Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Unit
Written for my son's challenge, topic: Five really geeky young guys and a gorgeous, dressed-up girl walked in the door together.
Five really geeky young guys and a gorgeous, dressed-up girl walked in the door together. My initial thought was that they were following her, not quite drooling, imaginations ravishing her, but then I saw she was leading them. She knew they were there. They belonged there. Invisible attachments dragged them along with her. If she had suddenly started running, they would have been jerked forward to keep pace.
She walked up to the front desk and started talking to the attendant. The five boys milled around, looking the place over, touching and investigating every part of the area. The boy wearing thick-lensed glasses practically had his nose down to the desk and then the carpet. He peered at the papers she was holding and at the computer on the attendant’s desk. Another was running his hands over the desk, touching the side of the computer. The one with curly, blondish hair stood right next to her, constantly whispering in her ear. The one with the very dark hair had his nose down to the desk, too, looking very much like he was smelling it. The fifth one was nonchalantly leaning on the desk, chewing on a pen he had picked up.
The attendant was speaking into his headphone, and then he smiled at her. I couldn’t hear what he said, but it was probably something like “He’ll be down shortly. You may have a seat over there.” He pointed at the designer group of love seat and two chairs. She moved in that direction, the boys swirling around her chaotically. She sat down, but they continued their intense investigation of their surroundings.
I was standing on the patio just outside the opposite door, taking a smoke break. I was staring, but they were such an unusual group of people, I was fascinated. She was so composed, the essence of the young urban professional, whereas her young companions seemed to have thrown on the first clothes they had come across that morning, giving no thought to their appearance. I wondered why on earth she had brought them along for a business meeting. They must have some great value to her, but I had no idea what that could be.
Just as I finished my cigarette, the elevator door opened, and a man walked across to meet her. They shook hands, nodding and chatting. He ignored the young men, who were still milling around the area. As I opened the patio doors into the lobby, she joined the man from upstairs, and the whole strange group moved toward the elevators. The blonde guy was still trying to whisper in her ear, but she and the man she had come to see ignored him.
As I approached the bank of elevators from one end, one of them apparently opened, because the small group of waiting people began to disappear from my view, stepping through an elevator door. She and the man from upstairs reached the elevator and walked on in. I quickened my step in order to reach the elevator door before it closed. The five young men entered in their own strange ways, some seeming to stumble forward, others almost running. The last one, still chewing on the pen he had picked up from the receptionist’s desk, actually jumped in, as if he thought a more normal entry might cause him to be left behind.
I reached the opening and stuck my hand in ahead of me to keep the doors from closing. There wouldn’t be a lot of room with all those people, but I thought I could squeeze in. I stepped across the metal threshold and the door closed. I was surprised to see there was plenty of room. Maybe there hadn’t been as many people waiting as I thought. Then I realized the five companions were not there. I looked around quickly, half expecting from their previous behavior to see them hanging from the ceiling or crawling around on the floor. They were nowhere to be found.
I looked immediately at the young woman. The expression on my face must have been peculiar, because I wanted very badly to say, “Where did they go?” but I was suddenly sure that everyone else in the elevator would think I was nuts. I realized that during the entire time the group had been in the building, nobody had acknowledged the presence of the five boys. The receptionist, the man from upstairs, even the woman herself had not once looked at them or spoken to them, in spite of their very noticeable behavior.
She smiled at me and calmly winked. Just then the elevator door opened and she and the man she had come to meet stepped out. It wasn’t my floor, but it only took me a moment to realize that I couldn’t live with the idea of going on back to my desk and not knowing any more about her and those five young guys.
I stepped out of the elevator, and as I did, I felt a slight breeze, as if someone was passing me. I glanced to my left, but saw no one. I turned back to see where the girl was going, and then I saw them. All five of them were again following after her, just as they had done before, ranging out to one side or ahead to investigate a chair or a painting on the wall, then returning to her side. The group stopped about ten feet ahead of me, in front of an older woman’s desk. The man was talking to her; perhaps she was his secretary and he was giving instructions not to be interrupted during his meeting with the girl.
My astonishment was great enough to stop me in my tracks. I muttered under my breath, “Who are they?” The girl looked back at me. The curly haired, blond one was whispering in her ear, but then he stopped and looked at me, too. The other boys stopped their investigations of the older woman’s desk and all five of them moved in my direction.
The next thing I knew, the boy with the thick glasses was peering at my clothes and my hair, the feely-touchy one was running his hands over my shirt, the pen chewer had taken my pen out of my shirt pocket and started chewing on it, and the one with black hair was smelling me. I could hear him sniffing!
The curly haired, blond one whispered in my ear. “Most people don’t see us. We are her sensors. She is cybernetic. You see us because you are too much with computers. You need more people input.”
The man and the girl were going into an office. The man followed her in and then turned to shut the door behind him. The sensors were running back to her, frantic to get to her before the door closed. Taster was last and had to launch himself in a flying leap to get through the narrowing opening, because he had taken the time to put my pen back in my shirt pocket.
As I sat down in front of my computer a few minutes later, I was smiling. Being a computer person has always been an adventure for me.
Five really geeky young guys and a gorgeous, dressed-up girl walked in the door together. My initial thought was that they were following her, not quite drooling, imaginations ravishing her, but then I saw she was leading them. She knew they were there. They belonged there. Invisible attachments dragged them along with her. If she had suddenly started running, they would have been jerked forward to keep pace.
She walked up to the front desk and started talking to the attendant. The five boys milled around, looking the place over, touching and investigating every part of the area. The boy wearing thick-lensed glasses practically had his nose down to the desk and then the carpet. He peered at the papers she was holding and at the computer on the attendant’s desk. Another was running his hands over the desk, touching the side of the computer. The one with curly, blondish hair stood right next to her, constantly whispering in her ear. The one with the very dark hair had his nose down to the desk, too, looking very much like he was smelling it. The fifth one was nonchalantly leaning on the desk, chewing on a pen he had picked up.
The attendant was speaking into his headphone, and then he smiled at her. I couldn’t hear what he said, but it was probably something like “He’ll be down shortly. You may have a seat over there.” He pointed at the designer group of love seat and two chairs. She moved in that direction, the boys swirling around her chaotically. She sat down, but they continued their intense investigation of their surroundings.
I was standing on the patio just outside the opposite door, taking a smoke break. I was staring, but they were such an unusual group of people, I was fascinated. She was so composed, the essence of the young urban professional, whereas her young companions seemed to have thrown on the first clothes they had come across that morning, giving no thought to their appearance. I wondered why on earth she had brought them along for a business meeting. They must have some great value to her, but I had no idea what that could be.
Just as I finished my cigarette, the elevator door opened, and a man walked across to meet her. They shook hands, nodding and chatting. He ignored the young men, who were still milling around the area. As I opened the patio doors into the lobby, she joined the man from upstairs, and the whole strange group moved toward the elevators. The blonde guy was still trying to whisper in her ear, but she and the man she had come to see ignored him.
As I approached the bank of elevators from one end, one of them apparently opened, because the small group of waiting people began to disappear from my view, stepping through an elevator door. She and the man from upstairs reached the elevator and walked on in. I quickened my step in order to reach the elevator door before it closed. The five young men entered in their own strange ways, some seeming to stumble forward, others almost running. The last one, still chewing on the pen he had picked up from the receptionist’s desk, actually jumped in, as if he thought a more normal entry might cause him to be left behind.
I reached the opening and stuck my hand in ahead of me to keep the doors from closing. There wouldn’t be a lot of room with all those people, but I thought I could squeeze in. I stepped across the metal threshold and the door closed. I was surprised to see there was plenty of room. Maybe there hadn’t been as many people waiting as I thought. Then I realized the five companions were not there. I looked around quickly, half expecting from their previous behavior to see them hanging from the ceiling or crawling around on the floor. They were nowhere to be found.
I looked immediately at the young woman. The expression on my face must have been peculiar, because I wanted very badly to say, “Where did they go?” but I was suddenly sure that everyone else in the elevator would think I was nuts. I realized that during the entire time the group had been in the building, nobody had acknowledged the presence of the five boys. The receptionist, the man from upstairs, even the woman herself had not once looked at them or spoken to them, in spite of their very noticeable behavior.
She smiled at me and calmly winked. Just then the elevator door opened and she and the man she had come to meet stepped out. It wasn’t my floor, but it only took me a moment to realize that I couldn’t live with the idea of going on back to my desk and not knowing any more about her and those five young guys.
I stepped out of the elevator, and as I did, I felt a slight breeze, as if someone was passing me. I glanced to my left, but saw no one. I turned back to see where the girl was going, and then I saw them. All five of them were again following after her, just as they had done before, ranging out to one side or ahead to investigate a chair or a painting on the wall, then returning to her side. The group stopped about ten feet ahead of me, in front of an older woman’s desk. The man was talking to her; perhaps she was his secretary and he was giving instructions not to be interrupted during his meeting with the girl.
My astonishment was great enough to stop me in my tracks. I muttered under my breath, “Who are they?” The girl looked back at me. The curly haired, blond one was whispering in her ear, but then he stopped and looked at me, too. The other boys stopped their investigations of the older woman’s desk and all five of them moved in my direction.
The next thing I knew, the boy with the thick glasses was peering at my clothes and my hair, the feely-touchy one was running his hands over my shirt, the pen chewer had taken my pen out of my shirt pocket and started chewing on it, and the one with black hair was smelling me. I could hear him sniffing!
The curly haired, blond one whispered in my ear. “Most people don’t see us. We are her sensors. She is cybernetic. You see us because you are too much with computers. You need more people input.”
The man and the girl were going into an office. The man followed her in and then turned to shut the door behind him. The sensors were running back to her, frantic to get to her before the door closed. Taster was last and had to launch himself in a flying leap to get through the narrowing opening, because he had taken the time to put my pen back in my shirt pocket.
As I sat down in front of my computer a few minutes later, I was smiling. Being a computer person has always been an adventure for me.
The Tomato Can
The can of tomatoes had been there for three days. Last Friday, the stock boy had unpacked the case of cans and arranged them neatly on the shelf. Shoppers had taken some of them. One can in the top row was a bit shinier than its neighbors, as if eager to be taken. Its red and green label was a little brighter and straighter. It stood there silently. Waiting.
A short, bald man came down the aisle, looking at a small piece of paper and muttering to himself.
"Large can of tomatoes. Mmm....here." He took the can next to the shiny one and pushed his cart on down the aisle.
A young woman came a few minutes later. She chose the shiny can and put it in the cart between a loaf of bread and a can of creamed corn. It lay there, jiggling a little against the bread when the cart was in motion.
Jan Elliot set the bag of groceries down on the kitchen table and began putting them away. The can of tomatoes she left on the table along with a can of beans and a package of ground beef. She got out an onion and started peeling it, thinking about today's argument at the office.
Stan and Ralph argued constantly with each other about almost everything. She never had understood how they could be partners. Unfortunately, this time the argument was over her computer printer. Stan wanted to get a new one, and Ralph wanted to fix the old one. If things went the same way as they usually did, the disagreement would prevent a decision until she got so far behind in her work that customers would start complaining, and then both Stan and Ralph would blame her. She added the ground beef to the onions browning in the pan. For the hundredth time, she told herself she really ought to look around for another job.
She opened the can of tomatoes, dumped them into the blender, and set the can down on the sink. After whirling the tomatoes for a few seconds, she poured the resulting liquid into the pan and was looking in the spice cabinet for the chili powder when a car drove into the driveway. Bob was home.
"Hi, honey. Got out a few minutes early today. Hey, it smells good." He sniffed questioningly. "What's it gonna be?"
"Chili."
"Good. Guess I'll go change." He went into the bedroom.
Jan finished adding the spices, beans, and a little sugar to the pot of chili, stirred it thoroughly, and turned the fire down to simmer. She picked up the wrapper from the ground beef and turned to the sink for the tomato can. She frowned at the empty sink counter.
"I could have sworn I put that can there, but I guess I must have thrown it in the trash already." She shrugged and got two cans of beer out of the refrigerator. She and Bob could sit out on the back porch and talk while the chili was cooking.
That evening after washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, Jan sat down with a book. Bob was watching a TV program that didn't interest her. An hour later she put down the book and rubbed her eyes.
"I must be tired, Bob. I think I'll go to bed. I keep seeing a spot in front of my eyes, and I can't read."
Bob nodded, engrossed in the TV, and she left the living room.
Jan woke up the next morning before the alarm went off. She lay in bed, warm and drowsy, trying half heartedly to keep her eyes open.
That's funny," she thought. "There's a big mark on the wall. I don't remember seeing it last night." She frowned at it, wondering what it was. It was rectangular in shape, but she couldn't see it very well in the dim light.
She glanced at the clock beside the bed. With a shock she saw a dark rectangle nearly covering the face of the clock. She stared at it for a moment, and then turned to wake Bob. There was another rectangle on his pillow! Her eyes moved to Bob's face, and the rectangle moved with them.
"Oh! The rectangle is in my eyes, not on the pillow!" With a rush of fear, she remembered the spot in front of her eyes last night.
"Bob, wake up! Bob!"
"Hmm?" He rolled over sleepily.
"There's something wrong with my eyes! I kept seeing a spot last night when I was reading, and now it's bigger."
Bob sat up with a groan and snapped on the light by the bed. "A what? You're seeing spots? Do you have a headache or anything?"
"No, nothing. Just this big...." She stopped and looked confused. "Now that the light's on, I can see it better. It's red and green, and it's shaped like a rectangle. It looks like...well.... This is really crazy, but it looks just like a miniature can of tomatoes."
Bob groaned and flopped back on his pillow. "You really had me going there for a minute."
"No, really, I'm not kidding. It's there, and it looks just like a can of tomatoes. I don't know how to convince you when I'm having trouble believing it myself, but I see it. It's just like the one I used last night for the chili. It should be in the trash." Jan got out of bed and went into the kitchen. She was back in a few minutes.
"Bob, come and help me look for it. I can't find it, with this thing in front of my eyes."
"Well, OK, but if I ever hear one word about how you got me up first thing in the morning to look through the trash by telling me a completely ridiculous story you invented......." He stopped when he saw the expression on her face and got out of bed.
Bob had taken every single item of trash out of the bag in the kitchen and put it in a new bag. There was no tomato can. He looked all over the kitchen, under all the furniture, even in the refrigerator and in the cabinets. If it hadn't been for the look on his wife's face, he would have felt like a complete fool.
"It's not here, Honey."
Jan sat quietly at the kitchen table. She stared at the tabletop, at the rectangular shape which appeared to be sitting on it or embedded in it. "It's getting bigger. And it's rotating."
Bob didn't know what to say. This was getting too far from normal. He needed some help. "Let's go see a doctor. Maybe an eye doctor. There will be eye specialists at the hospital. Let's go there."
He urged Jan back to the bedroom, and they got dressed. On the way to the hospital, he drove into a fast food place and got them some breakfast to eat in the car. Jan ate quietly, with a preoccupied look on her face.
When they reached the hospital, the parking lot was quite full, but Bob found a place at the end near the street. He got out of the car and went around to Jan's side to help her out. She grabbed his arm and hung on as he shut her door.
"I can't see," she whispered. "The thing is so big now, I can't see around it. It's like it's right in front of my eyes, and I can read the list of ingredients and everything."
"Hang on to me, Honey. We'll get you into the hospital, and the doctors will know what to do." They began walking down the sidewalk toward the hospital entrance.
A large truck barreled down the street toward them, much faster than the speed limit. It swerved suddenly to avoid a dog and careened toward them with its tires screeching sideways as it swung around. The rear end of the truck hit a telephone pole with such force that the truck split open and its cargo flew out in all directions.
Bob grabbed Jan and pulled her away from the street. He felt her stumble and they fell to the ground. As the noise from the truck and the flying cargo subsided, Bob sat up and looked around. There were cardboard boxes and cans lying everywhere.
He leaned toward Jan to help her up. She was limp and face downward. He stared with growing horror at a can of tomatoes lying next to her head and a trickle of blood moving slowly from under her hidden face. He didn't hear the people shouting and running, coming from the hospital. A doctor reached his side and bent down to examine Jan. Bob didn't really hear the doctor give orders to the other people who had come to help, but he numbly followed them as they moved Jan onto a gurney and into the hospital.
It seemed hours before the doctor came to him in the hospital waiting room and told him Jan was dead, killed instantly by the heavy tomato can which had hit her between the eyes.
* * * * * * *
The shoppers moved up and down the aisles of the grocery store, selecting according to their lists or desires. The can of tomatoes stood in the stack with its fellows, but just a little shinier and brighter, as if eager to be taken. It stood there silently. Waiting.
A short, bald man came down the aisle, looking at a small piece of paper and muttering to himself.
"Large can of tomatoes. Mmm....here." He took the can next to the shiny one and pushed his cart on down the aisle.
A young woman came a few minutes later. She chose the shiny can and put it in the cart between a loaf of bread and a can of creamed corn. It lay there, jiggling a little against the bread when the cart was in motion.
Jan Elliot set the bag of groceries down on the kitchen table and began putting them away. The can of tomatoes she left on the table along with a can of beans and a package of ground beef. She got out an onion and started peeling it, thinking about today's argument at the office.
Stan and Ralph argued constantly with each other about almost everything. She never had understood how they could be partners. Unfortunately, this time the argument was over her computer printer. Stan wanted to get a new one, and Ralph wanted to fix the old one. If things went the same way as they usually did, the disagreement would prevent a decision until she got so far behind in her work that customers would start complaining, and then both Stan and Ralph would blame her. She added the ground beef to the onions browning in the pan. For the hundredth time, she told herself she really ought to look around for another job.
She opened the can of tomatoes, dumped them into the blender, and set the can down on the sink. After whirling the tomatoes for a few seconds, she poured the resulting liquid into the pan and was looking in the spice cabinet for the chili powder when a car drove into the driveway. Bob was home.
"Hi, honey. Got out a few minutes early today. Hey, it smells good." He sniffed questioningly. "What's it gonna be?"
"Chili."
"Good. Guess I'll go change." He went into the bedroom.
Jan finished adding the spices, beans, and a little sugar to the pot of chili, stirred it thoroughly, and turned the fire down to simmer. She picked up the wrapper from the ground beef and turned to the sink for the tomato can. She frowned at the empty sink counter.
"I could have sworn I put that can there, but I guess I must have thrown it in the trash already." She shrugged and got two cans of beer out of the refrigerator. She and Bob could sit out on the back porch and talk while the chili was cooking.
That evening after washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, Jan sat down with a book. Bob was watching a TV program that didn't interest her. An hour later she put down the book and rubbed her eyes.
"I must be tired, Bob. I think I'll go to bed. I keep seeing a spot in front of my eyes, and I can't read."
Bob nodded, engrossed in the TV, and she left the living room.
Jan woke up the next morning before the alarm went off. She lay in bed, warm and drowsy, trying half heartedly to keep her eyes open.
That's funny," she thought. "There's a big mark on the wall. I don't remember seeing it last night." She frowned at it, wondering what it was. It was rectangular in shape, but she couldn't see it very well in the dim light.
She glanced at the clock beside the bed. With a shock she saw a dark rectangle nearly covering the face of the clock. She stared at it for a moment, and then turned to wake Bob. There was another rectangle on his pillow! Her eyes moved to Bob's face, and the rectangle moved with them.
"Oh! The rectangle is in my eyes, not on the pillow!" With a rush of fear, she remembered the spot in front of her eyes last night.
"Bob, wake up! Bob!"
"Hmm?" He rolled over sleepily.
"There's something wrong with my eyes! I kept seeing a spot last night when I was reading, and now it's bigger."
Bob sat up with a groan and snapped on the light by the bed. "A what? You're seeing spots? Do you have a headache or anything?"
"No, nothing. Just this big...." She stopped and looked confused. "Now that the light's on, I can see it better. It's red and green, and it's shaped like a rectangle. It looks like...well.... This is really crazy, but it looks just like a miniature can of tomatoes."
Bob groaned and flopped back on his pillow. "You really had me going there for a minute."
"No, really, I'm not kidding. It's there, and it looks just like a can of tomatoes. I don't know how to convince you when I'm having trouble believing it myself, but I see it. It's just like the one I used last night for the chili. It should be in the trash." Jan got out of bed and went into the kitchen. She was back in a few minutes.
"Bob, come and help me look for it. I can't find it, with this thing in front of my eyes."
"Well, OK, but if I ever hear one word about how you got me up first thing in the morning to look through the trash by telling me a completely ridiculous story you invented......." He stopped when he saw the expression on her face and got out of bed.
Bob had taken every single item of trash out of the bag in the kitchen and put it in a new bag. There was no tomato can. He looked all over the kitchen, under all the furniture, even in the refrigerator and in the cabinets. If it hadn't been for the look on his wife's face, he would have felt like a complete fool.
"It's not here, Honey."
Jan sat quietly at the kitchen table. She stared at the tabletop, at the rectangular shape which appeared to be sitting on it or embedded in it. "It's getting bigger. And it's rotating."
Bob didn't know what to say. This was getting too far from normal. He needed some help. "Let's go see a doctor. Maybe an eye doctor. There will be eye specialists at the hospital. Let's go there."
He urged Jan back to the bedroom, and they got dressed. On the way to the hospital, he drove into a fast food place and got them some breakfast to eat in the car. Jan ate quietly, with a preoccupied look on her face.
When they reached the hospital, the parking lot was quite full, but Bob found a place at the end near the street. He got out of the car and went around to Jan's side to help her out. She grabbed his arm and hung on as he shut her door.
"I can't see," she whispered. "The thing is so big now, I can't see around it. It's like it's right in front of my eyes, and I can read the list of ingredients and everything."
"Hang on to me, Honey. We'll get you into the hospital, and the doctors will know what to do." They began walking down the sidewalk toward the hospital entrance.
A large truck barreled down the street toward them, much faster than the speed limit. It swerved suddenly to avoid a dog and careened toward them with its tires screeching sideways as it swung around. The rear end of the truck hit a telephone pole with such force that the truck split open and its cargo flew out in all directions.
Bob grabbed Jan and pulled her away from the street. He felt her stumble and they fell to the ground. As the noise from the truck and the flying cargo subsided, Bob sat up and looked around. There were cardboard boxes and cans lying everywhere.
He leaned toward Jan to help her up. She was limp and face downward. He stared with growing horror at a can of tomatoes lying next to her head and a trickle of blood moving slowly from under her hidden face. He didn't hear the people shouting and running, coming from the hospital. A doctor reached his side and bent down to examine Jan. Bob didn't really hear the doctor give orders to the other people who had come to help, but he numbly followed them as they moved Jan onto a gurney and into the hospital.
It seemed hours before the doctor came to him in the hospital waiting room and told him Jan was dead, killed instantly by the heavy tomato can which had hit her between the eyes.
* * * * * * *
The shoppers moved up and down the aisles of the grocery store, selecting according to their lists or desires. The can of tomatoes stood in the stack with its fellows, but just a little shinier and brighter, as if eager to be taken. It stood there silently. Waiting.
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