LT Saloon

The Lutin Muse Literary Journal: January, 2010

Doggie Winter Warmth

Written by Ken Carman

Frozen days
Fast feet keep him warm
From daylight into the dark
Though he thinks it’s his bark
Little dog

Bark at the leaves
Bark at the wind
Bark just to hear the din
Oh, how he does rejoice
Just to hear
His own razor sharp little voice
Tho no one else does

Scared of thunder
Shiver
Imaginary pain
One must question
How much sane
A bully in a little body has
When fearful of mere driving rain
Mixed with distant light lightning

Late night
Tiny dog
Curling up under the covers
As if they were his lovers
Between what he might imagine
To be his human father and mother

Safe at last
Sleeping with giants
_____________________________________
©Copyright 2010
Ken Carman
all rights reserved

Image courtesy Slate.com. Illustration by Nina Frenkel

The Daddy Game

Written by Joyce Lovelace

“My Dad’s seven foot tall and he played Basketball for the Lakers” bragged Michelle. The girls all nodded their heads sagely in agreement. Michelle was tall and thin and she could play any game in gym better than anyone else. Michelle’s Mom was short and plump with thick glasses. She worked in an insurance office.

“Well, my Dad’s not tall but he’s big like a tree”, said Brenda, “and when he comes, he’s gonna lift me right up and carry me around on his shoulders so I can see everything!” The girls giggled in appreciation. Brenda and her Mom were tiny. Brenda was always hopping up and down trying to see over the kids in front of her. At the movies she folded her legs up under her so she could see if someone sat in front of her.
“My Dad’s really, really smart and he has a big office at a University, and people call him, even the President, for advice on how to run things.”

” Yes Jamie,” sighed the girls. Jamie always got all A’s on her papers and she, was more than willing to give advice to anybody, whether they wanted it or not.

“My Daddy is an Indian and one day he’s going to come and visit me and bring my brothers, even the baby, so we can all play together”, said Carolyn. The girls looked at Carolyn with envy. Carolyn had actually met her Dad. Twice. And her brothers. She had pictures of them. Of course that was three years ago and the baby wouldn’t really be a baby anymore.
Sadie had been by the block box listening. Now she sidled over and sat on the bench next to Laura.

“Well, my Daddy lives far, far away and he’s a prince in a jungle.”

“Sadie, you can’t play this game”, all the girls chimed at once.

“Why not?”, said Sadie.

“Because it’s only for girls without Daddies and we all know your father,” said Margaret.

“Yeah, but he’s not my REAL Daddy,” said Sadie.

“What?” the girls gasped.

“My sister told me that I’m adopted and that’s why I’m not blond like her and Mom and Dad. She says that Mom brought me home from one of her business trips and that she and my father just pretend that I’m theirs.”

The girls were stunned. This was something new. They each knew a little something about their Dad’s and used that knowledge to make their Dad’s just a little larger than life. Michelle knew her Dad had died in that stupid war in Afghanistan. Brenda knew her Dad lived on a ranch somewhere out west. Jamie’s Dad did work at the University where her Mom had gone to college. Carolyn’s Dad lived away, but she had visited him twice. She had the pictures to prove it. Laura didn’t know either of her biological parents. She was adopted by her two Moms from an orphanage overseas.

But Sadie’s story. That was different. The other girls had always known that they didn’t have a Dad. They had their Mom’s, and they knew they were loved, but they liked to play at filling in the missing parts. What would it be like to think you had a Dad all along and then to find out he wasn’t really your Dad?

Carolyn was quiet on the walk home from school. She sat down at the kitchen table and just sat there swinging her feet while her Mom made dinner. She ate quietly too. Mostly she pushed her food around on her plate. Finally her Mom asked “What’s up pumpkin? You’re awful quiet.”

“Mom”, said Carolyn, “Is it true that Sadie is adopted?”

“Where did you ever get that idea?” said Sadie’s Mom.

“Sadie’s sister told her that her Mom brought her home from a business trip and that’s why her hair is brown while everyone else has blond hair,” said Carolyn.

“Oh Honey!” Carolyn’s Mom kind of chuckled but looked sad and concerned too. “Think about it sweetheart. Doesn’t Sadie’s Grandfather and Uncle Tom have brown hair too? And doesn’t she look just like her Dad? And remember when you had your hair cut at the salon and Sadie’s Mom was there?”

“She was having her hair colored!” shouted Carolyn.

“Yes honey. Sadie’s sister was probably just upset with her for something and made up that fib to scare her. A lot of big sisters and brothers try that. They don’t realize that children really believe those things. I’ll talk to her Mom so she can show her the pictures of all of them at the hospital the day she was born.”

“Thanks Mom,” said Carolyn, and she began to dig into her macaroni and cheese. “Mom?”

“Yes honey?”

“Did Daddy like Macaroni and Cheese?”
_________________________________________
©Copyright 2010
Joyce Lovelace
all rights reserved

Season of the Icicle Zombies

Written by Lilith Raymour

Winter
Ice
Freeze
Hands
Toes
Nose
So
Stay
In

TV
Drain
Mind
Sleep
Snooze
Snore
Morning
More
Cold
Try
Go
Out
But
Stay
In

Do it
Over again
Tomorrow

Brain freeze
_________________________________
©Copyright 2010
Lilith Raymour
all rights reserved

Lessons Never Learned

Written by Ken Carman

Dave had been here before. This day started like every day for the coach. Students so gung ho they were a bit annoying, students who really had no interest in sports, gym and, if allowed, would do all they could do to avoid doing anything. Then you had the pranksters, the over active… he knew them one and all and could tell before the day started who he would have trouble with and who he wouldn’t.

All that was expected. But as of late he noticed that no one noticed him. Oh, adults these days were often treated as if they didn’t exist. Even his fellow teachers seemed to almost walk right through him.

“Is there any way to stop this, make them notice I’m here? Help them learn the lessons they need to learn? I’ve been trying.”

Another day, but the same day in, oh, so many ways. There was little he could do to stop what was about to happen… and happened… over and over.

How can you stop specters when you’re one yourself?

Why was he still here?

He was moving amongst the living and the already damned. The only difference was the living didn’t know that some day they too might be stuck reliving past mistakes amongst the rest of the damned. As the living passed him by he could hear and see them talk about the news of their day. Seems there were always more shootings at churches, schools, museums… nut jobs who thought their anger over the “way things were,” their opinions, were more important than the lives of those they snuffed.

Soon, as always, the ghosts of what had been took over everything. The living seemed to fade away into another dimension called “the present” where they never seemed to learn lessons taught long ago. Why is it if you brought back to life those who died brutally they would probably make the same decisions that took them down to that last, final, moment? Why is it even the dead made the same mistakes over and over?

He did what he knew he had to do, but had no heart for it. It was as if he couldn’t help himself as he heard the students approach. He knew what was about to happen, and was glad he had made sure the cafeteria was evacuated: telling students to go to the staircase leading to the second floor. He tried to run away from them, but they found him around the corner and shot him in the chest.

He didn’t want to do it. He wanted just to stay there. But it was as if he had no control over repeating what he had done before. He struggled, once again, to get to the Science area where a teacher started to help him.

He kept saying, “Please stop, I know what’s going to happen. Don’t take me anywhere. Leave me here. This needs to stop.”

But by now it was out of his hands and no one could hear him. Specters continued to do what they had done so many times before. He heard them discuss options. Then they put a sign in the window in the room where 30 students had been taking a test.

“1 bleeding to death.”

“The library! Don’t let students go to or stay in the library. Not again. KEEP THEM OUT OF THERE.”

No one heard him. He knew more would die. He could hear more shooting as he felt weaker and weaker.

As life slowly leaked out of Dave; red drop by crimson red drop, he wondered what would stop all this. Would the specters never come back here if ever humanity finally learned lessons about hate, and bullies, and never believing your beliefs so important that life was worth less than what you believed.

Everything faded.

He went numb.

Then he felt nothing until…

Dave had been here before. This day started like every day for the coach…
_________________________________________
©Copyright 2009
Ken Carman
all rights reserved

—–Lutin Muse—–

The Lutin Muse Literary Magazine: January, 2010