Fool me once, Bagel me twice

Gary pushed through the crowded street to find the little bagel shop that was sandwiched between an office building and an empty storefront. A tall slinky looking man stood to the side of the empty building with a box of curios, which included an old deck of cards wrapped up in a dirty green rubber-band, a small hand-carved elephant made of some sort of pallet wood more than likely, and assorted sunglasses, glasses, and miscellaneous. The tall man was hunched slightly with his knees also bent, giving the impression that he was ready to jump at any minute. Roughly penciled in the side of the small box were the words, “please make offer”.
Gary walked past the tall man slowly, eyeing his wares for something he could reason himself into buying. Before coming to the entrance to the bagel shop, he stopped, turned, and returned to the tall man who was now cradling the small box in his arms. “I’ll give you a dollar for the elephant”, Gary offered to the tall man.
The tall man picked up the small carved elephant, turning it over in his large hand as if he was inspecting the wooden figure for the first time. “This is surely worth much more than a dollar friend, how about giving me ten dollars for it?”
“Ten dollars, it is made out of some cheap wood and the carving really isn’t that good, that seems like a steep price to pay for something I really don’t need.”
“Then why did you make an offer on the item?” asked the tall man.
“Look sir, I just want to help you out.”
“I appreciate your concern sir, but I really want to get a good price for these items, it means a lot to me”, exclaimed the tall man.
“Okay, here’s ten dollars for the elephant, at least it’s going to a good cause.”
“Thank you so much kind sir, it surely is going to a good cause, I plan on giving all my sales proceeds to the Salvation Army.”
“Well, I uh, I thought the money was for you, you seem to need it, standing here on the street and all”, Gary said rather confused as he slid the small elephant into his jacket pocket.
“Oh no good sir, I don’t need the money, these are unclaimed items that my customers have left in my bagel store throughout the years, I thought I would try to get a few bucks for them instead of throwing them out”, the tall man exclaimed, “besides it is a nice day to stand out and breath some fresh air and stretch out a bit, I get a kink in my back from stooping over that baking counter all day.”
“Ha, yes, what a good idea”, Gary laughed, “maybe you could spare a couple of bucks, I seem to have spent my bagel money on a carved elephant.”

Fruit Nation

Educating Lemons

Sal always wanted to be a teacher, his wishes and dreams were consumed by thoughts of creating a better world through educating the people; he dreamed of standing before a crowded classroom, spewing intelligent views and information on various issues and arguments. This lust for teaching was only diminished by Sal’s lack of teaching skills. Though he had tried in the past, Sal was horrible at teaching and often became frustrated and angry when others did not understand his lessons.

One day, in a state of mental frustration, Sal decided that if he could not teach people he would attempt to teach produce. He set out to a produce stand a couple of blocks away from his apartment to choose his students. Upon arriving at the produce stand Sal saw a lovely display of lemons, they were polished up and shone the brightest yellow that he had ever seen. Sal chose each lemon, picking it up turning it in his hand and looking for imperfections in the little fruits, when he had picked a dozen, he gave the small paper bag which was bulging with lemons, to the cashier to total his purchase.

Sal was happy; he walked happily, whistling, down the sunny sidewalk that led to his home. He nodded and smiled at every passerby, sometimes getting a smile back, sometimes producing a nervous look in the recipient. He came to the small apartment building which was wedged in among the townhouses that lined the street. Sal rushed up the steps and entered the building in such a hurried fashion that he startled the mail lady who was shuffling the various letters, magazines, and other such correspondence, into each little numbered cubby hole.

“You’re in a hurry today” Exclaimed the mail lady.

“Got to get to class!” Sal blurted.

The mail lady handed Sal his letters while giving him an odd look; Sal hurried up the stairs to his apartment, shoved in his key, turned the knob, and entered, shutting the door hastily causing a picture of his family to fall off the wall and shoot shattered glass across the floor.

“Dammit!” Sal shouted as he hurriedly placed the small bulging bag of lemons onto his kitchen table. The small bag tipped over immediately allowing several of the little yellow fruits to escape its confines and roll across the table. Sal stopped and turned in his tracks, shuffling back to the kitchen table to rescue the escaping lemons from their demise of plummeting to the floor. He gathered the little lemons into a circle in the middle of the table, making sure of no escape, and then hurried back to sweep up the glass from the broken family portrait.

Sal dug out a lesson plan that he had been working on for years, he was anxious to get started teaching and lecturing the lemons in his philosophies of life. First off he lined the lemons up on the table, but when they kept falling over, he became frustrated and put the lemons on his sofa, all lined up and facing him with the attention of good pupils.

Sal began his lessons; he started with historical references to fine art and its influence on modern society. A few minutes into the lecture Sal noticed that some of the lemons were no longer paying attention and had dozed off, obviously from the comfort of the sofa and not the soporific momentum of his teaching content. Sal became very angry and started to yell at the students, the lemons ignored him. He pointed to one of the lemons which was now awake and staring horrifically at Sal.

“I demand attention!” Sal screamed as he pointed raucously to the small fruit he had selected to make example of. The lemon ignored him. Hal, in a fit of contextual rage, grabbed the small lemon from the sofa and threw it across the room. The little fruit hit a ceramic elephant poised in the corner of the room; its small shell exploded in such a furry there were seeds and pulp all over the decorative pachyderm.

The room became quiet as Sal sorted his heavy sobbing steps toward the remnants of the little yellow fruit that lay motionless on the floor in front of his television.

Sal fell to the floor, “Oh my God, what have I done?” he sobbed out as he cradled the little ravaged carcass of his student. Sal attempted to stuff the seeds and pulp back into the lemon as he cried tears of loss, but it was of no use, the little lemon was gone, its essence banished to the unknown. Sal set there, on the floor for a long time; he considered a new view of his teaching skills, all the attempts he had made, the let downs he had, and the death threats he had received from past students. His dream was over; he finally realized the doom to his wishes and the end of his efforts to become a teacher.

Sal arose from the floor, still cradling the small squished lemon; he placed the shattered body of the little fruit in his garbage can and then proceeded to pick up the rest of the lemons, which were still in shock over the loss of their comrade, and placed them each on the kitchen counter. The remaining lemons began to get nervous when Sal produced a blender from under the counter and arranged it upon the counter to the side of where the frightened fruit lay. One by one Sal chose each fruit, disemboweling it in front of the others. Some of the fruit passed out with fear, others found themselves in a mental coma, while most screamed and yelled as they witnessed the horrific slaying of their friends.

Sal was finally finished slaying the once pupils, now products of beverage, and added a cup of sugar to the blender which was full of lemon pulp. He selected “juice” on the small processor and pushed the little red start button. The lemon flesh began to turn into a fine sweetened liquid as the small metallic blades induced mayhem upon the contents. Sal turned the juicer off and poured a large glass of lemon juice, putting it to his lips and taking a long refreshing drink.

Sal put the empty glass upon the kitchen counter as he scooped up the lemon skins and placed them into the garbage. Sal suddenly chuckled out, “when life gives you lemons”, and then he fell into an uncontrollable fit of evil laughter.

Autumn

It’s funny how the first smells of autumn bring back so many more memories than any other season for me. The damp sidewalks I walked when I was a boy delivering papers in my neighborhood and the smell of decomposing leaves lying in scattered piles from the wind. The little rivers that ran along the edges of the roadways that made decent places for us to build dams out of sticks, rocks and leaves. All these things rush back from that first wisp of Fall air.

I remember the sand dunes along the flats where the scrub brush grows, the dew soaking my pants as I waded my way through the small brush in search for fresh venison. There was lunch time back at the truck with my dad and my uncles, my eager ears listening in on conversations of those I worshiped. Fresh hot coffee from the old battered thermos and overstuffed sandwiches my mom had packed for our survival preceded the raiding of my uncle’s lunch boxes for cookies and cheese.

The slough behind our school was filled with ducks this time of the year, the long grasses that grew on the banks had turned brown and bent to the overflowing force of rain water. The fields were soggy and cheap sneakers protected little.

Football games began and the local stadium was full of fans, their noses red with cold. My first love and betrayal my first broken heart and losing a friend I thought I had.

Death of a young friend who let the demons convince and the broken soul of a girl who loved him, taught me a hard cold lesson of life.

Finally, love, my true love. I found her in this season and will always remember the smell and feel of the cold air and how the warmth of her lips absorbed me, and the touch of her hand and the comfort of her smile.

Now it’s autumn again and I walk my little girl down the familiar sidewalks and wait for the big yellow bus to come, my mind is filled with all these memories and the anxiousness for the first hard rains to fill the edges of my neighborhood streets with little rivers that we will dam.

Doom Island

The cold morning air nipped at my toes through the old sneakers, kicking up stones from the graveled road, most of the dusts remained asleep in the heavy air. The familiar pot holes were barren of water in these first days of autumn just small craters scattered throughout my laden path. I rounded the corner of the old road and stopped to drag my feet through the dirt. I awaited my fate. Within minutes that seemed like hours I began to hear the screeches and groans of the beast that was coming for me. As it got closer I could almost hear the voices of the other victims wailing, sometimes laughing and talking as they fell prey to the giant yellow beast. Then it came, pulling up beside me and screeching to a halt, it’s enormous body settling into a stopped position as the flap of it’s gills opened up revealing a set of black stairs with safety yellow painted on their edges. I unwillingly climbed the steel stairway to begin my voyage to Doom Island……

The Dune

I feel the gritty heat under my feet. Each step sends me deep into the coolness of the sandy mountain and my toes rejoice. I fight an uphill battle with my limbs, hands digging in, arms pulling, toes spreading apart and legs lunging forward, my body is tired my heart pounds.

Inch by inch, slipping and sliding and lunging I look around to see my progress and look up to see my goal. The warm coastal breeze licking my face, grains of sand frolicking in the winds play and settling to their new home.

My breath is deep; my heart continues to pound, I know I’m getting closer, I can hear the distant roar of the great waters. I start to feel the coolness of the winds coming off the ocean as I reach the summit.

One last lunge, one last mighty heave and I am there. The rush of sound and winds infiltrate my senses, grains of sand pierce my face as I stand to face my reward. Here I have sacrificed my body but here my eyes will feast on the great dunes beauty.

I walk the top of the large dune to find a patch of beach grass to lie down and rest my body. Feeling the warmth of the sun and the gentle wisps of wind licking my face, my ears tuned into the sounds of the not so distant ocean and the nature that encompasses me, I drift off in dream of a place much like this.