A Fast Food Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there was a Burger King. 

This king fell in love with a Dairy Queen. 

Both having royal blood, this called for a lavish ceremony. 

The only appropriate venue, of course, was beneath the legendary Golden Arches. 

The wedding was officiated by none other than Long John Silver, who, as a ship's captain, was legally able to marry the king and queen. 

Standing next to the king as best man was the incomparable Colonel Sanders. 

Once the bride and groom completed their vows and said, "I do," the Taco Bells rang in celebration throughout the land. 

The happy couple waved good-bye as they boarded the Subway. 

With a Sonic boom, they traveled to their honeymoon destination. 

A year later, their royal couple made headlines when they adopted a little red-head named Wendy. 

 

The princess received many gifts from the kingdom's subjects, including a Jack-in-the-Box and Checkers.

The Adventures of Lois Lane - Chapter One

About 2 years ago, DC Comics decided to reboot their entire line of comic books. In doing so, they started most of their characters' stories from scratch. As a fan, I wasn't thrilled with the sudden change, but decided to give it a chance. For the most part, it wasn't horrible. But I hated what had happened to Lois Lane. For whatever reason, the powers that be decided to make her, basically, a non-entity in Superman's life. A decades long relationship that had resulted in the marriage of Lois and Clark no longer existed. I could get behind that part. After all, if you're starting the story from the beginning again, you need to reintroduce these characters to each other. I thought it would be fun to watch these two legendary characters fall in love all over again. And then they decided that Superman would fall for Wonder Woman. Lois wasn't even a reporter who worked directly with Clark Kent anymore. Someone who has been as important to the story of Superman for 75 years as Lois Lane has been should be playing a much more active role. I don't know what they'll do with her story in the future. And I won't find out anytime soon because I decided to stop buying comics a couple months ago. But I know how I would like to see her story go. So what follows is the first part in a planned series of short stories about Lois Lane. It should go without saying, but I don't own any of the characters related to Superman. They belong to DC Comics. Basically, this is fan fiction. If you like it, let me know and I'll get cracking on chapter 2.

            “Lois! Calm down!” shouted Margot as her roommate moved around their apartment with no discernible direction.

            “Calm down?” cried Lois, “You calm down!”

            “Mature response,” Margot said calmly.

            Lois stopped moving and stared at her roommate. “How can I possibly calm down? I’m two months from graduation and I don’t have my job lined up yet!”

            “Yeah, you’re two months from graduation. And you’re at the top of your class, not just in the journalism program, but all of Met U.”

            Lois rolled her eyes and began frantically moving around the living room again. She was looking for something, though Margot had no idea what it could be. She watched as Lois shifted magazines around the coffee table and riffled through the junk mail that sat by the door. “What are you looking for?”

            “It’s probably best if you don’t know,” said Lois hesitantly.

            “That sounds promising.”

            “You can keep a secret, right?” she asked. Margot gave Lois a look that made it clear it was a ridiculous question. “I had a fake ID made.”

            “Why? You’re 22.”

            “It’s a specific ID. I need to be able to access areas of LexCorp that only employees can reach,” Lois said, knowing that she was about to face her roommate’s disapproval.

            “Tell me you’re not still trying to get an interview with Lex Luthor!”

            “Okay, I won’t tell you,” she said as she moved down the hall toward her bedroom.

            Margot followed, hoping to talk some sense into her. “Lois, we’ve both heard the stories about Lex Luthor! At best, he’s conniving. At worst, he’s dangerous.”

            “That’s the thing, Marg! No one really knows anything about him!” Lois yelled over her shoulder as she searched through her chest of drawers. Moving to the nightstand she screamed in frustration. “What did I do with the thing?” Suddenly, an idea hit her. “You didn’t wash my dirty clothes, did you?”

            “Not yet.”

            Lois brushed past Margot and ran to the closet that housed their washer/dryer combo. There sat a basket full of Lois’ dirty clothes from the past couple of weeks. Feeling that this was the last possible chance to find the ID card, Lois searched through every pocket of every article of clothing that had pockets. “AHA!” she screamed when she came across the laminated access card.

            “How do I look?” she asked as she handed the card to Margot.

            “Glasses?” asked her roommate, seeing Lois’ disguise in the ID’s photo.

            “Yeah, I was hoping I could borrow yours for the day tomorrow.”

            “I guess I won’t be able to talk you out of this,” Margot said in a defeated tone, watching as Lois simply shook her head. “And I know you’ll just swipe my glasses anyway, since you obviously did when you had this picture taken.”

            This time, Lois simply nodded her head.

            Margot walked into her own bedroom and soon returned with her reading glasses. “Just be careful, okay?”

            “I’m Lois Lane. My middle name is careful.”

            Lois went to bed that night, hopeful that the next day would set her destiny in stone. Lex Luthor was the world’s youngest billionaire. His rise to power was the stuff of legend, but no one knew the whole story. He had arrived in Metropolis just three years before and suddenly held 38 different patents, most of which supplied him with tens of millions of dollars each. Aside from being a brilliant inventor and innovator, he was a genius businessman. His company, LexCorp had become a technological giant, nearly monopolizing the way people use computers, smartphones and tablets. Ask nearly anyone in America, when they surf the internet, they’re using LexCorp’s Internet Lexplorer. It was predicted that in only a few years’ time, people would be asking, “Remember Google?”

            That seemed like a lot of valuable information to have on young Lex Luthor. But he had yet to grant an interview to anyone anywhere. Lois was determined to be the first person to get that interview. She was certain that an exclusive interview with Luthor would land her a dream job at the Daily Planet.

            From her bedroom window, she could just make out the globe that sat atop the Daily Planet building. Every morning, she would step to the window from her bed and stare at it. She told herself over and over again that she would be working there as soon as she finished her degree. But she would not be content with starting at the bottom. She was far too valuable as a reporter to be pushed down to the mail room. No, Lois Lane needed to make a splash.

            Lex Luthor was her ticket to the newsroom.

            She had a hard time sleeping that night. She tossed and turned, worried that her plan may not work. Luthor was rarely seen in public, so she had to find a way to get to him. LexCorp headquarters was located in Metropolis’ largest skyscraper. Lois would have a lot of ground to cover. The employee identification card that once belonged to Tess Mercer would only take her so far. But she knew she should not be too concerned. Lois Lane was nothing if not resourceful. The General made sure of that.

            Lois shook her head. Thinking of her dysfunctional family would not help her fall asleep. And she needed sleep. Resourcefulness could only be an asset if her mind was fully aware throughout her self-assigned deep cover operation.

            She was unsure of when she actually fell asleep. She just hoped the sleep she was able to get would be enough to carry her through the day. Lois had no idea how long it would take her to explore LexCorp. All she knew for sure was that she would not leave that building without a pad full of notes from her interview with Luthor. Or under arrest. She had to admit to herself that being arrested was a real possibility.

            It was 7:15 as she sipped her coffee in the kitchen. Margot shuffled in from her room, stifling a yawn. “Still gonna do this, huh?” she asked as she grabbed her own coffee mug.

            “Of course.”

            “You definitely look the part,” Margot said, appraising Lois’ smart business attire.

            “Well, if I’m going to blend in at LexCorp, I need to look like I belong there,” she said, “Actually, I need to look like I belong on one of the higher floors. The closer I can get to the executive suite, the better.”

            “Well, good luck,” Margot said as she turned to go back to her room. She stopped and turned back to Lois. “I meant what I said yesterday. Be careful.”

            “I will.” Lois drained her mug and set it in the sink, then headed out the door.

            So far, so good. Lois was feeling pretty good about herself as she made her way through the 20^th floor. She was a little surprised at how little attention she had drawn to herself. For all of her big talk and overconfidence, deep down she knew it was mostly for show. She had never done anything remotely like this before in her life.

            Lois had been rebellious as a teenager. Living the life of an army brat, it was hard not to be a little rebellious now and then. But she was nothing compared to her sister. Lucy must have been going for some kind of record when it came to getting expelled from private schools. Despite the rebellious streak that ran through the Lane girls, neither of them had attempted to sneak into a compound as secure as LexCorp before.

            From what she could tell, the offices on the 20^th floor were solely for accountants. And these were low level accountants. None of these people, she was sure, had ever even met Lex Luthor. She found her way to a break room, hoping she could grab a cup of coffee to re-energize her.

            “Who are you?” asked a guy in a bad suit as he twisted the cap off his Soder Cola.

            “Uh… Tess,” Lois responded, “I’m sort of new around here. Is this coffee fresh?”

            “Tess?” the man said, clearly not buying into Lois’ false identity. “I don’t remember anyone hiring anybody named Tess around here.”

            “I actually don’t work on this floor. I just came down because we’re out of coffee up on 25.” Smooth, Lois, he just might buy this.

            “Ah, 25… Hard to believe any of you geeks from R&D would even think about slumming it with the nerds in accounting,” he said as he approached Lois with his hand extended, “Otis Berg, Miss…?”

            “Mercer,” said Lois as she shook Otis’ hand, “Tess Mercer.”

            Otis pulled Lois closer. “You’re not Tess Mercer.”

            Lois tried to pull away but Otis tightened his grip. She knew the jig was up. To get away from the overweight accountant, she stomped on his foot then kneed him in the gut. Lois ran down the corridor and pushed the button to call the elevator. Looking back, she saw Otis stagger out of the break room.

            “Security!” he shouted as he caught his breath, “Stop that woman!” He pointed in Lois’ direction as she headed for the stairs. She burst through the door and ran down the stairs, skipping steps along the way. When she reached the door labeled 16, she calmly walked through it.

            She looked around the 16^th floor and saw that no one had raised an alarm down here. At least, that’s how it looked. Lois walked casually toward the elevator and pressed the button to go down. She had no problem coming back another day. Now she was just trying to avoid jail time.

            The elevator opened and she stepped aboard. She breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator car traveled down to the ground floor. When the door opened again, Lois would be free to leave. Or so she thought.

            The doors opened again and Lois met two large security guards. “Ms. Mercer, I presume?” said the Secret Service wannabe on the right. The two men stepped aside, revealing a tall, severe looking blonde.

            “Really? She looks nothing like me,” she said, “Take her to Interrogation A. I’ll be there in five.”

            Lois sat in a small room with a large mirror in the wall. Obviously, there would be someone watching her on the other side. “Are the cuffs really necessary?” she shouted at no one.

            The door opened to reveal the same severe looking blonde. “The cuffs are absolutely necessary. At least until I can determine how dangerous you are Ms. Lane.”

            “Oh good, you know who I really am,” Lois said, “So, are you going to turn me over to the police now? I’m sure you can charge me with trespassing and then send me on my way, right?”

            “I was thinking we’d start with industrial espionage.”

            “How do you figure that?!” Lois asked. She could feel herself becoming hysterical.

            “For starters, you attempted to steal the identity of the one person who is closest to Mr. Luthor,” said the blonde as she sat in the seat across from Lois, “That would be my identity, in case you’re not keeping up.”

            “You’re the real Tess Mercer?”

            “Personal assistant and bodyguard to Lex Luthor himself.”

            “Wow, I really didn’t do my homework,” Lois said, mentally kicking herself.

            “Are you telling me that picking me out of the LexCorp employee list was just coincidence?” Tess asked incredulously.

            “Complete coincidence.” Lois leaned forward. “You want the truth? I’m a journalism student at Met U. I’m about the graduate and I want to get a job at the Planet. To do that in a big way, I wanted to get an interview with Mr. Luthor.”

            Tess threw her head back and laughed. “Never gonna happen, sweetheart.”

            Lois laughed, too, though hers was sarcastic. “Never tell me never. Sweetheart.”

            Tess stood and walked around Lois. She unlocked the cuffs and helped her to her feet. “Go home, kid. My advice to you: forget about Lex Luthor. That interview isn’t going to happen. Not today. Not tomorrow. Find another way to make your splash at the Daily Planet.”

            Lois walked to the door and then stopped. “You know I won’t give up, right?”

            “Oh, I’m counting on it. Just be aware, next time I won’t be so polite.”

            “And next time, I won’t fail.”

Luscious

"This isn't really my kind of place!" yelled Leigh over the noise of the crowd.

Christine just shook her head. "That's why we're here! Time for you to get out more!"

Leigh sat at the bar and absentmindedly stirred her drink. Exams were over and Christine had talked her into going out to celebrate the end of another semester. She was okay with celebrating. She just wasn't sure how she was talked into walking into a place called Luscious. Who names a bar Luscious? It sounds like the name of a strip joint. Thankfully, Leigh looked around and saw that it wasn't that kind of establishment.

"I'm gonna try to get us a table!" Christine yelled. Leigh just waved her off as she took a sip of her Seven & Seven.

Great, she thought, now I'm sitting here alone. How long 'til some drunk guy delivers a cheesy pick up line?

"Excuse me, do you have a Band-Aid?" asked a random frat guy.

Three seconds. "I sure don't, sport!"

"That's a shame. I skinned my knee when I fell for you over there," the guy said, delivering the end of his pick up line.

"Sounds like you're kind of a klutz. Maybe you should cut yourself off from the alcohol for the night."

Frat Guy faked a laugh. "Sorry, I know that was kind of lame. Can I make it up to you? Buy you a drink?"

Leigh sighed, "Already got one, sport. Sure you didn't hit your head when you fell for me? You're kind of having a hard time paying attention to your surroundings."

She could tell that the Frat Guy was getting frustrated. Apparently he was just used to girls dropping everything in their lives whenever he came on to them. Not this girl.

"Come on, Leigh!" Christine shouted from a few feet away, much to Leigh's relief.

"Better luck next time!" Leigh yelled to Frat Guy as she grabbed her drink and walked over to Christine's empty table.

She sat down and looked at Christine, who rolled her eyes at her friend. Leigh was the one who should have been rolling her eyes. She knew what Christine was thinking. A good looking guy was hitting on her and she rejected him flat out. Multiple times. "Don't say it," said Leigh.

"Say what?" Christine asked.

"You know what."

"I'm not saying anything," she said as she looked over at Frat Guy, who looked as if he was ready to pounce on more vulnerable prey.

Leigh got Christine's attention. "I don't think I'm gonna stay much longer. You know I hate these kinds of places."

"Come on!"

"I'm serious. It's loud, it's populated by morons and I'm pretty sure I've got a massive headache coming on."

"All right," Christine said, "Let's go."

Leigh sighed again. "You don't have to go. Stay. Have fun. Just be careful around Frat Guy up there."

"I'm not staying here by myself, are you crazy?"

"Good girl." Leigh said as she and Christine got up, closed their bar tabs, then made their way to the exit. "So on the list of places to hang out in town, we can remove Luscious, right?"

"Absolutely."

Moves

We moved a lot when I was a kid. No, I wasn't an army brat. Dad just had this nomadic streak about him. The longest amount of time we ever spent in one place was 18 months. That was because of a recession and we couldn't afford to move. Or so I was told. I think that, deep down, Dad really just liked the small town feel that he got from living in Wake Forest, North Carolina.

But, eventually, we moved on from there too. "Can't be tied down," Dad would say to me and my brother.

"But what about our friends?" I would ask, the hint of a whine in my voice.

"That's what Facebook is for!" he would say impatiently as he started up the car and we hauled our few belongings to our next destination. Well, I'm sure that's what he would have said if Facebook had existed in 1994 when I was ten years old. It didn't. At that point, I don't think I even knew what email was. I didn't make a lot of friends in those days.

I was born in the fall of 1984. I was the second of two boys and, unfortunately, Mom died in childbirth. I know, that sounds really sad. I'm sure I'd be a lot more sad to talk about it if I actually had known her. My brother, who was three at the time of my birth, doesn't remember much about her either. He remembers her as being warm and caring, which I'm sure most toddlers think about their mothers. For a while I think he hated me after I was born. He probably blamed me for killing her. He even brings it up every now and then when he wants to give me a good time. Brothers, am I right?

Looking back, I'm pretty sure that's the real reason Dad kept us moving all those years. If he stayed still too long, he'd be forced to remember Mom. Moving from place to place was his way of dealing with his grief. Or, and this is probably more accurate, it was his way of not dealing with his grief.

Six months after I was born, we moved from my hometown of Baltimore to Charleston, West Virginia. Initially, I think he planned to be there for a while. In fact, he may have meant to raise us both all the way to adulthood in West Virginia, because he had family there that could help him out. It was hard for him to suddenly be a single father. Turned out, his sister (my aunt) was pretty much worthless when it came to helping to take care of two small children. I want to say she dropped my brother on his head, which is what's wrong with him to this day. But the story may actually go that she dropped me on my head, which is what's wrong with me to this day. I guess we'll never really know. Some things are just lost to us in legend.

From Charleston, we went to Athens, Ohio. I have no memory of that town. We left there before I turned 2. Over the course of the following 10 years, the three of us went to Indianapolis, St. Louis, back to Charleston for another three months, Louisville, Myrtle Beach, and Wake Forest.

As much as I liked living at the beach, I liked Wake Forest even more. Probably because we were there for more than a year and I actually got to spend time making friends. I was in a single school for an entire school year for the first time in my life. It was the only time in my life that I experienced the beginning and ending of school with one teacher.

After Wake Forest, we moved to Richmond for a while. Dad decided that was too close to Baltimore. So then he took us to Phoenix. That was our most extreme move. After that, our homes were spread out across the western half of the United States. If only he'd have moved us to Hawaii at some point. I'm sure that would have been nice. Not the nice that tourists get to see while they're hanging out on white sand beaches. But, still, it's an island in the middle of the Pacific. But we couldn't drive the station wagon all the way to Hawaii. Not a possibility.

Santa Fe was a possibility. So were San Diego, San Francisco, Olympia and Billings. I'm tired of moving. I'm in college now at the University of Maryland. Dad won't visit me here. Too close to Baltimore. Maybe that's why I'm here, because I knew he wouldn't show up. I might regret that decision if I decide I want him at my graduation, but at the moment, I'm okay with it. I should probably feel bad about resenting him for making us move around so much my whole life. But, hey, that's what therapy's for, right?

I Am a Seed

I spend a lot of time sitting in a classroom full of first graders. Because of this fact, I find myself relearning a lot of things I've known for nearly 30 years. Actually, more often than not, I find myself realizing that a lot of the things I know, which I've assumed for years was knowledge I was born with, was in fact taught to me by a teacher many years ago. Anyway, week after week, the kids are given writing assignments to help them learn to think creatively. Creativity is not an easy thing to teach, especially if a kid is feeling particularly lazy about education in general. But that's a topic for another day. Earlier this week, the kids were given the task of writing about what it would be like to be a seed. They had to come up with a type of seed, how it travels and gets planted and what it might experience in that journey. So I got to thinking about what I could come up with as a writer. Here's what I've got...

I'm just a pumpkin seed. It's not a glamorous life, I know. People only get excited about pumpkins in the fall. But I guess it's no different for a candy cane, receiving attention only at Christmas time. Like I said, my life isn't glamorous. I can't say it's a thrill to be a pumpkin seed. But I'll tell you my story anyway.

I was liberated from my mother (a pumpkin) by an old woman in a kitchen. I knew nothing of the world when I emerged from my mother's dark shell. Imagine my surprise when her stem was cut off and light poured in. For the first time in my short life, I saw that my soft surroundings were a bright orange. The old woman scooped me out, along with my brothers and sisters, separating us from my mother's insides. It was pretty morbid, but I've since learned, that's how things are. It was just her time. I didn't know her very well, so I didn't mourn very long.

Once we, the seeds, were cleaned up, the old woman put us in a bag and set us to the side. It was nice to be surrounded by family, but we didn't have mouths, so it's not as if we could pass the time by speaking to each other. I really have no idea how much time passed, but eventually, we were moved. The next change came when an old man took us out of the bag and tossed us into the dirt. I didn't have a lot of time to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, but it was nice. Before I knew it, I was covered over with dirt, buried alive. I then realized that I may be cursed to spend a great deal of my life in the dark.

I couldn't accept that. I wanted to break free from my earthen prison. Soon, that's exactly what I did. I burst out of my shell, no longer content with being a seed. I worked my way up through the soil. I wanted to see the sun again. I wanted to feel the wind. As a vine, I was free to do just that. Eventually I became long enough to break the surface and I could feel the warmth of that glorious sunlight. It was amazing.

Time continued to pass. I continued to grow. Eventually, I grew my own fruit. I became my own pumpkin. If mother could see me now. I know I said I didn't really know her, but I'm sure she'd have been proud of her baby seed. I was getting pretty big. As a pumpkin, however, I couldn't see anything. No eyes. Not that I had eyes as a seed or as a vine. But the perception of a pumpkin is different than it was in those other stages of my life. Just take my word for it, okay?

It wasn't long before the old man came along and cut me from the vine that connected me to the earth. I was carried, along with a number of other pumpkins, to the back of a pick-up truck. From there, I was taken to a market. Some stranger picked me up, handed over some strange paper to the old man, then took me home. I had been adopted. I was so excited.

I found myself in a kitchen, very similar to the one in which I was born. I was feeling really nostalgic. Again, I couldn't see it, it was just a feeling I had. It felt good. Until I felt the knife dig into my top. I was opened up, just like my mother had been. I had been so cold and uncaring when this had happened to mom. Now that I was going through it, I realized that my time had also come. There would be no one to mourn me.

I could feel something digging around inside me, scooping everything out of me. I felt so empty. I felt the sharp edge of the knife once more. This time, shapes were being cut into my side. Eyes! I had eyes for the first time! I could see clearly. I had been right, I was in a kitchen. I could see my own guts lying on a counter. Beside the pieces of me, I could see seeds. I had children of my own. I wondered if they would be planted, as I had been. Would they have a chance to grow into pumpkins themselves?

I wasn't just given eyes. I had been given a nose and a mouth. But I couldn't speak. I wish I'd been able to. Sure would have been fun to scare the woman who had gutted me. All I could do was sit and watch. I saw her put my offspring on a flat piece of metal. Then she placed that inside a large metal box. I could feel heat radiating from the box when she opened it up. Then it hit me, she was roasting the seeds! I wanted to shout out, but I couldn't. Leave my children alone, you monster! She cooked them before they even had a chance at life.

I was miserable. With my new nose, I could smell the seeds as they roasted. I wanted to leave this kitchen. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long. I was carried outside and placed on a porch. From there, I watched days pass. It was boring. Until tonight, when I felt something placed inside me. It's warm and feels as if I'm glowing. Tonight, my view of that boring yard has become a lot more exciting. I've seen dozens of children, each dressed more strangely than the last. I can tell it's gotten late. I'm still glowing, but the people inside the house have turned off their lights.

This is strange, though. Someone's coming into the yard. Wait, why are they approaching me? They're older than the kids I've seen tonight. They're dressed in normal attire. I'm being picked up! I want to cry out for help, but I can't! I'm being lifted over someone's head! I'm scared! I don't like heights! No! Don't do this! I'm being thro--

Popular

Grant was never popular during his high school years. So he should have been extremely suspicious near the end of his senior year when he was invited to a party by one of the beautiful people. But he was too excited to turn down the invitation.

It all seemed innocent enough. Becky had approached him while he grabbed some books from his locker. While Grant had trouble talking to most of the popular kids, Becky was different. She was a lot nicer, for one thing. She'd never given Grant a hard time for skipping two grades. She'd never made fun of him for being so small compared to all the other kids in the senior class. She'd always seemed to make an effort to let him feel like he was actually a part of the Jefferson High student body.

"Hey, Grant! What are you up to this weekend?" she asked in that excited, bubbly voice for which she was so well known.

Grant thought for a moment. The truth was, he planned to spend a lot of his time reading. He also expected to help his mother in the yard. He was sure it would be nothing compared to the excitement that Becky would experience. Instead of the truth, he just said, "Nothing much, why?"

"There's a party at Vanessa Duke's house. You know her, right?"

"Yeah," said Grant, hesitating. Of course he knew Vanessa Duke. Everyone knew Vanessa Duke. Head cheerleader. Student body president. Homecoming Queen. Yearbook editor. She was the high school girl that they made movies about. Not that Grant had a crush on her or anything. He knew that a girl like Vanessa was way out of his league, so he never wasted a second thinking about her.

Grant was confused. Why would anyone, even Becky Freeman, invite him to a party at the home of the most popular person in school?

"So does that mean you'll go? You can even ride with me if you want," Becky said, trying to sweeten the deal.

For some reason, Grant agreed to go. He even took Becky up on her offer to go with her. He didn't imagine that it was a date. He just assumed Becky was being nice again. Something the other popular kids wouldn't know how to be if someone paid them. Not that they needed the money.

Saturday night came and Grant was nervous. This was his first high school party. Being so close to graduation, it would likely be his only high school party. Maybe it would be good practice for all the college parties he was bound to not be invited to.

Becky picked him up at his house at 8, just like she said she would. "Nervous?" she asked as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"How can you tell?"

She didn't have to say anything. She just pointed to his quickly bouncing right knee. He put his hand on his leg to make it stop. Now he was a little embarrassed. A nice addition to his anxiety.

They arrived at the party and Becky took Grant by the arm to lead him through the crowd. Soon after they got to Vanessa's, Becky excused herself, promising she'd be right back. That was when everything went wrong.

Vanessa walked up to Grant and was sickeningly sweet to him. By this point, Grant wondered if he was dying of some disease and no one had told him about it. Vanessa had never been nice to him in his life. Here she was welcoming him to her home and offering him something to drink. Grant didn't want to act like he was suspicious of her behavior.

"Just go on into the kitchen, I'll be right behind you," said Vanessa, pointing Grant in the right direction.

Grant opened the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining room. By the time he realized a bucket of water had been propped above the door it was too late. He was drenched by five gallons of water. He turned back toward the crowded dining room in time to hear the laughter and see several of the athletic guys high-fiving each other.

A part of him wanted to laugh it off. He didn't want to show these jerks that they had gotten to him. But he wasn't feeling that brave. He pushed his way through the laughing crowd and yanked open the front door. He didn't bother to close it behind him as he stormed off into the night. Grant wanted to go home and that meant he had a long walk ahead of him.

He was fuming. As he walked, he plotted his revenge. He didn't have many ideas. How could he get back at the entire senior class? He had a thought. Something that might just work. But it would take a lot of work, and he didn't have a lot of time to prepare.

When Grant was three blocks away from Vanessa's house, he heard footsteps behind him. "Grant!" It was Becky's voice calling his name.

He turned on her, furious. "I thought you were different than those other guys! I never would have thought you'd set me up like that!"

"Grant, you have to believe me. I had no idea Vanessa and those guys were planning to mess with you like that," Becky said. Grant could tell she was sincere, but he wasn't willing to forgive her at the moment.

"Just leave me alone!" he yelled as he turned to walk away.

"At least let me take you back home," Becky offered.

Grant didn't stop. He didn't respond. He just kept walking.

Fuzzy

"How are you feeling?" asked Jason as he poked his head into Naomi's cubicle.

She had just finished blowing her nose and felt a little embarrassed at having Jason witness the act. There was no way around it though. Naomi was sick. Nothing serious. Just a cold. It was more of an irritation than a problem, really. Annoying enough to make her feel awful, but not bad enough to allow her a day off work.

"How do you think I feel?!" she snapped as she tossed a tissue into the wastebasket. She hadn't meant to snap at Jason. He had simply asked a question. And he'd done so with genuine concern in his voice.

"Sorry," Jason said as he turned to walk away.

"No, I'm sorry," Naomi said, "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's okay. I've been there. Just a couple weeks ago, actually."

"Yeah, I remember," she said as she turned to cough into her elbow. "To answer your question, I feel like crap."

"Are you taking anything?" he asked.

"I am. But it's making my head all fuzzy, you know?"

"Why did you come in today?" asked Jason, "Don't you have any sick days saved up?"

"I thought about calling in, but I've just got too much to do. These reports aren't going to file themselves," Naomi said as she sighed, looking at the pile of paperwork on her desk.

"If you need a hand with anything let me know."

"Thanks," Naomi said softly before turning back to her computer.

She stared at the screen for a few minutes until her vision became blurred. According to her watch, 15 minutes had passed. That medication was really messing with her today. Maybe Jason was right. She should have taken the day off. In the state she was in, she wasn't sure that she would be able to spell her own name correctly, much less wade through the mountain of paperwork she had to do.

Naomi got up from her desk and walked to Jason's cubicle. "I'm gonna leave," she said.

"Good idea," Jason said as he looked up at her. "Do you want me to take care of anything for you?"

She gave him a strange look and he realized that came out wrong.

"No! I meant work! I mean, do you have any paperwork I can take care of for you?"

She laughed, "I think it will wait 'til tomorrow."

"All right. Feel better. Hopefully you won't feel so fuzzy tomorrow," said Jason, receiving another strange look. "I'm just gonna stop talking now."

The Apology

Via

It was a beautiful afternoon. The kind of day that kids daydream about when they're stuck inside a school listening to their teachers drone on and on about World War II or the Pythagorean Theorem. Christopher had been waiting all week for Saturday to get here and he had been praying just as long for a warm, sunny day. He could hardly believe it, but he got exactly what he wanted.

He woke earlier than any 13 year old should on a Saturday morning. But he was excited. He had paid close attention to the weather forecast while his dad watched the evening news. Clear skies and a high of 72. Perfect weather for some baseball with the other guys in the neighborhood. It took just about all that he had to resist the impulse to run out the door and hop on his bike as soon as his eyes shot open. He stopped himself, though. None of the other kids would be at the empty lot at 7:30 in the morning. So he waited.

In the meantime, he decided he could use a decent breakfast. Well, as long as blueberry Pop-Tarts can be considered decent. His folks weren't up yet and he still wasn't, technically, allowed to use the stove unsupervised. No bacon and eggs for Christopher this morning. By the time he finished eating it was nearly 8. Still too early.

Chris flopped down on the sofa in the living room and turned on the TV. Not that there would be anything good on. He flipped through all the cable channels three times before giving up and turning the television back off. He peeked out the curtain of the front window and sighed. He wanted to go out so badly. But it was still too early. Besides, he had to at least wait for one of his parents to come downstairs. He couldn't just leave the house without telling them where he was going.

8:27. He finally heard someone moving around in his parents' bedroom. Of the two possibilities, the footsteps sounded lighter. Must be mom, he thought. A moment later he could see the bottom of his mother's bathrobe as she descended the stairs.

"Mom, can I go play ball with the guys?" he asked before his mother even got to the bottom step.

She tried to stifle a yawn, which really didn't work. "Isn't it a little early for baseball?" she asked.

Christopher rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned, it was never too early for baseball. The sun was shining. As long as he could see the ball, he could play the game. "It's 8:30! I've already eaten breakfast. I promise I'll take a break and come back for lunch. Please?"

"Okay." His mother was barely able to say both syllables before he hugged her and thanked her and ran out the door.

Chris stopped by the garage to pick up his bat, glove and a ball. He wasn't sure who else would be out at the empty lot or if they would have thought to bring anything with them. He honestly didn't care if no one was there yet. He would be perfectly content running the bases alone, imagining that he had just knocked one out of the park at Fenway.

He rode his bike about as fast as he could. He could have gone faster, but he didn't want to overexert himself before he got a chance to play a game. Chris arrived at the lot and saw that he was the first one there. He surveyed the ground before him. It wasn't very well kept. Grass growing sporadically here and there. Rocks and gravel made for interesting obstacles throughout the dirt. They had tried to clean up all the broken bottles and empty cans, but he could see that they missed a few. Or there were a few new ones. It's not like cops came by here on a regular basis to enforce litter laws.

He dropped his glove on the ground near the road. Then he walked over to home plate with his bat and ball in hand. He tossed the ball into the air and took a swing. Miss. Wake up, Chris! He tried again. This time he connected.

He hit the ball a lot harder than he had intended to. The baseball from his garage sailed past what the kids considered to be outfield. It flew over the privacy fence that acted as the boundary of Old Lady McGee's property. And that's when he heard the sound of glass shattering. Before he could blink, he was back on his bike, pedaling as if his life depended on it.

Chris got home, threw his bike to the ground, then ran inside, slamming the front door behind him. "You weren't gone long!" he heard his mother call out from the kitchen. He was breathing heavily. He was scared. He'd just broken the window of one of the meanest old ladies in town. Then his heart dropped. He suddenly forgot how to breathe and all the blood in his body drained down to his feet. To his horror, he realized he left his glove lying on the ground. The baseball glove that had his name and address written on the inside with a black Sharpie.

His mother came around the corner, still in her bathrobe. "Are you okay?" she asked, suddenly concerned when she saw how pale her son was.

"What?" Chris asked, "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. No one was there, so I decided to wait here for a while before I go back." She won't buy it, he thought.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right? You look like you're gonna be sick."

Chris let out a nervous laugh. "No, really, I'm fine. I just rode my bike really fast to get back here. I got chased by a dog that got loose." She won't buy it, he thought again.

"Mmmhmm..." His mom turned to go back to the kitchen.

He let out a sigh of relief. She bought it. "I'm gonna go up and play a video game to kill time," he said as he took the stairs.

Chris turned on his Wii and had barely begun a game of Super Mario Bros. when he heard the doorbell. A few seconds later, he heard his father say, "I'll get it!" before hearing him walk down the stairs.

He dared to open his bedroom door, just a crack. He couldn't hear what was going on, and from that angle, he certainly couldn't see who was on their front porch. And then his dad called his name.

Busted. Slowly, as if he were walking the Green Mile, Chris made his way down the stairs. Sure enough, standing in their doorway was Old Lady McGee. She was holding Chris' bat and glove in her hands. His dad was holding his baseball.

"Chris," his father began sternly, "I believe you owe Mrs. McGee an apology. And a new window."

Sharp

The prompt from Sunday Scribblings this week is "Sharp." This is what I did with it. Go see what others did this week too!

Conner could feel how sharp the razor was as it scraped across his face. Shaving was such a hassle, but it was necessary. Especially today.

He finished removing the stubble from his cheeks and chin and splashed water in his face. He took a look at himself in the mirror, just to make sure he hadn't missed a spot. As Logan looked himself in the eye, he realized just how nervous he was.

It had been a long time coming, this audition. A part of him felt like he was singing for his life. He had already been accepted to the school, now he was trying to get a little extra-curricular. He wasn't majoring in music. He wasn't planning a career as a performer. He just loved to sing, so he wanted to be a part of the school's choir.

Before he even started attending the university, he'd heard stories of how great their music program was. Toward the end of the previous school year, he'd gotten the chance to see the choir perform live. He was blown away by the shear volume of talent represented on the stage that night. He knew he wanted to be a part of it.

At the student activities fair he picked up a flyer. Logan heard the rumor that they didn't often accept freshmen into the choir, but that wouldn't stop him from trying out. So he signed up for an audition time and picked an audition song. Now the day was here.

He chose to dress up a little more than he probably needed to, opting for a necktie. Then he jumped on his bike and road across campus to the auditorium. The director of the music department welcomed Logan with a handshake and introduced him to the senior members of the choir. These would be the judges deciding whether or not he was good enough to sing with them. Fair enough, he thought.

Logan spoke briefly with an accompanist who could pretty much play anything. Soon, the piano on the stage began playing "How Great Thou Art." Logan decided that an old hymn would be safe enough, but would also show off his range. He sang and seemed to be done with the song fairly quickly. It wasn't that the tempo was faster than he was used to. It just flew by in a blur.

"That was really good, Logan," said Dr. Mendez, "A little sharp toward the end, but still, very good. We'll need to discuss some things on our end, but you should expect to hear from me by the end of the day tomorrow."

"Thank you," said Logan. He walked off the stage and sighed heavily. The worst of it was over. He could make the choir, he could not make the choir, it didn't really matter at this point. He tried his best and that's really all he wanted to do.

Via