Lovebirds: My Short Story Of the Week

Lovebirds

 

Bob Lyons walked into the kitchen, his blue, denim shirt soaked in sweat and peppered with twigs, leaves, and dirt. Paula, his wife, bent at the waist and peered under the sink in search of something. Because the basin had nearly filled with hot water and soap bubbles threatened to overflow, it seemed she’d been hunting longer than intended.

“Need these?” Bob asked in a gravelly voice while peeling Paula’s dishwashing gloves off of his hands and tossing them onto the adjacent counter. He ran callused fingers through his damp, thinning flattop before wiping his forehead with a blue and white bandana that he had pulled out from his back pocket.

Paula, irritated that Bob had obviously used her gloves for something other than washing dishes, huffed before embarking upon her chore without the benefit of protective latex.

Shuffling to the cupboard, Bob removed an old mason jar. Next, he invaded Paula’s space by reaching past her and turning on the faucet. He filled his jar with cold tap water and then left her in peace when he sat at the nearby table.

While rubbing and scrubbing away grease and grime, Paula mumbled, “So you couldn’t resist poking your nose in, huh?”

Bob clenched his jaw, thumbed at a dent in the table, and uttered, “They were making a mess of things. It’s like they don’t have any sense. They needed my help.”

Paula encountered a particularly resilient chunk of grease and, as she threw her whole body into scouring it, grunted, “They’ll never learn if you do it for them.”

“I know,” Bob sighed. “I didn’t have any choice. They’ve got babies on the way and they weren’t about to have their home ready in time.”

Paula finally offered Bob her full attention. Her shoulders hunched, exhausted from battling the pots and pans, when she lectured, “And what happens next time? What will they do if they have to face the world without you?”

Staring at his wife, Bob gripped his empty mason jar, his fingers whitening from the pressure, and returned, “You’ve been watching them through the window just like I have, Paula. We both know there wouldn’t be a next time if I didn’t do something this time.”

Taking his jar, Paula rinsed it off before setting it on the drying rack with the other dishware.

Her silence spoke volumes, and so Bob stood, yanked on the pants that no belt could keep affixed around his narrow waist, and mumbled, “Come see for your own self, then.”

Paula trailed her lanky husband as he led her through their humble home. They arrived in the living room. Bob pointed through their picture window.

“You see that?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Folding his arms, Bob griped, “Before I gave them a hand, that place was a disaster.”

“I take it you waited for them to leave.”

Bob answered, “I couldn’t very well work on it while they were home, could I?”

Leaning in closer to the window, Paula ignored her husband’s sarcasm and questioned, “So what did you do?”

Agitated that his handiwork did not speak for itself, Bob gruffly informed, “They had so many holes going on, you could have driven a truck through it. Their sticks were too small, and neither one of them can weave worth a nickel. They left everything loose as a goose, and to top it all off, they had a plastic bag just stuck in there, unsecured.”

Paula rolled her eyes and groaned, “So now I know what they did wrong, but I still haven’t heard what you did right.”

“I’m getting to it,” Bob spat. “I took some good, thick grass and patched up their holes. Then I rounded out the innards so that something could actually sit in there. Finally, I reinforced its base with some twine, fastening it every which way to the surrounding branches. Thanks to me, a tornado couldn’t budge that thing.”

Deciding to swallow several barbed comments, Paula instead tugged on her left pearl earring, an heirloom bequeathed by her long-departed grandmother, and asked, “And you think they’ll still use it, even after you fiddled with it?”

A smile emerged upon Bob’s face, so diminutive it could have been just another crack or crevice. He said, “That’s why I wore the dishwashing gloves.”

Feeling her hands already chapping, Paula thought of the soiled gloves that contaminated her counter, next to the drying, clean dishes, and grumbled, “I suppose that means I’ll be visiting the store soon …”

Then, as an afterthought, she noted, “You need a shower.”

♥♥♥

A few days later, Bob and Paula rolled out of bed just after daybreak. As was usually the case, before Bob made his coffee or Paula read her email, they overcame their stiff joints and stumbled into the living room in order to check up on the lovebirds.

Though the bright red male and his dowdy mate weren’t home, probably thanks to the old couple’s plodding along the hardwood floor, Bob and Paula looked through their window, examined their Japanese maple, and discerned four gray eggs covered in brown and black flecks lying within the nest.

Plainly pleased that the eggs appeared safe and sound, Bob rubbed the back of his neck, working out the rigidity, and said, “You know, cardinals can live for over ten years, and they tend to stay in the same area.”

Paula chuckled while replying, “Then let’s hope they’re as good of neighbors to us as you are to them.”

She turned around, wrapped her housecoat more tightly about her torso, and began the journey through the house to the computer room. Before Paula left the living room, however, she abruptly spun and returned to her husband. Pecking him on the stubbly cheek, she whispered into his ear, “You’re a fine man.”

Bob nodded in return, feeling a surge of warmth throughout his body.


Copyright © 2009 Scott William Foley

Originally appeared in the August, 2009, issue of News and Views for the Young at Heart.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental to the story.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.

 

A Blind Date For a New Year: My Short Story Of the Week

BLINDDATENEWYEAR

Ellen Knowles entered the posh restaurant, shook the snow from her black Rivington leather kitten-heel high boots, removed her pink cashmere wrap, and then approached the thin-faced, large-bellied maître d’.

“Happy New Year, Madame!” he exclaimed in perfectly rehearsed passion.

“Soon enough, I hope,” she replied without looking at him. She unbuttoned her overcoat.

“How may I be of service, Madame?” he asked as he admired her immaculate wardrobe.

“I’m meeting someone; perhaps he’s here already?”

“Ah, yes,” the maître d’ purred. “You must speak of Mr. McLeay. He said a ravishing woman might arrive in search of a rendezvous. Follow me, if you please.”

Ellen trailed the maître d’, ignoring the fact that the tails of his tuxedo remained inert due to his rotund posterior. Finally, she perceived a lone man wearing a rather shabby brown sport coat. He sat at a table dressed in white cloth with two lit candles upon it. Tiny flames danced along the man’s forehead as he perspired.

“Hi,” he said upon noticing her approach. He rose from his seat and offered an unadorned hand. “You must be Ellen.”

“I am,” she said as she gracefully—and rather slowly—removed her black leather gloves. She finally took his still hovering hand within her own and, after realizing that he intended only to shake it, said, “And you must be Bartholomew.”

“Lord! Please—call me Bart. Bartholomew makes me feel like I’m back in grade school.”

She smiled, her red lips dazzling in the soft light surrounding them, and assured, “Then ‘Bart’ it shall be.”

Ellen remained upright as Bart took his seat in an effort to hide his frumpy black pants. She waited a few moments as he readjusted his silverware, eyes darting between her and the cutlery, then removed her own black double-faced wool Bella overcoat. Though the establishment achieved a pleasing ambiance and reputedly served exquisite cuisine, Ellen found their lack of a coat check service deplorable.

She positioned her outerwear over the back of her chair in order to avoid any potential wrinkles before seating herself.

“I’m glad a meeting could finally be arranged. Anderson had wonderful things to say about you,” she commented while grasping the corners of her dinner napkin. She flung it onto her lap with effortless efficiency.

Bart snatched up his napkin sprawled upon the table, fought the urge to stuff it into the collar of his plaid shirt, and instead tossed it to his right leg. “He said great things about you, too. Though, I have to say, he didn’t tell me you were quite so …”

Bart trailed off and averted her gaze.

Ellen’s brown eyes grew slightly wide, and, had she been a less polished woman, might even have lifted her eyebrows in anticipation. When it became obvious that Bart would rather play with his salad fork than conclude his statement, she pressed the matter.

“He didn’t tell you I was quite so what, Bart?” she requested pleasantly enough, though her pulse quickened.

Bart finally allowed his salad fork some time alone, glanced up at her, and said, “Aw, Ellen, I hate to be so forward. I can only imagine what you must be thinking right now, so I better come out with it. I have a habit of sticking my foot in my mouth, you see, and even though it’s been a long time, I don’t remember being too impressive on first dates, especially on such an important day …”

“It’s only New Year’s Eve, Bart. It’s not so very important.”

At the conclusion of Ellen’s statement, Bart’s face seemed to take on a mixture of both ash and crimson. He felt a blind date on New Year’s Eve could only be outranked by a date on one’s birthday or Christmas itself!

“You were saying, Bart?”

“Oh, right. Well, Ellen, what I was about to say, before I worried about being too direct, you see, is that Anderson didn’t tell me, well, he didn’t tell me you were so … forgive me, Ellen, but he didn’t tell me you were so beautiful.”

Though her posture remained pristine, Ellen’s heart rate tripled and she couldn’t help but smile … a little. She leaned almost imperceptibly forward, so as not to be judged a tart by any of the establishment’s eavesdropping connoisseurs, and replied, “Nor did Anderson tell me you were so very handsome.”

A wide smile spread across Bart’s face.

Inching ever closer toward her date—meddlesome eavesdroppers be damned—Ellen divulged, “I lied, Bart. A blind date on New Year’s Eve is very special indeed, and though I struggled against my family’s discovery of this engagement, Anderson found it humorous to email all of them with the news.”

Laughter erupted from Bart’s depths, and he confessed, “That fool did the same thing to me, too! I bet I’ll have at least four different messages on my voice mail tonight.”

The server at last arrived and set a menu before both Ellen and Bart. “Shall we perhaps begin with a glass of wine, Madame and Monsieur?”

Ellen perused the menu, as did Bart; however, because she was so absorbed in the restaurant’s delicious selection, she didn’t notice his eyes bulge when he read the outrageous prices.

Returning her attention to the waitress, Ellen asked, “Before we order, I must inquire: Do you honor AARP discounts?”

“Of course, Madame, though we require a membership card.”

Looking across the elegant dinner table, Ellen asked, “How about it, Bart? Did you bring your card tonight?”

His heart fought to free itself from the confines of his chest as Bart answered, “You bet your boots, Ellen.”

“Very good, then,” Ellen said to the server. “We’ll start with a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rose.”

Bart praised, “You’re my kind of woman, Ellen.”

Despite all her refined inclinations, Ellen winked in return.


Copyright © 2008/2019 by Scott William Foley

This work originally published in the February 2008 edition of 60 Plus News and Views

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.

Here’s a Few Thanksgiving Stories For Your Nook or Kindle

Are you in the mood to read a Thanksgiving story on your Nook or Kindle?  Here are a few for you to download tonight.  Both are full of humor with a positive message.  I’d be thankful if you gave them a chance!

Cold Turkey

Click “Kindle” to download

Click “NOOK” to download

Utterly unapologetic, Eddie stands fuming outside in the bitter cold while his son, wife, and in-laws sit silently at the dinner table, surrounding a cold turkey.  How did such woeful events arise? Read on to find out!

LoveLiesPumpkinPies

Click “Kindle” To Download

Click “Nook” To Download

In this short love story, Ramona Stocks, a retired science teacher, and Matthew Campbell, a widower, find romance amidst a torrent of lies and pumpkin pies.

A Special Valentine’s Day Short Story For You

If you’re looking for a special Valentine’s Day short story, check out “Cupid’s Conundrum!”

Cupid’s got a bit of a problem. He now appears old and decrepit, and he’s lost his will to spark romance. In fact, on St. Valentine’s Day, he’s content to merely mope on a park bench, sulking. What has brought Cupid to this lowly state, and is there any way Bernie and Patti can renew his vigor to unite lovers?

Find out HERE!

Cupid’s Conundrum: A Valentine’s Short Story

Cupid’s got a bit of a problem. He now appears old and decrepit, and he’s lost his will to spark romance. In fact, on St. Valentine’s Day, he’s content to merely mope on a park bench, sulking. What has brought Cupid to this lowly state, and is there any way Bernie and Patti can renew his vigor to unite lovers?

This humorous short story is available through the Kindle or Kindle App for only $00.99.  If you’re looking for a tale to warm your heart and tickle your funny bone, I hope you’ll give it a read by clicking HERE!

A Blind Date for a New Year – A Short Story

In this short story, Bart and Ellen meet for the first time at an exclusive restaurant on New Year’s Eve, and it would seem they could not be more different. As conversation ensues, those differences seem to only compound as the awkwardness of a blind date builds. However, something happens that causes them to realize they have more in common than either initially thought.

Click on the image to find out how the date ends!

Love, Lies, and Pumpkin Pies – An October Romance

Though it originally appeared in the October, 2009, issue of News and Views for the Young At Heart, I’m excited to offer “Love, Lies, and Pumpkin Pies” once again through digital means.

In this short October love story, Ramona Stocks, a retired science teacher, and Matthew Campbell, a widower, find romance amidst a torrent of lies and pumpkin pies.

Click the link to download your copy!

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Lies-Pumpkin-Pies-ebook/dp/B00FUUA4JM/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1381715680&sr=1-3

Win a Free Copy Of Souls Triumphant!

I recently had a copy of my novel, Souls Triumphant, returned from a nonexistent address.  Several attempts to reach the owner failed.  The pages and cover were slightly bent in its travels.

I can’t resell this signed, damaged copy, so if you’d like to try your hand at winning it and don’t mind the fact it got beat up apparently making several trips across the nation, just email me at scottwilliamfoley@gmail.com with “I Want To Win!” in the subject line. 

I’ll then drop your name into a hat, and on November 28th, I’ll randomly select a winner!  I’ll email the winner to congratulate them and get their home address for free shipping.  The first name of the winner will be posted on my website, so you can check back on the 28th for the results.

As always, there are a few rules:

  • You must live within the United States to win (due to the free shipping).
  • If you win, you agree to write an objective review (at least ten words) of Souls Triumphant at Amazon.com and Barnesandnoble.com within six months. You also allow me the right to quote your review at my own website.
  • If you participate in the contest, you will receive my monthly e-newsletter and sporadic updates which you are free to read or delete at your discretion.

Drawing heavily from Christian theology and John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Souls Triumphant is the story of Joe and Alessandra, two recent college graduates who meet on the street and fall in love at first sight.  However, when they discover they are reincarnated servants of the Kingdom and that the mutinous Ned and his faction of monstrous demons want Joe dead and Alessandra to bear Ned’s child, an adventure ensues in which the very fate of the planet and the heavens hang in the balance. It is a story of action, intrigue, romance, fantasy, and faith.

I hope to hear from you soon, and good luck!

Regards,
Scott William Foley

soulstriumphantposter1

Economy Got You Down? Need Some Affordable Entertainment?

If you’re like me, you’re currently looking for all kinds of ways to save money. I just wanted to remind everyone that this month my two short story collections and novel are each on sale for only $10.00 with FREE shipping if within the USA.

My novel, Souls Triumphant, regularly $15.95, is a story about two people that meet on the street and experience love at first sight. However, before long demons attack them and they learn they were once angels of the Kingdom. When the devil himself appears, they need a little help from above in a man named Buddy. This story has true love, flaming swords, sizzling demons, international adventure, intangible mentors, and even a grilled cheese.

In my two short story collections, The Imagination’s Provocation: Volumes I and II, you’ll experiece horror, sci-fi, fantasy, comedy, action/adventure, historical fiction, and even a little romance. If you love a wide variety of genres, these collections are for you!

Click the banners to read reviews and buy!

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Best Wishes,
Scott