Month: February 2017

Second-in-Command

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Admiral Bradbury sat back in his chair.   He smiled at the viewscreen. “Thank you for your report Captain,” he said. “Now tell me how your new second-in-command is settling in. I know that the transfer was unexpected.”

Captain Dodgett’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “He’s organized, hard-working and competent. He can also speak all the major languages used in our galaxy. He’s an excellent first officer.”

“So no complaints?”   Admiral Bradbury smiled. “His last captain gave him a glowing review, but said that there were personality conflicts that made it necessary for him to be transferred immediately.”

“Well…” Captain Dodgett paused. “No, never mind. He’s an excellent officer.   He’s very knowledgeable. I have no complaints.”

“Off the record?” The admiral asked. “I’d really like to know why Captain Tasker couldn’t handle Commander Ghoti on his ship for even one more day. On paper it doesn’t make sense. I’d like to eventually offer him command of his own starship, but I need to know if there are going to be problems with his crew.”

Captain Dodgett sighed and leaned back in his seat. “It’s so silly. And yet, some of the crew have complained to me about it. It’s just…”

“Yes?” The admiral lifted an eyebrow and waited.

“Fine, fine.” The captain ran a hand through his short gray hair. “He likes to make sound effects during battles.”

“He does what?”   The admiral looked confused.

“He makes sound effects during battles. Sounds for crashes and explosions and weapons firing and people dying. It’s a bit distracting.” The captain laughed a small, huffy sort of laugh. “He stopped when people asked him to, but he started up again a few minutes later. When asked to stop, he apologized, but it happened again and again. By the end of the battle, my weapons officer looked ready to hit him.”

“That is a little strange,” the admiral said. “Did you talk to him later?”

“Yes, he said it’s a nervous habit. I recommended chewing gum. The next battle, he’d left it in his room. He said he wasn’t expecting a battle. He’s now required to carry it at all times. It does cut down on some of the noise.”

The admiral smiled.   “Well done. Is that all?”

“Well, there are the theme songs,” the captain said.

“Theme songs?”

“He insists on giving everyone a theme song and humming it whenever they come into the room or when they start giving a report. Some of the crew find it unsettling. And some don’t really like the song he chose for them.”

The admiral frowned. “Are the songs inappropriate?”

“No.” Captain Dodgett smiled. “It’s just that some of them are a little gloomy. Or angry. And one of them sounds a bit like sarcastic laughter.   He insists it’s just how he keeps people straight and he doesn’t mean to be rude.”

“Did he change the tunes when asked?”

The captain sighed.   “He did, but then he started getting their names wrong. He says it will just take a while for him to fix his mental filing system.”

The admiral nodded.   “But he will be able to fix it?”

“Yes, I think so,” the captain said. “And it’s been weeks since he last drew a mustache on any one or carried around that spray bottle.”

“What did he need a spray bottle for?”

“Oh he was spraying water on people on people that were arguing. He said it was his duty as a superior officer. We went over proper conflict resolution skills and there haven’t been any more problems.” Captain Dodgett smiled.

“All right,” the admiral said. “And the mustaches?”

“He said it was meant as light-hearted humor and that they’d wash off. However, too many people didn’t find it very funny.” The captain laughed. “I gave him a joke book. He memorized all the jokes and tells them constantly.”

“Is there anything else?” Admiral Bradbury asked.

“Not really.   Honestly, he’s an excellent first officer and I have no complaints. I think he’s settling in just fine,” the captain said.

“Right. Thank you for your report,” the admiral said.

Charlie’s Room: A New Book

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Isaac finished reading the latest chapter of The Mystery of the Overcooked Eggplant. Charlie blinked sleepily over at him “Is that it then, Dad?” he asked. “I thought he’d at least figure out who left those fingerprints on the window by the end of the chapter.”

“ I think he would have if he hadn’t been distracted by the missing left shoe,” Isaac said. “Maybe he’ll figure it out next chapter.”

“All right,” Charlie said. “’Night, Dad.”

“You’ve brushed your teeth and said your prayers?” Isaac asked. He slipped the book into its spot on the shelf.   Then he paused and looked at the shelf again.

“Yep. With Mom,” Charlie said.   He turned on his side and snuggled into his pillow.

Isaac pulled a bright blue book off the shelf. “Charlie, where did this come from?” he asked.

Charlie rolled over and opened one eye. “Dunno. I haven’t seen it before.”   He rolled back.

“Okay. Good night Charlie.”   Isaac took the book with him. He turned out the light. “I love you.” Isaac slipped through the door.

“Love you too, Dad,” Charlie said softly. Isaac pulled the door mostly shut. He turned out the hall light and the night-light turned on, dimly lighting his path.

Marianne was throwing an assortment of things on the bed. She smiled at him as he came in. “Hi. I’m going to take a very long bath. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Just a hug,” Isaac said. He hummed as he hugged her. She laughed.

“What book is that?” she asked when he let go.

Isaac looked down. The book had swirly silver writing on the front that said The Waiting Book. “I don’t know,” he said. “It was on Charlie’s bookshelf. I’ve never seen it before.”

“Is it from the library?” Marianne asked.

“I don’t think so,” Isaac said. “It doesn’t have any library markings.”

“How strange. We’ll have to ask Charlie about it in the morning,” Marianne said. “Well, I’m off. I’ll see you in a few hours or so. Let’s see. Candles, matches, book, chocolate, bathrobe…” Marianne continued to mutter to herself as she gathered her things and headed for the bathroom. The door clicked closed behind her.

Isaac sat down on the bed and opened the book. Everything swirled around him and suddenly he was somewhere else.   He got a quick look at a room with white walls and a few chairs and bookshelves. A few seconds later, someone grabbed his wrist and everything swirled around him again.

They landed in a dark, musty room. There were candles and books and jars filled with strange things. Isaac could smell something burning. There was a puff of smoke and Isaac looked down.   The book was at his feet. It looked a little charred.

He bent to pick it up. “Don’t touch that,” someone said, grabbing his wrist. Isaac stood back up and the man let go. He looked tired, and a little scruffy and very angry. He cupped his hands around his mouth and started yelling. “Come out here now, you crazy wizard. I found your stupid book.”

A young man came around the corner of a bookshelf, pulling a robe over his tee shirt and jeans. “Nicolas, I expected you back yesterday. What happened?”

Nicolas huffed and folded his arms. “Your great waiting room idea? Someone has to open the book to let the last person out. And the book hops to a random location every time it’s opened. It didn’t work.”

The young man looked over at Isaac. “And who is this?”

“The person who opened the book after me. I brought him with me so he didn’t get trapped too. I think it broke your book.” Nicolas pointed to the slightly burnt blue book. Everyone looked at it for a moment.

“Yes, I think it does need some fine tuning,” the young man said.   Nicolas rolled his eyes. The young man laughed and patted his shoulder.   Then he held out a hand to Isaac.   “Hello, I’m Wendell, wizard extraordinaire.”

Isaac shook his hand. “I’m Isaac,” he said. “Innocent bystander.”

Wendell laughed again. “Thank you for rescuing my uncle. My grandmother would be terribly upset if I lost him.”

“I rescued him,” Nicolas said.

“Well, in any case,” Wendell said, “let me give you my card in case you ever need a wizard.” He handed Isaac a small business card with Wendell, Wizard Extraordinaire, written above a phone number. “Now I’ll send you home.”

Wendell waved his hands in loops and swirls and suddenly everything was swirling. Isaac was back on his bed, holding a business card.   He could hear the water running in the bathroom, so he hadn’t been gone long. He looked at the card again, and then picked up his wallet. He put the card inside and put it back on the dresser.

House Call

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The washing machine was making a terrible noise. It screeched and thumped and screeched some more.   “Should we call for someone to come fix it?” Mom asked. She looked worried.

“I’ll look online and see if there is a quick fix,” Dad said.

“I’ll look too,” Mom said.

But, in the end, they couldn’t find anything. The washing machine continued to screech, no matter how full it was or how carefully they tried to balance the load.

“We have to call someone,” Mom said. “Let’s look online for reviews.”

Mom and Dad wrote emails for estimates and finally, a week later, they decided on Motor Care Services.

“I’m tired of washing things in the sink,” Mom said. “I hope they can fix it quickly.”

Jeremy, who had to help wash things in the sink, agreed. It wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded. Honestly, it didn’t even sound fun. When the doorbell rang, he hurried to be the one to answer it.

There was a little man made of metal at the door. He was holding an old-fashioned doctor’s bag. “Hello, young human,’ he said. “Are your parents here?”

“Mom! Dad!” Jeremy yelled. “The repair person is here!”

Dad came in the room. “Really? Already? That’s wonderful.”

He paused when he saw the metal man. “Are you here from Motor Care Services?”

The metal man held out a hand and dad shook it. “Mr. Frank?”

“That’s me,” Dad said. “And you are…?”

“Call me Andy,” the metal man said. “Could you show me to my patient?”

Dad led Andy to the laundry room. Jeremy followed behind him, and Mom joined him, both of them hovering by the door and watching. Dad waved a hand toward the washing machine. “It keeps making a terrible screeching sound no matter what we do. Is there anything you need?”

Andy inspected the washing machine. “You’ll need to plug her in so that I can talk to her,” he said.

“Yes, of course,” Dad said. He picked up the plug where it was resting on the back panel of the machine and leaned over until he could plug it in.

“It’s a she?” Mom asked. “Does she have a name?”

Andy turned. “Yes, Mrs. Frank. I’ll ask.” He started to root through his bag and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. Then he started to make quiet clicking and whirring sounds.   Even though they hadn’t started a wash cycle, the washing machine started to screech. It paused and Andy began to click and whir some more.

After several minutes, Andy stopped writing. “Her name is Lauren. She has a sock stuck under her drum and it’s unbalancing the loads.” He clicked and tutted. Lauren screeched. Andy scribbled something and put his pen down. “I can fix it, but she’d like to be unplugged for the procedure.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Dad said. He leaned over and pulled the plug and draped it back over the back panel.

Meanwhile, Andy pulled a long, thin tool out of his bag and bent it into a u-shape. Then his eyes grew brighter, like flashlights. “I’ll need you all to leave the room for a moment,” he said. “I’ll call you back in when I’m done.”

They all left and waited outside the door. In a few moments, Andy called them back in. Andy handed Jeremy his long-lost blue and white striped sock.   “I believe this is yours.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy said. “Um, Mr. Andy, what’s the dryer’s name? Does the toaster have a name? And the stove? And the microwave?”

“That’s a lot of questions, young human, and none of them are my patients,” Andy said. The dryer rumbled. Andy nodded. “He said his name is Harold. He hasn’t met any of the others.”

“Should I plug her back in then?” Dad asked.

“Yes, yes. That would be great,” Andy said. Once Dad plugged the machine in, Andy whirred and tutted. The washing machine hummed. Andy nodded. “She feels much better now. Call me if there are any more problems. I’ll send you my bill,” he said. And then he left.

Cereal Prize

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Alex found the blue plastic bowl he liked best and put it on the table.   Then he dug through the silverware drawer until he found the spoon that looked like it had been chewed on by alligators or piranhas or maybe both. His mom said it was the garbage disposal, but Alex had looked inside once and it didn’t have any teeth. It was still a little scary though.

The spoon went on the right side of his bowl, because he was right handed.   He considered getting his plastic alligator from the bathtub to put in the bottom of the bowl. Would it taste like soap? He could rinse it off first. But if it was in his cereal it could get milk all over it. He could lick it off. But what if it came to life and bit his tongue? He could give it a bath instead. Alex found his alligator, rinsed it, and put it in his bowl.

Alex checked the fridge. There was the perfect amount of milk left. The carton wasn’t so full that it was too heavy or so empty that his cereal would end up dry. Dry cereal was gross, almost as gross as soggy cereal. That’s why you had to put the milk on at just the right moment.

He set the milk on the left side of his bowl. Then he pushed a chair over to the cupboards. He climbed up and looked through the selection. There was a bag of cereal shaped like life preservers. That could be fun. There was a bag of flaky cereal like leaves or fish. Hmmmm. Oh, there was a box of cereal in big puffy shapes.   That was new.

Alex ran to the bottom of the stairs. “Mom,” he yelled. “Can I open the new box of cereal?”

“Yes,” she yelled back. “Just clean up after yourself.”

“I know,” Alex said. He ran back to the chair and took down the box.

He carefully peeled the top open. The bag inside had a line of holes poked in it to make it easy to tear open, so he didn’t even need the scissors. Nice. He tore it open and left the thin plastic strip by his bowl. Maybe he could pretend it was a ghost snake and it could battle the alligator. The alligator would win of course, unless the cereal was piranhas. They always ate everything.

Gleefully considering the possibilities, Alex stood on his chair to carefully pour the cereal into his bowl. He tipped the box just enough so that the puffballs were slowly burying the alligator alive. Would they eat him, even in open air, or would they wait until he added the milk?

Just then, something heavy slid out of the box and crunched into the bowl, sending puffballs flying over the edge. Alex stopped pouring and set the box down. He gathered up the stray cereal and popped it in his mouth.   “Aaaaaaaah,” he said, making the dying scream of the piranhas.

He shifted through his bowl to see what had fallen out of the box. Was it a cereal prize? He looked at the box. It didn’t say anything about a prize. Maybe it was coupons. He saw something shiny and brushed the puffballs away. It was a little toy car.

It was light blue and very detailed, and it was not in a little sealed plastic bag. Alex picked it up to look at it more closely. There were little people inside. Angry little people. They were waving their tiny little arms and screaming at him in high-pitched voices.   Alex couldn’t understand what they were saying.

They started pointing down. Alex looked down. There wasn’t anything there.   Oh. They wanted down. Alex carefully set the little car on the floor. He stood still as it carefully drove around his feet. Then, it drove straight at the wall and disappeared.

Huh. That was strange. Well, it was time to get back to breakfast. He hadn’t decided yet if the alligator could beat the piranhas. What if the ghost snake was attacking at the same time? He had to decide before he added the milk. Soggy cereal was gross, after all. Alex forgot all about the car.

Seeing Ghosts

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Amelia woke up and immediately curled her knees up to her chest. Her head hurt. She cracked her eyelids open. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. She didn’t want to move. But, she needed to use the toilet. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to need to use it.

She opened her eyes a little wider and slowly sat up.   She was still all hunched up, with her shoulders nearly touching her ears. Everything looked a little hazy. Something moved in the corner of her vision. Adrenaline made her headache back off a bit, and she turned and opened her eyes and looked.

Her grandpa, who had died last year, was sitting on the end of the bed, like a glowing hazy white shadow. Behind him, similar shadows were walking around her bedroom and down the hallway outside her bedroom door. Out the window, she could see glimpses of other glowy hazy shadows outside.

“Grandpa?” Amelia said.

“Amelia,” he said, as soft as a whisper. His voice sounded like it was coming from far, far away. “Can you see me?”
“Yes,” Amelia said. “Ouch.” Her headache had suddenly come back full force. It was a stabbing pain behind her left eye. Her vision grayed at the edges. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“I check on you every morning, but this is the first time you’ve seen me. Are you all right, my Amy-girl?” Grandpa said.

“My head hurts,” Amelia said. And she really did need to use the toilet. “I’ll be right back.”

Amelia stumbled to the bathroom and then to the kitchen. She kept walking through ghostly shapes. Some of them were wearing really old-fashioned clothes. She recognized her Uncle Ed from pictures, and the lady holding a baby and standing next to Mom was probably Grandma.

“My head hurts,” Amelia said. She winced at the sound of her own voice. Too loud.

Mom handed her some medicine and a glass of water.   “Here, take these,” she said softly.   “And eat a piece of bread. Then you can go back to bed. I’ll call the school.” Amelia took them and mumbled her thanks.

She stumbled back into her bedroom. She tripped over a pile of books and jammed her elbow into the edge of her dresser. The pain in her head receded slightly at the sharp, sudden pain.   Amelia rubbed her elbow and looked up.

Grandpa was standing by her bed looking concerned.   “Are you all right?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s just my elbow. And my head. If I sleep, most of the headache will go away, and then it will be manageable.   She winced again and felt sick to her stomach.

“Then come and lay down,” Grandpa said.

Amelia got into bed. Grandpa brushed a hand over her forehead, but she couldn’t feel it.   “I love you, Grandpa,” she murmured.

There was a row of ghosts behind Grandpa. They all looked like they were related to him somehow, and they were smiling down at Amelia. “We are so proud of you and your family, Amelia,” one of them said.

Grandpa nodded. “If I don’t see you again for a long time, remember that I love you and your family, my Amy-girl,” he said.

“All right, Grandpa,” Amelia whispered. Then she rolled over on her side and pulled her pillow over her head. She held it tight to her left temple and left a little space at the bottom so that she could breathe. And then she willed herself to sleep.

When she woke up, her headache was a dull throb.   She pushed the pillow off her head and looked around. No glowy white shadows. She shuffled into the living room. Her mom was sitting on the couch reading.

“Amelia, how’s your head?” Mom asked.

“Better. Grandpa says he loves us,” Amelia said.

“That must have been a nice dream,” Mom said.   “Let’s go get you a drink of water.”   She stuck a scrap of paper in her book and set it aside.

Amelia smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

Hair Model

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Every morning after breakfast, Mom would brush and brush and brush Leslie’s hair. She would pick out an outfit for Leslie to wear, and then Leslie would watch cartoons and have to sit so, so still while Mom tried out lots of different hairstyles.

She would watch videos on the computer or look at pictures and then start tugging and pulling and twisting Leslie’s hair.   Even if her hair was pulling on her head, Leslie wasn’t supposed to follow it and twist her head and turn.

When Mom got her hair just how she liked it, she would undo it all and brush and brush her hair again. Now, Leslie needed to sit in a chair and face the wall. Mom would do it all over, stopping to take pictures and write down notes. Then it was time to curl the ends and spray it. More pictures.

Leslie would go back to her cartoons and Mom would start typing on the computer. And finally it was lunchtime. Mom had been doing this for months and months, and really it wasn’t so bad. It made Mom happy, and Leslie’s head didn’t get sore at all any more from all the brushing and twisting and pulling.

But, one morning, Leslie woke up feeling grumpy. “I don’t want you to do my hair,” Leslie said. She was wearing an outfit she picked out and not the one Mom left out for her.

Mom frowned. “But Leslie, I had a great idea last night. Look, I drew a picture. I think you’ll love it. It looks like a flower, see.”

Leslie looked at the picture and looked away. It did look nice, but today, Leslie hated it. “No,” Leslie said.

“I’ll give you some fruit snacks,” Mom said. “The ones that are all strawberry-shaped.”

Leslie loved those. But not today. “No.”

Mom looked sad. “All right dear.” She sat on the couch and started flipping through a magazine.

“I want cartoons,” Leslie said.

“Not today dear,” Mom said. She looked up and smiled. “Why don’t you go play with your blocks.”

“I want cartoons and I want fruit snacks,” Leslie said. She stomped her foot angrily.

“That’s not the polite way to ask for things,” Mom said.

Leslie screamed. She roared.   She stomped. Mom left the room. Leslie started to cry. Mom didn’t come back in. Not even when Leslie threw the tv remote at the wall. Finally, feeling defeated, Leslie went and found Mom. “You can do my hair,” she grumbled. “But I want three fruit snacks.”

“Two,” Mom said, and closed her magazine.

“Three,” Leslie said. She stomped her foot and scowled.

“All right,” Mom said. She stood up from the kitchen table and got the fruit snacks from the cupboard.

Leslie had already missed the first of her favorite cartoons. She folded her arms and scowled at the tv. She growled every time her mom pulled on her hair or twisted it, and sometimes she angrily jerked her head.

“Leslie,” Mom said once. Leslie growled louder. Mom didn’t say anything else.

When Mom was busy typing, Leslie stomped off to the living room. Her head hurt from the crying and the growling.   She didn’t want to watch cartoons.   She stomped to the kitchen to get a drink of water. There were scissors on the counter.

Leslie took the scissors and hid them under her shirt. Then, she snuck into the bathroom. She sat on the counter in front of the mirror and grabbed her braid and snipped it off. It took a couple snips to get all the way through.

The cut ends of braid started to unravel. Leslie looked at the braid sitting in her hand, looking dead and broken.   She suddenly felt alarmed. She jumped off the counter and stumbled a little.   She shoved the braid in a drawer with the soap and ran to her bedroom and hid under the blankets.

A little while later, Mom came in. “Leslie, are you feeling okay? Were you grumpy because you feel sick? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. Go away,” Leslie said. She clutched the edges of the blanket tightly in her hands in front of her face.   But mom flipped the blanket off of her from behind.

“Oh, Leslie,” she said.

Leslie began to cry. “I’m sorry.   I’m sorry, mom.”

But Mom was smiling. “I’ve always wanted to try hairstyles for short hair. This was a great idea. Let’s go even out the ends.” She held out her hand.

Leslie couldn’t believe her luck. She took Mom’s hand and followed her out of the room.

“No more playing with scissors,” Mom said, as they walked down the hall.

“Okay,” Leslie said. And that was that.