Sixteen Very Short Stories

Adrian was upset because Betty had bought Raisin Bran instead of the usual Shredded Wheat. As she tried to explain that the store had been out of the Shredded Wheat, he stormed out of the kitchen. She knew she would have to take all the raisins out of the cereal - one by one - before he would talk to her again. She knew that if Marlow, his pet parakeet, choked on one of the raisins, he might never forgive her.

Being highly regarded by horticulturists within a nine-hundred-mile radius, Cathy was justifiably proud of her plant experiments, though some of these seemed somewhat odd to the more traditional scientists in the botanical community. Nonetheless, no amount of ridicule would keep her from her dream of getting the giant Saguaro cactus to produce grapes. It would make Arizona, her home state, a serious competitor in the booming wine business, though the grapes might be somewhat hard to pick.

The large assembled throng had not expected to see such a large contingent of musicians at Donald's ceremony. There were eight small bands altogether, including a quartet of accordion players. Each of the bands took a turn playing different tunes - polkas, marches, patriotic anthems, tangos, and other lively music - in keeping with the wishes of the guest of honor, though his elderly widow thought the solemnity of the funeral had been somewhat diminished.

Ely was sitting quietly in the waiting room. Because of the great pain he was in, he was anxious to be called right away and, yet, not too soon. It would be the same old story and the same hard choice. The podiatrist, who happened to be his ex-wife, would tell him she had just run out of anesthetic, and would he like her to pull his ingrown toenail out anyway, or would he like to come back at a later time?

On this stretch of road, he would always go over the speed limit, hoping the highway cop would be around to chase him. He would argue with her and resist arrest. He didn't mind getting booked or paying the $300.00 fine. He was still in love with Frances, his ex-girlfriend, and this was the only way he ever got to see her. The dexterity with which she handled the handcuffs was admirable and, to him, unforgettable.

Since turning fourteen, Gloria had developed an irrational fear of Southern accents. She was now twenty-four and this was her twenty-second therapist, a practitioner who believed in shocking his patients out of their assorted phobias. As she sat in the waiting room, trying to ignore the large Confederate flag in the corner, the receptionist approached her with a tray holding five mint juleps, explaining that she would need to drink them all before the doctor would see her.

Harry entered the cabin with what appeared to be a large, fluffy blanket under one arm and a small tray of food on the other. He dropped the blanket on the floor, placed the tray on a shelf, and locked the-door behind him. Irene put the 747 on automatic pilot.

It had taken them thirty minutes to choose between Avocado green and Florida peach. Now, all they had to do was make sure it had enough surface area to accommodate her collection of 982 refrigerator magnets.

This would prove to be a very busy day. James had thirty two messages to return and sixteen contracts to read and sign off on. He would not be able to take any calls, except for his press agent and perhaps Karla, his girlfriend. And he would only see one person today - Mr. Letort, the magnifying glass salesman.

Work on the sixty-five-story skyscraper had barely begun when word reached Marianne, the construction superintendent that the excavators' union was threatening a walkout. The other trades would very likely follow suit. The only solution would be a compromise. She announced that a wolf-whistling period would be allowed, but only between 6:00 and 6:30 a.m., before she got to work. And she also agreed to make the coffee.

They loaded up the pickup truck with the nineteen bales of hay and headed for the farm. Surprisingly, the truck held up well under the great weight and so they made the twenty-mile trip without mishap. What they dreaded most, however, was the prospect of having to stuff the thirty-foot-tall scarecrow by hand.

It was ten o'clock and Nancy hadn't written a single paragraph, yet. Considering she had been sitting at the typewriter since six in the morning, it was turning out to be a rather bad writer's block day. At eleven o'clock, she decided to call the toy company to let them know the technical manual would not be in on time.

Oscar, the salesman, was pacing the floor as if this might somehow bring in a client or two. He had not made a sale in three days. He had not seen a customer in the showroom in two and a half days. Maybe Uncle Paul had been right after all - Styrofoam office furniture was an idea very much ahead of its time.

Quincy took the do-it-yourself manual off the shelf and opened it to the chapter on Working With Concrete. Since only the chapter titles were in boldface, he had to scan through the entire "Before You Start" section to find that there was no mention as to the specific type of water to use in mixing the concrete. He decided on his own that hard water would be best.

It was another of Roxanne's dumb ideas: To get an extra day off from work, she would call in sick. Her friend Stacy and she would then go shopping and then out to a leisurely lunch, just like the rich people. At nine forty five, the phone rang, but she couldn't pick it up for fear it might be the personnel director from work. She then decided to hurry herself out. As she started her car, a Lincoln Towncar parked itself in front of her house. A portly man carrying one of those see-through glass bowls stepped out of the car. It looked like chicken soup. It looked like her boss.

From the moment he heard about it, Tom had felt uneasy about going to the party. He knew he would be expected to bring the two dozen pot pies, as usual, but this year, he had been asked to give a small demonstration in square dancing. He hoped it would be scheduled for after lunch. That way, most of the food would have been consumed.