Monday, May 18, 2009

"Saturday" (pg 9)

It took three or four minutes to shake the cobwebs out, fifteen to get the legs to function and twenty-five before I was able to stand without falling down. Walking with a herky-jerky stride, it took me another twenty to get out of the field and onto the road.

Back on the road, I continued with my herky-jerky stride but amped up my pace, after hearing the church chime quarter-past eleven. I must admit I did have heads turn in my direction as I walked past, once people got a good look at me and saw a living example of Pigpen in their midst.

I finally got to the bank, after dodging a slew of people who chased me away because of my smelly clothes, with about fifteen minutes to spare. As I went to open the door, I found to my surprise that it was locked. Looking through the window, I saw the branch manager waving her finger, then pointing at the drive thru.

Shrugging my shoulders, I staggered over to the drive-thru window like it was suggested to me. The teller gave me the careful once over and said condescendingly, "You can't do your business here. Go inside the bank to do it."

"I would love to," I said condescendingly as well, "but YOUR branch manager locked the front door and thumbed me over to the drive-thru. So here I is. Deal with it."

The teller snorted and stepped away from the window. I turned away for a moment to warm up my hands, and when I turned back, I was face to face with the original malcontent that started this crap in the first place: the bonsai tree from my neighbor's backyard.

"You? What the heck are you doing here?"
"Trabajo aquí por horas. ¿Ahora, qué puedo hacer para usted?"
"Nothing, I want the other teller."
"Apesadumbrada, ella fue en rotura. Soy el. Reparto con el."
"I will not deal with it. You're the one that put me here in the first place. I don't know what your major malfunction is, but I will not deal with a mini-mini me. So get me the branch manager."

The tree looked at me like he was noticing for the first time, just how incredibly angry I really was. Even though he had no facial features to speak of nor did he have a voice per say, I was able to tell that right now, he was ready to faint.

Instead, he steeled his nerve and with the strongest voice he could muster, he yelled, "Seguridad!"
'Security?' I wasn't able to get any further with my thought because I felt the hot smelly breath of a familiar enemy on my neck. I turned around, and sure enough, I was fact to face with that stupid bear again.
~~~~~~~~~~~
(c) 2009 by GBMJr. All rights reserved.

7 comments:

  1. Definitely being "stalked" by this bear.

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  2. See that is what makes you such a good writer. Your imagery was so good I could almost smell you coming off the page.

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  3. Charles: Beats being stalked by a bonsai tree. At least with a bear you can see what's coming from a mile away.

    Bearman: Thanks. I would imagine that the smell has got to be overpowering.

    Sad part is that I've met people with that kind of good personal hygiene.

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  4. Really good stuff here! Pulled me in, makes me want to read more. NIce work!

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  5. Thanks.

    I do try my best. This story actually was pretty easy for me to write. The premise was simple (running errands) and adding the funky stuff was a snap.

    I may try this type of stuff more often.

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  6. LOVED it! The crazy bonsai tree will get you every time, remind me to stick with full size trees.

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  7. It's funny, but the closer I was to the end of the story, the harder it was to finish it.

    Then I thought of the ultimate swerve: introducing someone who was never mentioned in the story to begin with.

    If you remember, our intrepid heroe's adventure started when a brush started rifling through his pockets.

    Nowhere did I mention a bansai tree.

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G. B. Miller

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