Fiction · Scene

Unlucky Stan

Stan stairs at the basement door, in horror. Through the door, the weak steps plunged deep into darkness. Stan flicks the flashlight to reveal a pool of floating slippers, clear containers containing various arts and crafts from Emily’s childhood, and a couple of unpaired socks floating in dark filthy water. Barbra must have left the washing machine overflow again.  Stan knows what will happen if Barbra comes back and see the ocean developing in the basement. This fight seems worth avoiding even though it is her fault. Not going to tell her that.

Without his floaty, Stan ventures into the sea of forgotten. Empty Gain containers and fabric softeners floated across the current Stan was creating. Flashlight reveals the drowning aging sweatpants and old pair of tennis shoes being weighed down by a dung bell. More unpaired socks floating past Stan looking for their long lost love. Cotton fuzzes turning into dark clouds lost, without an exit. Family albums Barbra’s mother had given her last Christmas. The albums are filled with family members like her cousin Margaret, uncle Gregory, and great grandfather Tyler the Navy Seal. Stan remembers Tyler’s picture in full attire receiving a medal of honor from the Vietnam war. A bicycle with a frail basket and a flock of pink ribbons that Emily use to ride up and down the street when she was little. Emily use to take the bike to her friend, Tiffany, house down the block for sleep overs.

The water, up to Stan’s naval, and Stan is six feet high. The washing machine, spewing water, was indeed left open and continuously over flowing. Stan, subconsciously, searches and found the overhead electrical outlet far above the forming basement pond. Reaching for the knobs without moving underneath the water is unsuccessful. Twisting the knobs had no effect on the water and soon the entire basement will be submerged.  Stan takes a deep breath and plunges under the water. Flashlight leading the way, looking for an alternate way to end this flushing nightmare. The Dyson is still under warranty and would need to be taken in, that’s for sure. Everything seemed to be plugged in, Stan wouldn’t know if something was in the wrong spot. Stan began adjusting the washing machine hose, loosening, and removing. The hole is small, but Stan figures something might be caught in the hole and be the reason the machine isn’t jumping to the next cycle. Stan burrows the top and takes another deep breath and heads back down. Placing his hand into the hole, the sensation of oil taking hold of his hand made Stan feel uneasy and pushed his arm in deep enough to cover his forearm. Stan notices the sudden shake in the washing machine. Spin cycle? Excited Stan jerked his arm out. The second attempt proved even less successful. Panic over takes and began flopping around like a circus gold fish. Air bubbles escape Stan a few at a time. His arm was stuck. Stan looks around, looking for anything that could help him escape. Nothing but the family album staring back at him. Stan felt heavy, cold, and alone. I wish I was you Seal. 


Girl In Yellow

She is beautiful. The most beautiful sunflower. Dandelion colored heels with a blunt point clack with each step on the pavement. The walk of a goddess. Her hips swayed side to side gathering the attention of all onlookers. Porcelain skin shines off the partially hidden sun reflecting shades of canary and gold. Her sun dress twirling in sun with a bumblebee tint and a dijon leather belt and a flaxen steel buckle. Lemon blonde hair hangs below her shoulders shining bright and full of life. Full red lips and a smile that makes any man succumb.


Lady Luck

The dealer blinks, ante is in, and deals the hold across the green. Hoodie, face tattoo, triple XL, shades, Bryan than repeat. Simultaneously everyone looks at there cards than Bryan. A ten and his jack of clubs, not a bad hold. Fact tattoo scales his chips, counting. Hoodie checks. Face tattoo pauses, recounts, and checks. Triple XL checks. Shades looks back down at his hold, sniffs, and checks. Five for five.

The dealer blinks and deals the flop. Seconds felt like hours, so much on the line. Queen of clubs, Ace of hearts, King of clubs. Shades sniffs and shuffles his hold. Face tattoo back to scaling his chips. Hoodie checked. Face tattoo checked. Triple XL struck first.

“Ten k.”

Shades sniffed to this, “Call.”

This is your time kid. “All in,” Bryan said pushing seventy-two thousand into the pot. Sniff. Hoodie pauses and tosses in his cards. Face tattoo counted his chips. He knows he doesn’t have enough. Face tattoo folds.Triple XL, without hesitation, pushes in all his chips of fifty-four thousand. Shades placed the sixty-two thousand aside and paused. No sniff this time? Shades scanned the green and layer he chips down and revealed his a pair of aces, one of spades and one of diamonds. Sweat and dread overtake Triple XL, he didn’t reveal and either did Bryan.

The turn. Hoodie watching everything detectivly. Face tattoo still counting. The blink, and the card. Jack of diamonds. Triple XL shifted in his seat edging ever closer. Sorry buddy. Than the river. The Ace of clubs. Shades triumphantly raised his arm in the air waiting to be crowned. Bryan sniffs.