Three Word Wednesday: Dull, Race, Yawn
Fiction in 58: This story contains 58 words; it's invaluable for learning to convey a story concisely.
Two doors slammed; silence fell. She yawned and slipped into uneasy sleep. A Nazi pointed a lugar at her Jewish boyfriend. 'Your race is inferior,' he declared. Footsteps in the hallway woke her. The doorbell rang twelve times. She opened the door. A large man dressed as a woman stared at her with dull eyes. 'Sssorry,' he slurred.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
The Corporate Ladder
He leapt from the stoop to avoid the puddle that had accumulated from the record rainfall. He could barely see before him in the pre-dawn glow. His right hand held a broken umbrella that just barely covered his bald head. His left hand held a shabby pleather briefcase, a tenth anniversary gift from his ex-wife. He landed awkwardly on his right foot and stumbled a across the narrow sidewalk. The bag dropped, but he held a death grip on the broken umbrella. He fell sideways and braced himself for the fall; he hadn’t seen the biker pedaling the wrong way down the one-way street.
Neither had the young blond haired man pedaling the bike seen the man stumble into the road because said young man was conferring with his boss about their respective fantasy football receiving corps. The biker laughed aloud when his boss explained that his starting receivers were Chad Ochocinco, Donald Driver, and Braylon Edwards. ‘You’d have had a great team five years ago,’ the young man quipped.
The young man glanced down for a moment and saw the man land brace for impact with his right hand. He possessed excellent reflexes having been an athlete all of his young life, but with the phone in his hand he could neither brake nor swerve effectively. He jerked the handlebar with his right hand and gripped the phone in his left. The front tire hit the fallen man and skidded sideways into the road. The young man’s fall was broken by the older man’s plump midsection; he rolled onto the wet sidewalk, soiling his white checkered polo shirt and his grey slacks.
‘Shit!’ He yelled. The young man scrambled to his feet. He still squeezed the Blackberry with his left hand. His boss’s voice called from the phone. ‘Hello? Hello?’ The young man lifted the phone to his ear, ‘Hello?’ He was out of breath.
‘Paul?
‘Yeah?’ The young man’s voice shook.
‘What the hell just happened?’
‘I don’t know. I was on my bike, and then there was this guy…’ His head immediately swiveled to the man lying on the curb. The bike extended into the road. There was neither foot nor vehicle traffic.
‘Paul?’
‘Shit,’ he huffed. ‘I hit some guy with my bike.’ He walked closer to the curb to pull his bike in from the road and to get a better look at the guy. He stood the bike up and surveyed it quickly. No significant damage. He kicked the kickstand into place and let it stand in the road. Then he turned to the man. He reached to touch the guy’s shoulder with his right hand but paused. In the dim light, he noticed blood in the street and a large gash in the back of the man’s head. He stood straight up and stepped back into the bike, which fell over into the car behind him.
‘Paul!’
He raised the phone to his ear. ‘I hit him, and he’s bleeding. He’s knocked out on the ground.’
‘Paul, calm down.’
‘What am I gonna do? I can’t just leave him there,’ he whined.
‘Okay. Here’s what you’re going to do, Paul.’ His boss spoke clearly and slowly. ‘You need to go back home and change. Then you need to get back here as soon as possible.’
‘What?’
‘Paul,’ he continued. ‘Today is our big chance. We’re presenting to Ron Stuart. And you know I can’t do it alone. I don’t know all the details that you do. ‘
‘But this guy is just lying here. I can’t just leave him,’ he repeated.
‘Paul, listen. If you call, you’ll have to stay. I can’t reschedule this meeting. This is the only time on his calendar. We’ve rescheduled it for almost a half year. So listen, go home, get changed, and get your ass back here pronto.’
‘Chuck, I know how important it is, but this guy’s out cold. You can cover. You’ll get the credit.’
Chuck had exaggerated just a bit. In fact, he didn’t have a clue what Paul did day to day. He relied on him almost exclusively. And though he wanted to take the call alone, he knew he’d sound like a fool. He considered his options.
‘Okay, Paul. I have an idea. Tell me where you are. I’ll call 9-1-1. Then you can get on your bike, go home, change, and get to the office asap. Sound like a plan to you?’
‘Umm.’ Paul considered it for a moment and then agreed.
‘Good. Now hang up the phone, get on your bike, and get going.’
Paul hung up the phone. The sky had lightened considerably. He heard traffic on adjacent streets. Paul picked up the bike. He glanced back at the still passed out man bleeding on the pavement. The pang of guilt made him feel nauseous. He considered staying. But he had also promised his boss that he would leave. And his boss had been cool up to that point, letting him take a paid half day once in a while and covering for him when he had made some junior mistakes. He got onto the bike and pedaled back home.
Back at the office, Chuck hung up on his side and laid the receiver down. He picked it up again to make the emergency call, but Maggie knocked on the office door and explained that Ron Stuart’s secretary had just called to reschedule the meeting. He slammed down the receiver. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’
‘You want me to reschedule?’
‘Yeah,’ he sighed. Maggie walked out of the room. He turned back to his monitor and saw an email from his manager requesting an explanation for a complaint from the Paris office. He set to work on a reply.
Neither had the young blond haired man pedaling the bike seen the man stumble into the road because said young man was conferring with his boss about their respective fantasy football receiving corps. The biker laughed aloud when his boss explained that his starting receivers were Chad Ochocinco, Donald Driver, and Braylon Edwards. ‘You’d have had a great team five years ago,’ the young man quipped.
The young man glanced down for a moment and saw the man land brace for impact with his right hand. He possessed excellent reflexes having been an athlete all of his young life, but with the phone in his hand he could neither brake nor swerve effectively. He jerked the handlebar with his right hand and gripped the phone in his left. The front tire hit the fallen man and skidded sideways into the road. The young man’s fall was broken by the older man’s plump midsection; he rolled onto the wet sidewalk, soiling his white checkered polo shirt and his grey slacks.
‘Shit!’ He yelled. The young man scrambled to his feet. He still squeezed the Blackberry with his left hand. His boss’s voice called from the phone. ‘Hello? Hello?’ The young man lifted the phone to his ear, ‘Hello?’ He was out of breath.
‘Paul?
‘Yeah?’ The young man’s voice shook.
‘What the hell just happened?’
‘I don’t know. I was on my bike, and then there was this guy…’ His head immediately swiveled to the man lying on the curb. The bike extended into the road. There was neither foot nor vehicle traffic.
‘Paul?’
‘Shit,’ he huffed. ‘I hit some guy with my bike.’ He walked closer to the curb to pull his bike in from the road and to get a better look at the guy. He stood the bike up and surveyed it quickly. No significant damage. He kicked the kickstand into place and let it stand in the road. Then he turned to the man. He reached to touch the guy’s shoulder with his right hand but paused. In the dim light, he noticed blood in the street and a large gash in the back of the man’s head. He stood straight up and stepped back into the bike, which fell over into the car behind him.
‘Paul!’
He raised the phone to his ear. ‘I hit him, and he’s bleeding. He’s knocked out on the ground.’
‘Paul, calm down.’
‘What am I gonna do? I can’t just leave him there,’ he whined.
‘Okay. Here’s what you’re going to do, Paul.’ His boss spoke clearly and slowly. ‘You need to go back home and change. Then you need to get back here as soon as possible.’
‘What?’
‘Paul,’ he continued. ‘Today is our big chance. We’re presenting to Ron Stuart. And you know I can’t do it alone. I don’t know all the details that you do. ‘
‘But this guy is just lying here. I can’t just leave him,’ he repeated.
‘Paul, listen. If you call, you’ll have to stay. I can’t reschedule this meeting. This is the only time on his calendar. We’ve rescheduled it for almost a half year. So listen, go home, get changed, and get your ass back here pronto.’
‘Chuck, I know how important it is, but this guy’s out cold. You can cover. You’ll get the credit.’
Chuck had exaggerated just a bit. In fact, he didn’t have a clue what Paul did day to day. He relied on him almost exclusively. And though he wanted to take the call alone, he knew he’d sound like a fool. He considered his options.
‘Okay, Paul. I have an idea. Tell me where you are. I’ll call 9-1-1. Then you can get on your bike, go home, change, and get to the office asap. Sound like a plan to you?’
‘Umm.’ Paul considered it for a moment and then agreed.
‘Good. Now hang up the phone, get on your bike, and get going.’
Paul hung up the phone. The sky had lightened considerably. He heard traffic on adjacent streets. Paul picked up the bike. He glanced back at the still passed out man bleeding on the pavement. The pang of guilt made him feel nauseous. He considered staying. But he had also promised his boss that he would leave. And his boss had been cool up to that point, letting him take a paid half day once in a while and covering for him when he had made some junior mistakes. He got onto the bike and pedaled back home.
Back at the office, Chuck hung up on his side and laid the receiver down. He picked it up again to make the emergency call, but Maggie knocked on the office door and explained that Ron Stuart’s secretary had just called to reschedule the meeting. He slammed down the receiver. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’
‘You want me to reschedule?’
‘Yeah,’ he sighed. Maggie walked out of the room. He turned back to his monitor and saw an email from his manager requesting an explanation for a complaint from the Paris office. He set to work on a reply.
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