sketch

The Ugly Sweater Chronicles: Ripped Off

/ Karina Pinella / 18 Comments

[A trilogy of “seamy” stories about the lure of ugly sweaters; 1 of 3]

Image: Pixabay

Image: Pixabay

The air is full of excitement. Tomorrow is Ugly Sweater Day and everyone is looking forward to it. People are staying longer in the water dispenser talking about their sweaters.

“My sweater has one big boob on one side, covered with a green pom-pom. Beat that!”

“Yah, that’s ugly. But mine has the body of a penguin on the front, right under the neckline.”

Snatches of conversation followed by guffaws can be heard in every corner. Darren sits at his desk, working, but obsessing on how he still doesn’t have an ugly sweater to wear for the big day. He went to Target over the weekend but the prices for ugly sweaters had been hiked. He’s not about to spend $35 for a sweater he wouldn’t wear more than once a year. Then, he remembers the discount department store at an outdoor shopping mall, which is a 15-minute walk from his office park.

When lunchtime approaches, Darren hurriedly heads over to the mall. He is forced to walk because his car is at the garage and not available until tomorrow. As much as he dislikes treading over roads with no sidewalks, he hates it even more if he doesn’t have an ugly sweater to wear the next day.

Having successfully reached the store, Darren goes to the clearance rack. He pumps his fist up in the air when he finds what he considers the ideal. After paying for it, he practically runs outside to get moving. The walk feels long because he has to retrace the terrible route that got him here. He clutches his bag as he tries to avoid being run down.

Suddenly, he’s knocked off his feet and lands on the small strip of dirt, off by the roadside. Did he get hit by a car? He feels as if he’s been punched in the back. What was it? As he raises his head, he sees two feet running off. He realizes that he’s been pushed. He feels around for his bag and sees it’s been stolen. Close to tears, he gets up, dusts himself off, and heads back to the mall. Tomorrow he will wear an ugly sweater, come hell or high water.

[See story 2]

Ham Hocked

/ Karina Pinella / 4 Comments
Image: Pixabay

Image: Pixabay

Everyone in the office was in a flurry. They all received the same white envelope with a blue seal.

“I can’t believe they’re going to do away with our tradition,” Dora says to Mary, whose office desk is just inches away from hers.

“You must admit that they were kind enough to give us advance notice so we can start saving for our holiday dinner now.” Mary waves the letter from their company’s President, copied to Human Resources and their holiday ham supplier, “Ham Hocks ‘r You, Me, and Us, LLC”.

Dora sighs as she rereads the letter to Mary:

Dear Valued Employee,

 As our company is known to be charitable and humanitarian minded, we will be donating on your behalf the holiday ham to those more in need. I am sure you feel the same as I that this is for a good cause. To save up to purchase your ham for yourselves this holiday, see HR to have additional deductions made from your paycheck.

 In keeping with the giving spirit, your holiday bonus will be donated to the company’s annual holiday party. We can all look forward to this year’s buffet spread including two meat choices of roast and ham, plus two desserts. As a bonus, two more raffle items can be added to our usual three door prizes.

 I look forward to seeing you all at the holiday party.

 Holiday wishes,

 Brent Grimbsy
President, CEO, MBA, BSC, NBC, DeET, LDA, MlPH

Runaway

/ Karina Pinella / 5 Comments
run

Image: Pixabay

The rat scrambles. It runs toward the subway tunnel to escape its stalker, who keeps yelling, “I love you. Please don’t go.” Droplets of tears slide down the young runaway’s scabbed face. His world appears to crumble; he just wants something to care for since no one else cares about him.

Royal Vexation

/ Karina Pinella / 10 Comments
revenge

Image: Pixabay

Princess Beulah blows her top when she learns her royal crush, Prince Roland, celebrated his birthday without inviting her. She unfriended him from her Facebook and dropped him from her Snapchat. Taking out her bejeweled diary, she writes:

He’s just another minion,
A bunion to excise,
An onion not worth crying over.

No longer my major attraction,
I shall speak to my father,
And ask him to make way in his dungeon.

Watch out, Rolly, old flame,
Soon your head will fall
And permanently adorn my wall.

End Game

/ Karina Pinella / 6 Comments
end of the world

Image: Pixabay

“What this messed up world needs is to be new-cleared.”

“Just because everything seems to be going to hell doesn’t mean we deserve to be nuked.”

“We’re all nothing more than just pawns of the elite greedy liars we call leaders.”

“Still doesn’t mean we have to throw in the towel.”

“Look, I’m hungry, so let’s just end the game.”

The two old men clear the chess board and head out to get their daily lunch special.

The Laundromat

/ Karina Pinella / 26 Comments

Space is tight inside Lu’s Launderette. Stacey finds herself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a man about her age. They’re both folding their shirts, pants, shorts, and undergarments. She starts feeling self-conscious as she knows it’s not her imagination that he’s been surreptitiously eyeing her lace-trimmed thongs and silk teddies. Her face reddens when he catches her eyes.

He smiles and says, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m wondering where you buy your underthongs.”

Stacey suppresses a laugh as she’s never heard such a term before, though they sound just as accurate as panties. She clears her throat to quell the urge to giggle and replies, “At Madam Madison a couple of blocks from here, actually.”

“Excellent. That’ll be my next stop, then. Hey, men wear those crotch covers too. Check this out.” He shows her a pair of black nylon thongs. “They’re comfortable, and as you know, they dry quickly.”

For a minute, Stacey doesn’t know how to respond. Then, she thinks, why not. She remembers her father wearing Speedos, why not thongs indeed?

“By the way, that’s a nice looking bra. Are those from the same place too?”

My father had man boobs, but he didn’t wear a bra, Stacey thinks. She hurriedly stuffs her last articles of clothing into a duffel bag and leaves without an answer.

Spam Lookalike

/ Karina Pinella / 11 Comments

spam . . . not
Freddy is excited about lunch because he gets to try Spam for the first time. His mom told him she would serve it sometime this week and it is the end of the week, so he thinks today must be the day. He runs downstairs toward the dining room. As usual, he doesn’t wear his eyeglasses because they’re uncomfortable. But his myopic vision discerns a plate sitting on the dining table, which isn’t set but they’re an informal family. The closer he gets to the table, the better he is able to make out a pinkish, rectangular shaped piece of meat in the plate. Eagerly, he picks it up and bites down, but the texture is rubbery and the taste isn’t anything he’s ever had before.

“Dumbo!” Freddy turns around to the sound of his sister’s laughing.

“You’re eating my phone case. I left it there to soak in baking soda to get the stains off. Now, you put your teeth marks on it.” His sister charges over to him and grabs her case from his hands.

“Next time, wear your glasses, so you can see what you’re doing,” she says, as she walks away with her phone case and a faint smile.

The Fiend

/ Karina Pinella / 14 Comments
shelter

Image: Pixabay

In a neighborhood not far from the city lives an elusive creature that few suspect is not human. Origin unknown and equally mysterious in how it sustains itself, the creature is looking outside, hiding behind the folds of the stained drapes that pepper the air with dust when moved even in the slightest way. The creature sees skipping down the sidewalk a little boy, who pauses in front of its house and picks up a pebble. The creature stays still. It rasps what sounds like “fiend” when the boy throws the small rock toward the creature’s shelter.

A Bridge No More

/ Karina Pinella / 12 Comments
Image by Blogetta

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.