In (and Out of) the Spotlight

Paparazzi don’t need media credentials. They get their shots without them.

They hide in bushes, crouch behind cars, wait in hallway closets. They aren’t invited to the red carpet, but they show up anyway. Behind the scenes, perhaps, but close enough to the action that could bring them a big payday.

Their lenses reach...everywhere. Up skirts, down shirts, onto private yachts in Cannes. Although celebrities publicly act scandalized when they see these glimpses into their private lives splayed all over the Internet, they know paparazzi can drive movie or record sales, and put them in the spotlight they long for.

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My entry in the 100 Words Challenge, with the prompt, "credentials."

Backyard Super Bowl

Heaving the tattered Nerf football straight up into the air as high as he could, the boy waited for the kickoff to come down between the telephone wires into his arms, and surveyed the defensive obstacles in front of him.

He faked out the stationary oak lineman, spun away from the oncoming rush of the oscillating sprinkler safety, juked the shrubbery cornerback, and high-stepped over the garden hose goal line into the end zone, fourteen yards from where he began.

“I’m invincible!!” he shouted as he raised his arms to signal touchdown and began his victory dance.

“Next stop...the NFL!”

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My entry in the 100 Words Challenge, with the prompt, "invincible."

Please Merge...Merge!...Merrrge!!

*pock*...*pock*...*pock*...*pock*

I turned and saw the semi truck plucking off the orange construction barrels we’d just put out to close the right lane on the interstate highway.

The signage and lighted arrow board directing traffic to merge into one lane are effective only if the drivers are awake, and the alarm for this driver was each *pock* that must have shaken him awake as he clipped the barrels, one of them lodging under the truck’s bumper.

“Better make a dash for the ditch!” I thought, as the semi slowly, finally, began to shift into the left lane.

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My entry in the 100 Words Challenge, with the prompt, "ditch."

You Do The Math

Simple math tells us that if A is greater than B, and B is greater than C, then A is greater than C.

One could use foods as the variables: if pizza is greater than pot pie, which is greater than cabbage, then always order carry-out before making kimchi.

Or sports teams. [Note: the Detroit Lions are always...always...the C in this equation.]

This math does not, however, apply to people.

I am not greater than you, and we are not greater than them, and they are not greater than us.

We are all...equal.

The simplest math of all.

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My entry in the 100 Words Challenge, with the prompt, "greater."

Nature Makes Insomniacs

The howling wind in the trees jars him awake every night at 3am, scraggly, leafless branches scratching against the windows and walls of his dirty attic room.

Damn wind! he mutters as he lies on the lumpy, twin mattress, staring up at the ceiling for the third week. Night after night! He envisions a tiny adobe hut in the middle of the desert, the nearest tree miles away in downtown Scottsdale. Sleeeep. I need sleep. He smashes the pillow against his face and waits for sunrise.

***

The coyotes howling at the moon jar him awake every night at 3am...

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My entry in the 100 Words Challenge, with the prompt, "jars."

True Colors Painted Over

Condescending and self-absorbed, reducing his own mistakes to microscopic missteps while magnifying others’ with the Hubble telescope, he was a rotten person. He passed blame better than a professional quarterback.

All the grunts at the mill knew it, but if he knew it himself, he never let on. He’d worn a flimsy façade of superiority for so many years, he probably wouldn’t recognize his true self if he searched for days in the mirror. The only person he’d fooled was the bumbling, introverted, moderately talented hack buried beneath the act.

Rotten and clueless. What a way to stumble through life.

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My entry in the 100 Words Challenge, with the prompt, "rotten."

Leaving Las Vegas

“Tink we can trust ’im, Boss?” the shifty-eyed punk asked his stocky superior. “A guy fingers his own bruddah, ain’t no tellin’ who he’s gonna bust next!”

Backed into a corner of the dank parking garage below the Strip, I noticed rats scurrying about...none bigger than me.

I’d arrived three years ago and the city immediately sunk its claws into me. Strung out on glitz, gambling, and girls, I’d done despicable things to people I loved.

As the thugs patted their Smith & Wesson bulges, I heard, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

I was...staying...in Vegas.

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My entry in the 100 Words Challenge, with the prompt, "fingers."

(The word count may appear to be a few words short, because of how ellipses affect the way the words are counted, but there are exactly 100 words here...trust me. And I know I overuse the ellipsis...almost to a fault.)

Road To Nowhere

The sterile, bright, fluorescent lights shone down on him from the ceiling as he was wheeled down the long corridor, their narrow, semi-opaque fixtures imitating the dashed center line on the highway he’d been traveling only minutes before.

From his horizontal vantage point, he saw hanging above him a clear plastic bag, with a thin tube leading to...where?

Suddenly, the lights sped more quickly past him, and footsteps behind him quickened.

“Get him in here, stat!” shouted an important voice.

As the end of the gurney where his feet lay kicked open the swinging doors, the lights began to dim.

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My entry in the 100 Words Challenge, with the prompt, "corridor."

Running Out of Options

“Failure...is not...an option!!” bellowed the drill sergeant, the straight bill of his cap tapping the recruit on the forehead.

Ironic, thought the newbie. His entire life until now had been a failure.

Failed to get the grades.

Failed to get the girl.

Failed to make his parents proud.

And now he’s told it’s no longer an option?

He stood rigid, naked except for his one-size-too-big skivvies, wide awake, the rising sun’s first rays peeking through the window, while his daddy for the next 13 weeks sprayed spittle in his face as he barked orders.

Failed to make the right decision?

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My entry in the 100 Words Challenge, with the prompt, "failed."