B.E.R.T., Part 3

Tom sat down to a large breakfast.  His children had just left for school, a quiet little elementary school in their suburban Virginia neighborhood, and Tom stretched his legs beneath the table while his wife read the newspaper.

"Pass the syrup, would you, dear?"

As Mrs. Randle passed the bottle to her husband, she read,  "A glut of calls floods Chesapeake Bay area."

"What kind of calls?" Tom asked.  "Like the one we got last night?"

His wife sipped at her coffee and replied, "It doesn't say.  Oh, wait a minute."  She read to herself for a bit and then aloud again, "telemarketers have been waking cold call customers at all hours of the night."

"Must be some new scheme."  Tom mused.  "Maybe WalMart has gotten into telemarketing."

The phone rang and Mrs. Randle got up to answer it.

"Hello?"

Tom finished the last of the eggs on his plate.  His wife listened for a few seconds and quickly hung up the phone.  Tom took the last half a pancake and gulped it down in one bite.

"Who was that, honey?"  He asked.  She did not answer.  Tom look up.  "Sarah?"  She was staring into space, her eyes were glazed over as though she were in shock.

"Sarah!"  Tom yelled.  She shook out of the stupor.  "Who was that?"

"Another telemarketer."  She whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.  And then she continued, still in a whisper, "selling AIR-2 Genie tactical nuclear missiles."

Monster, Part 3

The downpour continued for the next half an hour as Monster ran block to block, looking for any place he could duck in out of the rain.  The dimly lit interior of a 24-hour Burger King caught his eye on Canada Boulevard and he made his way across the street.  A solitary cab ran the red light and showered him with a wave of water just before he reached the far curb.

He stepped inside, shivering, and stamped his feet on the hard tile.  A couple deep in conversation sat in a huddled corner and a scraggle-bearded man sat nursing a cup of coffee near the street-side window.  No one noticed as Monster entered except the boy behind the counter.  His pimply eyes bulged at the sight of the figure who had just walked in, and he hunched his shoulders and lowered his head as though he was trying to fold inside himself.

"A cup of coffee and a burger."  Monster huffed.

"The scared cashier tried to keep his voice from cracking as he screeched, "We're serving breakfast."

Just my luck, thought Monster.  As he searched the breakfast menu for something worth eating, he heard the chime of the door being opened and turned.  The sight of the creature walking into the restaurant made Monster's blood run cold.  

He gasped and shouted, "YOU!!!"

B.E.R.T., Part 2

Tom Randle pulled the covers over, settled down in the bed, reached up and flipped off the light.  The slight buzz of the electric alarm clock read in bold neon letters 2:13.  His wife was already asleep beside him, snoring lightly.  But Tom was exhausted and even the noisemaker down the hall wouldn't keep him awake that night.  He usually had such trouble falling asleep with all the ambient noise, but he was not accustomed to staying up this late.  An emergency call had taken him into the middle of the city for a quick repair that lasted three hours.

The phone rang on the bedside table.  Without turning the light on, Tom reached for the phone, pressed the talk button and whispered, "Hello?"  He listened for only a moment and hung up without a word.  His wife stirred beside him, rolled over and whispered in a groggy voice, "Who was that?"

"No one."  He said.  "Another telemarketer."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Who sells chemical solutions over the phone?"  Tom wondered.  He kissed his wife on the forehead and whispered.  "Go back to sleep, honey."  But she already had.

Sophomore, Part 2

Dude had been working on the same crossword puzzle for weeks.  It didn't bother him though, there was nothing else to do.  He sat in the corner, his Cubs hat high on his forehead.  He scratched his temple, the number 2 pencil between his teeth, thinking.  

"Golf club UK, six letters." He read.  The teacher paused for a brief moment.  She heard talking but didn't know who it was.  Dude had not noticed her stop, but he had nothing else to say, he continued chewing on the pencil and thinking.  The teacher began again, looking sidelong in Dude's direction while she spoke.  Chill, without moving his head, whispered out of the side of his mouth, "M-A-S-H-I-E, mashie."  Dude groaned.  "That means twelve down isn't Bueller."  "Bueller is U-E, not E-U."  Whispered Chill.

"Class."  called out the teacher, who looked around for a second and sat down.  Then she nodded at Birdie, who stood up.

"If there is to be progress made in the education system of the United States..."  No one caught a word she said beyond that.  Chic was doodling on a scrap of paper, pretending to be taking notes as often as the teacher looked his way.

Birdie sat down and the entire class clapped unenthusiastically, except for Dude who hadn't noticed her stand up, speak, or sit down.  He would have kept working on the puzzle had not Chill tapped him on the knee.

"Class is over, Dude.  Let's go."

Boot Camp, Part 2

We went running today, not my favorite activity.  I gotta be honest, I didn't like it one bit.  I don't think I'd run that far since Nate took my bicycle without permission and I had to chase him down the cul-du-sac.  Good thing for me, he rode himself into a corner.

So I told the guy in the funny hat that I didn't think I could make it the last 14 and 9/10 miles of our fifteen mile run and would it be okay if I just took a nap instead.  He said "No, it is NOT okay!" with such a dramatic yell like he was mad or something.

That way it was easy for me to tell that he was kidding.

Tomorrow we get to go on a picnic.

B.E.R.T., Part 1

Tom Randle and his wife were enjoying a quiet evening while their children were visiting the grandparents next door.  Tom, a forty-two year old electrician looked lovingly down at the woman sitting next to him and kissed her lightly on the forehead.  She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

The phone rang.

"Leave it." she pleaded, but she knew he had to answer.  In Tom's line of work, there were no business hours.  He was ready to go anytime, day or night, and, though they weren't poor, he could not afford to ignore his clients.

"I won't be a minute." He said.  Then, picking up the phone, "Hello.  No this is Tom.  I'm sorry we're not..."  He rolled his eyes, cupped his hand over the receiver and whispered, "A telemarketer."

"Oh, hang it up." She whispered back, but he was still listening to the voice on the other line.

"How much?  Mmm hmm.  Yes, I'll take one."  He and the shameless salesman on the other end of the call talked about price.  Tom rattled off his credit card number from memory, thanked the caller and hung up.

"What in the world could you have bought on date night?" She asked, a little peeved.

"Never mind, honey."  It'll be a surprise.  She gave him a look, trying to be vicious and fearsome.  He laughed and said,  "I hope I'll be able to handle the surprise when it comes."  She smiled back at him and shook her head, rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes once more.

Monster, Part 2

The glow of neon light lit up the small corner diner as Monster crossed the street.  The bell chimed as he pushed his way through the heavy glass door.  There was no one to be seen inside the diner and no sound except for the muted Eagles song playing somewhere in the back.  Monster picked out a booth as slid onto the red vinyl bench.

He waited.

He was resting his head in his hands, his elbows on the table, when he heard voices coming from the kitchen.  Two characters came out through the swinging doors, an angry little man carrying his rumpled fedora in one hand and waving the index finger of the other, and an even  smaller woman, waving her hands in the air and shouting at the top of her lungs.

"Whaddya mean cheatin'!" she yelled in a thick Irish accent.  "Why ahm bein' as honest as the day I was born!"

He laughed and replied, "You prob'ly told the doctor you was a boy!"  The he went on.  "All I'ma sayin' is you had four aces, that's all.  I didn't mean nothin' by it, you've got the luck tonight."

But she would not be calmed.  "You called me a cheat, Tom, you did!  An' I won't be called a cheat by you or anyone else!"

He was about to apologize again when she stopped short.  Monster was staring at the two of them and now the two of them were staring at him.  She looked frightened, but he could not tell why.  The man, Tom, squared his shoulders and took a short step forward, partially blocking the woman with his body.

"The place is closed."  He said.

"Oh," exclaimed Monster, "I didn't know."  A pause.  "I'm sorry.  He grabbed his coat which he had laid on the bench beside him and got up to leave.  She had now grabbed Tom's shoulders as if using him for a shield, her fingernails dug into his threadbare jacket.  Monster made his way past the couple as quickly as he could and stepped once more into the street.  It had begun to rain.

Sophomore, Part 1

"I don't know," Dude shrugged, "Change the world?"

He should not have phrased his answer as a question.  The teacher, brimming with conflicting emotions, bit her lip in a failing attempt to control herself.

"You think this is some kind of game?!?" she roared.  "I don't know?!? Change the world?!?"  For once she had the attention of the entire class.  "Everyone of you," she said, now almost whispering through bared teeth, "Everyone of you needs to seriously consider what he or she is doing here."  

And everyone of them did.  Most wished they had obeyed their first impulse that morning and feigned the flu and skipped class.  Budd stood up.  In a single expression, the whole class thought, "Oh no."  Budd stood up and spoke.  "Yeah.  What am I doing here?"  He walked to the door, turned the handle, and swung it open.  He walked out of the classroom and let the door slide closed behind him.

Dude knew that all this was somehow his fault.  He wasn't usually given to caring about this sort of thing, but he didn't want the teacher to kill him either.  "I'm here to learn.  So I can change the world."  There was little conviction in his voice.  In fact, there was no emotion at all.  But the question mark was gone.

The teacher flopped into her chair, buried her head in her hands and began to sob.  Giant stood up in the corner of the room, shouldered his backpack, and whispered, "Let's leave her alone."

Class was dismissed.