28 MONTEREY COUNTY WEEKLY december 21-27, 2023 www.montereycountyweekly.com Honorable Mentions Take Your Medicine By Frank Dice III In the distance, a mountain appeared, shining fluorescent blue and green like a primordial pagan altar… The mountain then split open, revealing a brood of flying monkeys, their pearl white grins glistening, a madcap symphony of ill intent… Being no fool, I turned tail and RAN, but I was no match for this infernal simian Air Force who began circling and cackling dark curses… My time was at hand yet I started to laugh, a quiet chuckle becoming a manic chortle. Looking skyward I bellowed, “Do your worst monkeys!” Suddenly, I was awake. Note to self, NyQuil ain’t no joke. Count Me Out By Nora Meany You choose the app that your friend suggested. Upload pictures. Write a bio. Wait. Browse. Connect. First messaging. Then texting. Then a sexy voice. Inside jokes you both keep repeating. Living rent-free in your mind. Date is set! Wardrobe planned. Hair scrutinized. Location confirmed. Action! Waiting for the slow burn in the flesh. Intros. Drinks. Eyes. Mouth. Eyes. The banter begins, but not the chemistry. The momentum stalls. You strike the conversational flint fruitlessly. No spark. No spark. No spark. Deploy the exit strategy. Depart. Deep breath. Some love stories don’t even make it to 100 words. The Best Gift By Sue Braum She hadn’t enjoyed Christmas in ages. The kids would hang their baby’s firsts on branches, followed by the OCD overlord’s yells of “that side’s too crowded, dammit!” or “who the fuck hung these lights? MORONS!” And the ever present argument over whether the tree was straight in the stand always somehow got heated enough for tears. This year she sat back with her final divorce decree and a glass of wine, admiring her tiny, crooked, potted tree like something from Charlie Brown and smiled. Naughty List By Arvia Glass “Milk and cookies. How conventional,” Santa thought. “To think, I descended the chimney of a family with executive chefs, sommeliers, and one organic chemist. The most these snobs can muster up is a child’s bedtime snack with a bitter aftertaste. Dr. Gardner aged out of the list years ago, and this is the thanks I get? A naughty family indeed!” he scoffed. As Santa walked to the refrigerator to help himself to the fine delicacies within, an otherworldly horn blared with increasing intensity. Upon opening the fridge, a red light appeared, and he heard the whispered words, “Beware the devil’s trumpet.” Be Mine By Barbara Siebeneick What was I thinking? I can’t do it. I’ve studied and analyzed the pros and cons until my head is swimming. I’ve read dozens of books on the subject and consulted “so-called” authorities on how to pull it off. My actions today might change my life forever. What’s the worst that could happen? My life would be ruined, that’s what. I dried my sweaty, shaking, hands on my pants and reached into my pocket. When the door slowly opened I blurted out, “Will you marry me?” The elderly man glared at me and shouted over his shoulder, “Joyce, it’s for you!” Excitement at the Senior Center By Scotty Cornfield “Good heavens, officer,” Mildred said. “I’m trying to help you but I’ve never witnessed a crime before.” “I understand, ma’am. Can we return to the questions I was asking?” “Certainly. Actually, I have witnessed crimes before but that was on Matlock and CSI. Does that count?” “Not even a little. Again, what color was the suspect vehicle?” “Suspect vehicle? This is so exciting! What do you suspect him of?” “Well, since he hit your car and drove away, I’m thinking hit-and-run.” “My, that sounds serious. Was anyone hurt?” “Based on what I’m hearing so far, I’m not sure we’ll ever know.” If I Only Knew By Fermin Sanchez The grand ballroom was dimly lit, guests still arriving, yet there she stood alone in the corner. She was amazingly elegant and beautiful, her long curved legs first caught my eyes. She was poised, radiant with a silk-like smooth complexion, smiling, expressing her pearly white teeth. Dare I go over and make an embarrassing fool of myself? I knew there would be someone else showing interest, captivating a play on her. Should I feel so rejected as I turned to walk away? I had to take one last look at her breathtaking beauty and tell myself, if I only knew how to play the grand piano. Communication Arts By Barbara Chamberlain Preparing for our vacation in Mexico, I took a year of night school Spanish. Once in Baja, I was walking by a row of souvenir shops when I spotted stone grinding bowls that our teacher had demonstrated to us. There was a young man in the shop at the counter reading. I proudly said, “Cuantos estan las mocahetas?” He frowned, “What did you say?” A year’s study for nothing. Devastated, I stammered, “Those stone bowls. Mocahetas. You grind spices.” “I didn’t know what those things were. I’m from Los Angeles. Five bucks. Dollars.” “Quatro.” “You got it.” Power Paws By R.C. Roach I was too poor to buy that kitten any toys, let alone any food. But I picked him up in my hand. A tear dropped. He was so much like me—homeless and abandoned, fighting to live. Life was war. His half-opened eyes were crusty yet oozed tiny white globs of goo. His short, marbled fur was scrabbly. His breath was weak. His body shivered. He did not cry out when I picked him up. I put him against my dirty cheek. He did not purr. “You’re a warrior. I will call you Achilles.” Feeling Feisty By Mike Haugh My mom was feisty to the end. About a month before she passed, I took her to a medical appointment that required her to use a walker to get around. She got around, albeit slowly— very slowly. I tried to encourage her to move a bit quicker, especially on crosswalks where I could feel the waiting driver’s mounting agitation. Before taking her home after the appointment, I had to stop for a slow-moving pedestrian at the very same crosswalk my mom had used earlier, when she agitatedly shouted, “Well move it, you bun-head!” Not by Bot By Roy Verley Edward was about to submit his entry into the short-story contest when a gnawing thought stopped him cold. “Probably should have used a chatbot for this,” he muttered. “I’m pretty sure my tale of tortured romance at the doggie-daycare center won’t do the trick.” “Au contraire,” said Clare, his au pair. “Stick with what you’ve got, even if it’s rot. If you’re caught with a plot from a bot, you will not have a shot at the pot.” Edward chuckled. “Good point! Maybe I’ll submit this one instead. At least they’ll know for certain I wrote every word myself.” F-ing Old Geezer By Robert Fornes Dog walking in Humboldt County on a sunny Sunday morning, Tom and his 80-pound pooch Steph were just an arm’s length apart when a speed-cravThey never imagined it was their dirty dishes making a clean getaway. They found a lot of keys, but not a lot of things to unlock. We climbed down, taking care not to fall and die. The cliches rattled around in her head. Sperm banks were secured, then the international day of reckoning. 101-Word Short Story Contest 2023
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