Richard
Lisa
Lizzie
Tom
Serendipidy
Norval Joe
Planet Z
The next topic is Five stars
RICHARD
--- Non-Standard ---
Why do they call it a standard lamp? It's anything but.
There's a bewildering variety of the damm things... Edwardian, art deco, modern, minimalist, futuristic, or that old classic timeless design.
Do you want softwood, hardwood, metal or something more exotic? A contemporary stylish glass shade, or a big, old fashioned flowery one? Tungsten, LED, halogen…
Frankly, I can't cope with the choice, I'm more than happy to simply grab the first one I see and get the hell outta here.
But, it's the usual story - shopping with the wife, and she wants to know which one I prefer!
LISA
Being Neighbourly
I’d been waving at him for years – he was always in the same arm chair, with the standard lamp behind it, watching TV when I walked to and from work.
I could see the outline of his head, and I didn’t stare in – I’d never spoken to him so didn’t know if he liked me waving. He’d waved back sometimes though. And once you start something it’s hard to stop.
It was only when the flies had covered his window that I realised there was something wrong and for quite a while now I’d been waving at a dead man.
LIZZIE
Look behind the phone. There was nothing. It's there, she said. But it wasn't. And she giggled. That old classic... Made you look! She giggled again. And where is it? When she started giggling, he lost it. He was standing there, holding the damn phone, looking stupid, and she was making fun of him. On top of it all, the phone was yellow, the one color he couldn't stand. I need that fucking code, right now. She bok-bok'ed and giggled some more. The next day, there was a headless chicken on her doorstep and no one saw her, ever again.
TOM
You need it, I know a Guy.
I love cities. You can feel the pulse of life in the movement of people and cars, an infinite random dance. In a great city on one particular street, the people will lay claim, and a culture of its own will emerge. For generations my family has been part of the Maxwell St. street-life. I have heard stories of my great grandfather sharping knifes for a nickel a blade. Since my people have climbed up the economic ladder there or on longer Kosick’s and Valor’s on Maxwell St. But life on the street goes on. Life always finds a way.
SERENDIPIDY
"Banish her", they said.
Different village, same old story, that old classic "she's got the pox"; reason enough to treat me like a pariah.
So much for compassion and the milk of human kindness.
They called a town meeting, just a formality really, the outcome a forgone conclusion: “she has to go”.
And so, like every other occasion, every other village, I find myself cast out, never to set foot within its boundaries again on pain of death.
So I'm going, and you'll never see me again.
And yes, I have the pox.
But, so do all of you now!
NORVAL JOE
When a sack was pulled from Billbert’s head, a shadow of a person loomed before him, lit from behind by a single standard lamp in the otherwise dark room. He looked around the small room and saw Sabrina beside him, gagged, blindfolded, and headphones covering her ears.
“Sabrina,” Billbert shouted.
“Don’t waste your breath,” a familiar voice said. “She can only hear what I tell her.”
Billbert peered at the shadow form. “I know you. Patrick something, from school. What do you want from Sabrina, and me?”
Patrick laughed. “You two, together, are going to do me a little favor.”
PLANET Z
Victor had been a renowned chemist before the war. Somehow he survived two years in the camps. His wife and daughters didn’t. He went to the states, got married and had a son and never talked about the numbers on his arm. He ran the paint counter at a hardware store. Every now and then a guy would paint a swastika on his door. He knew who he was because he kept track of who was buying paint.