A Story In
100 Words
Literature in Tiny Bursts.
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Dairy Reinvented
“Our regional cows have been highly productive,” beamed Norm, supervising an employee unload dairy products for customers.
But where were they?
The regulars showed up. Tourists trickled in as they did elsewhere in the vacationland—unlike booming pre-pandemic times. Did the current political climate have a bearing?
After days of dismal turnout, Norm called his staff for a meeting.
“Put up a new display poster,” he instructed. “Half price: ALL dairy!
A sampling counter was set up, manned by an employee.
Sales accelerated. Many shopping carts left the grocery store with dairy. Late comers found the refrigerated section emptied out.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
First Thanksgiving
The turkey is in the oven, and I breathe in the flavor. The table is set, and the apple pie is cooling on the counter; the sweet smell makes me want to eat a piece before the family arrives.
This is the first Thanksgiving I’ve hosted since Brad’s passing, and this had been his favorite holiday. He’d always sneak a taste of the raisin stuffing I’d make special for him before anyone would arrive.
I’m sitting with my feet up sipping white wine, savoring the flavor when the doorbell rings.
I take a deep breath and head to the door.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Corn Maze Days
Corn maze stocks walk along, step by step, in endless motion. Lefts turned to rights back to lefts, leave us wondering and wandering alongside the corn maze. Eleven in the morning turns to seven at night, soon the moon will guide our way. Apple cider dances while the fire flickers, old folks singing folk songs. Knit sweaters insulate the warmth of your love, arms wrapped around my waist. Shadows once trailing, we now chase. Mama made a pie, pie's been cooling on the counter, calling our name. One more corner, one more corner turns a long day to sweet dreams.
From Guest Contributor Mekah Baker
Mekah is a student of literature and the applied sciences at Pikes Peak State College.
While At AL'S Counter
“Otto, look at that.”
Stan and Otto were at AL'S DINER, side by side at the uneven linoleum counter. Stan pointed with his spoon.
“Is that a fly in my soup?”
Both studied the chipped bowl and the small thing squirming in it.
“Seems more like an ant, Stan.”
“With wings?”
“Sure...Lots of ants have them. Is that the chicken soup?”
“No, clam chowder”
All soups looked alike at AL'S.
“Clam, huh?”
They stopped eating. Otto decided against dipping his fingers in the bowl to see.
“I'm pretty sure it's an ant, Stan...The flies don't seem to enjoy Al's chowder.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Where's Frank?
It was 2:30. AL'S BAR opened at 3:00. Al, sitting by the counter, squinted at the door.
“Is that you, Edna? We're closed.”
The place was poorly lit.
“I know. I just wondered if Frank was here last night. He found some money I hid. I figured he must have gone out drinking.”
“Maybe he went to the track?”
“Nah, not enough money.”
“I didn't see him. Did you try THE TOP HAT or LEO'S LOUNGE?”
“No.”
“How about TED'S PLACE.”
“No way, Al. It wasn't much money, and you know Frank. He only goes to crummy places like this...”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Breakfast
“Mel, you don't happen to have any rat poison on you, do you?”
“What'd you mean by that?”
“Well...it's a kind of poison that you use on...”
“I know what rat poison is, Ed.”
They were at the counter of AL'S DINER, eating their breakfasts.
“You don't need to get upset.”
“Look, Ed, I'm trying to finish my oatmeal.”
“I know. But I asked Marge already.”
Marge was the waitress.
“She said they didn't have any to take care of the rat that's been running around the place this morning.”
“What?”
“The one there...That one, by your foot.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
The Present
“Are you okay, Ed?”
To relieve the pressure, Ed tugged on his undershirt collar. He and Mel were at the counter of AL'S DINER.
“My Aunt...”
“What?”
His words came haltingly.
“Aunt Edna...”
Each holiday, she gave the constricting presents.
Before Ed, they went to Uncle Fred. The poor man suffered from the waist down. After the holidays, he always had trouble with his privates.
Always Edna's too-tight underwear.
“Your throat, Ed? Can you swallow the oatmeal?”
His jugulars stood out.
He twisted awkwardly on the swivel seat.
His throat?
His undershirt?
“It's not the throat I'm worried about, Mel.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
For The Record
“She was attractive. Cute face.”
“Facts, please,” the officer cringed, pausing his pen.
“Black-rimmed glasses, plum lipstick and...”
“What was stolen?”
“My cellphone. One minute in my hand. The next, gone.”
A woman was called to the counter by the second officer on duty.
“Reporting a theft,” she announced. “Thief had salt and pepper hair.”
“What was taken?”
“My cellphone.”
The officers compared the complainants with the details given.
“You two realize making false claims is an offence,” one said.
“We can let you go this time,” the other scolded. “Go home and make up or see a marriage counsellor.”
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season or location she finds herself in.
Heater
"Would you like another heater, Ralph?"
Madge, the waitress, offered to add some hot coffee to Ralph's half-empty cup on the diner's linoleum counter. Behind her, racked, were the assorted pies, the lemon meringue with only two slices left.
"I'll take some." Ralph half-smiled. "I guess that's like you, Madge."
"What'd you mean?
"You like your coffee hot, and your men hotter."
Bracing herself on the counter, Madge stared at him. Would Al leave anything more than a 10% tip? What were the chances?
"I guess we're a little different. You go for the lukewarm guys, don't you, Al?"
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Vegan Vigilantes
The joint was cased. All that remained was the decision: this coffeehouse or the Dunkin’ Donuts on the bypass?
Roland sauntered inside and scanned the menu--coffee and sandwiches--on the back wall.
“Can I help you?”
“Anything vegan?”
Bewildered: “Uh, vegan? Er...”
An older barista, working a blender: “Nothing vegan.”
Roland stepped back, leaned against the wall, phone to ear: “Mook, it’s the shop on Main. Even worse than Dunkin’. Pick me up in two minutes.”
He replaced the phone with a gun and approached the counter.
“Since your menu isn’t cruelty-free, I’ll take your money. Open the register.”From Guest Contributor Joe Surkiewicz
Joe writes from northern Vermont.
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