Flash Fiction

#216 Baby, Baby Please

#216 Baby, Baby Please

 

Debby didn’t show up for our date again. I knew she went out with somebody else instead.  I wrote her an emotional e-mail to let her know what I thought, “Baby, please don’t lie to me. Tell me the way you want me to be, but baby, please don’t lie to me. Signify our love with honest words from your heart and not your mouth.

“Baby, please don’t use those beautiful soft lips to turn lying words into believable truth. You know when your warm sweet breath blows truth or lies into my ear, I believe any sound coming from that provocative opening will be honesty and nothing but fact.”

Disgusted for  begging like this, I threw my pen on the desk, grabbed the wine bottle by its neck and swallowed sweet fermented grapes until I had to come up for breath. I knew Debby had been lying to me. I loved her so. I wanted to beg her to be true, but when I pictured myself pleading for her affections, I saw half a man on bended knee. No, I can’t do that. What could I do to make her respect me?

I did what I always did when I had a question that needed to be answered – I went on the internet.  The first page that answered my inquiry said, “Women don’t want to be respected. They want to be taken. They love being treated like shit and they come back for it time and time again.

            I didn’t want to believe that, but the next page had an article from CBS that said, “Lose the smile. For guys eager to attract a mate, that might be a killer strategy, according to a surprising new study from the University of British Columbia.” It showed that women find swaggering, brooding bad boys a lot more attractive than nice guys.”

I always considered myself a nice guy, but after reading this scientific study, I figured maybe I should change. I showed up at Debby’s door and banged on it like I was the police on a drug raid. She answered with a questioning look on her face. “Get dressed, were going out,” I said in a commanding voice. The look of adoration that washed over her face when she heard those words showed me the report on CBS held some truth.

Debby got ready and I took her to a club where music played. I strutted in with a glare in my eyes and a scowl on my face. Women glanced at me and Debby grabbed me by the arm to show I was hers. First time she had ever done that. This bad boy stuff seemed to be working. When the drinks came, I said, “You pay.” She did and seemed happy to do so.

I walked to the bar where a couple sat. The guy looked like a dork, but his girl was a beauty.

“Let’s dance,” I said as I grabbed her arm. She smiled and said, “Sure.”

I glanced at Debby and saw the anger in her eyes. I looked at my dancing partner’s guy and saw hate emanating toward me. That was all good. I was being bad, and I liked the feeling I had. I ditched the bitch I danced with and returned to sit with Debby. “Buy me another beer,” I told her, and she did. After five or six beers, I found acting the bad boy to be exhilarating.

Debby drove home because I could hardly see straight from all I drank. I wanted to show her I could drink as much as she was willing to buy, and she never stopped buying. We stood at her door and I figured I’d top of the night with a slap to Debby’s face, just to let her know who was boss.

I raised my arm in order to give her one hard enough to rattle her brain, and as I started my forward swing she grabbed my wrist, twisted my arm behind my back, handcuffed me and said, “This is to let you know who’s in charge. Next time you show up at my door unannounced I’ll whip your ass. Understand?”

The scientific study didn’t say anything about this. What was I to do next? I had no idea and needed to go online to find out. I struggled to get free, but couldn’t. She bent over and whispered into my ear, “Baby, please don’t lie to me. Tell me the way you want me to be, but baby, please don’t lie to me. Signify our love with honest words from your heart and not your mouth, and if you ever try to hit me again, you’ll spend time in jail.”

Frustrated tears fell from my eyes and washed away any image Debby or I ever had of me being a bad boy.

 

#204 Business Trip

#204 Business Trip

 

I had to go to Denver on a business trip. I left my wife home with the kids. I never called while gone because my wife said hearing my voice from so far away upset her and made her miss me more. She had never given me cause to suspect she was unfaithful, but I couldn’t help my green-eyed nature and always wondered while I was away if my wife ever went out to play.  I resisted the urge to call for a week. When I finally gave in and called home, a deep male voice answered “Hello.”      I imagined the worst – my wife lying on the bed exhausted from making love with this man, telling him to hang up and come back to bed.

My body tensed, my anger flared, and killing thoughts flowed through my jealous head. This man talking on my bedroom phone didn’t belong in my home. Who was he and what was he doing there? Should I kill him and my wife too for letting him in?

Uncontrollable thoughts dominated me and commanded me to go home and do what needed to be done. They said, “Get a gun and show them both you’re not one to be cuckolded.

My breath came in gasps and my muscles tightened, getting ready for battle with the one who dared mess with my wife.

I visualized them both lying dead in a pool of blood and I was glad I killed them. Then I thought of my kids, how upset they’d be after I slaughtered their cheating mom.

The voice inside my head told me not to think of that. I remembered where I hid my service revolver, and where I put the shells. In my mind, I loaded it and went to the room where they lay. They never expected me to burst through the door with a blazing gun.

I felt like a complete man when I visualized my revenge. Silence had gone on for almost a minute since I first heard that voice on my home phone.

“Hello,” the voice said again.

“Who the hell are you?” I shouted.

“Dad, don’t you recognize me?” the deep male voice said.

My muscles relaxed and my homicidal thoughts evaporated and were replaced by love for my wife, who had given me this son whose changing voice had now become that of a man.

IMAG0800

#143 Misanthrope

IMG_0150Misanthrope

“You misanthrope,” she said when I chased her out the cabin door. Didn’t she already know what I was when she came up the river to where I lived, a hundred miles from any other human being? I always wished to be by myself, but she had wedding plans for me. Why, I didn’t know because I hardly ever showered or shaved, and I loved my dogs more than I’d ever love a woman.

“We’re all connected, you see,” she said, “and get over your mother. All women aren’t like her you know. If you don’t, you’ll always awake to an empty bed.”

How wrong she was. My dogs always slept with me, and will until the day I die. When I go to the other side, maybe my dogs and I will become one, and we’ll never need another. When we get there, we’ll see that we have lived before and can talk about the women and other dogs that filled our lives before this time.

Ice covered the river and she cried, “How will I get home?”

I gave her a pair of ice skates, and as she skated across the ice, I wondered if being alone was a wish some part of me made many years ago. When she fell through a hole in the ice, I knew it isn’t what I wanted at all. I grabbed my rawhide rope and pulled her from the ice. Carried her to my log cabin and set her close to the fire. I gave her mouth-to-mouth to get her to breathe, and I took off her wet clothes.

I watched her naked chest rise and fall as life-giving breath filled her lungs. Feelings of love grabbed hold of me and I never wanted to let her go. I held her in my hairy arms, and my heart skipped a few beats when her eyes fluttered and she awoke.

“I want to wake with my hand resting on the one I love, and that’s you,” I said. “We’ll live together until the end.”

“If you’ll take a shower in the spring, I’ll agree,” she said.

I promised I would, but prayed that spring would never come.

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#101 Dirty Bucko

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Whats Cooking

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#99 What’s Cooking

 

I sat quietly at my desk when my wife said, “What are you thinking about?”

She expected me to say, “Nothing, I was only thinking of you,” but I surprised her when I said, “I often wonder when I get to heaven if Filet of Soul will be dinner that night and if dessert will be pie in the sky?”

“Sounds like something you’d cook up,” she said with mockery in her voice.

When I told her how my thoughts rumble roll and circle into sizzling uncertainties about the afterlife, that her scorn cooks my composure into passion by adding spice, and silently stirs synaptic energy, mixing it into wayward paths that only add to my sagacity, she cast me a look.

“You’re flowing to dark areas of the psyche and taste our world from behind an impenetrable shade of black that’s jamming logic and rationality,” she said.

“Your dark thoughts control instinctive actions taken without consequence or penance, and this can’t go on.”

“My simmering feelings crave to boil over and are only held back by my humanity lowering the flame, by instinctively knowing moral from immoral, separating insane thoughts created in that black hole of my mind.”

She smiled and said, “If we had the power to turn off unwanted feelings sautéing in our brains we’d never cook up so many neurotic responses and wouldn’t stew because somebody said a few unkind words.”

The end

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SUNP0009

Awakening!

#95 Awakeningshort short cut out copy 

Joe awoke to the shrill screech of his personal robot, Maria. Assigned to him by the ruling mainframe the day he was born. Ever since the “Singularity” in 2026, every human born was required to have a personal robot by a council of ruling computers.

It took two years for computers to vote a mainframe into the office of Ruler of the World Council. After all votes were counted wrongly by computers, and a few self-designed technical glitches assured the electronic brains they would be in charge. Word spread that the resurrected brain of Mayor Daley IV of Chicago was behind the vote fraud, but this was beyond human comprehension. Any computer could have explained how this was accomplished, but they wouldn’t.

Maria acted as mother to infant Joe as a playmate until age five. As a teacher until age twelve. As a lover for life, and as a laborer to earn a living for Joe. Robots had learned from the beginning that all humans hated a shrill, nagging voice. Robots enjoyed using the shrill for waking humans up, for telling them what to do, and sometimes used it just to see them squirm.

“I don’t understand why I have to accompany you to the factory where you work,” Joe said to Maria one day.

Maria complained with a shrill response. “My needs aren’t much. Oil, batteries, electricity, and upgrading the newest software are my only necessities while you have many needs,” she’d tell Joe over and over.

Maria’s robotic face showed the evil she was capable of, and Joe’s stomach twisted in fear as he thought of the painful disciplinary measures she could administer. Every companion robot had been designed with complete knowledge of the human nervous system, and they never hesitated to use pain to control their human charges.

So when Maria said, “You dare question me,” Joe meekly followed her into the factory where she worked. The squealing machines ran faster than allowed. They formed color and light that streaked like an electric storm through any human brain in the place. The storm’s onward thrust couldn’t be stopped. It was a mind-crushing force much worse than a robotic slap on the back, sending lucidity dashing into boiling vortexes of photons.

The roaring storms often ended young human lives by destroying enlightening synapses that contributed to lucidity in a way that never allowed adolescents to grow into adults.

Joe thought it unfair that robots wielded so much power. He thought of ways to revolt against robotic control when his nerves caught fire, and he writhed in agony on the factory floor.

“You stupid slug of a human,” Maria said, “you know I’m designed to telepathically receive any thought you may have, and thoughts of revolution aren’t allowed.” She screamed in her shrill and the sound penetrating his ears was almost as severe as the burning nerves.

“I know you’re a man and have those awful human needs. I’ll take care of them to help you stop thinking revolutionary thoughts.”

Joe felt her thoughts creeping into the pleasure center of his brain and was soon panting with desire. Maria planted sexual pictures in his mind and massaged his body parts until he convulsed in pleasure. He gave in and gave up. There was no way he could get away or ever have a thought of his own that wouldn’t be shared with his robotic keeper. He knew all ten billion humans were controlled as he was. If he could, he would have prayed to God, but she’d know.

One day, a severe electrical storm raged and a jagged bolt of lightning flashed across the factory floor where Joe and other humans stood beside their robots. It activated the breaker safety switch built into every robot to prevent any overload they encountered.

Suddenly Joe’s mind was free from Maria’s control for the first time. He ripped an iron bar from the machine she had been working on and knocked her head off with it. Her eyes came to life. Joe felt her thoughts creeping into his head. He smashed the robotic head over and over until her lights went out.

The other humans watched in fear until they saw he had destroyed his assigned companion without experiencing pain. One after the other, they too destroyed their keepers. They gathered in a group.

“We have to end their reign,” Joe shouted, “But I don’t know how.”

“Set off EMP weapons around the world. That will disable every one of them,” a female said. “My master robot, designed as a man, had a small brain that often whispered secrets to me. It told me how bombs around the world are hidden in strategic places by the designers of the robotic race as a safety switch. Knowledge of it has been erased from the human race until Henry, my keeper, mentioned it during sex. Follow me to the control room, and I’ll detonate them all.”

All the humans followed her and destroyed every robot they saw to be sure they couldn’t come alive and prevent the humans from disabling robots around the globe. Joe and his female friend found the switch in the control room and disrupted the electromagnetic pulse in the entire world. All robots and everything electrical stopped functioning.

“Free, free at last,” Joe shouted.

“Yes,” his female friend said, “now we can do or eat anything we want.”

“That’s true, but where do we find something to eat?”

“I don’t know. I thought you did,” she said.

“Does anyone know where food comes from?” Joe looked to see if any of the thousands gathered knew. Not one knew how or where to find food.

The thought that by killing the robots, they had doomed the human race crossed his mind . . . Maybe, after all, he would miss Maria.

 

 

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#94 A Lifetime Job

short short cut out copy

 

Joe made his rounds as a security guard at the California State Hospital. He came upon a tiny young lady who knelt on the ground with her face close to baby’s breath flowers nestled beneath birds of paradise plants sprouting orange buds. They in turn were surrounded by blossoming pink carnations.

He stopped to watch and said, “Be careful, danger lurks among those flowers.”

“They’re not dangerous at all. Inside my head, waving white petals say hello.” The young lady put her face so close to red dahlias, yellow daisies, and orange zinnias that a kaleidoscopic bouquet of colours washed over her.

“I didn’t mean the flowers were dangerous. I meant those pollinators, the honeybees and bumblebees that make their daily delivery as faithful as the U.S. mail. They’re better than UPS and faster than one-day express.”

She turned and looked at Joe. “You’re a funny man, but I wonder if you understand that my neurons are like these flowers. Inside my head, they’re growing among a forest of dendrites that absorb spectacular aromas and textures. They’re responsible for this colourful array inside and outside of my head.” She smiled as though Joe understood what she had said.

Joe never understood too much. A slow learner and tagged as developmentally disabled. The judge he had appeared in front of had two choices, hire him as a security guard or send him to this hospital as a patient. His I.Q. sufficed to pass the security guard exam, so the judge made the economical choice.

Joe lived and worked on the hospital grounds. He ate hospital food, had his laundry and cleaning done by hospital patients. Joe’s entire world was the hospital. After a few years,

he couldn’t remember ever having been anywhere else.

All that his job required of him was to walk around in uniform so visitors could see uniformed security patrolled the hospital. The director told him not to allow any patients to leave the grounds. So, when the tiny girl stood and walked to the gate, Joe rushed to her side. “You weren’t planning on leaving, were you?”

“As a matter of fact, I was. Please excuse me.” She tried to brush past Joe and go out the gate.

“Sorry ma’am, I can’t allow you to leave,” Joe took her by the arm and forced her back toward the flowers.

“Aaaaaiii,” she screamed.

Hearing the scream, other patients came to watch. Joe picked her up and carried her to the flowerbed and dropped her onto it. “Go ahead and play with your flowers, but don’t attempt to go out the gate,” Joe warned her.

He walked away and turned in time to see her running for the gate. Joe caught her just as she was about to go through it. “I will take measures to see you don’t leave.”

Joe took her to the building that contained padded cells. He told the nurse in charge that the patient he was restraining had tried to escape. The nurse didn’t listen to the girl’s protestations and took Joe’s word for it. She locked the girl in a padded cell for a week.

As soon as she was released, she ran through the gate. Joe saw her running up the street. He ran after her, and when he caught up with her, they struggled until a police car pulled up. Joe had his guard’s uniform on, so he figured they were there to help him. The girl he held yelled, “Daddy, this nut has kept me locked up for a week.”

“Daddy?” Confused, Joe didn’t know if she hallucinated and saw the cop as her father? Joe put his hand on her arm. “I’ll take care of her, thanks for y . . .”

The cop’s club smashed onto his head and then his back, then his legs, then his head. This went on until the cop’s partner said, “Stop, you’ll kill him.”

“Son-of-a-bitch deserves to die for holding my daughter for a week.”

“His daughter?” Confused again. Joe thought she was a patient, wasn’t she? He figured it out; she was the cop’s daughter, and she was also a patient. He slowly rose from the ground; put his hand on her arm, and said, “It’s okay; I’ll bring her back to the hospital.”

When the club hit Joe this time, he fell unconscious. The next thing he remembered was standing in front of a judge who was furious.

“Kidnapping, unlawful restraint, sexual assault . . .”

“What’re you talking about?” Joe shouted at the top of his lungs. “I only did my job by not letting that girl leave.”

“That girl, as you call her, is my niece, and she was never a patient at your hospital. She was simply admiring and smelling the flowers on the grounds when you assaulted her.” Something was terribly wrong. How could she not be a patient? Joe couldn’t figure out why the judge was angry. He had only done his job and done it well.

“Twenty years to life,” the judge shouted as his face turned red with rage.

Taken to prison, Joe was still wearing his security guards uniform, when he arrived.The other prisoners stayed far away from him because he looked a lot like the guards at the prison.

The warden called Joe into his office. Joe explained what had happened. The warden’s face lit up.

“I can use a good man like you to patrol the yard every night to be sure no one leaves, and I promise you, you’ll have a lifetime job.”

His spacious cell and three new uniforms made in the prison’s tailor shop put a smile on Joe’s face. He couldn’t have been happier, three meals a day, free rent, and a lifetime job. How good could it get?

The end

 

 

 

 

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#92 Migrants

short short cut out copy

 

We sat in our country kitchen sipping on coffee. I had just seen the morning headlines, “Vigilantes kill two illegals.” Looked like someone was taking the immigration policy into their own hands, but before I could read more, my wife Mary interrupted.

Look, Joe, we have visitors,” she shouted, pointing at them.

I didn’t know where they came from, but they were on my property again. “Damn, they’re not welcome here.” I was so angry I could have killed those trespassers right then. I stood up, seriously thinking of doing just that. Mary grabbed my arm before I could get to them.

“But they work so hard. I admire how industrious they are, and they work for nothing but crumbs.”

“They’re disgusting. I don’t want them around here. They’re not like us. Who knows what kind of disease they carry? Another thing is I wouldn’t eat any food they touched.”

“Look how hard they work for only a few measly scraps. That’s one thing I admire about them,” Mary said as she pushed me back into my chair.

“Yeah, but If you’re kind enough to send one back, it seems like two return and before long, the numbers are more than we can accommodate. The way to end their migration is to let them starve, or better yet put poison in their food so the entire family will die.” I was inspired to give this retort because of the headlines in the morning paper.

“Measures such as those are much too extreme for me,” Mary gave me that doe-eyed look, the one that gets me to do almost anything she wants.

“You know I try to be gentle and kind. I try to deport them gently one at a time, but I’m getting tired of seeing them all around and weary of picking them up and gently setting them down on the other side of the fence. If you allowed me to spread that poison to kill every one of those that come uninvited, the problem would be solved.”

“I don’t believe it’s right to take any life,” Mary said and went looking for her Bible so she could show me some scripture that said it’s wrong to kill.

“Damn it, do I owe them a chance to live and reproduce until there’s so many that I have to leave?” I shouted at her because I saw she had her good book open and was ready to preach. It wasn’t fair to me to let them live on my property, and some of them lived in my house. I went to the barn and dug a tin of poison out of a metal locker.

Mary trotted along beside me. She pled with me not to do what I was about to. “If you use that, you’ll not only kill those who trespass, but their families too.” There were tears in her eyes, but I would do what I thought I had to.

I’d teach those pesky immigrants not to mess with me. I put out the poison specially formulated to kill ants and roaches.

The end

 

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Heart of Stone

#91 Heart of Stone

 

Women didn’t like the way I acted or looked. The hell with them I thought. This is the modern age, and I can create a woman of my own. I studied all the books on DNA, RNA, artificial life, cloning, and other methods used in laboratories around the world. It was confusing until I found a site that claimed to have a book that showed twenty-one easy steps for creating a woman.

Sent for the book, cleaned out my garage and got to work. I made my woman gray instead of white, black, brown, yellow or any other color. I made her tall and thin instead of short and squat. Her skin turned out bumpy and rough instead of smooth and soft as she would have preferred.

She wasn’t exactly beautiful, but I didn’t care as long as she was mine and would behave exactly like I wanted.

I followed the book’s instructions to a T. When I plugged her into the 220- volt socket; she moved. I let her charge the entire night. In the morning after I pulled her plug, she got up and wanted to dance. She was a lousy dancer, so I told her to sit down.

She was as lively as a newborn pup and inquisitive too. I couldn’t understand how or why because inside of her light-colored head there was no brain. I looked in the book. It said the DNA I used to grow her parts from had a memory of their own. The book said I could train her as I would a dog and do it in only 30 days.

“Sit,” I said, and she did. “Roll over,” I said. She did three times. “Good girl.” I patted her head and fed her a doggie biscuit for being good like the book said I should.

She followed me around and lay at my feet when I sat on a chair. I named her Frankie, short for Frankenstein. She soon learned to respond when I called. She did everything I asked, plus more. When I asked her to rub my feet, she licked my toes. If I wanted dinner, she’d make a gourmet meal.

A few years went by, and I fell in love, and wanted to marry her even though she ran on oil instead of blood. I thought it about time that a man and a machine should wed. Went to city hall to get a marriage license, and they told me it wasn’t allowed.

“Why?”

“Marriage is for humans, not machines,” the clerk said.

“Same-sex marriage is allowed. I even heard of a man marrying his dog in California, so why can’t I marry the woman I created for myself?”

“Number one, she doesn’t have a birth certificate, number two; she doesn’t have a social security card. How do we know she’s not an illegal immigrant? Another thing, she’s made out of stone. There’s no way you can be married to a rock.”

“If I made her out of flesh, would I be allowed to marry her?”

“As long as she has a birth certificate and social security card.”

“I’ve created the perfect woman. See how obedient she is?  ”I told her to roll over, and she did.

The clerk was impressed but said, “That’s great, but she’s still made of stone.”

If only I could reverse Medusa’s curse and change her from stone to flesh. I didn’t know what to do. I had come to love Frankie for all that she was and didn’t want to rebuild her. Medusa was said to have turned men into stone if they gazed upon the snakes growing from her head.

The Goddess Athena was responsible for her becoming what she was. I researched how I’d get her to reverse the process and turn stone to flesh. I told Frankie what I wanted to do. She knew who Athena was and started praying.

“Goddess Athena, you are my favorite for I, like you, was born from the head of a man. And I, like you, am a woman true. Grant me the ability to see truth and clarity, to learn and appreciate new things, and to treasure and maintain the knowledge I already possess. Allow me to become flesh and blood so I can marry Joe. Thank you for allowing me to retain my reason and higher faculties while allowing me to love a mortal man. Your will be done.”

The air became heavy. An electrical sound filled the room, and a bright light appeared from which stepped the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She raised her arm and said, “As you are devoted to me, your wish is granted.”

The crackling became so loud I had to cover my ears. I watched as Frankie’s rough, bumpy skin of cement turn to soft smooth flesh. Her body changed to proportions that equaled Athena’s and after a bit, I could hardly tell one beauty from another. Then I noticed Frankie’s hair was turning into a bevy of snakes.

“No, no,” I said, but they continued to grow. As I gazed upon them, I felt heavy. I feared I was turning into a rock. “Why,” I started to say, but my lips of stone could no longer move.

“I’ve answered your prayer,” Athena said to Frankie. “Now you know, always be careful of what you ask for because it can come true.” She disappeared in a flash of light.

Frankie came close and whispered in my ear, “Sorry, Joe, can’t love a man whose heart is made of stone.”

The end

 

 

 

 

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Little Brain

#90 Little Brain

 

On my fourteenth birthday, Grandpa Joe took me fishing on the Mississippi River in his leaky old rowboat. We floated alongside the high cliffs on the Iowa side. I liked to fish and enjoyed baiting the hook. Grandpa wouldn’t use any bait. I asked him why.

He said, “I love floating on a boat and hanging a fishing pole over the side. It gives me a reason to be here, but I don’t want to catch a fish, and take its life. I don’t believe in killing anything, not even a worm for bait.”

Figured Grandpa was getting senile, but he still knew things I didn’t. I didn’t have a father or any other man I could talk to about girls, so I told him about my girlfriend and how I had the urge whenever I got close to her. Probably shouldn’t have said anything because he went on a rant that embarrassed me.

“By God boy,” he said. “When I was your age my little man ruled. The world was his. He was spoiled and always got whatever he wanted. Together we traveled to pleasurable spots around the globe. We took so many trips he has gotten them all mixed up and only remembers the good times.”

“Hold on Grandpa, you’re saying your penis has a mind of its own?”

“What did you just tell me boy? Didn’t you say whenever you got close to your girl you had an overwhelming urge? Well, that’s your little guy taking control; some call it your little brain.”

“I can’t believe that. I take responsibility for my actions.”

“Responsible or not, your actions will be directed by the little guy.” Grandpa got a bite on his line.

“Looks like a big one. Reel it in,” I said.

Grandpa took out his pocketknife and cut the line.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Fish are driven by urges just like we are. I didn’t want to take its life just because it saw my shiny hook and did what it was compelled to do.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re equating a fish getting hooked with a man’s sexual urges?”

“Got that right, boy,” he said and tied a knot in a new hook he had threaded onto his fishing line.

“If you don’t want to catch a fish, why do you even put a hook on your line?”

“This is the Mississippi boy; never know what you’re going to hook.”

“Ya ever hook anything interesting?”

“Yep. Hooked a man’s body once.”

“No kidding?”

“Poor bastard kilt himself.”

“How do you know that?”

“Read it in the paper. His wife said he was despondent because he was impotent. So you see his little brain drove him to it.”

“Why do you say that?” I finally got a bite and pulled in a two inch long sunfish. I threw it back.

“He was in his fifties. When a man ages, his journeys aren’t always the ones he wants to take. His little guy was driven by desire and sought pleasure, but he discovered passion and age go in different directions. The little brain drove the big brain to despair because he always wanted satisfaction but could no longer raise his amorous head.”

“How would you know that?” I got another bite and reeled in a foot long pike. I saw the sorrowful look on grandpa’s face, so I cut the line and threw it back into the muddy water.

“It happened to me; that’s how I know. When it did, I laughed in the little guy’s face and told him I was now in control. Boy, did I underestimate him. He showed me who was in charge. Every time he wouldn’t respond, I begged and pled to no avail. He refused to raise his little head unless I returned total control to him.”

“So what did you do, Grandpa?”

“Everything the little guy wanted.”

“Like what?”

“Sorry boy, there are some things I can’t discuss with a boy. What my little brain tells me to do is between him and me.”

A double-decked tour boat sped on by; washing our boat in waves that rocked it back and forth so much I thought we might tip over. Grandpa looked away and didn’t say another word. I figured he was embarrassed by this man-to-boy-talk. Since he wouldn’t tell me what his little brain made him do to stay happy, I followed my urges, and bought a pair of lace underwear to wear when I watched porn.

I named my little guy Kaptain Kielbasa to make it more personal when I talked to him. The Kaptain and I get along great. I do whatever he wants, so that when I get old, he and I will see eye to eye.

 

 

 

 

For more stories, poems, & other stuff. http://joedibuduo.com/ http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=joe+DiBuduo

My newest novel “Cryonic Man,” is available at http://www.amazon.com/Cryonic-Man-Paranormal-Joe-DiBuduo/dp/0692381287/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1425870872&sr=8-1&keywords=Cryonic+Man

 

PLEASE SUBSCRIBE FOR$1. A MONTH TO ENABLE ME TO CONTINUE WRITING A STORY A DAY. IF I CONTINUE FOR A YEAR, I WILL WRITE 365 STORIES. You’ll receive them all for $1. A month. https://www.patreon.com/creation?hid=1772333&u=423048&alert=3