Life's Little Laughs

Written in under ten minutes as an exercise is flash fiction and free writing.

Jake, once told by a bully that he was too little to play basketball, even though he was actually tall for his age, decided one day to see what it would be like if he did in fact play basketball, for he had never tried because of his insecurity. His mother warned him that the sport could be dangerous, not to mention tiresome, time consuming, and would only result in being in better shape and, maybe, more confidence. Nevertheless, Jake tried out for the team, succeeded in being the first freshman to get on it in nearly six years, and played his first game in early February.

As luck would have it, the very same bully had chosen to play on the opposing team, even though he was no better equipped to be a sportsman, being a little overweight and with bad depth perception (he later needed eye surgery because his glasses, which he refused to wear, did not fix the problem).

The stadium was packed, as was the custom for all early season games, and the excitement was at a fever pitch. Jake was handed the ball and he raced with it down the court, dodging teammates and opponents alike. As he stopped at an appropriate distance, he looked around himself briefly, noticing the once proud bully wheezing heavily and sweating profusely. Jake jumped, threw the ball, and it sunk with a definitive "swish" sound, proving to everyone that not only was he capable of playing basketball, but that he was destined to become the greatest player the school had ever seen.

The bully, who Jake had once remarked would make a very interesting male stripper to a very interesting female crowd, by a strange twist of fate, dropped out of the sport soon after the first game and pursued a life of erotic dancing.

Untitled: Part 10 [EDITED]

Ralph put his hand on the doorknob and Leon fired. The bullet ricocheted off the metal door and Ralph immediately backed off, flattening himself against the adjoining wall, just out of Leon's sight.

"I hoped I was ahead of you," Ralph said.

"Just barely," Leon replied, keeping his gun ready and attention at full. "You make one move toward the door and I won't miss."

"I believe you," Ralph replied. "I'll have to turn around."

"There's no way out," Leon countered. "You give up now and come easily and I'll make sure you get some sort of amnesty."

"That's very reassuring."

"It's the most you're gonna get."

Silence.

Leon, sweating, shifted his position, attempting to get a better view on the situation. He heard no noise from below him, no sign of Ralph staying put or attempting an escape.

"What's going on down there?" Leon asked.

"Oh...just mulling it over," Ralph replied after a moment. Quietly, Leon pushed the vent open with the front of his gun. "Don't forget how easily your friend fell."

"Or how quickly he got back up," Leon said.

Ralph laughed slightly and seemed to relax. "You don't even know what you're doing here, do you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then explain to me why you have no idea what I'm doing here."

"I know enough about you to not be tricked again."

"Then I have nothing more to say." Leon craned his neck into a new position, searching for any visual. After another second he heard a door open and shut. Without thinking, he kicked the panel open and fell to the ground. He groaned in pain as he landed, but still managed to do a quick 360 of the room. It was empty.

He ran for the inside door which Ralph had presumably left through. Not expecting any resistance, he was unprepared for it to be locked. After several attempts, he concluded Ralph had damaged the mechanism and that he'd have to take the vent back out. Walking to the outside door to lock it, he wished for some way to contact Milo to tell him what happened. Not knowing any way to do that, he resigned himself to finish his task by contacting the mainland.

With the last door to the outside locked, he jumped back into the vent and continued in what he hoped was the right direction.

Recent Activity

Time was, I could sit down at a computer and the ideas would just flow through my hands, into the keyboard, and before I knew it, I would have a story. It wouldn't always be well written, but the ideas would be there and it would be finished.

Can't seem to do that these days. My serial story on this site is lagging, apologies. Plus I'm losing inspiration for the play I'm co-writing. My script idea I came up with several months ago is stale.

But I have generated more ideas, as is want to happen. It's a film noir screenplay. It opens with a man driving down a lonely road, being followed, with a dying girl in his backseat. He's the narrator. It flashbacks to how he met the girl and what lead them to the present situation (details still unknown).

I think I started writing something else, as well. Ideas keep coming and going. But lately I work too much to properly write.

This isn't really a good post, but it's related to what this blog is about.

WEEKS, Pt. 1

Conceived while driving to work last week.

MONDAY

I hate Mondays. A lot of people say that, and I’m sure they mean it. But I don’t just hate the first day of the week. I hate Mondays. If the day was taken out of the calendar and Tuesday became the first day of the work week, I wouldn’t hate it as much. I just plain hate Mondays.

And this Monday started out no different from the rest. I woke up and cursed the alarm clock with its increasingly loud buzzer. I keep it across the room to force me up. After a quick yawn and stretch, I did the treadmill for thirty minutes while watching the morning news: more of the same. Breakfast was cereal with sliced bananas and strawberries. I try to keep healthy.

The commute is the last temptation of man. Those who can resist its rage-inducing atmosphere are stronger than I.

In the rear view mirror I spot that lights I knew would catch up to me eventually. It was a trooper on his moped. He signaled with his hand to pull over. I turned up the radio for one defiant moment, then shut it off and pull to the curb.

Untitled: Part 9

The thirty seconds went quickly. Leon and Milo parted ways, shaking hands. "It's not your fault, you know," Milo said. "It was bound to happen."

"I know," Leon replied.

Milo undid the latch for the ceiling compartments. A light ladder unfolded. They exchanged glances. "You were always prepared," Leon said.

"As I said. It was bound to happen. We had to be ready."

Leon nodded and started up the ladder. After him, Milo pushed the ladder back up, sealing the compartment. After a second's delay the lighting system flickered on. It was a soft white light illuminating the shiny clean silver metal duct. A constant, weak wind blew past. Leon wasted no time. Moving as silently and deftly as he could, he shimmied down the corridor.

At a fork he turned left and went another hundred feet. He passed a vent in the side and peered into the room. It was empty. He spotted the door to the outside at the wall. With quick movements, he knocked open the panel beneath him and fell to the ground below. Reaching the door, he entered the same twelve-digit code, which was followed by a suction sound. Letting out a breath, he moved to the door to the room and locked it from the inside. Then he jumped to the duct and pulled himself up, shutting the panel after him. The whole process took under two minutes.

With six doors yet to secure, and the security system to reset if Milo did not reach it first, Leon continued without hesitation. He found the next two doors with ease and had no trouble. At the third door he bruised his leg while attempting to get back in the air duct. He misjudged his grip and fell onto his knee. Repressing the desire to scream in pain, he breathed several deep breaths, squeezed the surrounding area, and stood up the moment he felt comfortable. He paced the room a couple times, then attempted the jump again with success. Still wincing, he continued on his path.

The fourth and fifth lockdowns went smoothly, though he moved more slowly and felt pain with every step. Once back in the air duct, he moved as fast as he could to the next door, which was nearby. He turned a corner, then another, and spotted the next panel. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he reached it.

Without warning, the lights in the compartment went out. Leon held the latch to the panel, and his breath, afraid to let either go. Through the corresponding vent, Leon could see the room below bathed in blue light. A figure moved through it to the outside door. It was Ralph.

Keeping one hand on the latch, and slowly letting out a restrained breath, Leon reached for his gun.

Dharma

Written in February of 2006. I was falling asleep on a futon when the poem suddenly came to me. It was sparked by recent related talks in philosophy class. Original titles: 2:11 a.m. and In the Throes of Morning Passion (the latter one I don't like at all anymore).

So many ideas that
just come rushing and
in restraining them I
wrestle with the only true loves;
that is, to read, write and weep
for all the things I've lost in
this world, knowing all the things
I will gain.

Untitled: Part 8 - [EDITS]

At first leaning on Leon's shoulder, Milo regained composure by the time they reached the automatic cafeteria door. "We've gotta find James," Milo said.

"Who's he?" asked Leon.

"The only other trained official here."

The two walked into the hallway lit in the same blue glow. Milo rushed to the nearby door to the courtyard. At the keypad he entered a dozen numbers, resulting in an air locking sound. "At least one door's secure," he said, turning back to Leon, who stood a few feet from him, the first aid kit in one hand and the gun in the other.

"There's no way we can lock all the doors to the outside," Leon protested, following Milo who gave no moment to rest. Milo walked quickly, wincing as his left arm attempted to sway in the usual motion. "And that guy's still inside."

They reached Milo's room and both entered. Milo shut the door behind them and secured the padlock. He ignored Leon's protests. "How well do you know the layout of the building?"

"Very," Leon replied. "Every man has to know his way around without a map."

"Good," Milo said as he shuffled through drawers of a filing cabinet. As a reflex, he used his left arm, stopping each time as the pain came back. Finally finding what he was searching for, Milo turned back. With one motion he wiped his desk clear, knocking various items and documents to the floor, and laid out detailed floor plans. He looked at Leon's face which was studying the schematics. "Your knowledge will help, but the path you have to take, they did not teach you."

Leon looked up at Milo. "These seem to follow the floor plans, but they're different."

"They're air ducts, created for two purposes: to promote ventilation and provide an easy-access security route. It was designed to lead to every major room and exit and include its own lighting system. You've got thirty seconds to memorize it."