porch stew

a fiction marinade

[porchstew]

First day of school

Carly had never held a gun before, let alone seen one in real life. It was far heavier than she had anticipated, and markedly cool to the touch even on a sweaty day in late August. 

It glowed a metallic silver in sunlight. It made a thick, stolid noise when struck against a telephone pole. It felt real expensive, like expensive-watch-expensive, despite having been hurriedly tossed into the gutter by a quick-paced SUV. 

She wrapped her palm about the grip and snuck her finger through the trigger guard. 

Was it loaded, she wondered. She shrugged.

She removed her finger from the trigger and knelt down to add the gun to the contents of her baby blue JanSport pack, nestling it between yellow highlighters, thick, multicolored three ring binders (1″ wide, just like her teachers had suggested) and a new lunch box filled with turkey sandwich, cookies, and other snacks.

She started to whistle while she continued on her way to school. Her blonde ponytail bounced back and forth as she skipped. 

Yesterday, she had babbled to her mom on and on about how excited she was for her first day in third grade. 

OMG, Mom, she’d said. What will my teachers be like? What are boys like this year? Did you like science when you were my age!? I like reading, well, I think I like reading. But I still don’t like broccoli too much. 

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— Too many guns

[porchstew]

Home run

She stuffed her joint into the banister and tossed it to the dirt by the front lawn, just as her Dad’s pale blue Chevrolet pulled into the driveway.

He stepped out of the car and looked up at his daughter with a gentle smile and wave. He walked to the backseat, opened the door and withdrew a baseball bat and glove. His cleats clacked the pavement as he walked over to the porch.

Christy smiled back with mouth pursed as she attempted to blow away the skunk smell from around her. She rumpled her front shirt and shifted in place, eventually settling, casually, three feet away from where she had began, with shoulder against the opposite banister by the front door. 

Hey, Dad. How was the game? she asked. 

Oh, it was spectacular. Just spectacular. 

You get a home run this time? 

I did, actually! I really think riding my bike has transformed my endurance. I feel better than I did in my twenties. 

That’s great, Dad. 

So, how was that joint, Christy? 

Huh? I..um...I don’t know what you are you talking about, Dad?

Christy. He shook his head. Don’t worry, honey. I could see you smoking from half a mile away. 

Really, Dad. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just hanging on the porch. 

Look, I don’t mind if you smoke a joint once in a while. Just don’t lie to me about it. As long as you’re living up to your potential, a little rebel spirit isn’t so bad. 

Christy looking at him sheepishly. She sagged away from the wall, looking at her feet, then lifting her head to meet her Dad’s gaze. 

You’re right Dad, she said. I smoked a joint. But I don’t do it often! Like, hardly at all! It’s just that school has been crazy lately, with final exams and college applications and all that. I’m stressed, honestly. I’m scared that my dreams...my aspirations, could vanish like that. 

She snapped her fingers and watched her dreams disperse and float away into the sky like dandelions. 

Her Dad eased his posture and leaned into his baseball bat like a cane. He smiled and chuckled. 

These days, when he smiled, he did it more with his eyes than his mouth, Christy had noticed. There was so much life in those eyes. Words only went so far. Her Dad was able to convey an entire conversation in one look. How he managed to, she wasn’t sure. 

You’ll be just fine, Christy. Just fine, he said. You’re so much brighter than I ever was at your age. And no matter how things shake out over the next few months, you’ll find a way to get what you want out of life. I believe that. I really do. 

He smiled and scrunched her shoulder with his thick-fingered hands. Now how about I wash up and cook us some din? We can discuss more then?

Christy exhaled deeply, feeling a weight lifted. 

That sounds great, Dad.

He lumbered to the front door and kicked off his baseball cleats, leaving them on the doormat. Then he stepped inside. Before shutting the door he turned around with his mouth open, primed to say one more thing. Classic Dad.

You have the whole world ahead of you, Christy— after this weekend, that is. In the meantime, you’re grounded. Not for the pot. Just for lying. 

[porchstew]

About Me

My ideal partner has a nice rump and steady hands.

I’m most myself when outside. If you’re a homebody, plz swipe left (lol). 

I’m always ready to go, whether you’re an early riser or night owl. All I ask for in return is a little TLC. 

Not a fan of reading.

Inherent gearhead. 

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-- Dating profile for a bicycle

[porchstew]

Patterns

It sounds like rain. Is it raining? I wonder. Or is it the wind? The sound is even-paced and calming. The pace of the wind steady and unchanging. Our shutters chatter in the breeze.

Then it sounds like the ocean. The waves lap upon the shore gently. Birds tweet and caw in the background. I can almost feel the sun. 

Then it sounds like the rain forest.

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-- White noise machine

[porchstew]

The Gardener

They’ve got ruddy cheeks, pointy shoes and hats. All smiles, all the time. How do they stay so damn happy? Maybe they know they’re headed someplace with sunshine.

Meanwhile, the guy guards them like a meal he doesn’t want to share. He pushes them about and stares vacuously at passersby, his mouth agape. 

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-- Buying garden gnomes

[porchstew]

Milk and Honey

He’s birthed but not raised. Baptized in milk and honey and shimmering with golden halo. Then he’s off.

He travels. Around the world he goes. You find him neatly packaged and welcome him into your home. He bears a message. 

“You needn’t go hungry, for I shall feed you. The poor shall inherit the earth, for I come at a minimum cost. Also, lower your cholesterol, etc. ”  

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- A Cheerio

[porchstew]

Bad timing

After dinner, the two of them go for a walk along the shore. It’s a beautiful, balmy, and partially cloudy evening. Temperature and humidity in the seventies.  Words are said. Laughs are had. Stories are told. They intertwine their fingers and come together like praying mantises. 

The clouds part for a moment. She ogles the moonlight reflected across the gentle, lapping ocean water. He screams with horror and beelines it to the woods with a howl. 

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-- Werewolf

[porchstew]

Put away your toys

She carries it into the darkened room with a slow gait and glint in her eye. It flickers. 

They hold their breath. She sings and they begin to sing. Then she smiles and sings and walks until she’s no longer singing. Now she’s falling and crying out. Her arms are overhead and tossing it like a bouquet. It’s in the air, spinning, dousing the walls and the floor. It coats their once cheery faces in blue and yellow smear. When it hits the ground it strikes them all in the gut. 

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-- Dropping the bday cake  

[porchstew]

Island Dreaming

You want to win the race, so you’re running freaking hard. Your legs are tired, but you see everyone else pumping and moving around you. So you keep going. 

Your mind wanders, first to your inbox. You’ve got like two hundred unread emails. Then dollar bills come to mind. Then your idols. They didn’t quit when they were down did they? They fought their way through it all, didn’t they? You reach the checkpoint.

That night you dream of drinking out of coconuts on a remote island. And the next day you’re out racing again.

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-- Chasing your dreams

[porchstew]

Lights Off

It’s a beautiful day out. Everyone crams into a room. 

The lights are on. They sit. They chat. They shift in their seats. They look at their phones and sip soda and put small handfuls of popcorn into their palms. Some tap their fingers and toes. Others consider whether or not they need to pee. 

The lights are off. Fidgeting / talking stops. Eyes are glued forward while things flash on the wall. Sound blares. There’s loud music. People are yelling. Then come the explosions.  

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 -- Afternoon at the movies

[porchstew]

Distracted

I’m trying to get work done but I’m too distracted by my friends. 

They’re probably out there, pausing and enjoying the moment (like a should be). Getting plenty of sun, outdoor air, etc. I know for certain that they are drinking more water than I am, or at least the proper amount. 

And then there’s location -- they grow, they expand, they spread new roots. They are perfectly okay where they are. What’s my deal? 

They probably help other people breathe easy and relax more often than I do too. 

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– Forest enthusiast

[porchstew]

About Me

I love the water and I’m really into fashion.

I take near daily ice baths, although I don’t mind the occasional plunge into tropically warm waters. This helps to keep me fresh.

Give me the cleaning duties, in fact, sometimes I think I was made for it.

Super into S&M (suds and maintenance).  

Will eat your leftovers for a few quarters. 

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-- Dating profile for a washing machine

[porchstew]

The Fixer

“See now, there’s your problem right there. Turn on your right signal for me would you? Okay. Hmm. Okay.”

You watch him in the rearview mirror. He scratches the back of his head and winces. 

“Wait so. Hmm. That’s actually working now” he says. “Okay and now your left signal. Could you flick that on?”

You turn on your left signal and gauge his reaction.

Then he says “Okay and. And. Turn on your headlights for me, would you boss? And hit the brakes at the same time.”

You turn on your headlights and hit the brake. He stares like he’s still waiting for something to change.

“And hit the brakes for me would you?”

“I’m hitting the brakes” you say.

“Are you? Hmm. Okay now that’s interesting.”

He paces back and forth behind the trailer with this hand on his hip while rubbing his chin. His eyes dart upward toward his brain. It appears that he’s doing some sort of advanced calculation. He bounces his finger in the air like a composer. Then he snaps his fingers.

"I’ve got it” he said. He stares blankly for a few moments. You cough.

“And?” you say. 

“It’s a fuse” he says. “Must have blown a fuse.”

Now he’s next to the driver-side window looking at you. You look at him expectantly. He looks at you blankly. A few moments pass.

“Do you. Uh. Do you want to check out the fuse?” you say.

“Oh. Yeah! I guess I could do that.” 

He looks at your fuse box, pulls out the fuse and holds it agains the sunlight. 

“Yep, you see that?” He points to the fuse. “Yep. This thing is blown.” 

He looks at you, staring blankly for quite some time. He doesn’t speak. You wait with patience. You roll your hand in the air like tumbling laundry.

“Annd. Do you think you could... replace the fuse?” you say.

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, definitely. I can do that boss.”

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-- Mile high mechanic

[porchstew]

Hazy Memory

“So, walk me through how you ended up here again?” she said.

“I already told you everything I know. I was strolling on the beach. That much I remember. The rest is foggy.”

“Okay, okay. Can you please try and remember more? Even if it’s hazy? I’ll be patient” she said.

“Alright fine” he said. "I’ll try.” 

He scratched his chin and looked out the hospital window into the sunshine to jog his memory.

“Well, I always like admiring the waves and taking in some sun” he said. “So imagine I’d been doing that. But I can’t remember how I got there to begin with. I mean, I would guess that I was with my family? I don’t often vacation alone.”

Then something seemed to strike him.

“Wait a second...” his eyes grew large.

“What is it?” she said with enthusiasm. “Do you remember something?” 

“I remember the sand being really hot underfoot. And then I remember sounds. What were they. Hmm. A quick whooshing! Yes. Then the sound of a cracking whip.”

“Well, now that makes a lot of sense” she said. 

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-- Coconut conundrum 

[porchstew]

Extra Clean and Bright

"First things first are the gloves. They have to be white, and they have to be extra clean and bright. I recommend having at least five pairs on hand at all times.”

He takes a delicate sip of water. 

“Then there’s the suit. It should be fresh out of the dry cleaner every time you are ready to go. No wrinkles. No lint. Always a dark blue color. I recommend having at least three identical suits. They will only offer you one, but you must ask for three. Make sure you have a shiny pair of black dress shoes that match the suit as well. If the shoes don’t match, you’ll certainly look out of place.”

“And of course, lastly is the hat. It’s not a sailor hat, although many have made that mistake!”

He thrust his pointer finger into the air and smiles.

“It has to match the suit perfectly. Dark blue with no lint! I recommend three pairs of this hat as well. Again, they’ll offer you one. Opt for three. Pay them for extras if you must. Never forget your hat. Otherwise, how would anyone know who you are and what you do?” 

He swallows and stands up straight and peers at his student with a serious look now.

"Okay? Okay. Now let’s discuss the job itself. This will take you years and years to get right.”

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- Train operators in Tokyo

[porchstew]

“I thought they might be hungry”

“You know, it was quite clear that they were angry at one another.” 

“I could tell first thing by the way they were grunting and growling and dragging their butts upon the ground. The two of them would inch closer, start yelling like mad and then back away. They didn’t want to fight. They were hoping they could solve their issues verbally. But it didn’t seem to be working.”

“So anyway, then one dude climbs up a nearby fence and jumps off, right onto the other guy. They just start punching each other and howling. It’s a real brawl now.”

“A crowd starts to gather, egging them on. I would have thought that someone, maybe Charlie, would get into the mix and pull them apart. He seems the peacekeeper type. But he too was cheering with enthusiasm. It even looked like he might be smiling.” 

“I didn’t know what to do. It was too dangerous to get involved myself. So I acted on impulse.” 

“I threw a big one right in the middle of the room to see if it would distract them. I thought they might be hungry. Everyone gets hungry eventually, you know? So maybe they were just hungry? I dunno.” 

“When the feces started to fly, I knew for certain that I’d only made things worse.”

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-- A zookeeper recounts the infamous banana toss

[porchstew]

I Was Once a World Traveler

Day 1: You’re colorful and bright. Just perched and waiting for someone to love you.

Day 2-7: You find a match -- your new best friend. You are unseated and off you two go on an adventure.

Day 8 - 365: You are thrust into action. Now you have to work every day. On weekends you go out about town. Sometimes you play soccer or go for a jog or ride a bike. At night you go out with friends. 

At one point, you travel to Europe. Now you’ve been in cars and airports and trains and walked around European cities. You’ve heard many languages and tongues. You’ve basked in sun and smoke. 

Along the way you get rained on plenty. You get dirt on your tongue. You are never quite clean again but you don’t mind it. 

Day 366-400: You don’t go outside as much anymore. Maybe it’s for the best because you've become an old soul and can’t withstand the elements as well. Sometimes, you are trapped in the dark for weeks at a time.

Day 401-500: You left the house just twice in the past 100 days. Both times were quite brief. The weather outside was fine and sunny. The roads were clean and dry. Your “best friend” took your picture one night. 

Day 501: Your friend pulls you out of the darkness. They toss you into a bag. On your way out the door, amidst the other garbage, you glimpse your replacement: shiny and vibrantly colored. Young bucks. Such is life. 

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-- Shoes