THE JAZZY SNAZZY LOAFERS

I've been working on this story about a guy named Norton. He's your basic unassertive, but otherwise nondescript short story protagonist. His life is incredibly ordinary and dull. One day he walks into a particular shoe store intent on purchasing a pair of shoes identical to the same bland brown boring style he’s worn for most of his life, certainly for most of his boring desk job business career. The mysterious sales clerk talks him into trying on a very special pair of shoes... not just any shoes, the clerk maintains, but in fact a jazzy snazzy pair of loafers. To be more specific, they were the jazziest snazziest loafers anyone ever did see. Norton slipped his feet one at a time into the jazzy snazzy loafers, and insodoing, he found that they were without a doubt the comfiest place his feet had ever been.

The jazzy snazzy loafers were so comfortable that Norton was overcome with an unfamiliar feeling... Confidence. He was so confident in fact that he committed the first even mildly impetuous act of his entire life and bought the jazzy snazzy loafers on the spot. He didn’t take them off; he had no intention of ever taking them off. He feared that if he did, these wonderful new feelings would go away. He would wear them home and... and everywhere. He deposited his bland brown boring shoes in the trashcan behind the sales counter then strode confidently and even proudly, and yes, happily out of the shoe store and into the afternoon light of what promised to be the bright new first day of the rest of his life!

And that’s when what would later be known to the survivors as the Biggest Freaking Asteroid Ever burst out of nowhere and crashed into the Earth.

(1995&2004)

GYPSY CAT

As the day begins, I hear the lonely cry of the gypsy awakening from a troubled nights sleep. The chimes in my window provide the musical accompaniment. She's been sleeping here for most of the past month. I don't know where she goes during the day. That's her business. She simply prefers to leave the apartment when I do. I've made it clear that if she needs to get inside when I'm not there, an upstairs window is always left open a crack. It's easily accessible for one with tree climbing abilities. But when I return home, she's always waiting by the door. We go inside and have supper. She's a finicky eater; I, however, will eat most anything. We might watch television. Or rather, I watch the television while she studies it. She will look from the screen to my face checking my reactions to the mysterious flickering images. At night, she curls up next to my ear and purrs me to sleep. By the time I awaken she has already been up long enough to require a morning nap on the couch downstairs.

We have grown accustomed to one another's presence within a short period of time. We have an understanding. She needs her space and I need mine. When I am working, I am not to be disturbed. This is generally respected. Recently I was working on a particularly delicate project. She leapt onto my drafting table not counting on the fact that it was tilted at a precarious angle. She smudged her way down the board ruining several prints in the process. Upon landing unharmed on the floor, she simply stood there as if she'd been in the other room, heard the ruckus, and dropped by to see what it was all about. Three nights ago, I came downstairs after a relaxing shower to find her scattering bits of colored tissue paper all over the rug. I voiced my objections immediately, of course. She simply looked up at me, as if to say, "Don't bother me right now. I'm creating." Otherwise she's a rather pleasant companion really.
I never thought I'd say that about a cat.

(1995)

MYSTERIOUSLY

"Officers Rush and Bender were the first to arrive at the scene. And why not, they were the closest unit. After all, they had killed the guy themselves. Being the honest and not so bright young rookies that they were, they would, of course, confess. As soon as they returned to the station. Unfortunately, they never even made it back to their car. In an occurrence best described as freak in nature, they were knocked in the collective head by the black box from an airplane which would have been flying overhead had it not mysteriously exploded only moments before. A Kaufmanesque figure mysteriously appeared. He put the box under his hat and then went away just as he had come. Mysteriously. There were no witnesses. The case remains unsolved to this day. As far as they know anyway. But I ain't telling you nothing." Amos paused to reflect.

The kid with the funny paper hat looked away mysteriously and said, "That's all real interesting and everything. But the question I asked was, 'Do you want fries with that?'"

Amos backed away slowly. This one was no believer.

(1995)