I’m giving you a break from my recent spate of serious stories. Hope you had a nice, dumb, fixed Superbowl. ~HS
There is a new Episode of The Arc of The Bard, with Sean Glatch of Writers.com tomorrow, February 9. Check that out.
There were no snacks in the pantry. It was so cold outside, and Bill had planned to stay in this weekend to clean the place, catch up on his shows, and watch the Superbowl. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten to pick up some favorites after work. He used his drive home to tie up loose ends from the week. Now he has to brave a freeze snap and hit the store.
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He put on his warmest things, the scarf, the floppy hat, the polar gloves, the whole business. He dreaded the ice and snow build-up on the pavement outside. He knows he’d have to face that soon, but it was not a pleasant thought.
The work week was fruitful, He was productive, one of his best weeks. He really deserved a reward. He only wanted to have a cozy, solitary, productive weekend as well. Most years, for the big weekend, he’d get together with friends, or family, they’d sit around and do all the things. Stuffing their faces with garbage food, arguing about whether it’s all fixed, watching the commercials and the puppy bowl.
Bill’s favorite was just plain old, good ol’ fashioned ridged chips with sour cream and onion dip. He’d just sit there and scoop big creamy, salty wads of that into his gob. His sister made really nice pigs in blankets, half-baked, then complete them wrapped in bacon. It is so stupid. He’d sop up the grease on the bottom of the pan with the bitten end and be ridiculous with it. Fart city. BYO baking soda, Jack.
Now, he’s sitting in icy lousy traffic trying to get to the grocery store, thinking about what he wants to mow down while his car heater is finally kicking in. He can take off his gloves and hat. One hundred percent, he’ll be getting the chips, sour cream, and onion soup mix. He’s figuring in some cold cuts and pretzel rolls with a couple types of mustard. Probably some coleslaw and horseradish for those sandwiches, just in case. He’s going to want some peanut butter cups, some soft bread sticks and an almond cheese ball. All of that, for sure.
Then, there’s the thing of the frozen pizza. But that’s no good without some extra cheese to thrown on there and some accessory toppings. He may as well get some more beer, since he’ll get low by the end of the weekend. He’ll be chucking some mixed nuts and caramel corn in there during the streaming he has to get up to speed with.
As he finally starts moving in traffic, he can see what the commotion is that’s slowing everyone down. There’s a big spill of salt from one of the County salt trucks. It’s practically a stand still, though, they’re only letting a few cars go at a time from each direction. This really sucks. He inches closer, and realizes he has a 5 gallon bucket in his trunk for emergency supplies. He has all that snow and ice at home, too. This is fortuitous. He’s not far from the site. In the next little advancement, He’ll be able to get out and fill his bucket with salt. Why not?
That’s what happens. Bill quickly pops the trunk, jumps out of the car, dumps the supplies from the bucket, and is able to easily fill the bucket without any issues or confrontation from the LEO’s on the scene. They seem to not even care. They have important things to worry about. Bill helped to pay for the salt, it’s not a big whoop to him, either.
He secures the bucket in the trunk and returns to his door, and realizes it’s locked. He’s steamed. He’s stuck out there without his gloves and hat. He’s pounding on the roof of his car. It’s time for the traffic to move, and everyone is honking at him. He tries the back door. Locked. He runs around to the driver side door, locked. He tries the rear door on that side. Open! He gets in there and unlocks his driver door. As he comes around the back of the car, he motions his penitence to the other drivers, bowing, and making praying hands. He gets in the car and he can move forward.
As he passes by the cop directing traffic, the cop is laughing and shaking his head. Bill tips his forehead and also laughs. He knows he really lucked out. He has to make a wide left turn around the salt truck, and all the guys standing around out there, take a moment from leaning on their shovels to applaud him as he drives past.
A few hundred feet down the road, Bill pulls into the grocery lot. He sees his sister, Linda, coming out of the store. He honks and parks, and she meets him at his car.
“So, you’re staying in this weekend?” She asks.
“Yeah, I guess so” Bill replies. “I want to clean the place and get some things done. It’s been a busy week. What are your plans?”
She explains. “Well, we were going over to Marsha’s but her kids all have the flu, so we have to figure it out. It’s all the High School reunion thing, you know?”
“You gotta find a place.” He says.
“Yep.” Linda says.
“Hmm, well, I guess why not come over to my place, that’ll be fine, if you guys want.”
“OK.” She says, “I’ll tell everyone.”
“I could use some help getting the place ready. We have a day, if someone wants to come early Sunday, that might be good.”
“We can make that happen.” Linda says.
“Hey, can you make those hot dog bacon things?”
Linda tilts her grocery bag so he can see into it.
961 Words.
There is a new Episode of The Arc of The Bard, with Sean Glatch of Writers.com tomorrow, February 9. Check that out.
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