Lunch Hour
G.M. Reinfeldt
Lunch Hour
by G.M. Reinfeldt
Copyright © 2013, 2014 by G.M. Reinfeldt
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
A Note from the Author
Stories
Crazy Thoughts
Framed by the Cat
The Card
A Breath Away
Rainy Day in Purgatory
Scotophobia
Empty Seat
The Jump Off
Flames of Passion
Weapon of Choice
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Lunch Hour
Copyright © 2013, 2014 by G.M. Reinfeldt
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Published by G.M. Reinfeldt
First edition: October 2014
Produced in the United States of America
A Note from the Author
I played around with titles for longer than I care to admit. I tried titles like Crazy Thoughts, Random Rumblings and even Imagine If. I wanted to mix in words like insane and mad, but could not find a title I liked. After all Crazy Thoughts was the title to my first successful story, it won a small website contest. Strike it. Random Rumblings, well, I am a sucker for two things; physical comedy and alliteration. Promising, but I could do better. Imagine If was simple and straight forward, but it was ripped a simple sentence I queried my overly patient significant other with, “Imagine if I don’t have a title? It could be untitled.” A terrible thought that grew into a frightening fear and gave me the hopeless title of Imagine If. I could not, I would not title a book based off the idea of untitled work.
A title needs to mean something. It needs to drive people to pick-up (or click) on a book. It should make them think, but not too much. It should also above all else make them smile. Easy, right? Wrong! So after pondering title after title, none rang true with me until…
Lunch Hour
So simple. So straightforward. So perfect. Whether student or professional, teen or adult, we all look forward to our lunch hour. That small break in the monotony of the day. That tiny reprieve until we are free for a few fleetingly short hours. The thought made me smile. And it came with a second additional meaning for me. My lunch hour is my sole opportunity to write. The stories within are dreamt, written and edited over my lunch hour. I eat, I write, then in a blink I am back in the office, but for those few minutes of my lunch hour I am… me.
I hope you enjoy the crazy, insane, mad, random scribbles within… Lunch Hour,
G.M. Reinfeldt
Crazy Thoughts
“Is that him?” inquired the soft voice of Bea.
“Yeah and that slut, too!” the second voice, venomous with rage, belonged to Ann.
“Shhhh,” Marlene shushed everyone.
“What does it matter no one can hear us,” Ann was unable to hide the rage that played at the edges of each word.
“Maybe we should forgive him?” meekly questioned Bea.
Marlene turned the key. She gripped the steering wheel tighter and pulled out of the parking space. She followed behind the couple for a few blocks. The couple stopped for him to buy his companion a single rose.
“Ahhh, how sweet,” Bea admired. “He is such a good man.”
“Riiiiiight. What a sweetie. He is cheating on us,” Ann pointed out
Marlene did not respond, but continued to follow the couple to a restaurant.
“A fancy dinner, how romantic,” Bea’s words seemed to flutter on the wings of love.
“Never did that with me…or us. He would always want to stay in and say some bull like ‘I don’t want to share you with the rest of the world’ and blah, blah, blah,” Ann vented.
“It was always nice,” Marlene voiced up.
“I never complained either,” Bea added.
“Weak. You opinions are worthless,” Ann verbally assaulted Bea. “I never complained either, but why does she get everything?” Adding the question they all wanted to ask.
Marlene parked across from the restaurant. Brrrriiiinnngggg… Brrrriiiinnngggg. “Hello?” Marlene answered.
“Hey do you think we can meet up later?” His voice made Marlene tingle.
“Oh yeah, you will see us later,” Ann voiced up.
“What? Who was that? Are you with someone?” He accused.
“No just me. Later is fine. What are you doing?” Marlene covered.
“Work…stuff. Just boring work stuff.”
“Can we go out?”
“No. I just want to stay in. Maybe some Chinese food. Sorry got to go.” Click.
Marlene heard him say ‘just work’ as he hung up.
“You see he loves us.”
“Riiiiiight,” Ann’s words dripped with sarcasm.
“Better go get Chinese,” Marlene conceded.
“No! Stay put,” ordered Ann.
Marlene released the wheel and watched as the couple sat near the window. They ordered drinks, appetizers, meals, and deserts laughing the whole time. They held hands and kissed throughout the dinner. They spent some time quietly staring at each other longingly. So it was no surprise that they paid and walked to his place.
Marlene knew the route all too well. She had made the trip many times in the late of night and back before the sun ever rose. Marlene sped ahead and waited for them.
Marlene spotted them as they entered the intersection. She pounced on the gas. The car lunged forward. Their faces turned toward her. Bea pleaded forgiveness. Ann screamed for blood. Marlene hit the brakes stopping just short of the couple.
He saw her. She stared at him through tear soaked eyes. His date screamed and pounded on the hood of the car. He begged forgiveness, as did she, through an unspoken bound. He broke away first grabbing his date. The couple now ran to his place for safety, not passion.
Bea’s soft voice cheered for the triumph of love, but all Marlene heard was the rant of rage from Ann. “You are weak! Weak! You don’t deserve him! Pathetic! Just Pathetic!” Ann paused, the verbal barrage for a moment. “I knew you couldn’t do it. That is why I took care of it.”
Boom! His building burst into flames. Sirens and lights followed quickly behind.
“Hahaha,” Ann laughed. “I even told them who to look for. No one will ever hurt us again.”
The police arrived on the scene and immediately arrested Marlene.
Framed by the Cat
“Mommy, can I have a cookie?” asked Collin.
“Did you eat all of your vegetables?” His mom questioned.
“Yes,” he moaned belaboring the point.
“Ok then. Cookies are in the kitchen,” she called from the basement stairs as she descended into darkness.
Collin sat in the family room, alone. His mom had left him for short times before, but never to get his own cookie. He looked to the kitchen, which sat about 30 feet away. The distance slowly grew; it was 40, 80, 100 feet. The task was daunting, but the prize was a delicious cookie. The sun ducked behind the clouds casting a grey shadow across the room. Collin waited for the light to return. It did not.
He stretched one leg down from the sofa and dangled on the edge for a few hopeless minutes. Letting go, he dropped to the ground with a thud. Sprawled out he twisted and turned to stand up. His back was pressed against the sofa. His eyes searched left and right. He was unsure what direction danger would come from, but he knew it would come. He took one hesitant step forwar
d.
Meow!
The sound came from everywhere at once. Collin jumped back and attempted to scramble up the sofa. He knocked down the remote control as the cat circled him. The cat eyed Collin as prey, Collin looked for options. The cat licked its lips and readied to pounce, as Collin reached for the remote. The cat was on him before he could get the remote.
Collin had always known that this old ugly declawed cat would be the end of him. He fought using every move he learned from TV as the cat worked to smother and lick him to death. His outstretched fingers found the remote. He lifted it and turned on the TV. The speakers blared. The cat jumped. Collin was safe.
He caught his breath and refocused on the task ahead. He wobbled out of the family room and into the kitchen. The kitchen was crowded with big chairs, bigger scarier monsters that hummed and hundreds if not thousands of small doors.
Grrrrrrr.
Collin waited. The dog was outside so what made that noise. He saw nothing. He took another step.
Pop! Bang!
Collin scrambled under one of the chairs. His heart raced and diaper filled. Still nothing appeared. He crept out. He was still alone.
He saw the cookies and swaggered over to the counter. He reached for a cookie, but they were too high up. He stretched, still too high. He jumped, not even close. He plopped down. This was only another reason that he wanted to be big like Mommy.
Defeated he moped back to the sofa. On the way he remembered that sometimes Mommy let him stand on a chair to cook. He grabbed one and pushed it across the floor with all his might. It crashed into the counter. He scrambled up the side of the chair to the seat and a little more to the counter. There he met the cat once more.
Meow. The cat’s paw rested on the tray of cookies.
Collin eased his hand toward the tray. The cat tossed the cookie and tray aside. Time slowed, as Collin cried “Noooo…” and dove to save them, but he was too late. He only saved one. The cat was gone. Collin devoured his prize.
“Collin Benjamin Michaels! What have you done?” Collin’s mom scolded as she surveyed kitchen to find the freshly baked cookies scattered across the floor and her son sitting by himself on the counter.
The Card
A single scream shattered the silence of the serene day, as a girl slid a quarter into a gumball machine and out popped a human tooth.
Laughter filled the void left by the girl’s scream.
“Billy!” scolded the girl’s mother. He was caught. His joy at sibling sabotage, was replaced by a sheepish grin.
Billy moped pass me in his top hat and cape, as I stepped out of my car hungry from travel. His family made their way home. His wand now in his mother’s shopping bag, I watched as they disappeared from sight.
That is when I knew it would be a weird day. I walked into a diner and was greeted in popular small town fashion; that is to say with a smile and a coffee. Taking a seat, I accepted both happily.
The diner was pleasantly decorated with advertisements from the turn of the century - the one that mattered. I marveled at their condition in spite of their age and questioned the authenticity which unfortunately insulted my waitress.
A man appeared before me, on a stage that I did not recall being there. I drank, laughed and enjoyed the show as much as the meal. Members of the gathering crowd were called to the stage. They performed feats that astounded me; I questioned what was real and what might be an illusion.
The performer called me up from the audience and ushered me into a box, a little taller than I, with only a tiny opening from which my hands protruded. The performer told me to pick a card and keep it in the box no matter what. I held the four of clubs tightly.
The performer danced, the music swelled and he lit the box containing me on fire. I screamed, suffice it to say that this was not a manly scream but a scream that made all in attendance question my specific gender and age. A few audience members even commented that perhaps a popular boy band may have suddenly appeared in town. The response from the crowd was not as enthusiastic as I had hoped. They continued to watch as I burned.
I screamed and yelled several unflattering things. The performer danced over with a hose. He signaled for power and the hose sprang to life shooting not water, but cards. The fire licking at my flesh and the box containing me dissolved into more cards. Not just any cards, but the four of clubs. The crowd went crazy.
I punched the performer and stormed off as the room fell silent. The performer leaned over and plucked a card from the ground. The room lost it.
The night air was cool and refreshing to my freshly singed skin. My hand still clung to the selected card. I wadded it up and threw it out. I was done with this road stop. I took a step toward my car and froze. There on the ground in front of me was the card, in pristine condition. I plucked it from the ground, wadded and trashed it.
I turned to my car and the wind picked up. The card pushed by the breeze slapped me across the face. Anger swelled. I shredded the card and let it float away. I watched it drift a little before I took another step, but when I turned I saw my car. It was covered in cards and not any card, the four of clubs.
My jaw hung so low that it must have scraped the ground. After a moment a shadow shifted in an adjacent alleyway. The performer strode forward. He walked right up to me and snapped. The sound his fingers made was deafening and the result was amazing.
The cards tossed themselves off of my car and into the air. They floated and fluttered and shuffled over our heads ending their action in the performer’s hand. Once all cards were accounted for he pulled up the first card. It was the four of clubs. Then he lifted the second card. It was the four of clubs.
I made a snide sound. He smiled and shook the card. It transformed into a flyer for Houdini Day with today’s date.
I did the only thing I could do. I clapped. And the crowd cheered.
A Breath Away
“If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.”
Connie gasped, as an unkempt man wriggled free of the shadows. Connie judged the man immediately by his ragged lips, which provided little coverage over his half rotted weathered teeth. His eyes wild with something akin to excitement, but she suspected drugs. His hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his tattered pants, waiting to reveal some unseen surprise.
Terror rooted Connie in place. She wrestled with her desire to flee and a perverse curiosity.
“You have to say,” the stranger demanded. “You have to say what it is. ”
“A…,” speech was lost to her. She struggled to respond finding only one word, “…present?”
“Yes,” the word slithered out of his sick and twisted smile. “It is.”
Connie’s eyes lingered on his hand as it slid slowly from his pocket, exposing a tiny golden trinket. It was a small golden bird with ruby eyes that returned the twinkle from her own eyes. She sighed in relief. She reached for the bird cradling the bird by its onyx feet. She was hypnotized by its simplistic beauty, but for a moment their hands connected.
She inhaled sharply.
Shaking off the moment, she snatched the bird. The man hurried away and in his wake Connie thought she heard laughter.
She returned home and went right to bed, after placing the bird on her nightstand.
She awoke after a peaceful night’s dream, greeted by the light of a new day. She danced around her apartment getting ready for the day. Her day, she thought smiling at her golden good luck charm. Catching a glimpse of a clock, she ran out the door already late, with her charm in tow.
In a flash she was in the street calling a cab. With a screech, it was there. She leapt back, snapping a heel on the curb. Cursing her luck, she climbed into the cab and urged him on. She snapped the other heel to match.
She stepped out the cab, over the plugged grate, and darted up the stairs to her office. Three steps from
the landing, she slipped. Her chin met the stairs with a jarring impact. The bitter taste of blood filled her mouth. The pain was dizzying. She spat out blood and something else. A tooth. Not a whole tooth, but a piece. Her eyes went wide as her tongue found more jagged edges. Panic seized her as she ran to a mirror. Where, through wet eyes, she gazed at her reflected shattered smile.
Collecting herself, she reached for her phone. Her purse tipped and out fell her good luck charm. She angrily swatted it across the counter and left the useless talisman.
Dental appointment set, she left work.
At the curb she signaled a cab. With a squeal, she was sprayed by the filth from the clogged grate. Today was definitely not her day.
Dripping wet, she glared at the driver. After a moment she got in, and off they went. Arriving at her destination, she stepped out and slammed the door. The cab sped off, spinning her as it tore a piece of her skirt. The contents of her purse were scattered in the process.
Embarrassed, she hastily stuffed everything back in. She smiled in apology- startling onlookers- as she forgot about her smile and filthy appearance. Her hand struck an unexpected hard object within her bag. The ruby eyed trinket stared at her from the depths of her handbag. She tugged it, yanked it, and pulled with all her might, it would not budge.
Wild eyed, she scoured the streets looking for someone, anyone to release her of this burden. The golden trinket weighed heavily on her soul as she searched for another sucker.
She spotted a man down the street and knew she must act. She rushed him, as he stumbled backward at her sudden appearance. Recalling the words that started it all, she smiled through her cracked teeth and offered, “If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.”
Connie exhaled harshly. Her world spun, she stumbled. The unruly stranger was gone. Vanished as though he never existed.
Alone she stood on the street corner. Her eyes danced around, as she puzzled over what just happened. She chanced a glance down, but did not see the frightful appearance she anticipated. Where she expected filth covered rags she found a designer dress. Confusion set in.
Before she could ponder anything, a familiar offer slithered from nearby shadow, “If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.”
