#11 Eleven Men and a Box

They sat in the room arranged around the table. The room was feeling pretty familiar by this point, they’d been there before quite a few times. Tom was gone, he’d ventured out to get something or another, but the rest remained, tired and worried.

The beginning of a new task always requires effort, and trying to transition from one state of affairs to another would be a greater challenge than anyone expected. There were so many questions to be answered, and none of them were quite prepared to tackle them. It had only been a few days, plans were uncertain.

At the door lay a plain box made of wood. It’s rough surfaces sanded down smooth, and despite varnish, it seems to reflect light in a subtle way. If the room had been darker, it might have seemed that the box was glowing on it’s own, but in the late-day sun filling the room, the box just appeared slightly lit, ominous in it’s simplicity and unattended nature. No man dared to open it, while all were curious.

Phil spoke up first, asking what they were going to have for dinner. Others grumbled, not sure if they were even in the mood to eat. That first week had been really tough, and they’d all lost a few pounds, although no scales were handy to verify this. They were all sure that in the weeks to come, they’d still not be quite back up to the affairs of the world. They were creating their own world, here in the room, waiting for the right time to act. The right time, they could not know at this point, would come in a flash several weeks from now. It would push them out of their haze, into the world, to meet all the benefits and consequences that they were destined for. But for now, without that flash of inspiration, they sat here. Some occasionally spoke, some told a joke or anecdote, and some were moved to tears at the insanity of it all. Throughout it all, the box remained.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and when they opened it, they were shocked at who it was. He sat down with them, and listened as they spoke. It was amazing that now, even though they had questions to ask of him, they did most of the talking. He patiently listened as the conversations gradually turned more light in nature. Someone, probably James or Jack went out to get some food, and they all ate together. He left a few hours later, mentioning that he’d be happy to open the box for them sometime, if they didn’t do it themselves. They thanked him.

Thus it went on for several weeks. The number changed a few times, as people came and went. Sometimes there were nine in the room, other times twelve, and always the meal was exquisite. On his last visit, he did indeed open the box, and the surprise it held flew out at them.

“You’ve really got to get moving”, he told them on that last visit. “The box is open, I’m going on a trip, and this room is awfully depressing in a way, don’t you think?”. They agreed, and left with him. Many went separate ways, but they would never forget what they learned in that room, or from the contents of the box.

[SSDay]

#10 Staring Her Down

He sat on the edge of his seat, while she looked at him. They’d been together for so long, seen so many things together, and been through the good and the bad. It was hard to believe that she was the only constant in his life up till this point.

They’d met in highschool, and been together ever since. He was now in his late 20’s, and knew she would be leaving him soon. Don’t misunderstand: She wasn’t unhappy, there wasn’t another woman, and he wasn’t going to walk out. But it was the way life had dealt the hand. Her condition had been known from the start, they both knew that he would outlive her. Tonight they simply sat and watched each other, giving each other that knowing look. Whoever blinked first was largely forgotten by both parties the next day, however as the years passed by, the number of next days was uncertain.

“As soon as this is done, I’m going to make dinner”, he told her as he gestured toward the kitchen. She followed his gaze but said nothing. She was a professional at these staring matches. Her record had nearly 4 times more wins than losses. She only ‘stared’ with him, so those losses were all in his stats as well.

“You can’t watch me forever!”, he playfully told her. She still said nothing – concentrating as hard as she could. This was a battle, after all.

As they sat in the bedroom, him on the chair, her on the bed, they were surrounded by memories of their life together. The toys of youth, the casual messiness of their belongings that bothered neither him nor her, and of course, the bed that they shared. In the mornings, light would stream on to it, waking both of them up. Some mornings he would rise early while she stayed asleep. Other mornings she would be up, the veritable ball of energy, moving around the house, eating breakfast, watching the world outside. She worked in the home, and wished he could as well. They were perfect for each other, which is why the inevitable end was so hard to understand. Why would their creator put them together like this, and then yank them apart so soon.

“HA – you blinked!” he said with delight. He had won one, the first in a long time. They then both went toward the kitchen, ready for their dinner. For now, all was right in the world.

[SSDay]

#9 Jim the Bunny Hops Again

One day, Jim the Bunny was hopping along in the forest when he came upon a large cave entrance. Inside the cave was the sound of some light snoring, and Jim correctly deduced that Jabberpaw the Bear was fast asleep. Jim knew he had to act.

You see, Jabberpaw had just about the best home theatre system in the entire forest. It got practically every channel known to man, and Jabberpaw being the addict he is to movies, had every streaming service as well as a massive DVD library.

Jabberpaw was also pretty selfish, and hardly ever invited anyone over to watch anything, so Jim saw his chance and didn’t hesitate. He crept in, put a pair of earmuffs over Jabberpaw’s head, and watched The Matrix in surround sound. Twice.

“Well, guess I should be getting my bunny behind back home”, Jim said with a sigh. As he left, he took Jabberpaw’s earmuffs off, and crept out. On the way back to his hole, he noticed Bob the Turtle, and being still sore at Bob for nearly stiffing him for lunch, he hopped on over to give him some grief.

“Hey green head, what’s up”, Jim said.

“Don’t start with me Jim”, said Bob, “I’ve had a long day”.

“A long day for you is an sixteenth-mile walk”, Jim retorted.

“Yea, but today was even worse. I got news that Jabberpaw’s been downloading torrents again, and I think I’m gonna have to surrender his records to the MPAA”, said Bob. Bob ran the local ISP, TurtleNet, which despite it’s name, actually consistently scored as the fastest Internet available in the forest.

“Uh… yea” said Jim. He couldn’t let on that he downloaded about  a dozen movies while at Jabber’s place, which he had discretely hidden in his Lucky Rabbit’s Foot USB drive (No one ever noticed that Jim had 5 feet at times).

“Worse yet, he’s gonna get TurtleNet blacklisted if he keeps this up, so I’m gonna have to cancel his account”.

Without TurtleNet, Jabberpaw would be forced to use RodentWire, a competitor known for horrendous reliability. Jabberpaw would be angry, and would likely find out it was Jim who set him up for failure.

“Uh… Bob… say, how about giving Jabberpaw another chance?”, Jim said slyly.

“Why should I?” said Bob.

“Well, because ole Jabber can be pretty mean when he’s angry”, said Jim.

“I got protection Jim, don’t you worry about me”. Said Bob as he tapped the bottom of his shell with his foot.

Briefly Jim wondered what Bob meant by “protection”, and also wondered if he should antagonize Bob anymore after this conversation. So Jim did the only thing he could do. He left Bob to go visit Sylvester the Snake.

Sylvester slept at the bottom of the apple tree, fittingly, and stirred slightly as he heard Jim hop up.

“What do you want Jim”, Sylvester hissed.

“I need you to pull a job for me man, right quick – you still got access to TurtleNet’s servers?”. Syl had done some work for Bob years back, and could still access the systems when needed.

“Yessss. What do you need?” Sylvester asked. Syl was all business, he never asked why.

“I need you to change the logs from today, pin the torrent downloading on someone other than Jabberpaw. Maybe see if any of those annoying flies have accounts – pin it on them?”, said Jim.

“How much can you pay”, Sylvester said.

“How much do you want?”, Jim replied.

“$200 should be enough”, Sylvester said. Jim balked, but then again, it was either $200 or Jabberpaw’s revenge. He quickly fished out the money from his rubber-banded money roll.

“Fine, you crook”, Jim said. “Just make sure you get it done”.

As Sylvester slithered off, Jim contemplated his life. Briefly. Then he went home and watched the movies he’d downloaded.

[SSDay]

#8 Winning Big

Mary couldn’t believe her eyes. The numbers matched – all of them. And the special number in red – it matched too! A few hours later, it was confirmed. The lady from the lottery commission had accepted the ticket, done the paperwork, and scheduled the press conference. Tomorrow, Mary would go from a broke single mom to a multi-millionaire. After taxes, she would receive $4 million dollars (or so) a year for the next 25 years. Visions of what she could buy danced around her head.

But first, she had to tell Jamie. He was young, and probably wouldn’t understand all the commotion over the next few days as news came out. Mary had braced herself for the media and her family, but Jamie wouldn’t stand a chance if she couldn’t talk to him about it today.

“Honey, Mommy’s got something to tell you”, she began.

“ooo-k”, he replied as he set aside the toy truck.

“Mommy played a game last week, and she won some money in it”. As she spoke, she hoped he wouldn’t remember the previous times she’d played the same game with different results.

“Why?”, he said.

Jamie was firmly in the ‘why’ stage of his development. Like most children he longed to draw out conversations with “whys” until the adult, her most of the time, couldn’t take it any more. When they’d get frustrated and leave, he’d laugh. It was a game, but she couldn’t play just now – she had to tell him the news.

“We can’t start with this Jamie”, she said firmly, “this is serious – you know what it means when Mommy says ‘serious'”. He did indeed know what it meant – it was a word reserved for when he got in trouble. He paused for a moment and Mary felt that she might have a chance at having the conversation.

“Why?”, he said with a grin. She decided to just go with it.

“Because Mommy needs you to understand what’s going to happen now”, she started.

“Why?”, another impish grin.

“Because this is big news honey”, she said.

“Why?”, a small chuckle.

“You’ll want to hear this Jamie”, she said with a bit of exasperation, “do you understand?”

“Why?”, he replied. She couldn’t take it – this was too big to play games over.

“Because this is going to change your life, my life, and the life of a lot of people we know”

All he said in reply was exactly what she expected “Why?”. But for some reason, the question hit her.

Why would her life have to change? Why would her son’s have to change? Tomorrow the press conference was supposed to be her victory day, the day to show the world that she could become something out of nothing – that she was in some way better now. But all she was going to be was richer. And that worried her.

She’d recently watched a show about lottery winners losing everything, and as she looked into the eyes of her son, Jamie, she made a decision to call the financial planner at her bank. The lady promised to help Mary set everything up for the long term, keeping her and Jamie with enough money to live comfortably, splurge occasionally, and never have to work again. Mary could raise her son, travel to see her family, and own her own home. It was all falling into place.

Winning the lottery was supposed to change her life into one of dramatics, but why should it? If freedom was what she sought, shouldn’t that include freedom from pressure to spend? After all, the wisdom of Jamie was evident over a number of conversations she’d have with friends over the next few days.

“You should buy a new car!”
“You should buy a boat!”
“You should buy your entire family something nice!”
“You should buy a new house!”

“Why?”

[SSDay]

#7 Dinosaur BBQ

Tim couldn’t quite reach the back of the grill with his stumpy little arms. It was infuriating, however today he decided not to deal with it in the typical manner (eating the grill) – he decided to simply get Frank to flip the burgers.

Unfortunately Frank was even more disabled than Tim.

(I think I can write… I never claimed I could draw. But the idea of two dinosaurs grilling out made me chuckle)

[SSDay]

#6 – An Open Letter to the Coffee Bean

Dear Mr. Bean,

I feel compelled to write an open letter to you on behalf of my many friends who display a certain addiction to you. While I, myself, enjoy a cup of coffee on a regular basis, I have yet to experience all mood changes, productivity lapses, anti-social behavior incidents, temporary bouts of insanity, and other acts of tomfoolery attributed to the absence of your caffeine goodness. Others I know, however, are a different story.

There’s Mr. X who is quite perplexed at daily affairs without warm care.
There’s Mrs. Y who would rather die than live without you for a day or two.
There’s Mr. Zed who’s liable to lose his head if during a fight you should decide to take flight.
There’s Mrs. A, who just today, told me she was addicted as I had predicted.
There’s Mr. B who I never see without a mug of your warm drug.
There’s Mrs. C who would be quite irate without her brewed mate.
There’s Mr. D who, just like B, appears quite the scene without you, Mr. Bean
There’s Mrs. E who longs to be in your embrace during the rat race.
There’s Mr. F who seems bereft as he drowns the last sip of your soft nip.
There’s Mrs. G, a widow you see, who once drank tea but abandoned him for ye.
There’s Mr. H who with I can relate, he wonders aloud why your devotees are so avowed.
There’s Mrs. I who wishes she could be dry, your spell holds her tighter than any guy.

And finally there is Me, a gold card member you see, who is beyond your spell – I don’t need you I tell! I just wish that in time, I could drop all this rhyme. Without relying on your frequent aid!

Sincerely,
Mr. J.

[SSDay]

#5 Driving By The Woods on a Snowy Evening

(a modern re-imagining of Robert Frost’s original)

Whose woods are these? The GPS does know.
It chirps along as I drive to and fro.
It will not see me stopping here,
The arriving text says I have to go.

My little hybrid must think it queer
To stop without a charger near
Between the woods and man-made lake
The biggest sales week of the year.

The phone’s vibrate function causes it to shake
Serving to renew my stress head ache
The only other sound’s the sweep
of ringtone notes and gentle brake

The highway’s lovely, wide, not steep
But I have meetings to keep
And emails to send before I sleep
And emails to send before I sleep

[SSDay]

#4 Overheard

The stairwell was dark, and all he could focus on was his heavy breathing. His heart raced faster than it had ever gone in his entire life, something he knew with certainty due to the heart rate monitoring watch he’d bought on a whim. He desperately tried to calm down, but how could he? He was about to die.

Up until one hour ago, he lived in a world where each day seemed to only get better than the last. He was 30 years old, had a wife who adored him, two children who were just old enough to be sweet and happy (but not quite old enough to cause heavy parental strife), and he had his job. His career was everything – so many years spent training with the older masters of the art, and so few precious months of being on his own. But he was doing well, building a name for himself in the industry, and until 1 hour prior, life was perfect.

“Yea, we’ll meet on that Thursday”, he told her with a smile. She looked across his desk and returned the gesture of friendship. She had just agreed to become his biggest client, and given his reputation as the rising star, she was not in the least bit worried.  She got up to leave, they shook hands, and she walked out. He walked around the desk and closed the door to his office. It was as he was drinking his soda he noticed the book.

It was a smallish, leather bound collection of less than 50 pages. It seemed, at a glance, like a small notebook, until one noticed the true age of it. The tattered pages revealed brown, oxidized ink. Elaborate penmanship, and a language he hadn’t seen before. It had, evidently, slipped from her bag as she rose up from the chair. He thought to call her immediately back to retrieve it, but with the meeting only a few days away, he turned his attention to other matters, she would get it back soon, and he could just pretend he hadn’t noticed it until later in the day.

A half hour passed uneventfully, until he heard the voices. The tinny sound of a familiar language, his own, echoed from where the book lie not more than 20 feet away. He walked over toward it, and discovered, to his surprise, a small speaker grill on the inside back cover of the book. It appeared to be something straight out of a spy shop, and the voices on the other end were hard to make out. He stood by the book for a moment, and contemplated his options. Listen to the voices now, or go back to work and leave them in peace.

30 minutes later, as he stood in that stairwell, he would wonder how he could have made the wrong choice in that moment. He had always followed his conscience in life, never done anything ‘bad’, ‘evil’ or even ‘disreputable’. He had earned all that he had, and over the last 30 minutes, he had destroyed all of that through nothing but simple listening.

The voices spoke of a plan, one sinister enough that he could scarcely believe his ears. She had returned through his office door at just the moment to see him lift the book up to his ear. She reached into her pocket and took out her phone, pressing a button on the side. Within moments he could see them approaching the front door, two floors below. She tried to stop him, but he ran, and hid.

And now he was losing it all. They would find him soon, it was only a matter of time in a building that size. There were no exits, no doors out, no windows safe to jump from, no magic helicopter on the roof that would take him away. This was reality, this was the way it would all turn out for him. 30 years. A family. Friends. A Future. All gone in a heart beat.

They found him 2 days later, the cause of death was easy to determine. Despite his young age, his heart had spiraled out of control. The woman and her associates were at his funeral, they paid their respects, and they left with not a single one speaking to the widow or children. It was unfortunate that he passed only part of the test. Everybody listens, but only a few are found to be trustworthy. It was a pity – his act of flight proved that he could make the quick decisions. If only his heart were in it, he would be starting his first assignment next week. It would have meant a comfortable life for him, his family, and even friends if he so chose – no sane person could ever refuse the offer they could have made. In the end he could have saved thousands, if he had only saved himself from what he had heard.

[SSDay]

#3 The General

The General wears lifts, his power projects
he strides wherever he wants

The General plays it cool, straight, direct
he strives to be nonchalant

The General smirks at others, respect he commands
he’ll strike you down with information and wit

The General hides his insecurities, his worries, his fear
but his perfectionism won’t stop him a bit.

[SSDay]

#2 Freezing

“Watch tonight, I’ll be freezing”, said the lady as she walked into the cafe. She was just starting her shift, doomed to repeat an eight to ten hour cycle that she had done countless times before. She would prepare the same things, for the same people, for nearly the same price, and receive the same lack of respect for her position behind the counter, taking orders from the big shots and unimpressed, as they stared at her over their iPhones and Macbooks.

“It’s warm now, but it’ll cool off”, the lady continued as she observed her co-worker, Rob, rap to himself as he pushed the broom across the floor. She was speaking to no one in particular, for no reason. She found herself doing that more and more as of late, as she slipped into the midlife minutia she seemed destined to stay in for her entire existence. She’d be working this job today, tomorrow, and forever until either she won the lottery (there was always hope), the store closed (there was always fear), or the man of her dreams swept her off her feet and out of this life (there was always the impossible). For now she consoled herself as she went about her work – 8 more hours, 7.5 more hours, 6 more hours, 5 more hours.

“I told you it was going to turn colder” she said to Rob, as the snow began to fall outside the windows of the cafe. She’d be walking home in it, the five blocks to her apartment in the Bronx, on this cold February night. She’d lived there for 10 years, in the same small apartment as her sister had lived in, until her sister passed. She had only a few friends who might come visit, and none of them were the type to volunteer to walk home with her tonight in the impending chill. 3 more hours… 2 more hours.

“Did it stop? No, it’s still going” she said in a sad, resigned voice. Her entire life could be summed up on the walk tonight, she thought as she ate her free meal. Aside from the meals she got while working at the cafe, she rarely ate. This was by choice. Eating without anyone to share it was somewhat boring and only reminded her that she lived much of her existence alone. But in an hour she’d be walking, and in a little over an hour she’d be home. She would make it through tonight, just as she had every other night.

“The handle is cold!” she exclaimed as she locked the door to the cafe. Most employees weren’t trusted with the keys, but when you’re stuck in a job for 15 years, and will likely be there 30 more, they start to believe in your honesty, to an extent. Rob wandered off to the subway as she began walking toward home. True to her thoughts earlier in the day, she felt the cold on her skin, her breath emanating in front of her. It was about 3 blocks from the cafe that she saw the eyes watching her. She heard the rustle from the alley, and turned just in time to see him approach.

“No….” she managed to squeak as he inched toward her, tall and imposing, cloaked in tattered clothes and coats. She turned to run, but slipped on the icy sidewalk. She was laying there, helpless as he approached. She couldn’t say a word, the chill of the weather and her fear kept her silent. As he stood over her, he brought up his gnarled, dirty hand.

“It’s cold”, he said, as he opened his palm to help her up. He righted her, and looked into her eyes. “Hungry” he said, as he backed away and held out his hand.

In that moment she thought about her life, her sorrows, and her worries. Her day of problems, her moments of fear, her self-loathing, all washed away as she considered the man in front of her. As she stood there, wondering what her next move should be, she found herself overcome. As he watched, tonight, she was freezing.

[SSDay]