Please Take a Number_48 Years is a Long Time_Fact or Fiction?_The Perks of Reality
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Please Take a Number
Stacey Hileman Iannazzo Please Take A Number364 days out of the year, Dave Murphy's job was mostly shuffling paperwork and light maintenance. His office was a sparse barren room in the basement of Hileman and Sons Funeral Parlor. They were a popular establishment for grieving families and Dave had landed the jobs because he had gone to high school with one of the ‘and sons’. He’d been employed by the Hilemans for 3 years and for a job that only really required him to show up, he was paid a very generous salary. He worked the literal graveyard shift, arriving at 9 and leaving at 6 am the next d...
48 Years is a Long Time
48 Years is a Long TimeBlind dates can be risky propositions. No matter if the man’s handsome, or the woman’s beautiful, it’s the sprockets spinning inside the other person’s noggin that matters. Neither idle chatter nor dark ruminations make for a satisfying date. But if the other inpidual is witty with insightful prognostications, then you’ve got a ‘keeper’. I met that person, the one who I couldn’t live without, in the month of October. The year was 1972 and I was a man on the go, jetting from the corporate headquarters in Omaha, Nebraska, to the company’s far flung satellite offices. On th...
Fact or Fiction?
There's this woman that works at your local flower shop. You simply cannot stand a household devoid of daisies, so you visit this flower shop once a week. Every Thursday, 1:15 PM, you walk into "What in Carnation? Flower Shop" and speak to a rather monotonous employee named Susan. You've tried and tried, but Susan simply refuses to reveal any personal information about herself. No smile as you enter the store, no "Happy Tuesday to you too!", not even a "You have a pastwww.onedoor.cca stain on your shirt" when you very, very clearly do not know that you have a pasta stain on your shirt. Every comment, fun an...
The Perks of Reality
On a balmy August day, I sat on a park bench under a maple tree with a book in my hands and fell madly in like with Joaquin. I won’t go as far as to say love, I didn’t know him and I’m not that crazy. Or so I hope. Anyway, the book was about aliens, I think. Usually, they were. After reading only one sentence, I looked up from the pages to the sound of his wheels rolling across the concrete in front of me. The way his gray t-shirt billowed around him from the speed at which he rode cause a butterfly flutter in my heart. His body leaned back; his front foot slid up the board as the front ...