K. Pinella’s short stories
Image: Pixabay
Evelyn goes to bed, a short-lived luxury because she has to get up in four hours to go to a third job. A relentless routine that grinds her down. She wishes to sleep for two days straight; a wish that’s granted. Endless dreams of being chased are wearing on her.
Undeterred from lacking funds, the four friends create their version of a CrossFit program, which they claim requires more sweat and guts. The challenge involves archery and lots of movement.
Used to being the point man, Derek harnesses onto his back the archery target with his friends in hot pursuit.
Image: Pixabay
Although poor, the four friends still have fun. With a six-pack, a deserted parking lot lit by a full moon, a radio, and a dart board game, they have created a makeshift outdoor pub.
“My turn tonight,” Derek says, as he straps the dartboard onto his butt and stoops over.
Don’t stray; stick to my dick.
Image: PIxabay
Image: Pixabay
Baby Toula is an ugly baby even her own mother can’t kiss, although she claims to love her, only because she came from her womb. That’s a womb its owner, Mama Lydia, did not know had become a receptacle to a hodgepodge of chemicals, such as synthetic fragrances she’s inhaled and the artificially preserved lotions her skin’s absorbed from the time she was a little girl to the mature fruit bearer she has now become.
As with any unsuspecting person, Lydia paid no heed to what her body was accumulating over time. How did she know the sweet, cloying Vanilla Ice cologne contained something that was also the lethal ingredient in a bug spray? Or a window cleaner? She isn’t one to question things like that. To her 20-something life, it’s more about fun stuff–like tasting those delicious bon bons that come in unnaturally vivid colors. She simply thought that if others bought them, they must be fine. The companies that churn them out are household names, so they can be trusted. Their packaging says they are mostly natural and good for you.
Now, she rocks on her chair looking at her baby from across the room, because Toula repulses her. She has pustules on a face that should be smooth-cheeked. And what should be shiny, baby fine hair is more like a patch of raised bumps. Where her lidded bright eyes would have been are unblinking dots filled in with odd-shaped cells. How she welcomes a loud cry. Instead, there’s only occasional bursts of heaves that raise her hackles.
Lydia thinks Toula is an unfortunate seed, though not a bad seed like her older sister Lizzie, who grew up to butcher their parents. Lydia will have to make sure Toula doesn’t have access to any axes.
You have restless legs, Felix recalls his doctor saying, as he finds himself walking around in his underwear in the middle of a busy street.
I have to be dreaming, Felix thinks because people seem to ignore him. He sees a woman approach him with a rictus that is supposed to pass off as a smile, but not quite successfully.
“Are you lost, dear? My husband used to fade out and wander off too. God rest his soul.” She takes his arm and guides him down the street. “Let me take you to my place; it’s just a short walk down to get you reoriented.”
Definitely a dream, Felix decides, as he plays along and allows the woman to help him. When he sees an uneven, worn looking building with missing bricks on its façade and a couple of windows with fine cracks like spider webs, he’s confident it’s all a dream. How can a lady who carries a Gucci purse and wears fine leather shoes live here?
But the woman acts like she’s right at home when she opens the door and leads him inside. The bright interior and clean spartan lines of the furniture cements his belief it’s all a dream. She leaves him thinking and reappears with a glistening cold glass of milk. “Here, you look thirsty to me.”
Felix drinks it quickly, not really tasting anything. He suddenly feels drowsy and again assures himself it’s only a dream, as he finds himself on a bed. His lids are weighing down.
He wakes, not knowing how much time has passed, and sees he’s now chained in bed, underwear removed. The same woman hovers nearby with the same thin smile. “You’re still dreaming, dear.”
He’s thankful for his 20/20 vision.
Image: Pixabay
He banged her up bad
She’s almost six feet under
He climbs out the ditch
Sobered up quickly
He misses her suddenly
She made him feel good
Remorse sets in him
He yells up to the heavens,
“I loved my Corvette.”
Image: Pixabay
Luke admires his silvery 5-o-clock shadow, which makes the dark streak in his silver-white hair look indigo. If he was just a decade or two younger, he would do a somersault. Perhaps add a few more decades. He’s never really been limber, even when at 21. Last year when he buried his dear mother and a week later, celebrated his 70th birthday, he felt like a butterfly that finally shed its cocoon. Farewell, Lucia. Welcome, Luke.
Now that he’s completed his hormone treatment to realize his true self as Luke, he’s ready to hit the club tonight and try out his new look. The blue jeans encasing his long legs and button down plaid shirt hugging his wiry torso give him the appearance of an aging Marlboro man, with a punk look since he spiked his newly cropped hair with styling gel.
Luke strides over to the bar and catches the glance of a woman playing with her pearl strands. Luke winks at her and smiles. She reciprocates. Encouraged, Luke joins her.
“Buy you a drink?” Luke signals the bartender to give the woman another of what she’s having.
The woman’s eyelids appear weighted down with layers of false lashes. Her red-painted lips separate into a smile, revealing ivory-colored veneers. “Hey, cowboy, tell me what else you can give me.”
“Another drink?”
“I’m thinking more along the lines of a back rub?” She clutches her purse, ready to leave.
“Lady’s choice.”
“I live right around the corner.” She takes his hand and they both walk a block.
Once inside, she pounces on him and starts to take off his shirt. By this time, Luke realizes how quickly he’d gotten into a situation he didn’t expect so soon. His end game was to flirt and do some heavy petting with clothes on, but this woman is turning out to be hornier than a toad, and he doesn’t have all the equipment quite yet to give her a full ride. He gently pulls away from her and says, “Whoa, why don’t we sit down for a bit? I didn’t even catch your name . . .”
Breathing hard, the woman stays standing and looks disappointed. “I guess I mistook your cues. Every man I meet at that bar has only one thing in mind and that’s why I go there. I’m sorry but I’m not into name sharing. What we have here is a failure to copulate. Nothing at all just isn’t that cool, handsome.”
[With thanks to Paul Newman’s 1960s prison classic, “Cool Hand Luke”]
Image by Blogetta
A chance meeting at an acquaintance’s party led to them becoming significant to each other. The words “I love you” had been exchanged. Just as Alison thought their relationship was going to be more than a flash romance, Brian blindsided her by breaking up at a time when she needed someone most. Alison wept until she felt empty and numb.
After three months, she still felt melancholy so she called him. “I miss you. I miss our walks along the bridge. Our weekends together. Please come over. I need to talk to you.”
“What took so long for you to call? I missed you too,” Brian admitted. He went to see her. They talked into the night, sleeping platonically with each other. As she began to doze off, Alison couldn’t help but feel they weren’t so compatible after all.
The next day Alison felt resolved and accepted the breakup. They parted ways amicably. Weeks later, Brian started texting Alison, making overtures to meet with her again. At first, Alison felt upset for she thought she had put things to rest, but he managed to engage her. They communicated almost daily via their smartphones. A reconciliation appeared to be in the making.
One night, a slightly intoxicated Alison called Brian to pick her up from a party. Upon reaching her apartment, her tongue gave way to a stream of words that produced tears from both of them. Phrases such as “This will never work” were tossed several times at a decibel level meant to cause pain. Suddenly, Alison collapsed in bed, partially from exhaustion and partially from alcohol she had consumed earlier at the party.
Once more they bade each other farewell. This time it looked to be final.
Karina Pinella 
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