PNS Media Channels > NCM | YO! Youth Outlook | The Beat Within | Debug | Roaddawgz | PNS News Wire


roaddawgz home
roaddawgz chatroom

c h a p t e r s
finding freedom
on the road
sqatting & gear
street hustles
drugs & addiction
companions
staying healthy
going home
propaghandi
manifesto
fiction
poetry & rhymes
art gallery


letters from the editor
about roaddawgz
links
fiction
Minute Piece
Paul Stukowski, Sep 16, 2004

MINUTE PIECE

Freddy was born dead. His mother failed to take that into account when she enrolled him in Pre-K.

School was upsetting, perhaps for Freddy more than his classmates, who were too bewildered to understand a dear child. They could not grasp Freddy�s unyielding limbs, his rigid body. So they laughed at him, picked on him for being dead. The teacher, never taught about these situations in college, did not know what to do.

During recess, Freddy fell down quite a bit, his arms and legs useless in transporting him across the concrete. Lunch and snacks all lasted unnaturally long, and were messier than they needed to be. Speaking was reasonably unreasonable.

Freddy�s mother would yell at him, plead with him, all while Freddy stood there, unable to hear a word.

One day, Freddy was forgotten outside in the rain. When the sun came out, the birds were not kind. The dogs were too friendly.

Unable to figure out what to do, Freddy�s mother died, of stress and an unwillingness to accept reality. Freddy, already dead, sat in the corner where his mother left him.
_________________________________________________________

CALVIN RANIER

Beeps keep me awake.

I explained them to a friend once. He said they were in Morse code. I forgot what he said they were saying. I think it's weird that beeps would be talking to anyone. Really, what do beeps have to say?

My clothes dryer grumbles at me when I use it. I think it's angry. I guess it was once married to my refrigerator because when it starts grumbling the fridge justs hums away, trying to drown it out. I wonder when it met the washer. They're not always nice to each other, either.

I'm not sure I trust my phone. I know it sounds crazy, but it knows my name. It makes these loud high-pitched sounds, and doesn't like to stop until I talk to it. Then it TALKS TO ME. I tried to get rid of it, but my friend says I will need it in an emergency. I'm not sure what it would do. All it does is make sounds. Maybe if someone breaks in it could pester him into insanity.

I think my house is weird.

Page 1 of 1


Post your comments
First/Last Name

Your Email Address

Your Comments


Disclaimer: roaddawgz will put up as many of your comments as possible but we cannot guarantee that all e-mails will be published. roaddawgz reserves the right to edit comments that are published.

Copyright ©2004 RoadDawgz & Pacific News Service
275 9th Street | San Francisco, CA 94104