Four Short Works of Prose
Kittens in a Storm Drain
The kittens live in a storm drain that exists in a concrete box in the ground with a metal cover. There is a crack in the metal cover where they can crawl in and out. I leave food for them every morning hoping they will survive. Then one day I notice that they’ve grown. One of them tries to squeeze out of the crack to get the food and scratches himself. So big and yet they still hide in the drain. Soon, they’ll be too big and they’ll be stuck there. I go into my office and wait. In my office, I feel protected, just like the kittens must feel. Do I cover the crack next time they come out? Am I savior, or just a person depriving some living things of their home?
Two Seats Behind, One to the Left
The view from two seats behind her and one to the left is unbearable. On some days I believe I can actually reach out and touch her. There has to be another name for the color of her hair. It can’t just be brunette. It has to be autumn or chestnut or something. And it’s straight and just perfect. What do I do two chairs behind and one to the left? Certainly not learn biology.
Imperfectly Bohemian
In Vienna for only one afternoon more. A Florida boy walked in the snow and tried to think Gothic thoughts. He tried to imagine a series of murders tied to a love affair, but ended up in a Viennese cafe eating chocolate cake and trying to keep the image of an Austrian waitress in his mind. Imperfectly bohemian, he realized he was a century too late for coffee with Freud or other artists.
The End of Veronica and Harold
After years of couples therapy James and Veronica finally felt like they were on the right track. Then after a particularly fruitful therapy session, James said, “Honey I think I love you more than ever.” Veronica smiled, looked James in the eyes and then leaned over and plucked one of Harold’s many nose hairs. “Got it. That sucker was bothering me all morning. Sorry honey, what were you saying?” At the time, neither of them knew it, but that was the end of their relationship.
The kittens live in a storm drain that exists in a concrete box in the ground with a metal cover. There is a crack in the metal cover where they can crawl in and out. I leave food for them every morning hoping they will survive. Then one day I notice that they’ve grown. One of them tries to squeeze out of the crack to get the food and scratches himself. So big and yet they still hide in the drain. Soon, they’ll be too big and they’ll be stuck there. I go into my office and wait. In my office, I feel protected, just like the kittens must feel. Do I cover the crack next time they come out? Am I savior, or just a person depriving some living things of their home?
Two Seats Behind, One to the Left
The view from two seats behind her and one to the left is unbearable. On some days I believe I can actually reach out and touch her. There has to be another name for the color of her hair. It can’t just be brunette. It has to be autumn or chestnut or something. And it’s straight and just perfect. What do I do two chairs behind and one to the left? Certainly not learn biology.
Imperfectly Bohemian
In Vienna for only one afternoon more. A Florida boy walked in the snow and tried to think Gothic thoughts. He tried to imagine a series of murders tied to a love affair, but ended up in a Viennese cafe eating chocolate cake and trying to keep the image of an Austrian waitress in his mind. Imperfectly bohemian, he realized he was a century too late for coffee with Freud or other artists.
The End of Veronica and Harold
After years of couples therapy James and Veronica finally felt like they were on the right track. Then after a particularly fruitful therapy session, James said, “Honey I think I love you more than ever.” Veronica smiled, looked James in the eyes and then leaned over and plucked one of Harold’s many nose hairs. “Got it. That sucker was bothering me all morning. Sorry honey, what were you saying?” At the time, neither of them knew it, but that was the end of their relationship.
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