Archive for the ‘David Kopaska-Merkel’ Category
Laughing Buddha
Wednesday, October 20th, 2010
Sandy took Laughing Buddha to the beach. She loved the way the waves were always the same, but never the same. The strand was always the same, and never the same. Not like people, they were always different. Look at Laughing Buddha, for instance.
Sandy had lived with her parents in Nags Head her whole life. Except they weren’t really her parents, and it wasn’t really her whole life. She loved them, she really did, because they loved her. They told her so. And when Mama or Daddy had to take out the belt, and Sandy had to lie on her stomach for a couple of days afterwards, it was all done out of love.
That was why, when Sandy started to remember who she really was, she acted out of love. A seagull flew out the window of the cottage on stilts, not quite within sight of the water, but as close as they could afford. It was laughing, the way seagulls do, the way Mama did. Mama thought almost everything was funny, except when Sandy talked back, or broke things, or wouldn’t do what she was told.
And when Daddy came home from work, and asked where Mama was, and smiled, but made Sandy stand very still while he looked through Mama’s things, and said bad words, he became Laughing Buddha. Because Laughing Buddha looks like he’s laughing, but he isn’t. And he looks nice, but he isn’t. Which is why Sandy, acting out of love, took Laughing Buddha to the beach. They watched the stars come out as the sun sank behind them into the bay. Sandy told Laughing Buddha all about Mama, and the seagull, and who she really was, and the proper usage of belts, as the sky slowly turned. When she was done talking, Sandy left Laughing Buddha just below the line of seaweed and tiny bits of shell that marked the last high tide. It would be a spring tide tonight.
end
Attractive Nuisance
Tuesday, October 12th, 2010
Jay poured the chicken bones and other debris onto Grandma’s plate. She sure loved fried chicken. Then he loaded the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher. As he walked back through the dining room the pile of scraps shifted with a rustle.
“Aaa!” he screamed. Then: “Sorry. Always freaks me out.” Maisie and Frank, sitting in front of the TV, didn’t make a sound.
The cat was sitting on the keyboard, chewing the foam off Jay’s headphones. The screen filled with an ever-lengthening series of “k”s.
“Malthus, you’re such a pig! Those are empty calories, too.” He scooped the cat up and tossed him onto the floor. Then he turned off the computer, unplugged the headphones and shoved them into his T-shirt drawer, dressed for work, and headed out with minutes to spare. Grandma’s plate was clean. He shouted “Bye!” and slammed the door behind him.
—
Jay parked under the light behind the station. It wasn’t dark yet, but the lot would be stygian when his shift ended. He pushed open the front door of the building. The bell tinkled.
‘Yo, Mainline.” There were no customers. “Quiet afternoon?”
“No one comes here, man.” Mainline ran his hands through his hair jerkily. He needed a fix. “How’s your folks?” He stripped off his uniform shirt and edged past Jay.
“Oh, you know. Spend all their time in front of the TV nowadays.”
“Later.” The bell tinkled.
It wasn’t a bad job. Most customers just swiped at the pump and he never saw them. No holdups in months. “I need a change, you know,” he said aloud. But to what? Time sped away.
—
“I’m home!”
Maisie was lying on the floor in front of the couch. Malthus stared unblinking from the magazine-strewn coffee table. Jay wagged a finger at the cat.
“Did you knock her over again?” He picked her up and set her down beside her husband. It seemed like she was getting lighter every day.
Malthus jumped down and trotted into the dining room. A moment later there was a 10-pound thud.
“Mrowr!”
Jay frowned. “And stay off the table.”
Silence. Jay leaned in the door. Grandma’s plate was the only thing on the table, and it was clean as a whistle.
end