Jim the Writer

a literary blog

marriage

Ranson’s Beard

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poster: 100 words of fictionRanson’s beard was older than his daughter, the corporate attorney who’d moved to Oregon to get as far from him as North America allowed.

He wasn’t shaving without due consideration. He’d grown it the summer of Lillian’s pregnancy. He was teaching philosophy in Ohio, and working on his book. One day he stopped at a produce stand, and the be-whiskered farmer who sold him sweet corn provided the inspiration. Lillian never liked facial hair. Their divorce was as much about that as anything.

Ranson kept the beard all through his marriage to Samantha.

Now it was time for the razor.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #378 at Velvet Verbosity.

How Nan Got Her Maple Trimmed

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Nan wanted a bough or two cut off the big silver maple in our backyard. So I hired a crew. Then she was hot to put in her garden and didn’t like having to wait.

“It’s too early to plant, anyway,” I said.
When the crew got here, she was hot for the climber. “You should see the hunk trimming my tree,” she told her sister on the phone.

“Why don’t you go lick the sweat off his pecs?” I said. “You know you want to.”

“Hey, it wouldn’t kill you to work out, Bobby.”

Well. She had me there.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #344 at Velvet Verbosity.

Details

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The professor wore the required shirt and shoes. He expected service.

100wordchallengelogoYes, his pants were missing. So were his underpants, his socks and his wife of 38 years, if anyone cared for details.

The girl behind the counter gaped at him, her mouth a perfect O. The professor set down a bottle. “It’s all in your imagination,” he told her. True enough. What could she see beyond the counter-top? A man in bifocals and a wrinkled shirt. “Let’s get on with it.” He pulled a bill from his shirt pocket, and unfurled it beside the register.

She rang him up.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #336 at Velvet Verbosity.

His Sainted Mother

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100wordchallengelogo

His sainted mother needed him. Big surprise! The message didn’t say what for. It didn’t say “sainted,” either, but Susan read that into it. “Walter, this is your mother. I need you.” That was all. Not even “please call,” but that was implied, too. Of course you need him, dear. You’re 85 and alone. You need Walter and six more like him. Susan smiled. Yes, seven Walters should be enough to meet any woman’s needs. Still smiling, she pressed delete. She would tell Walter to call his mother, as she told him almost every day. The need would be implied.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #335 at Velvet Verbosity.