Short Story Week

Greetings one and all. Here are some short subjects – truncated, some say:

Piggy Bank Robber

I knew of a woman once who was laying up in the hospital, perhaps facing the end of her mortal life.

Every day, one of her grandsons came to visit. Some days, he stayed at her side for several hours, sometimes reading to her, other times just sitting, silently.

Meanwhile, I ran across another of her grandsons. I asked him why he hadn't been visiting his grandmother. He replied, "I just can't stand to see Grandma sick like she is."

Later that day he went over to his grandmother's unoccupied house, helped himself to a quart of milk, then emptied her piggybank. It was a large piggybank, containing only quarters.

He went to a municipal park, where he played hacky sack and Frisbee. I didn't find out what happened to Gramma's savings.

He couldn't stand the specter of seeing his grandmother, ill. But he stole from her and doesn't seem to have any trouble looking at his own pretty face in the mirror.

Just Force Yourself

I knew a woman once, a widow lady. She complained of depression, of having "the blues."

Widows have that, I think. I was about to suggest to her that she come to church with us, or go for a drive in the mountains.

But another woman in the restaurant  beat me to it. "You just need to go get laid," the second advisor offered. I allowed as how I didn't think that was necessarily rational thinking. But I did not prevail.

Some weeks later, my widow friend confided that she had indeed gone out and found a willing guy. They did the dirty deed. "I had to force myself," she said.

After treatment for an STD, my widow friend is presumably back on track – celibate, but healthy, still suffering from the blues.

"I had to force myself," she had said. That phrase stuck in my mind somehow.

What The Man Wants

I knew of a woman once who would use this phrase again and again, whenever a new "friend" would come into her life: "He really loves me. He says he wants to marry me."

It'll be a different guy ever so often, but what I hear is the same phrase, repeated, always.

Let me fill in the picture a little bit. They're living together. For the sake of discussion, we can presume they are being intimate.

But the woman declares, "I'll never get married again."

So what does the guy really want from this woman? What does he really need?

He has a no-vows, uncommitted  situation, and legal entanglements will be reduced. He's getting "it" regularly. She is assuring him she isn't marriage-minded.

"Oh I wuv you I wuv you," he whispers in her ear. "I want to mewy you."

Sure he does. When the cow jumps over the moon. Speaking of cows, why would this guy buy one when milk is so cheap?

He is in a "safe" relationship. He is an opportunist, tried and true. But he isn't the only insensitive jerk in this picture.

Confusing Words

Hardly anyone knows how to spell this often-used word: "Altar." My antique Webster's says it means a raised platform where sacrifices are made. Sacrifices as in the Mass of the Holy Roman Catholic Church.

So you would expect to see the word "altar" in church publications. Nope. Now we revert, going back again and again to a pernicious misspelling: "alter." Perpetrators of that mistake should be subjected to a sound drubbing.

Then there's difficulty with pronunciation of an oft-used Biblical word, "prophecy."

Have more than one prophecy? You have "prophecies" (PRAWF-uh-sees).You are going to reveal a prophecy? You are going to prophesy (PRAWF-uh-sigh). You are not going to "prophecize" and if you say it that way, you are wrong. It's not that difficult to pronounce it correctly. Get a clue.

Piano Tuners

Once in a while, I find out something. Recently, I found out you don't have to be blind to be a piano tuner.

I suppose the custom of having a blind guy tune pianos came from the idea of the heightened hearing possessed by  the blind, and the idea that blind people are hence drawn to music.

This is interesting, considering the piano tuner we had come over to the house some time ago. This guy was abrasive, percussive, abusive and obnoxious. But at least he wasn't blind. Simply deaf.

Crossing Paths

I knew this old biker guy, and sooner or later he spotted me at church. Yep, an old biker guy was right there in the Catholic Church with me.

He and I renewed our relationship, and we would banter about old-timey motorcycle days. His wife had died, and he had remained single since then.

Suddenly, we didn't see him at church any more. Oops. A new girlfriend had  entered the picture and quickly became the new wife.

No more Catholic. Now it's some Baptist thing, or something evangelical. We know exactly who's in control of the spiritual life in this new family, don't we?

Funny. My old greasy biker friend was leaving the Church just when I was coming in. Don't see him much these days.

Mentor and Cantor

"Mentor" is a noun, meaning a wise, loyal advisor. "Mentor" is listed in the dictionary only as a noun. It is not a verb. Hence, we can't "mentor" someone. Proper usage requires the "to-be" verb.

Say, "I am going to be a mentor to the young man."

Cantor. It's a noun, meaning the lead singer in a church choir. It is not a verb. Hence, proper usage requires the use of the "to-be" verb.

Say, "I am going to be the cantor for this next Mass." Get a clue.

Little Girls

There's something about little girls. Say, three to four years old.

I know this stuff for a fact. I have three daughters, all in their 40s now, and they all did this.

Daddy would come home from work and the cute little things would bounce up and down, arms raised high, crying, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Pick me up."

I'd bend over to lift the cute little thing, and just at the instant I was close enough, she would suddenly launch herself skyward. Bang. That little place where the soft spot once lived? Now it's as hard as a petrified pine tree. Bang. Ouch.

Often, this action would knock my glasses off. Or cut my lips. Or give me a headache or loose teeth.

That's why I swerve and duck when I hear the phrase, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy . . . "

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This week's words: Chiropractor, from Greek, a practical doctor; dermatologist, from Latin and Greek, skin and doctor; urologist, from the Latin and Greek, for a doctor who treats diseases of the urinogenital system.

Next week's word: Quack.

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Gripes? Complaints? Whines? or Comments? Adoration? Puppy love? Feel free to express yourself in the comments!