Chilling

#JusJoJan 4/17 – Copsicle

He was a school crossing guard; we called him the Copsicle. Every September, he was there at the corner waiting for us. In the mornings he was cheerful. At lunchtime he was sullen. But after school, especially starting around Christmastime and up until March, he would stand, immovable, in the middle of the road, clutching his hand-held stop sign in a mittened fist with a smile frozen on his face.

People knew not to drive that way in the winter because the traffic was ridiculous. Three-point turns by drivers not wanting to break the law by going around a school crossing guard were common.

One day, (and I admit to this with no end of shame, even now that I am in my thirties and have children of my own) my friends and I stood in the middle of the road beside him and poked him. And we threw snowballs at him. But the smile never left his face.

I have no idea who came to get him, to warm him up in time to be cheerful for the morning commute. Perhaps they lit a fire around him to thaw him out. I’ll never know. My parents wouldn’t let me out of the house to check.

His legend lives on. My children tell the tale of the school crossing guard who, dedicated to his duty, would stand frozen to his post. And that every afternoon, we could count on the Copsicle to be there, to see us safely across the street.

jjj-2017

Just Jot It January can be found here: https://lindaghill.com/2017/01/04/one-liner-wednesday-jusjojan-417-prompt-pro-tip/ Click the link and join in today!

brittler

i’m picking up the bones
scattered all around
the meat that was this year
consumed in listless crumbs
breads long forgotten
and riches, oh the riches
that would be mine
had not the year wasted them away…
ah but who is to blame
is it the clock?
or myself…
the carcass is long gone
the skeletons stacked
and stored back in their closet
the sheep of the new year
the sacrificial lamb
fresh and clean-smelling
wool over eyes
shall likely be as brittle
as wasted and tired
in three-score and sixty-five days hence.

Stay Calm (The Dentist, Part 4 of 5)

…continued from here…

“It wasn’t me. Ahem. I didn’t do it. Ahehehehem! I’m not responsible for that girl’s death!

“Oh, who the hell am I trying to kid? Okay, I’ll tell you the whole truth.

“My hygienist and I had an affair. It was torrid and disgusting and it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. But then her friend moved in with her and was all, ‘Make him make an honest woman out of you!’ and ‘You have to get a commitment out of him!’

“It drove me crazy. I did my best to stay calm amidst her demands but it was no good. I finally decided to break it off, and she went off the deep end. She threatened to tell my wife.

“So I made her eat her words. Every last one of them. I watched her brush her teeth for the very last time.

“You know, you’re a great interrogator. I didn’t think I’d ever tell…

“YES DEAR? I’M JUST IN THE BATHROOM! WHO AM I TALKING TO? OH, NO ONE, DEAR! JUST MYSELF. CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS WHEN I COME OUT? I’M ABOUT TO GET IN THE SHOWER.

“I LOVE YOU TOO, DEAR.”

…continued here…

Enthusiasm (The Dentist, Part 3 of 5)

…continued from here…

“I’ll start by saying I’ve never been to a psychiatrist before. I know you told me I should just talk, but feel free to interject any time. No? All right then. I’ll go ahead.

“I think part of why I’ve chased away three patients this week is my enthusiasm for my job. I love dentistry. There’s nothing quite like getting right in there with my instruments and rearranging people’s smiles. Did you know one time I removed all of a lady’s teeth–bad gums, she had to have them out–and then instead of giving her dentures, I kept them and sewed them all back in a week later? She would have been happy, except I got mixed up and put the top ones on the bottom and the bottom ones on the top. Well, I was excited. She just couldn’t see the beauty in it.

“I should probably mention that I may have lost a patient or two this week because I no longer have an assistant. Terrible thing happened. She died on the job. Accidentally slit her femoral artery when a man whose teeth she was cleaning swatted her hand away. I might have been able to stop the bleeding, except my secretary was off and I was waiting for the last patient’s credit card to go through.

“Ah, the life of a dentist. You must hear stories like this all the time…”

…continued here…

Unfortunately (The Dentist, Part 2 of 5)

…continued from here…

“Oh my God! You scared me silly. You’re the man who knows sign language, aren’t you? Wait… How did you get in here?

“You’ve been here all night? Waiting for the novocaine? What novocaine? OH, the novocaine for your filling. Now I remember. I’m surprised you’re still sitting in the chair. Why ever didn’t you just get up and walk out? Your wheelchair? It must be that one right there in the corner.

“Oh well, at least you didn’t have to drive in all that horrible weather outside. What’s that? Yesterday was your birthday and you missed seeing your family for the first time in… how many years? Well, we’d better hurry up and get this tooth filled so you can get out of here then. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the novocaine. I’ll be right back.

“I beg your pardon? I didn’t see what you signed there. Don’t bother with the novocaine? All right then. It’s your funeral.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud? I forgot, you can hear. What I meant was, having your tooth filled without any freezing might hurt a little. Now let’s see. Oh right, you have a bit of rotting going on down in the root. I think I’m going to have to take out the tooth beside the bad one. What’s that? I already did? Hmmm. Oh no. I have some bad news. Unfortunately it seems I took the wrong one out. I’ll just get my pliers here… Now where did they go. I can’t find anything since my hygienist left. Just up and quit, she did.

“I said I fired her yesterday? I wonder why I said that. All right. Here are the pliers. Wha… Where did you go?

“Hey, you! You in the wheelchair! Come back here! You haven’t paid me yet!”

…continued here…

Relax (The Dentist, Part 1 of 5)

“Just lay back and relax. Everything’s going to be okay. Now open your mouth, nice and wide. Oh, you know sign language? Excellent, so do I. It’s a handy language to know when you’re a dentist. Get it? ‘Handy’? I’m a funny dentist too.

“No! No, no, no, don’t be nervous. I know what I’m doing. Just have to… There! I’ve moved your premolar so I can get to the one next to it. Don’t worry. I can glue it back when I’m finished.

“You’re allergic to glue? Oh. Well I’m sorry then. How about a lovely set of false teeth for free? Yes, I can arrange that. It will fill in the gap you already had.

“Now I just have to get this one filled, and… Oh. Oh this isn’t good. You have some rotting going on in the root. How much is your insurance? You don’t have insurance? Well then, perhaps you can get a mortgage on your house. You … what was that again? You have to… OH, sorry. I was trying to read your fingerspelling. Did that hurt very much?

“What am I saying. Of course it did. I suppose I shouldn’t have fired my hygienist last night. Juggling all these instruments is probably a hazard, don’t you think?

“Oh, but I had no choice. My hygienist was going out back between patients to smoke drugs. Can you imagine? And I thought she was getting whiffs of laughing gas all this time. I even replaced the masks half a dozen times. I’m a bit of a fuddyduddy when it comes to these things though. Just last night I was saying to my wife… What’s that? You’re not completely frozen anymore? Just a minute, I’ll get you some more novocaine. I’ll be back in a few minutes…

…continued here…

The Feud

The feud between Johnny Johnson and Mr. Pendergast over who owned the tree that fell and broke the fence between their properties should have ended when the old man died. Mrs. Pendergast understood how far her husband could take a grudge – she lived with him for sixty-three years. So when he passed on, she had his name engraved on a plaque, bought a bench, and donated it to the local park. Kind of a placeholder for the old man’s soul, to keep him calm in his favorite spot.

Then one day, as a joke, (or maybe because he didn’t feel like he’d won the last argument) Johnny Johnson pinched the plaque from the bench and stuck it to the inner lid of his toilet. Then he did the obvious; he missed the john on purpose, and pissed all over Mr. Pendergast’s plaque.

Next day, Johnny Johnson was found planted head-first up to his knees in the duck pond at the local park. Most folks blame Mr. Pendergast’s ghost. Me, I’m keeping my eye on his Missus.

Tranquility Base

earthrise
on tranquility base
breathtaking
sans oxygen
makes sense?

It’s week two up here on the moon. Just jotting down poems that come into my head, to pass the time. Crew’s dead. I’m the only one left. I like to think there are a few people left down on Earth, too, fighting zombies in some crazy zombie apocalypse people saw coming. But that’s likely not the case. They’re all dead as well. Silly bastards we humans are, we blew everything up.

I may be the only human left in existence. An extremely endangered species. Time for the next generation of aliens to take over. Dig up our artifacts and wonder what the hell happened to us.

sense makes
oxygen
sans taking breath
base tranquility
on rise
earth
?

#SoCS – Bridge, a Hallowe’en Story

Taking the Bridge to the inner city is like driving out of fresh air, into the pits of Hell. The Bridge itself is lined on both sides with grills, jails if you will. At the outer edge, near the freshest of air, are the criminals who live, still. But as it gets warmer toward the middle of the Bridge, one can see the prisoners are fighting for air. Zombies, treading upon one another with clubs made of loose bits of the Bridge torn off are closest to the inner city.

Why must we travel there, to the city? For work. The luckiest of us still grow our vegetables at the far end of the Bridge. For meat, we must go to the city. That’s where the brains are.

socsbadge2016-17

This post was written entirely in Stream of Consciousness, and left unedited. If you, too, would like to participate in Stream of Consciousness Saturday, click the following link to add your post! https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/28/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-2916/

Transformation – Part 1?

Today we take off the bandages. Patient L63’s transformation should be complete.

“How long has it been since the patient came to us?” I ask my assistant.

“Forty-three days, Master.”

“Would you please stop calling me ‘Master,’ Ogor?”

“Yes, Mas… I mean Doctor.”

“Thank you. So, forty-three days should be enough, right?”

“By your calculations, yes, Doctor.”

“Okay, let’s get at it.”

We peel back the bandages slowly. Meticulously. About half-way through I notice Ogor has begun to tap his foot.

“Whatever is it, Ogor?”

“What’s what?”

“You seem nervous.”

“Not at all, Doctor.”

We continue to work until there is just one bandage left across the patient’s face. As lift it with my tweezers, the patient opens his blue eyes.

“Wait!” I exclaim. I go to the patient’s chart. “Patient L63 has brown eyes. What is the meaning of this? Ogor, double-check the patient’s toe tag!”

“It’s um… It’s um, Patient M63, Mast… I mean Doctor.”

“But this patient isn’t ready! And Patient L63 must be chomping at the bit to get out!”

Just then, a groan came from inside the freezer.