Break From Reality. Daily.
“Linus, is it spring back and fall forward, or the other way around?”
“It doesn’t make sense to spring back, does it, Evelyn?”
“But you could fall forward.”
“Please stop talking.”
Evelyn looked over at her husband and pouted.
“I’m sorry, honey.” He reached over and touched her face. She loved when he did that.
It was the worst roast beef I had ever eaten in my life. What did she do, incinerate it? But you would never know from the smile plastered on my face that I’d just bitten into a piece of over-cooked tree bark. I needed to grin and bear this shit because if everything went according to plan, Sheila Thorne would soon be my mother-in-law.
Sheila was an impressive woman, tall, dignified and beautiful. She ruled the roost, that was for sure, and had an unwavering dedication to Danny. It was borderline pathological, but I knew Danny wouldn’t marry me unless Sheila gave her approval. So in my desperation, I was on my best behavior, hoping Sheila would give us her blessing.
Danny kept saying, “Mom, dinner is delicious. Really, one of your best.” Maybe he was delirious from all the chewing or had simply lost his sense of taste growing up in a house where the meals were this atrocious. The truth was Danny was terrified of his mother; she could’ve served him a rubber boot and he would have thought it the most delicious dinner ever.
The variety show started with its usual act, Pockets the Clown. He was stoned beyond belief, yet still managed to be creepy, like all clowns tend to be. His words were slurred, but most who were watching—and believe me there weren’t many—thought he never sounded better.
The Franklin Variety Hour had been entertaining Idahoans since 1953. But the heydays of airing on the local CBS affiliate were long gone, as was the show’s founder, Henry Franklin, whose smiling face still ended each program. Now the show he loved and labored over was relegated to cable access Channel 22, sandwiched between “English as a Second Language” and “Gardening with Ida Snow.”
Owen Franklin, his son and successor, sat backstage watching Pockets stumble through the show’s opening. He never wanted this life—his father’s life. But no matter how far away he moved, no matter what career path he chose, the road always led him right back to the show. It was, after all, his home, and the only real family he’d ever had.
My job requires that I have good instincts, and mine are impeccable, if I do say so myself. Most of my nights off are spent alone, or at Mr. Chan’s, a Chinese food place downtown. The food is good, and old Mr. Chan has taken a liking to me. I would say he’s my one and only friend—because in my business you don’t have many.
I mainly sit and watch diners come and go. Husbands and wives sitting together, barely a word spoken. College kids grabbing a bite to eat before seeing a show at Club Rico. Most days the clientele is hardly worth noting—then she walked in.
She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Her dark curly hair, wound its way down her back, stopping just shy of her waist. Her skin was flawless, her lips full. Her bright blue eyes were gorgeous, as they searched the restaurant, obviously looking for someone. When she didn’t find them, the beauty took a seat at a table near the entrance.
I sat and observed, because that’s what I do best.
The following story is based on real events, names have been omitted to protect the not so innocent. Here’s their story. Thursday November 6th: The door opened and chaos ensued, as I burst into the girls’ room screaming. “Kids get up quick, you’re gonna to be late for school!” 8:00 am – No coffee, little…
Mitch Cole had been doing stand-up comedy in seedy bars for the better part of 20 years. Tonight he was performing at The Sandbox, a nightclub that had at one time hosted comedians like Robin Williams, Steve Martin, Eddie Murphy, even Richard Pryor. Today, The Sandbox bared little resemblance to the hotspot it was in…
The theater was packed, some even stood in the back, leaning against the wall in anticipation. My friend Marty and I had the perfect seats. Popcorn in hand, we were excited by what would come, but had no idea what to expect. Then the lights dimmed, and the place erupted in cheers as the film…
Hemingway is quoted as saying, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Oh how true that is. This is a different kind of blog post for me folks. I’ve got no advice this time around, no witty repartee on good writing vs. bad. All I have…
The film was called “Could It Have Ended Any Better?” It was one of Sarah’s favorite movies when she was a teenager. It was a typical boy gets girl, boy loses girl, than after a tragedy, they find each other and fall in love all over again. A nice 50s romance starring Bertram Russell and…
It was the most beautiful fuck up anyone in the company had ever seen in its 15 year history. Beautiful that is, to the people who enjoyed watching the fall of Peyton Thorne; the perpetrator of this colossal screw up. Oscar, her boss, had been yelling at her for about thirty minutes. His minions, Heather…
Well, I’m warning you up front that I’m about to stomp on the childhood memories of many of you who frequent, and even write for Short Fiction Break. But I do it because I love you. I’m one of those rare birds who hadn’t read Tolkien’s The Hobbit, during my misspent youth. But after having…
In the end, I decided to meet with him —6:30pm at the Flying M coffee shop. We did have something once —before he broke it off. I wanted to see him again, to show him that I was over the relationship —truth was, I was hardly over it. I went to the restroom to freshen…
In my other life I write movie reviews, and I’m sure it isn’t surprising to you that good writing in films is just as important as it is in literature. At times there is a hairline difference between a good film and a bad one. Then I had the misfortune of reviewing Madea’s Witness Protection,…
My name is Brenda Spencer, I’m sixteen years old, and today I’m gonna be famous. Mark this day down in the history books bitches, ‘cause January 29, 1979, is a day everybody’s gonna remember —oh yes it is. It’s Monday, and it’s freakin’ cold, so I ain’t goin’ to school. But I don’t need no…
It was the New Year that brought about a sense of hope for Dottie Mackenzie. Usually unmoved by the joyous confetti filled parties that come with the end of December, and never one to make empty resolutions; this year Dottie had a very good reason, at least in her mind, to consider the vast blank…
Dad said I was born with a sadness that lingered just under the surface. I think he spent his whole life trying to help me overcome it. But like the cancer that eventually took him, the malignancy within me just grew until it was so much stronger than I was. It was the lake house…
Twas the day after Christmas in our little house. Watching Die Hard with the family, as John saves his spouse. Hans Gruber was angry and wanted McClean dead, but John had other ideas instead. This might sound strange to you, but each year on the day after Christmas, our family watches the 1988 film “Die…
It’s that most wonderful time of year again. The chestnuts are roasting on an open fire (keep an extinguisher close by), Jack Frost is nipping at your nose (I’m not talking about the cute guy at work), and folks are dressed up like Eskimos (It’s supposed to be a cold ass winter). Yes my friends,…
Michonne was her hero. Problem was Michonne was a character from The Walking Dead. She carried a sword and cut the heads off of zombies —or people if they deserved it. 12 year old Elsie Slawson was obsessed with the show in general, and Micchone in particular. Thing is, a girl like that; lonely, and…
How does a writer propel a show past the doldrums of your average police procedural? By proposing the simple question; ‘What If?’ On a daily basis, my kids play the “What If” game; “Mom what if we walked on the sky instead of the ground?” Or, “Mom what if I finish my vitamin drink, and…
The Law of Entropy says that order will eventually descend into chaos, and that the opposite can never happen. Oh God…I hope that’s not true. I was born into chaos, the child of Lillian and Carl Arliss. Mom was 15 and dad was 17. They were a toxic combination of violence and resentment, all wrapped…
The political signs were littered all throughout the neatly manicured lawns of Clementine Hozier’s neighborhood. She was already sick of seeing them, and things were only just beginning. This was supposed to be a banner election season —at least that’s what all the pundits said. And the candidate on everyone’s radar was State legislator Lincoln…
Rarely has there been a program on television as innovative and creative as Lost. As a writer, it was a smorgasbord of inspiration that captivated me each and every week. Still, it’s hard to believe that a show where an island is the main character; where polar bears, smoke monsters, and a whole host of…
It didn’t call itself a church, but for all intents and purposes, that’s exactly what it was pretending to be. “The Following” was led by its charismatic “teacher” Jake Massey; aka Jake Daniels, aka Jake Mitchell, as well as dozens of other aliases he’s used since the age of sixteen. Now Jake was in his…
Just like that it was over. Fifteen years and in the blink of an eye, I was single again —even though I didn’t want to be. It’s hard to say when things started going downhill; maybe it was me wanting more kids, maybe it was him insisting that I go back to work —who knows….
Vera Faulkner stuck a hand inside her purse, and closed her fingers around the bottle of pills she placed there that morning. She was sitting in the old Aztec theater, after 50 years this would be its final weekend. It was a place that held many wonderful memories for Vera —and it would also be…
I was never meant for winter. I only moved here because he asked me to; back then, I would’ve done almost anything he asked. It was November, and nearly 6 inches of snow had fallen in just 2 days. I couldn’t be in that house any longer -not after he said that he was leaving…
