Category Archives: Life

The Child Safety Seat for New Grandparents

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Hi. As you can see from the picture, we’re having a baby. ..Wait, I need to explain.

By “we,” I mean my daughter and her husband. And that’s not the baby in the picture. It’s my daughter’s Cabbage Patch doll that my wife insisted we save, in the warehouse we call our basement, for our grandchildren. It’s been a while. I had no idea cabbage would keep that long.

I’ve been using the doll to make sure I know how the car seat works. It comes with a 68 page manual. The one we got our own kids years ago had a sticker that said, “Insert baby here,” with an arrow. “This end up.”
Continue…

The Desk

Short Fiction for Guests of the Wordfeeder
Monday, August 22, 2011

As is the case with everything I write,
except for a few details, this is a true story.

Prelude –
(To a short short story? Why not?)

As you may already know, there are literary historians who contest the notion that William Shakespeare (4/26/1564 – 4/26/1616) was, in fact, the prolific author he is reputed to be. (Yes, he died on the same day of the same month on which he was born.) It is their theory that, acting as a front, Shakespeare took credit for the works of one or more of his contemporaries, namely Francis Bacon (1/22/1561 – 4/9/1626) and/or Christopher Marlowe (2/26/1564 until he was stabbed to death on 5/30/1593 at the age of only 29). Most scholars believe this debate is unwarranted and that William Shakespeare was, in fact, the genius creator of the works to which he signed his name.

In any case, relationships among these three men – Shakespeare, Bacon and Marlowe – varied from cordial, even warm, particularly between Shakespeare and Marlowe, to angry, resentful and distrusting. Some have even suggested that Bacon – who was known to have a nasty disposition, generally lacking any sense of humor and occasionally ruthless – may have arranged for Marlowe’s demise, envious of his closeness to Shakespeare and angered by certain blasphemous remarks, quite shocking for their time, made by Marlowe about Bacon which Sir Francis took personally. Who knows?

What is known for sure is that Shakespeare’s remarkable productivity stalled abruptly in late 1599, with no output – no play or poem – through most of 1600. The best he could manage was some reworking of Hamlet which he had first written in 1589. Why? Could it be that Shakespeare was distracted and, instead of writing, chose instead to spend the year rolling around with Gwyneth Paltrow? (Who wouldn’t?) Of course not. That was the movie. In fact, no one really knows, but there is a school of thought that believes Shakespeare, who was a superstitious person, was affected by a gift he received about that time from none other than Francis Bacon himself. Alleged by Sir Francis to have been presented to encourage a reconciliation between the two, there are those who believe the gift had a much more sinister purpose.

—————

It was early on the perfect Saturday morning, Jake’s favorite day. He’d been up for a while, wrapping up one of the columns that would one day make possible the nice house in the country which was their dream. For now, their one bedroom city apartment would have to do. His nimble fingers were flying over his laptop’s keyboard, until they stopped abruptly, for just a moment, before hitting the final period. “Done.”
Continue…

Schmutz* Patrol

Short Fiction for Guests of the Wordfeeder
Sunday, August 14, 2011

*According to the Urban Dictionary: Used by Jewish mothers to identify that you’ve got some kind of crap on your face. Random, icky stuff that ends up on you or something else. “Dirt” in German.

Tuesday, 1:05 PM.

An attractive 30 something brunette in one of those fits perfectly business suits only high priced women attorneys wear, makes her way through the noisy lunch hour crowd of professionals at this particular downtown grill to where the other half of her meeting is waiting for her in one of the booths.

“Hey,” the attorney, still standing, says to the women she has come there to meet who is busy reading something on her phone, her crab cake and fries platter half eaten. “I got held up on a conference call.”

“No problem. Have a seat. You want something to eat?”

“No,” the suit responded, reaching over, without asking permission, to take one of her fries. “I won’t be here that long. Are you sure it’s okay to talk here?”
Continue…

The Badger

Short Fiction for Guests of the WordFeeder
Sunday, August 7, 2011

Joyce, the station’s third floor receptionist, was working at her desk. Having put off getting new glasses until her next annual increase, coming up in just 11 and half months, she found herself having to work unusually close to the copy she was editing for one of their segment producers. Poor near vision, together with her extraordinary powers of concentration that often found her ignoring incoming calls, were about to be overcome by the unusual shuffling sound of something walking toward her desk. It was as if someone wearing unusually large fuzzy slippers was coming her way, unable, for some reason, to lift his or her feet the way normal people do.

“Hi.” The voice was odd, in a cartoonish way, possibly electronically altered.

No response.

“Excuse me,” the voice tried again to get her attention. This time it did.
Continue…

Who’s holding who hostage?

Thursday, August 4, 2011

FYI, “The Wordfeeder” is neither a Democrat or Republican, Tea Party or otherwise, but an honest-to-goodness registered Independent. As such, I just call ‘em as I see them, regardless of who I agree with or offend.

That having been said, consider the following TV drama scenario. Large men wearing ski masks, what else, … Just ski masks. They’re naked from the waste down. ..break into your office demanding that the President of your firm, who doesn’t know you from Adam, turn over the key to the men’s room which is kept locked at all times, precisely to avoid having thugs like them from going to the bathroom without permission. Okay, I think we can all agree that the large men are “holding you hostage.” Or can we?

Suppose, from the point of view of the large, masked men, you (your firm) posed a much greater threat when your management leased lobby space to a Starbucks and then withheld access to your lavatories. Maybe the large, masked men are basically nice guys who just feel they have no choice. Having made repeated polite, entirely civil requests for the lavatory key, they are at their wits end and feel, quite possibly correctly so, that they’ve run out of options.

Management, who considers you dispensable, particularly when issues as significant as public restroom access are on the line, tells the masked men that they should put their guns down, leave the building and they’ll talk about it later, maybe.

Who’s responsible for this crisis? The hostage takers, or the people who have acted, depending upon your point of view, with reckless disregard to the welfare of the general public?

As you probably know, our Congress went on vacation immediately after passing their debt limit extension legislation, leaving over 70,000 Americans without income pending resolution of a dispute over renewed FAA funding. Not only are these Americans temporarily out of work, there is over $1 billion of taxes which our government desperately needs that will go uncollected until the House and Senate get back from vacation. This is an example of audacity, of self-serving politics, of reckless incompetence of biblical proportions.

The Democrats in the Senate are claiming that the Republicans in the house are “holding them hostage” by approving additional FAA funding contingent upon putting an end to government subsidies of minor airline routes which we can’t afford to continue. (My wife believes that no one should be allowed to fly distances of less than 500 miles, and I agree with her, at least in principle.) Well, I think the Democrats are confused. I think it’s the Democrats, President Obama included, who want the Republicans to drop their demand and pass yet another “clean” funding bill, and they’ll talk about cutting expenses later. To which I say, at the risk of sounding like a Republican (ick), “Oh, yeah. When?”

Time’s up.

-wf

A Committee of Our Peers

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Why does anyone think that a “Super Committee” of 12 members of Congress, six each from both parties, is going to solve anything?

By “anything,” I’m including what to order for lunch.

Well, some ideas are just too big to keep to myself – like I ever needed a really big idea as an excuse to write. Do you know what I think? (I certainly hope not.) What I think is that the “Super Committee” should consist of 12 Americans selected more or less at random, like a jury.

I’m not kidding. 12 Americans selected at random, subject only to the following constraints, in no particular order: (1) They must be American citizens. (2) They must be registered voters – four of them Democrats, four Republicans and four Independents. (3) They must be at least 18 years old.

MOST IMPORTANTLY, (4) They cannot have ever run for office, or currently be running for office, or be employed by any office holder or candidate, by any political party, action committee, lobby, whatever. We’re all political. I get and like that about us. I just want to make sure there are no actual politicians or political activists on the committee.

There. My money tells me these 12 we pick will figure out what to do, and that it will be a well rounded solution that makes good, common sense. (Congress can then ignore their suggestions and get back to doing what it does best, whatever that is.)

Six months from now, when I’ve proved my point, the next thing I’m going to suggest is that, every two, maybe four years, we use the same criteria to select 535 people at random to be our House and Senate. …You can’t seriously think they won’t do better than the current bunch of yahoos we we’ve elected.

-wf

Pretense

Short Fiction for Guests of the WordFeeder
Saturday, August 30, 2011

“Did I miss him?! Is he here yet??” Clara rushed through the side door to “The Highway Diner,” the one with the rusted metal “Employees Only” sign next to the buzzer that hadn’t worked in years. Not waiting for the screen to slam behind her or for the gym bag she was carrying to make it inside, she blurted out her question in a loud whisper.

“No,” her cousin Janis, a waitress with no particular future plans, shook her head. “It’s still early.”

Pulling franticly on the doorknob to the “Ladies” restroom, it took her a moment to get the point.

“Hey!” a woman’s voice came from behind the door. “I’ll be out in a couple of minutes!”

“Sorry,” Clara apologized, spinning back, away from the door, toward her cousin. “The locker room.”
Continue…

The Plug-In

Short Fiction for Guests of the WordFeeder
(It’s time for something a little different.)
Friday, July 22, 2011

“Good afternoon, Nathan.” At precisely 3 PM, Dr. Cheryl Schreiber, Doctor of Psychology, somewhere in her thirties, opened the door to the loft where she lived and had her office. Even at a distance, he could feel the faint swoosh of air touching his face. “Com’on in.” Nathan had been waiting in the lobby Dr. Schreiber shared with the other professionals in the converted factory.

Rising quickly, Nathan took his eyes off the cable news that was playing on the flat screen on the wall across from where he had been sitting, turning to smile at the attractive woman he was there to see. Gray jeans, a white pleated shirt, her shoulder length hair shifting inexplicably when and however it wanted, she moved to greet him with a presence you could feel coming. “Hi.” He extended his hand, which she shook firmly. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” They were alone in the lobby, and spoke openly. “I just felt I needed to see someone and a friend said you.. said you were easy to talk to.”
Continue…

Happy Anniversary!

To my wife who, unbelievably, is more beautiful now, in all respects, than she was the day I met her, from her husband who is not… (Now how is that fair?)
Happy Anniversary!
Thursday, July 21, 2011.

Although it’s been a while, the number of years we’ve been married doesn’t matter. All I know is that I’ve been in love with you forever and always will be.

-wf, aka “me”

“Hello?”

Short fiction for guests of the WordFeeder.
Sunday, July 17, 2011

Even from their bathroom, over the sound of the shower, “Benny” could hear her phone ringing, the cell phone she’d left on their sofa in the small… no, tiny city apartment she shared with her friend, Denise. (“Benny” was short for “Benjamin,” her mother’s maiden and her middle name.)

“GET THAT!! If it’s Marc,” she shouted, “tell him I’m in the shower, ..naked, ..alone, ..thinking about touching myself, but saving myself…

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get it,” Denise yelled back. “…How long,” she thought to herself, “can she stay in the shower? No wonder people in the building complain about not having any hot water. Maybe she’s…,” her eyebrows went up, her head angled slightly, her eyes looking around while she thought about it.
Continue…