Stanley had a crush on Sarah. They were in Ms. Goldman’s freshman chemistry class together fifth period. That day they were working on homework at Sarah’s house while her parents were gone. Stanley was in heaven. “Break time!” Sarah woke Stanley from daydreaming, “I want to show you something.” She leads him to the closet in the hall. Inside the closet, they sit down on shoes and close the door. There is no light. Sarah pulls Stanley’s tee-shirt off. He doesn’t resist. Suddenly a spark and the closet lights up. Sarah had flicked a lighter. “I read it was recently discovered kids born and raised in California have higher levels of fire retardant in their blood than kids in other places do. Chemicals used to keep our teddy bears, clothes and cribs from going up in flames have been leaking into our bodies.” She sticks her tongue out over the flame and rolls it in and out of the fire. Sarah puts the flame on Stanley’s bare nipple. He’s startled at first. When he sees it doesn’t hurt, he reaches his hand out and holds it in the fire. No marks. “Somebody’s got to do something about this!” “Actually, I think they have done us a huge favor,” the flame goes out and it’s black again, “When we go to Hell after we die, we won’t burn.” She pulls him close and kisses him. Her tongue spreads his mouth open. She grabs his hand and puts it on her chest. |
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Category Archives: Chad Smith
Smells Like Burning by Chad Smith
Filed under Chad Smith
Destroy the Evidence by Chad Smith
The oven door topples off of its hinges as she kicks and climbs out. She growls and quickly slaps out her still smoldering sweater shoulder. Taking a kitchen chair by the back, she swings it over her head and shatters the window. The chair breaks into splinters as she pounds it into the countertop. She snatches a handful of broken window shards and shoves them into her mouth. They crackle and tinkle as she chomps down. The kitchen sink faucet snaps and water sprays out when she yanks it free using her teeth. She punches a hole in the wall, pulls some planks out, bites and gobbles them up. Enraged and cursing, she knocks the kitchen table over. The door explodes from the front of the cottage when she puts her boot through it. On the porch she pulls a post off the railing and starts eating it. “Great plan Ruth!” she screams. “Build a cottage in the forest made of gingerbread, cakes and candy. You’ll attract all the children you could ever possibly want to fatten up and eat!” What she hadn’t planned on was the little monsters getting away. They would probably be bringing back their idiot woodcutter father who would demand an explanation as to why she tried to eat his children. Licking the frosting off of the mailbox, she looks at the cottage and moans. It was going to take forever to eat this thing and flee. She wonders where she has left her matches. |
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Filed under Chad Smith
The Signal by Chad Smith
I take the plastic off of the last videotape and stick it in the VCR. I make sure the channel is on 6. Still a commercial. I get my notebook, turn it to the next page and write today’s date on top. I get ready. I don’t really like the back and forth banter the other news anchors try to engage him in every night. Most viewers probably do though. I wish they would just say, “Here’s Matt with the weather,” and be done with it. Oh, and here he comes! I push record on the VCR. He starts his weather report. He’s looking exceptionally handsome tonight. Wearing a gray suit. His dark curly hair combed back yet still tousled. Radiant blue eyes. I transcribe his words in my notebook. “We had a high today of 52.” He moves with such confidence as he points to the map. Then he says it: “A cold front will be pushing up from the south bringing rain showers.” How often does a cold front come from the south? It’s the signal! The secret message I have been waiting for. He is ready to stop living a lie and finally leave his wife and kids. He is going to run away with me. We will be together at last. “Bringing rain showers,” means I should meet him at the TV station tonight after the broadcast. I hit stop on the VCR. I need to hurry and get packed. Find something nice to wear. |
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Filed under Chad Smith