THE OPPOSITE OF DYSFUNCTION

1. Harold has been watching television for three hours. 2. Jennifer has a pimple on her nose. 3. The man who wears striped pants to church just died. 4. Lemon juice has been proven to promote tooth decay. 5. Throwing an object out of a window does not solve anything. 6. The philosophy professor and his wife go dancing every Saturday night. 7. Once George entered the emergency room he felt better. 8. A kid on a playground in Spokane Washington fell off a swing but didn't cry. 9. Nothing can change Joanne's mind about Frederick or Bobby. 10. The words 'I'm alright how are you' are spoken millions of times per day in the United States. 11. Allison was shocked when the old movie theater closed its doors. 12. The sun keeps shining even on cloudy days according to top scientists. 13. Meryl Streep is Peggy's favorite actress but Meryl doesn't know it. 14. Today is the end of yesterday. 15. Something important should be written here. 16. Someone turned off a light

© 2023 Jeffrey S. Callico

 KENOSIS

At some time in late evening Frank Prine decided he would trim his fingernails and toenails. So he did. He took nail clippers from one of the bathroom drawers and began trimming. When he finished all the trimming he could accomplish, he folded and returned the clippers to the drawer and shut the drawer. 

Then he got dressed in some nice clothes and went to a nice restaurant. Frank Prine was not married, so he sat at a table alone. He was going to sit at the bar, alone, but on this night he preferred a table; he didn’t know why and didn’t bother asking himself for a reason. 

A waiter came over and took Frank’s order. The meal came in a few minutes and Frank ate the food then left the restaurant and went home. He got in bed and fell asleep. There was a slight humming noise coming from somewhere in the house. 

The next day was a Saturday. Frank got out of bed, dressed, and mowed the lawn. The grass had grown just enough for Frank to mow it. Upon finishing the mowing, he replaced the lawn mower in the garage and then went to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator. There was a clear-plastic container of tea on the top shelf. Frank took the container and set it on the counter to the left of the refrigerator. He then took a tall glass from the cupboard and poured some of the tea into the glass, almost filling it. 

Then he drank the tea. 

Frank Prine died of poisoning three days later. The authorities concluded that since Frank had lived alone all his life (with the exception of childhood), he must have added the poison to the tea himself and had forgotten he had done so. 

Frank’s death, then, was ruled a suicide. 

Of sorts.

 

 

© 2023 Jeffrey S. Callico

 TROUT BREATH

At 5:02 p.m. a tiny silver bell rang. Theldon Ramsey turned his head and looked. 'Time for supper, Theldon!' his mother shouted. She was a long distance from Theldon and therefore could barely see him. He was a small dark spot in her eyes. 

Theldon was sitting on a fallen log when the tiny silver bell rang. He had very good hearing, but even had he not, he probably could have heard the bell anyway since his mother was known to ring it very loudly, her expert wrist action causing the ringer in the bell to clang furiously against the insides. She was a really good bell-ringer. 

Theldon got up off the log and started running toward home. He knew that by the time he got there his mother would be inside, setting the food on the table and once he entered would say, 'Theldon, go wash your hands, make sure you wash good.' She said this every time he came in for dinner. It was like the bell ringing in his head. 

As he scrubbed his hands and cleaned out his fingernails and removed all evidence of dirt from the creases in his palms, Theldon thought of what it would be like to fly. 

The thought vanished once he turned off the water and started drying his hands. Poof, went the thought.

Theldon and his mother then sat at the table, on which were displayed dishes of food. They ate about half of it, then Theldon’s mother put it all away after they were done.

'That was good,' Theldon told his mother, then went back outside and headed for the fallen log. 

'Be in before dark, Theldon,' she said. And she watched him run out the door with a slam. 

He was about a hundred yards from the house. There was less light now. Theldon sat on the fallen log and started looking for crawly creatures. He picked off some of the dead or dying bark and dug stuff out. He saw a crawly creature and held it in his hand up to the fading light. The crawly creature did its thing on his palm. Theldon made it stay there when it headed toward one of the edges. He poked at its head and made it turn the other way. Theldon kept doing this, making the crawly creature go back and forth and round and round on his palm. His hands were dirty again. 

Soon Theldon noticed that the light was fading fast. He let the crawly creature go to the ground. It went under some grass and seemed to disappear. Theldon got up and went back home. 

When he got in, he went to wash his hands again, this time without his mother’s urging, for she was asleep on the couch, the TV running. Just as he was turning toward the bathroom, he stopped and looked at his mother. Her head was thrown back and her mouth was open. She wasn’t snoring, but she was definitely asleep. Theldon watched her for a moment and wondered if she was dreaming. Just then he thought he heard a sound outside and turned to look. He heard it again; it was a sound he had never heard before. It wasn’t the tiny silver bell. It was something else, something much more important, but it was a thing he couldn’t define. This time it was something he couldn’t possibly resist.

© 2023 Jeffrey S. Callico

 I WANT ALL THE GOATS

Harvey Truffle made his was through the maze of submarine replicas, looking for his young girlfriend whom he had met while browsing titles in a used-book store over on Tenth. The replicas had a certain feel-good look to them, and Harvey felt pretty good himself. At least that’s what he thought as he made his way through the maze. The girlfriend was nowhere to be found, however, and this made Harvey cross. 

'I’m gonna get me a hot dog,' he mentioned to himself. And in a few minutes he came upon a hot dog stand, one of those kind you find right by the curb, near the road, where all the cars pass very very close. 'Hey,' Harvey said aloud to the man who ran the hot dog stand, 'how about it?' And the man who ran the hot dog stand acknowledged Harvey’s request, which for Harvey was mixed with the sweetness of a hunger wish, and prepared a large hot dog complete with relish, mustard and ketchup. The man who ran the hot dog stand had never served Harvey Truffle as a customer, but for some reason could tell what he wanted on the hot dog, for he had a way of telling such things since he had been the man who ran the hot dog stand on that corner for years. 

Harvey paid for the hot dog and walked off, looking where he was going as he munched on it. 'This is a very good hot dog,' he thought, and pretty soon it was gone. 

When Harvey Truffle arrived home, which was, on a more precise note, his house or dwelling or living quarters, he opened the door and went in. There, smack in the centre of the living room, was the plush burgundy recliner and side table that supported a remote control for the television, which sat two strides away. Harvey sat and turned on the television. 

It needs to be said here that Harvey Truffle lived an existence filled with the exuberance of a happy man. He smiled at many people, even those he didn’t like very much, and went out of his way to prove himself a nice person. 

But, like most anyone, Harvey had his days. 

It’s just that this wasn’t one of them.

© 2023 Jeffrey S. Callico

ICKY EXPOSED ROTTING FLESH

They say my name is Modina, but I got names for them too. I was born Elizabeth Teresa Rodgers. I turned 48 this week, and my cats—I got three—all love me. They’re so cuddly and all. Anyway, let me get back to that Modina thing. Don’t call me that, no matter what, because I do take offense. I mean, it sounds like a, you know, like a name a streetwalker would use, at least I think so, so just call me by the name my mama gave me: Elizabeth. It’s a beautiful name. So much better than that other one.

 

*

 

It’s Tuesday, I’m sitting in my kitchen watching my cats play with each other, kind of play fighting like cats are prone to do sometimes. I’ve got my coffee in my pretty blue mug and the lifestyle section of the day’s paper. But the cats have my attention. One’s a little black-and-white number, Snickles, another’s a tabby, 8-Ball, and the last is all white, Snowdude. I guess I like 8-Ball the best, him being a tabby and all, but they’re all three wonderful. Without them I’d be a little lost, I guess.

 

Well, the doorbell rings and I let in my new boyfriend, he’s younger by five years and looks even younger than that. His name’s Edward. He doesn’t like 'Ed for short' so I don’t call him that. Elizabeth and Ed, together forever. Ha. Anyway, he walks in carrying this box, a long red box, and gives it to me. 'Open it,' he says, and I smile and open it as he watches. There’s that familiar boyish grin, that little twinkle thing going on in his eyes. Hey, he’s a 'younger man' so I can say these things and get away with it. Ha. I open the box and there’s a dozen roses. I take them out and do the obligatory sniffing. 'They’re so beautiful,' I say, but then ask, 'What’s the occasion?' Edward just goes from a grin to a soft smile and answers, 'Love.'

 

Now let me tell you that was the best answer I could ever get. I take the roses and find a vase and put in some water and place the roses in the vase. By this time Edward’s got the TV clicker. I go over and kiss him on his balding forehead and he looks up from the TV and kisses me on the mouth. We spend the day doing nothing but TV and the cats.

 

*

 

The roses have died of course, but I hold their memory close. It’s been three months since I saw Edward. I called one of his pool buddies, but he was pretty mute about it. Something kind of tells me something bad’s happened, but then again who knows. I wonder if I should call the police.

 

Actually, as I think him over, Edward, I recall that day he gave me the roses. Sure, it was a nice thing for him to do, but there really was no occasion. Is 'love' an 'occasion'? Can it be? Maybe for Edward, but you got to remember what kind of guy he is, the definitions he has for 'love' in the first place. To him, love can be anything, anybody.

 

He walked in with roses and walked out without me. That’s all it ever was meant to be, nothing more, nothing less. Right?

© 2023 Jeffrey S. Callico