Bingo Drabbles (Original Fic)
Sep. 25th, 2018 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cmk418Here are eight drabbles I wrote for nine prompts for the September round of bingo. They are all based from my original story/2015-16 NaNo project "On the Dotted Line".
Long Walk Outside (212)
“How’d you get here?” Heather asked, coming out onto the front porch. No ‘I’m happy to see you’ or ‘Come inside’ greeted me.
“I took the bus,” I said.
“Don’t be silly. There aren’t any bus lines near here.”
“The one that goes to the mall.”
“Really? That’s so dangerous.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. There wasn’t anything more dangerous about the bus than any other mode of transportation, but Heather had her folks drive her everywhere since the day she was born, so maybe she thought I was some kind of hoodlum. Well, everyone knew that girls liked bad boys. I decided to use it to my advantage.
I put an arm around her and lowered my voice, “You know what else is dangerous, baby? Me.”
She shoved me away, laughing. “How did you get here? Really.”
“I took the bus to the mall and then walked the rest of the way.”
“That’s three miles.”
I shrugged. “Coach has us run eight miles during the season. Three miles really isn’t much. And I like being outside, especially if my walk leads me to you.”
That actually worked better than the cheesy pickup line because Heather stepped aside and opened up the door. “Want to come in for a while?” she asked.
>>>>>>
Deep Breathing (360)
“Breathe in peace.”
I’m going to be all right.
“Breathe out fear and negativity.”
I am…
“Fer golsakes, Jenkins, your breath smells like Pendrake’s ass,” Reinhardt said.
“Gentlemen,” Doctor Nelson’s voice carried a warning tone.
I opened an eye. Most everybody else had their eyes open already. Was I the only person other than Doctor Nelson taking this seriously? What a waste!
A loud snore came from the corner of the room. Brewer had apparently breathed a little too deeply.
Norris raised his hand.
“Yes, Clive.”
Norris gestured over at Brewer. “Doctor, is that legal?”
“People react to the relaxation process differently.”
“Well, if I knew we could take a nap in here, I would’ve brought my pillow,” Norris said.
“You can lay down right here, baby,” said Reinhardt, tapping his thigh.
Norris scrunched up his nose in disgust.
“Shall we begin again?” Doctor Nelson suggested. “Close your eyes.”
“I ain’t closin’ shit,” said Reinhardt.
“Then you’re excused to go back to your work detail. Anyone else?”
No one spoke up as Reinhardt skulked out. I was glad to know there was an option. I didn’t mind group therapy but sometimes Doctor Nelson went a little on the “woo-woo” side of the strange line with his therapy ideas. I also was sick of hearing the same stories every other week- and telling the same story too. How many times could a guy say he was innocent?
“Close your eyes.”
Innocent.
“Breathe in peace.”
I am relaxed.
“Breathe out distrust.”
What was that supposed to mean? Was I supposed to trust that this was what was best for me? Was I supposed to trust the decision of some judge that didn’t listen and said I had to stay here for the crime of being a stupid horny teenager?
“Breathe in harmony.”
“Fuck this,” I said, rising to my feet. “I’m going back to work.”
I was escorted to my job in the kitchen, handed a carrot peeler, and started to do the most Zen task that I knew. The rhythmic sounds of the blade slicing through the surface of the carrot calmed me in a way that deep breathing never had.
>>>>>>
Phone a Friend (173)
After our last conversation, I didn’t feel like talking to my mom so I picked up the phone and called Rick. I hadn’t spoken with Rick since my last day at Eastside, but touching base with my old defensive liney didn’t seem like a bad idea.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hey Rico, it’s Cally.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Hey, man. It’s good to hear from you. How’s it going?”
I looked around at the faded green paint on the wall of the phone bank. The guy next to me was deep into a phone sex conversation with his girlfriend. Further down, two other inmates were engaged in a scuffle over the phone. “Oh, you know, it’s not too bad.”
“You get a boyfriend yet?”
“Fuck you,” I said. He laughed and it felt just like old times.
“Hey, look, I wish I had more time, but I really got to go,” Rick said.
“Oh right. Yeah. Can I call again sometime?”
“Cally, I…”
“I get it.” I hung up the phone without a good-bye.
>>>>>>
Luxurious Shower or Bath/Splurging on Something (375)
“What do you think?” Simone said. She spread her arms open wide, illustrating the expanse of the hotel room that she’d selected for our honeymoon.
I hadn’t been in a hotel room since our team went to Saint Louis for the championship. I always had a bit of love for the sameness of hotel rooms. Whether it was posh or cheap, there was something comforting about the layout- the desk, the dresser, the television set, the closet with the hangers with the little clips, and the coffee maker.
“It’s nice,” I said. “Do they have a-? Never mind.” I stopped before I could complete the question. There were no public pools for me in the immediate future.
“We can sneak down and check it out later tonight if you want. If you still have energy,” she said, patting the edge of the bed as she sat down on the mattress.
“Okay,” I said, sitting beside her.
“One more thing.” The smile on her face grew wide. “I might have splurged a little on the room.”
On what? Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at me. The coffeemaker had the standard regular and decaf choices. “Are the sheets on the bed hypoallergenic or something?”
She shook her head. I slid the closet door open. Two terry cloth bathrobes were on hangers. “These are nice,” I said, showing them to her.
“They are. But that isn’t it.”
“Ooh, is there a cooling facial mask in the toiletry basket in the bathroom? Those were standard issue at Penicton,” I joked, pushing open the door to-
Nirvana. I swore I could hear a choir of angels singing behind me, but it was just Simone playing around.
“That’s a Jacuzzi.” My mouth dropped open in awe.
“Like it? They told me for an extra twenty bucks I could have a room with a Jacuzzi, so I told them to go for it. You only get one honeymoon.”
“I feel like asking you to marry me again right now.” My wife knew I had a thing for baths and the hotter the better. “You want to give it a go? It’s big enough for two.”
“Absolutely. Happy wedding day, husband.”
I leaned over and kissed her. “Happy wedding day, wife.”
>>>>>>
Cooking (109)
“Can you cook?” Simone asked.
“Cook what?”
“Anything.”
“Depends what the anything is. I can scramble eggs. My aunt taught me how to clean and cook fish. I can make a decent pot roast but only for special occasions. Don’t ask me to make spaghetti. Ever.”
“I can make spaghetti.”
“And I will stay out of the kitchen when you do.”
“Did you have a traumatic spaghetti incident?”
I think about Hollins and suppress a shudder. “Nah. I just don’t like all the stirring. You’re basically a babysitter for pots.”
“Can you make me something?”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Is this going to affect our relationship?”
“We’ll see how it tastes.”
>>>>>>
Intense Workout (152)
I missed running. The sound of my feet on the pavement was nothing like the sounds of blades on the ice. The heavy footfalls signified progress- each day a little farther, a little faster. By the end of the summer, I was running the twelve miles to Eastside and back home. I would be drenched in sweat, my heart would be pumping, but I knew I would be ready for the season.
Now, the only running I do was to run laps in the yard. It was always a bit risky- everything here was, but guys on the basketball court would try to engage in a version of dodgeball (one with an unwilling participant). I was caught completely by surprise by a basketball banking off the side of my head, and then laughter from the guys on the court.
The story of my life: courts were not a good place for me.
>>>>>>
Listening to Music (113)
“I’ve got a brand new-“ Simone sang. I clapped a hand over her mouth.
“No. No brand new anything.”
She grinned up at me. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“That song is the Devil. Worse than that “Buddy the Bear” song that Maxine plays all the time.”
“Oh, that song is so cute. Maybe I should teach her to sing this one. I’ve got-“
“Knock it off.”
She walked away humming. I recognized the tune. My mind began to supply the words to the song. Desperately, I tried to think of any other song. “Smoke on the water, a brand new pair of roller skates, you’ve got a brand new key.”
Shit.
>>>>>>
Stress Ball (130)
Ontondo had one of those stress balls on his desk. It was green and had the words “Ashton School of Criminal Justice” stenciled on it in orange lettering. He would never squish it. Some days he held it loosely in his hands. Some days he’d toss it up in the air as we would talk. The sound of the ball hitting his hands would punctuate our conversations. There were days that I longed to snatch it out of the air and do one of three things- play catch with it myself, throw it at his head, or take a bite out of it. I thought about it, but didn’t do any of those things. The last thing I needed was a parole officer holding a grudge over a stress ball.
Long Walk Outside (212)
“How’d you get here?” Heather asked, coming out onto the front porch. No ‘I’m happy to see you’ or ‘Come inside’ greeted me.
“I took the bus,” I said.
“Don’t be silly. There aren’t any bus lines near here.”
“The one that goes to the mall.”
“Really? That’s so dangerous.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. There wasn’t anything more dangerous about the bus than any other mode of transportation, but Heather had her folks drive her everywhere since the day she was born, so maybe she thought I was some kind of hoodlum. Well, everyone knew that girls liked bad boys. I decided to use it to my advantage.
I put an arm around her and lowered my voice, “You know what else is dangerous, baby? Me.”
She shoved me away, laughing. “How did you get here? Really.”
“I took the bus to the mall and then walked the rest of the way.”
“That’s three miles.”
I shrugged. “Coach has us run eight miles during the season. Three miles really isn’t much. And I like being outside, especially if my walk leads me to you.”
That actually worked better than the cheesy pickup line because Heather stepped aside and opened up the door. “Want to come in for a while?” she asked.
>>>>>>
Deep Breathing (360)
“Breathe in peace.”
I’m going to be all right.
“Breathe out fear and negativity.”
I am…
“Fer golsakes, Jenkins, your breath smells like Pendrake’s ass,” Reinhardt said.
“Gentlemen,” Doctor Nelson’s voice carried a warning tone.
I opened an eye. Most everybody else had their eyes open already. Was I the only person other than Doctor Nelson taking this seriously? What a waste!
A loud snore came from the corner of the room. Brewer had apparently breathed a little too deeply.
Norris raised his hand.
“Yes, Clive.”
Norris gestured over at Brewer. “Doctor, is that legal?”
“People react to the relaxation process differently.”
“Well, if I knew we could take a nap in here, I would’ve brought my pillow,” Norris said.
“You can lay down right here, baby,” said Reinhardt, tapping his thigh.
Norris scrunched up his nose in disgust.
“Shall we begin again?” Doctor Nelson suggested. “Close your eyes.”
“I ain’t closin’ shit,” said Reinhardt.
“Then you’re excused to go back to your work detail. Anyone else?”
No one spoke up as Reinhardt skulked out. I was glad to know there was an option. I didn’t mind group therapy but sometimes Doctor Nelson went a little on the “woo-woo” side of the strange line with his therapy ideas. I also was sick of hearing the same stories every other week- and telling the same story too. How many times could a guy say he was innocent?
“Close your eyes.”
Innocent.
“Breathe in peace.”
I am relaxed.
“Breathe out distrust.”
What was that supposed to mean? Was I supposed to trust that this was what was best for me? Was I supposed to trust the decision of some judge that didn’t listen and said I had to stay here for the crime of being a stupid horny teenager?
“Breathe in harmony.”
“Fuck this,” I said, rising to my feet. “I’m going back to work.”
I was escorted to my job in the kitchen, handed a carrot peeler, and started to do the most Zen task that I knew. The rhythmic sounds of the blade slicing through the surface of the carrot calmed me in a way that deep breathing never had.
>>>>>>
Phone a Friend (173)
After our last conversation, I didn’t feel like talking to my mom so I picked up the phone and called Rick. I hadn’t spoken with Rick since my last day at Eastside, but touching base with my old defensive liney didn’t seem like a bad idea.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hey Rico, it’s Cally.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Hey, man. It’s good to hear from you. How’s it going?”
I looked around at the faded green paint on the wall of the phone bank. The guy next to me was deep into a phone sex conversation with his girlfriend. Further down, two other inmates were engaged in a scuffle over the phone. “Oh, you know, it’s not too bad.”
“You get a boyfriend yet?”
“Fuck you,” I said. He laughed and it felt just like old times.
“Hey, look, I wish I had more time, but I really got to go,” Rick said.
“Oh right. Yeah. Can I call again sometime?”
“Cally, I…”
“I get it.” I hung up the phone without a good-bye.
>>>>>>
Luxurious Shower or Bath/Splurging on Something (375)
“What do you think?” Simone said. She spread her arms open wide, illustrating the expanse of the hotel room that she’d selected for our honeymoon.
I hadn’t been in a hotel room since our team went to Saint Louis for the championship. I always had a bit of love for the sameness of hotel rooms. Whether it was posh or cheap, there was something comforting about the layout- the desk, the dresser, the television set, the closet with the hangers with the little clips, and the coffee maker.
“It’s nice,” I said. “Do they have a-? Never mind.” I stopped before I could complete the question. There were no public pools for me in the immediate future.
“We can sneak down and check it out later tonight if you want. If you still have energy,” she said, patting the edge of the bed as she sat down on the mattress.
“Okay,” I said, sitting beside her.
“One more thing.” The smile on her face grew wide. “I might have splurged a little on the room.”
On what? Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at me. The coffeemaker had the standard regular and decaf choices. “Are the sheets on the bed hypoallergenic or something?”
She shook her head. I slid the closet door open. Two terry cloth bathrobes were on hangers. “These are nice,” I said, showing them to her.
“They are. But that isn’t it.”
“Ooh, is there a cooling facial mask in the toiletry basket in the bathroom? Those were standard issue at Penicton,” I joked, pushing open the door to-
Nirvana. I swore I could hear a choir of angels singing behind me, but it was just Simone playing around.
“That’s a Jacuzzi.” My mouth dropped open in awe.
“Like it? They told me for an extra twenty bucks I could have a room with a Jacuzzi, so I told them to go for it. You only get one honeymoon.”
“I feel like asking you to marry me again right now.” My wife knew I had a thing for baths and the hotter the better. “You want to give it a go? It’s big enough for two.”
“Absolutely. Happy wedding day, husband.”
I leaned over and kissed her. “Happy wedding day, wife.”
>>>>>>
Cooking (109)
“Can you cook?” Simone asked.
“Cook what?”
“Anything.”
“Depends what the anything is. I can scramble eggs. My aunt taught me how to clean and cook fish. I can make a decent pot roast but only for special occasions. Don’t ask me to make spaghetti. Ever.”
“I can make spaghetti.”
“And I will stay out of the kitchen when you do.”
“Did you have a traumatic spaghetti incident?”
I think about Hollins and suppress a shudder. “Nah. I just don’t like all the stirring. You’re basically a babysitter for pots.”
“Can you make me something?”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Is this going to affect our relationship?”
“We’ll see how it tastes.”
>>>>>>
Intense Workout (152)
I missed running. The sound of my feet on the pavement was nothing like the sounds of blades on the ice. The heavy footfalls signified progress- each day a little farther, a little faster. By the end of the summer, I was running the twelve miles to Eastside and back home. I would be drenched in sweat, my heart would be pumping, but I knew I would be ready for the season.
Now, the only running I do was to run laps in the yard. It was always a bit risky- everything here was, but guys on the basketball court would try to engage in a version of dodgeball (one with an unwilling participant). I was caught completely by surprise by a basketball banking off the side of my head, and then laughter from the guys on the court.
The story of my life: courts were not a good place for me.
>>>>>>
Listening to Music (113)
“I’ve got a brand new-“ Simone sang. I clapped a hand over her mouth.
“No. No brand new anything.”
She grinned up at me. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“That song is the Devil. Worse than that “Buddy the Bear” song that Maxine plays all the time.”
“Oh, that song is so cute. Maybe I should teach her to sing this one. I’ve got-“
“Knock it off.”
She walked away humming. I recognized the tune. My mind began to supply the words to the song. Desperately, I tried to think of any other song. “Smoke on the water, a brand new pair of roller skates, you’ve got a brand new key.”
Shit.
>>>>>>
Stress Ball (130)
Ontondo had one of those stress balls on his desk. It was green and had the words “Ashton School of Criminal Justice” stenciled on it in orange lettering. He would never squish it. Some days he held it loosely in his hands. Some days he’d toss it up in the air as we would talk. The sound of the ball hitting his hands would punctuate our conversations. There were days that I longed to snatch it out of the air and do one of three things- play catch with it myself, throw it at his head, or take a bite out of it. I thought about it, but didn’t do any of those things. The last thing I needed was a parole officer holding a grudge over a stress ball.
