I was having a hard time piecing this all by a hitman.”
together, “But wasn’t Sturm named CEO,”
He laughed, “Of course not!”
“Ah,” he said holding up his fork, “that
takes us to another story! He wiped his mouth and placed his ser-
viette to the side of his plate, then sat back
“Are you sure you don’t want some with the glass of wine in his left hand, “His
more wine? I drank almost half the bottle

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wife was actually the person that contacted It was probably too tight for me, but it was
me. No big surprise I guess, because he was my only option. The guards were trying to
screwing around on her too. bust down the door, so I had to move fast.

“There was a big reception at his man- “I don’t know if it was adrenaline or
sion for some foreign dignitaries that were what, but I ripped the sink out of the wall
closing a deal. She figured I could take him and threw it through the window. The bath-
out when went to his office before the for- room door burst open just as I jumped out.
eign contingent arrived. The shattered glass cut into my leg and
shoulder but I managed to squeeze through.
“When I got into his office, he was sitting
on his sofa watching a news feed about his “My landing was not so graceful. When
business practices and was yelling at the an- I jumped I snagged my foot on the window
nouncer. I pulled out my gun just as his wife ledge and ended up falling down head first.
walked in. I managed to get my right hand out in front
of me, but smashed it into bricks that lined
“Sturm turns around and sees her and path. I heard the bones snap and tried to
then me.” roll so I wouldn’t hit my face. Let’s just
say I wouldn’t win any points for a perfect
“‘What the hell are you doing in here?’ landing, but at least I am still handsome!
he yelled at me. I had my face covered so I
wouldn’t be identified “Anyway, Sturm was still yelling for secu-
rity so I figured his wife high tailed it out of
“‘He’s here to kill you sweetie,’ his wife there, which gave me time to get away. The
walked towards me. guards were watching me from the bath-
room window. I don’t understand why they
“Sturm bolts up, ‘What the hell! Where didn’t follow me.
are the guards? You can’t touch me! Do you
know who I am?’ “I got to the front entrance where all the
cars were parked. Sturm and his security
“I heard running outside the room, so team were coming out the front door with
I kept quiet and backed to my exit. Sturm guns drawn. They were catching up with me
was standing by the big window, so that when all of sudden this massive black SUV
was blocked. I figured the only option was jumps the curb and speeds toward Sturm
through the bathroom, where I knew there sending him flying and then backs over him
as another window. when he lands on the ground.

“The guards ran into the room. “We were all standing there in shock.

“‘Kill them both,’ she says. “His wife stumbles out of the SUV
holding a bottle of vodka.
“I ran towards the bathroom as guards
opened fire and managed to get inside just “‘What the hell is everyone doing out
as a bullet flew past my head. Another hit here? The party’s inside’
the door.
She’s talking like she drank half the bottle,
“I heard Sturm yelling at his wife and
yelling for more security. “‘Oops, did I do that?’ she put her hand
to her mouth. I give her credit, it was an
“The window at the end of the bath- amazing performance!
room as tall and narrow with heavy glass.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Some of the security team gathered of conducting, but I tell ya, there’s nothing
around her and hurried her into the house, like playing an instrument yourself.”
while the rest tried to get Sturm’s body out
from under the SUV. He sighed, putting his hands together on
the table.
“I took the opportunity to get the hell
outta there before they started back at me. “My mentor told me one time that the
old bull doesn’t live so long because he is
“The story that came out later was that stronger than all the others, but because
his wife got drunk and was out on a joy ride he’s smarter. From that point on, I used
when she lost control of the SUV and acci- brains rather than brawn to do my jobs.”
dentally hit and killed Sturm.
*
“She ended up taking over the company
in honour of him, or at least that was her “In my most recent job, I got a call from the
story. Secretary of the Global Council that a certain
member, Evans, had become a threat to the
“It was obvious I was set-up and that she council with some business about black mail.
was going let me take the blame. I guess He insisted that there was no way to solve
this worked out well for her, at least for the this other than to take him out,” the Killer
short-term. placed the empty wine glass on the table.

“She contacted me about a week later, “I had good contacts in the transporta-
threatening me, but I told her that I had the tion department so I decided to go for a less
recordings of our conversations, including dramatic solution than what’s usually done
the failed hit in Sturm’s office. We agreed for hits. Besides, the Secretary wanted it to
that we would leave each other alone. look like an accident.

“The irony of it all was that the bank was “All the council members have autono-
shut down just one month later, and all her mous vehicles rather than dedicated drivers,
assets seized. which made my job easier. Each vehicle is
assigned uniquely to each councillor, but I
“She disappeared, probably knocked off got the encryption key for Evans’s vehicle
by one the politicians whose money they from my contact. I had a gadget that I could
lost or stole. use to take control of a vehicle remotely. It’s
almost like a video game controller with a
“That was the last time I did anything so little screen that shows you what the driver
stupid for a job. I stopped using guns. Partly sees, like a dashboard cam.
because they are too messy, and partly be-
cause my good hand was crushed.” “Anyway, I saw that his car was leaving
the Global Council compound, so I got into
The Killer held up his right hand, flexing my own vehicle and followed at a distance.
the fingers in unison.
“Now, before you ask, yes, I do have an
“They had to fuse a few bones and so it’s autonomous vehicle but it’s completely off
basically just mitt. Great for patting myself the grid. I worked with a technician from the
on the head, but not for a gun. It also ended transport department who pulls together
my piano playing career. I was lucky that I her own cars. She removed the communi-
got to be a decent conductor and pulled to- cation hub from my vehicle, which helps
gether a good jazz orchestra. I get a lot out

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the vehicle navigate and also tracks it in the must be an air pocket in the base or some-
central system. She replaced it with one thing ‘cause that’s all that was above water.
she was testing. Since it was a prototype it
wasn’t connected to the main system, so no “Here’s the impressive part. The river
one could track me. was pretty still, but since I was close to the
flood gates, I could give it a little boost. I
“I listened in on the conversation in Ev- called the Secretary and asked him to re-
ans’s vehicle. He wanted to get some food lease water from the reservoirs through the
on the way back to his home, which gave flood gates. I could see Evans and heard him
me a perfect opportunity. say something, but couldn’t quite hear it.

“I sent the vehicle a message that there “It took about a minute before the water
was a traffic problem on the Main Street came. Let me tell you it was almost like a
and that they should take a detour to the tidal wave! The water hit Evans and flipped
road along the river. him and his vehicle over and over, pushing
it downstream.
“I got closer to him in my vehicle on the
river road and disabled his connection to “I was lucky enough to have stepped back
the central system by engaging the vehi- from the edge of the dock before the wave
cle’s Stealth Mode. That’s used to give the hit, ‘cause it did a number on the dock too.
council some privacy if they don’t want to
be bothered. It’s also perfect for this! “I tossed the control device into the river
and got back into my vehicle. I called the
“I connected to his vehicle and saw the Secretary to let him know that all was well.
dashboard view. Evans was getting agitated
because he couldn’t disable the Stealth “I remember him saying that he hoped
Mode. It also blocks other communications, I had successful concert that night, which
so he couldn’t get a link on his smartphone I found odd because he wasn’t usually so
either. gracious.

“It was easy from there. The river road “Anyway, I managed to get to the show
has many exits to the docks. The one I saw about twenty minutes late. That was within
coming up was close to an area where two the range of my usual behaviour so no one
flood water feeds entered, which was a nice thought anything of it.
bonus. You’ll see why in a second.
“I tell ya, that night, our performance
“I pulled his vehicle off the main road was fantastic.”
and on to the dock access road. I punched
the accelerator to blow through the gate *
and the vehicle made a spectacular leap off
the edge of the dock into the river. I popped The Killer stood, “I gotta take a leak. Be back
open the doors too, so that the water would in second.”
flow in. These vehicles float pretty well.
Despite his age, he still projected a for-
“I stopped near the edge of the dock and midable figure, tall with broad shoulders
looked out at Evans. He managed to get out and no sign of the midriff spread that was
and was holding on to the side of the ve- usually inevitable with age.
hicle, which was still floating. I think there
I looked over my notes and swiped to my
message app.

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Almost done here. Send car now. There The waiter appeared while the old man
won’t be much time after I act. was still under the table trying to retrieve
his serviette.
The reply came almost instantaneously
The waiter cleared is throat, “Is everything
Did you get the confession? okay?”

Yes, he confessed to killing Evans. Will “Yeah,” the old man rose awkwardly, “just
need to edit out section on the Secretary dropped my damn napkin.”

OK, Already outside. Red truck in lan- “Ah, I see,” the waiter collected himself,
eway. Waiter will guide you out the back. “May I interest you in dessert?”

OK, I typed. The old man sat up, “For sure! I’d love
a slice of your famous cherry cheesecake!”
I was grateful I was able to settle up with
the waiter in advance. I gave him a pretty The waiter turned to me.
hefty tip for getting us the private booth and
for agreeing to show me out the back way. It’s “I’ll just have a coffee please.”
funny what some people will do for money.
“Certainly,” the waiter walked off, drawing
I swiped back and reviewed my notes. the curtain to our dining area.
If I was really a writer, this would be great
stuff for a story! Some of his tales were hard I looked at the old man. He was smiling at
to believe, which probably makes the nar- me. The wrinkles on his face emphasized the
rative even more fascinating. The old guy smile.
definitely lived a fascinating life. I almost felt
bad that I would have to end it tonight. Of “So, do you think you have enough for
the twenty or so kills I did, this is one where your story?” he said.
I felt a little regret.
“I think so. I’ll need to review my notes
He walked up behind me and patted my later and see how it fits into the full narrative.”
shoulder, startling me.
“Great, so we’re done with the interview
“Did the waiter come by for our dessert part then?”
order yet?”
I closed my tablet and laid the stylus
I leaned back in my seat, looking up at down next to it, “Almost, I have one more
him, “No, not yet. Did you actually save question for you.”
room for dessert?”
I leaned forward, sliding my right hand
“Oh, yeah, always! You never know when down to my leg, while keeping my left hand
it’s gonna be your last meal, so it’s better to on the tablet, “With all the killings you’ve
make sure you get dessert when you can,” done, you must be a target yourself. How
he laughed and started to sit, grabbing his have you survived all these years?”
serviette with his right hand but then drop-
ping it under the table. “Mostly luck!” he let out a full laugh, “but
a killer can always tell when there’s another
I bent to reach it. killer in the room,” he ended with a grin.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he grumbled as I leaned slightly and moved my right
he ducked down to grab it, “bloody hand.” hand to my boot.

I couldn’t feel the metal. The gun was not
there. He saw my eyes widen in surprise.

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I felt my lower torso slam back against The Killer looked over at me. Although
the chair, like a huge fist punched me. The my vision was blurring, I thought he had a
first bullet cut through my thoracic spine, look of pain or sympathy on his face.
the second my descending aorta and the
last cut through a cluster of intestine. I “Yeah, she’s gonna be like this for a
wasn’t completely sure at first if I was shot, while. Frank, can you give her something to
but the slow searing pain in my legs from speed it up? No point in her suffering.”
the spinal injury confirmed it.
“Of course. I have a syringe with pento-
I looked down to see the blood seeping barb ready. We’ll take care of the body af-
from the fresh wounds. The hollow point terwards.”
bullets I use are perfect for this kind of job
because they do maximal damage internally “You’re a good man, Frank,” the Killer
and don’t usually exit the body, leaving a mass stood and patted Frank’s shoulder, “did she
of twisted shrapnel and few rifling marks to tip you well?”
trace the bullet. I started slumping forward
on to the table as a wave of nausea came. “Oh yes, she was very generous,” Frank
walked towards me.
“Sorry, kid” he placed the serviette on
to the table with his left hand. My gun still I felt my body move as Frank raised my
wrapped within, “It’s not my time yet.” shoulders and injected the substance into
neck. The sounds in the room were like I
I tried to speak, but fluids were coming was underwater.
up my esophagus and I couldn’t breath.
“Great,” the Killer straightened his tie,
The waiter entered, pulling back the cur- “hope your daughter doing is well.”
tain to our room, “I see you are almost done.
I’ve put your cheesecake in a container and I followed his silhouette as he rose to leave.
it will be at the front desk when you leave.
Anything else I can do for you tonight?” My body relaxed completely. Silence.
Oddly, my last thought was pang of regret
that I hadn’t touch my steak.

About the Author

Randy McIntosh is an aspiring fiction writer and established neuroscientist studying brain
health and aging at Baycrest Health Sciences, University of Toronto. He has an extensive
scientific publication record on topics ranging from basic learning and memory functions
in the brain, to analytics and computer modeling of brain networks. He has built an open-
source brain modeling platform, TheVirtualBrain (http://thevirtualbrain.org), in partnership
with two colleagues in Europe. More recently, Randy has turned attention to science fiction,
focusing on ideas around complexity and the brain, and how the notions of complex systems
can be extended to bring a new perspective to science and society. Randy is also an amateur
musician, enjoying weekend gigs at a local café in Toronto, where and his wife reside.Lab
website: https://armcintosh.comGoogle Scholar profile page: https://scholar.google.ca/
citations?user=Ep3N640AAAAJ&hl=en&oi=sra

93

STORM WARNING

by Darrell Case

Allan Miller set the lantern on the ground. slept at the foot of his bed. He was still there
Glancing back at the house, he saw the light this morning when Allan left the house. His
wink on in his parents’ bedroom. Having left mother had to have let him out.
two days ago, Allan’s father would be in St.
Louis by now. If he was able to buy the bull he “C’mon, boy, let’s round up the cows.”
wanted, it would greatly improve the herd. As was the case nearly every morning,
rounding them up wasn’t necessary. All but
Last night Allan tried unsuccessfully to one already stood at the gate, and that last
convince his mother to sleep in. “Mother,” one was close behind. Allan opened the
he argued, “I am twenty years old and more gate. The cattle ambled into the barn, each
than capable of doing the milking. You one heading to its own stall, and started
should get some rest while Dad’s gone.” munching the hay Allan piled into the
manger the night before.
“Yes, dear,” Norma Miller said. “I know
you can handle the milking. You’ve done it Between the rhythmic sound of milk
before. But I wake up at the same time every squirting into the bucket and his head
morning, summer, or winter.” Allan knew resting on the cow’s side, Allan almost fell
there was no way he could convince her, so asleep. The Guernsey shifted, making him
he gave up. sit up. In her younger days, the cow was
known to be a kicker. These days she had
He opened the double doors to the barn. settled down and allowed herself to be
The air inside was warm and still. He held milked most of the time without fighting.
the lantern up to the thermometer. “Al-
ready eighty-five,” he said out loud. There Finished with her, Allan emptied the
was no one to hear him but the chickens bucket into a 10-gallon milk can. By the time
pecking around the barnyard. He had a no- he finished with all 10 cows, two cans were
tion to milk the cows outside. That would full and a third half-way. The sun was just
never do. His father left him in charge, and peeking over the horizon. Allan flexed his
he would do the work right. fingers. Normally Allan and his father each
milked half the herd. Milking all of them him-
A black shape ran at Allan out of the self this morning made Allan’s hands sore.
darkness. He reached down and ruffled the
dog’s ears. “Hey, sleepyhead. I’m glad to Shep’s bark told Allan he had finished
see you decided to join me this morning.” just in time. In the early morning light,
Allan knew his mother was up. Shep always he saw the Jensen brothers’ dairy wagon

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rumbling up the road. Peter Jensen pulled “I know, Allan, but as hot as it’s going to
into the barn lot and stopped beside the be today your father wouldn’t expect you to
cans Allan had just carried from the barn. work in the sun.”

“How you doin’, Allan? You’re not gonna “There was no dew last night,” Allan
do any hayin’ today, are you?”Pete asked said, sneaking Shep a piece of biscuit. “You
as he swung down from the seat. The two know what Dad always says, ‘When dew is
men each grasped a can by its handles and on the grass, rain will never come to pass,
heaved it into the wagon bed. when grass is dry at morning light, look for
rain before the night.’”
“Yeah, got to. Gets this hot, it’s gonna
storm,” Allan said with a grunt as he helped His mother laughed. “He got that from
Pete lift the other two. your grandfather.”

“I don’t envy you. It’s gonna be hot “I’m gonna get as much done as I can be-
enough to fry your skin if you’re out in the fore it gets too hot.”
sun. How’s Sally Ann?”
Norma began to clear the table. “All right,
Allan smiled. “She’s fine. I plan on seeing well, stop every once in a while, and get
her tonight lessin’ I’m too tired.” yourself a drink.”

“You propose to her yet?” “I will,” Allan assured her as he headed
out the door.
“Not yet. Soon maybe,” Allan answered,
blushing slightly. In the field, Shep sat on the wagon’s seat
watching his master pitch sweet smelling
“If I was you, I wouldn’t wait too long. Some- clover hay into the bed. The horses, well
body else will snatch her up,” Pete warned, trained by Allan’s father, lumbered down
grinning broadly. He climbed back onto the the field at a steady pace. As soon as the
wagon seat. “Best decision I ever made was wagon bed was full, Allan drove it to the
gettin’ married. You take care, hear, and don’t barn, unloaded and went back for more.
stay out in the sun too long.” He slapped the
reins against the wagon horses’ backs. By 10 o’clock, Allan had four loads in,
three to go. Pulling the team to a stop under
“Yep, I’ll do that. Good seein’ you, Pete.” the trees, he took a long pull on the water
He stepped back and waved at the de- jug. Noticing Shep panting, Allan reached
parting wagon. beneath the seat and brought out a pan,
filled it and set it on the ground. Lowering
Aware of the size of her son’s appetite, his muzzle, Shep lapped at the warm water.
Norma Miller had three eggs, four sausage Reaching down to pet the dog, Allan said,
patties, biscuits and flour gravy ready when “After a while we’ll stop by the creek.”
Allan came in. Shep took his position under
the table at Allan’s feet. After giving thanks Looking at the sky, Allan thought of
for the food and asking the Lord to keep his waiting until evening when it was cooler to
father safe, Allan dug in. finish the haying. It was clear, no clouds, no
sign of rain. But he knew days like this could
“You’re not going to do any haying today, quickly give rise to out of the west.
are you?” Norma asked.
Struggling in the stifling air, Allan worked
“I ‘bout have to, Mother. I promised another two loads, then drove the wagon
Dad,” Allan said between bites.

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under the trees by the creek. While the one-room schoolhouse just beyond Gib-
horses dipped their snouts into the water, son’s spread. Even as children, the two
Allan stripped off his clothes. He and Shep spoke about the day they would marry.
dived in. The dog paddled around, grinning.
Allan sunburned back felt as if steam was At the age of 14, Allan used the savings
coming off it. Though far from cool, the water doing chores earned him to buy his first
nevertheless was comforting. Climbing out cow. Over the last six years, he accumulated
of the water, he dressed, his pants and shirt 20 more. With the buying and selling of live-
becoming damp in the process. stock, his bank account grew. He had his eye
on a piece of property five miles from his
One more load and this field would parents’ farm. With what Allan had in the
be done. The west field wasn’t cut, so it bank, he could make a nice down payment.
wouldn’t hurt to leave it. Glancing at the
shadows, Allan estimated the time to be He made a decision. Tonight he would
around 11. He had time to load the wagon, ask Sally Ann to marry him. They could set
pull it up to the barn loft window and un- the date for the summer of next year. That
hitch the team before dinner. Afterward, he would give him time to secure a proper
would unload the hay afterward. home for her. His mind made up, he pushed
himself up and went to tell his mother he’d
Norma checked the clothes on the line. be digging out the spring. With the weather
Dry already. Shading her eyes, she searched so dry, the water level had dropped.
the south field. She could see Allan just
beyond the woods pitching hay into the For the next hour, Allan dug out mud
wagon. She knew he was right. The hay from the mouth of the spring. As he worked,
needed to be brought in before it rained. his heart soared, dropped and soared again.
What if Sally Ann turned him down? If she
Allan had always been a good son, but said yes, how many children would they
strong willed. When he set his mind to do have? He smiled as he thought about a son
something, it was as good as done. When who he could teach about God and nature
he was 12, two incidents changed his life. and farming. In his mind’s eye, Allan saw
He accepted Christ as his savior, and he de- the boy sitting on a log watching his daddy
cided to be a farmer. He had always been dig out the spring. Leaning on the shovel,
obedient, but after he was saved he went he visualized Sally Ann walking down the
out of his way to make sure he did his chores aisle of their church on her father’s arm.
right. Norma glanced at the sky. It was clear; He saw her brown eyes shining, her auburn
there was no wind. Still, there was some- hair caressing her shoulders, her trim figure
thing in the air. enrobed in the white wedding gown her
mother wore as a bride. Allan smiled. Yes,
After a light dinner, Allan unloaded the tonight was the night.
wagon, then stretched out under the trees
in the front yard for a nap. As he lay on the Several years ago one of the cows be-
cool grass, Pete’s words came back to him. came bogged down in the mud at the
As members of the same church, he had spring. Allan, his parents and several neigh-
known Sally Ann Gibson since childhood. bors worked into the night to free her. They
Her father farmed the land just down the finally got her out, but she died the next
road. Allan and Sally Ann attended the day. Soon after, they built a fence around

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the spring. It protected the cattle but made His mother stared at him as though he
it difficult to work on the spring. had lost his head.” What do you mean? Of
course she’ll say yes! Why wouldn’t she? You
Allan dug a channel under the fence, two have known each other all your lives.”
clearing the way for the water to run into
a small pool. Hearing shuffling, he straight- “Well, sure, we’ve always been friends.
ened up. The cows were watching him. Sev- But you know being husband and wife is dif-
eral of them were drinking from the trickle ferent, isn’t it?”
of water. Allan walked to where Shep was
resting on his haunches and sat down be- Norma went on speaking as if she hadn’t
side him. “Go on, get you a drink,” he told heard. “I remember the first time Martha and
the cattle. As if they understood, the rest of Herb brought Sally Ann to church. I think she
the cows gathered around the waterhole. was barely two months old. And you were
only a few months. She was the cutest little
His work finished, Allan headed back thing. Later that week Martha came for a visit
to the house. His sweaty clothes clung to and we gave you both a bath in the same tub.”
him. Good thing his mother did the wash
this morning. He’d have to bathe and put on “Mother, please,” Allan said, his face red-
fresh clothes before visiting Sally Ann. dening.

His mother was in the kitchen patching “Oh, posh, you were just little babies.”
a pair of his father’s work pants. She looked Norma smiled at the memory. “Have you
up at Allan as he entered. “You look wrung thought about a date?”
out,” she said, laying the pants aside.
“If she agrees to it next June.” Allan said,
“Yeah, I’m pretty well worn out,” Allan standing to his feet. “Oh, and I’m thinking
said, plunking down in the chair opposite about buying the Henson place.”
her. “I still got the milking to do, too.”
“Well, it’s good land, but the house and
Norma filled a glass with water from the barn aren’t worth much,” Norma said.
kitchen pump and handed it to him. Thinking
he looked as though he had something on “If I start on it this year, I can have it
his mind, she asked, “What is it, son?” ready for us by then.”

“Mother, I’ve made a decision. I’m going “Us. I hope that means you and Sally Ann
to ask Sally Ann to marry me,” Allan said, a and my grandchildren.”
smile playing across his lips.
“I hope so too.” Allan glanced out at
Sitting down next to him, Norma took the lengthening shadows. “Think I’ll do the
both his hands in hers. “She’s a lovely girl, milking now and put the cans in the spring
Allan. I’m sure you’ll both be very happy.” house. Come on, Shep, let’s go get the cows.”
Norma was silent for a moment, then sud- Norma watched him walk to the barn with
denly she jumped up, startling Allan. “All the dog leaping along beside him. Memo-
right! We have a wedding to plan! It’ll be in ries played in her mind: Allan as a baby, then
the church, of course. I’ll make myself a new a child playing with his toys, now a young
dress for the occasion. When is the date?” man setting out to establish a home of his
own. The house would seem empty without
Allan chuckled. “Slow down, Mother. I ha- him. But she smiled. Grandchildren! What a
ven’t even asked her yet. She might say no.” blessing from the Lord!

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After the milking was done, Allan earlier that summer. The two-storehouse
brought the big galvanized tub out to the gleamed white in the evening sun. White
back yard, placed it under the clothesline, board fence surrounded the barn lot.
hung a sheet for privacy and filled the tub.
After scrubbing the sweat and grime from Gibson emerged from the barn. “Now,
his body, he dried off and dressed in clean my boy, what did you want to speak to me
clothes he’d brought from the house. Then about?”
he dumped out the tub, hung it back in the
shed and said goodnight to his mother. Allan suddenly became tongue-tied. He
had known Herbert and Martha Gibson all
Walking down the road, Allan thought his life, yet he was at a loss as to how to
about how blessed he was. His parents ask this man to accept him as his son-in-law.
raised him to believe in God. He would do Herbert stood waiting, his mind returning to
the same with his children. A worm of worry the day he was in the same predicament.
gnawed at his mind, though. What if Sally
Ann said no? What would he do then? He “I want to ask for your daughter’s hand
couldn’t imagine her being someone else’s in marriage,” Allan blurted, his face flushing.
wife and having to see her at church every
Sunday with children not his own. “No,” he Herbert Gibson beamed. “Son, you have
said out loud. Surely, she would not turn my blessing. I can’t think of a finer young man
him down. to marry my daughter.” He held out his hand.
Allan grasped it and shook it vigorously.
Coming within sight of the Gibson farm,
Allan spotted Herbert Gibson bringing in the “I’ve got to go home and tell Mother,” Allan
cows for milking. Allan hurried to catch up said, turning in the direction of his home.
with him. “You want me to help you with
the milking, Mr. Gibson?” Allan offered, “Allan, aren’t you forgetting something?”
stepping through the barn lot carefully. Gibson said, smiling.

At the sound of Allan’s voice, Herbert “What’s that, sir?”
turned and smiled. “Well, now, look at you
all spiffied up. You get that hay up today?” Herbert chuckled. “Don’t you think it
would be wise to propose to Sally Ann first?”
“Yes sir, it’s all in the barn. Well, what’s
cut anyway.” Allan shifted nervously from “Oh, of course. Sure, sure. Sorry.” Allan
one foot to the other. “I have a question to sputtered. Spinning on his heel, he saw his
ask you, sir.” He started to sweat, and it had intended exit the house. He took a step to-
nothing to do with the heat. ward her and stepped right in the middle of
a pile of cow manure. Hobbling on the side
Herbert Gibson raised his hand, palm of his boot while attempting to look digni-
up. “Tell you what,” he said, “you stay here fied, Allan made his way out of the barn lot.
while I stanchion these cows in their stalls Sally Ann put a hand over her mouth to stifle
and I’ll be right back.” Swallowing the lump her laughter. Allan wiped his boot on the
in his throat, Allan nodded. While Herbert grass. That would have to do until he could
was gone, he looked around. It was easy to wash it. If he was invited, in, he’d shuck his
see that Gibson took pride in his farm. The boots and enter in his stocking feet.
barn, sturdy and substantial, was painted
Stepping gingerly to where Sally Ann
stood by the fence, Allan asked her, “You
think that’s funny, Miss Giggle Box?”

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