by Peter Ponzo
Once upon a time I wrote novels. They took forever to write and they took forever to read. It was exhausting. I had a story idea and I turned it into an 80,000 word novel. How can one do that? It was just a simple story idea?
Now I have a story idea and I turn it into a 1000 word short story ... or maybe 2000 words or maybe even a 100 words. The story is told, is doesn't take a lot of time and if it was fun to read, then one can go on to another short story ... the same day.
Okay, so I wrote a several dozen short stories and here they are. I enjoyed writing every one ... much more than writing the novels.
Peter J. Ponzo
sometime in the year 2014
P.S.
I keep adding to this collection ...
Chapter One
I heard the humming. I heard the sparks. There was a smell of rotting flesh in the air. When I opened my eyes everything was grey. I saw the cables running randomly across the high ceiling. I turned my head and saw the tubes, the flashing lights, the ribbons of electricity running around the large sphere. Someone was speaking.
"Welcome to the world. I shall call you Freakenstein."
Then he laughed, a loud, gurgling, raucous laugh. I turned to see Mad Scientist, his hair rising in strands like a white fountain, his thick glasses reflecting the sparks that illuminated the laboratory.
"I read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein book. I knew I could equal that monster with one of my own."
Mad Scientist laughed again, a crude and vulgar laugh. I saw he was pointing to the corner of the room. There was a door. He nodded.
"You are free to go ... Freakenstein," he said. "Go and frighten the world. Go and scare the crap out of them."
Then Mad Scientist turned and left through that door, chuckling, giggling.
I arose from the table and looked around. I was alone in this huge laboratory. I walked slowly to the door. My gait was unsteady. It was difficult to stay upright. The door was open and I walked through. The door was not very high and I hit my head. There was a long corridor. At the end was another door. It was closed. I pushed but it did not open. It was metal, but I punched the door with my fist and a large dent appeared. I punched again and the door fell outward. I walked through into a dark alley filled with garbage cans and assorted trash. Two young guys saw me. I heard them talking.
"There's our next mark," one said.
"Let's get that sucker," the other said.
I could see them running in my direction. I waited. When they were five feet away they paused. I walked toward them and they froze. They were so small, so insignificant. I picked them up, one in each hand, and looked into their faces.
"Please, sir, don't hurt us," one said.
"We were just kidding," the other said.
I dropped them and they ran off. I walked to the end of the alley onto a wide street. The sun was coming up and there was traffic on the road and a hotdog cart had just pulled up to the curb. I was hungry.
"I'd like a hotdog," I said, "but I have no money."
The guy looks me up and down, he's shaking, he fabricates a hotdog and hands it to me then quickly pushes his cart down the street. He is very generous. The hotdog is delicious.
I spend two nights wandering about town and sleeping on park benches. I spend the next two nights wandering about town and sleeping in a church. There's a soft carpet before the altar, beneath the statue of the Blessed Virgin. It is warm and comfortable. The priest did see me, but says nothing. For almost a month I wander about town. The shop owners are very generous. When I'm hungry I walk into a cafeteria-style restaurant, point to something and say I'm hungry but have no money. They always hand me a paper plate with food on it, then close up shop. People are so generous.
I am so lonely. I need a mate, somebody to share my hopes and dreams, somebody to share my bed, somebody to talk to, to plan a life together. I know that I am handsome. I see my reflection in store windows. Yet when I stop at a bar and begin to smalltalk a lady, she invariably hurries off. There is only one solution.
I find my way back to that alley and to that metal door. I see that it has been repaired. I knock, hoping Mad Scientist would answer, but no one does. I sit on a garbage can and it collapses, crushed to a disk. Now I am sitting on the cold ground. Then I see him, Mad Scientist. He doesn't see me on the ground. He opens the door and I follow him in.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
"I need a mate," I say. "Make me a mate."
"Impossible," he says. "It took me almost a year to find all the parts for making you. I robbed graves, morgues, funeral homes and hospitals. I have no time to do that again. Besides, I just wanted to prove that I could repeat Mary Shelley."
He laughs, a crude and vulgar laugh. "Freakenstein! That's you!" he gurgles. He couldn't stop laughing so I picked him up by the collar and looked into his face. He stopped laughing.
"This is important," I said. "Very important. I will collect the parts and you will make Mrs. Freakenstein."
I dropped Mad Scientist and left.
It took me two weeks to find most of the parts. I robbed graves, morgues, funeral homes and hospitals. I couldn't find all the parts, but I had enough. When I returned to Mad Scientist's laboratory, he was sleeping in the corner. I carried the bag of parts and dumped them on the floor by his cot.
"Wake up! It is time to begin!"
Mad Scientist fell off his cot and stared at me. I stared back and he slowly rose to his feet and I carried the bag to the table. He looked in the bag and groaned.
"Not enough," he said. "Not nearly enough."
"It's enough," I said. "I am not fussy, just make me a mate."
And he did.
Chapter Two
She didn't have all the standard components, but she was beautiful. I whispered in her ear, but the ear was missing on that side, so I whispered in her other ear.
"Welcome to the world, my love," I said.
She opened her eyes. Well, she only had one eye, but it was a beautiful shade of green.
"You are Mrs. Freakenstein," I said. "Rise up and walk with me."
"Grock poof," she grunted.
"No need to speak," I said. "Just come and join me, be my wife."
"Broff Filch," she grunted.
Her language skills left something to be desired, but no matter. We would make a handsome couple.
I had brought a hotdog for her first meal. I knew she would like it as much as I did. I handed it to her and she gazed at it, then pushed it entirely into her mouth. and swallowed it whole. Then she smiled, exposing a single gleaming yellow tooth. I knew she would enjoy the meal. Mad Scientist looked disgusted.
"She's only half there," he said. "Look at her hand. Only three fingers on her left and no hand at all on the right. Look at her left eye, it's..."
"No matter," I said. "She is beautiful and she is mine."
I caressed Mrs. Freakenstein and she smiled and grunted, "Bark Klood."
"You forgot to give her the power of speech," I said quietly.
"Did I mention that you didn't bring all the parts?" he said.
I took Mrs. out to show her the town, my town. She was unsteady at first but soon walked upright and statuesque, with grace and dignity. I took her to Kelly's. Mr. Kelly was delighted. We ate there every day. Mr. Kelly said that people came to his establishment just to see Mr. and Mrs. Freakenstein. Business boomed and he had to buy the shop next door to expand. The Mrs. and I loved his hamburgers, piled high with yellow mustard. When we left he always asked Mrs. if she enjoyed her meal and she always replied: "Barf Bloot Tahken Korch." It was the longest sentence she could speak and she smiled brightly when she said it, her gleaming yellow tooth peering out beneath her grey lips.
The Mrs. and I always s
lept in the church, by the alter. The priest came to know us quite well and often made us a pot of tea. The Mrs. didn't like tea, but she smiled politely anyway, then spit the tea on the carpet when the priest left. I think the priest knew where the carpet stains originated, but he said nothing. People are so generous of heart.
One day, while strolling through the park, a large dog came by. He was without a leash and was obviously lost. He followed us around the park and we finally took him home to the church. The priest was unhappy with the dog poop and suggested that we take up quarters at a neighbourhood shelter. That was strange. We didn't mind the dog poop at all and I rather liked it by the altar beneath the statue of the Virgin Mary, but we left, the Mrs. and I. While walking to the neighbourhood shelter we passed a stand where the gentleman was selling lottery tickets. I said I'd like a few but didn't have any money. He looked at the Mrs. He must have been exceedingly impressed, because he gave us ten. People are so generous.
The shelter was called The Haven and, although it was quite comfortable, we only stayed for a week because we actually won the lottery. It was quite a lot of money. My pant pockets were bursting and the Mrs. kept at least ten thousand dollars in her blouse. That greatly enhanced her figure which was already quite acceptable. We clearly had too much money to carry with us, so we bought a small house at the edge of town. Even then we had much too much money so we went around to all the shops and restaurants and to the church, all the places that had been so generous to us, and we handed out thousands and thousands of dollars. The Mrs. and I and Poop lived very happily in that little house. There was a backyard that was the domain of the dog and he filled it with his doodoo. In no time it had an delightful, exhilarating aroma.
Then, one day, the Mrs. said, "Condom Poof."
I was a very happy man. She was pregnant! Soon we would be four. I was tempted to tell Mad Scientist but I learned that he was ill, so I went to the hospital to see him. He seemed happy to see me and asked about Mrs. Freakenstein. I said she was pregnant and he closed his eyes and passed on. I called the doctor who said his heart apparently failed. That was a sad, sad day. Mad Scientist was a very generous man. But soon enough a happy day would arrive when the Mrs. would give us a baby.
I said we should go to the hospital to have the baby, but the Mrs. said she would deliver in our home–and she did. Although it seemed to be missing a few parts, we both agreed that the baby was beautiful. It wasn't clear whether it was a boy or a girl, so we named it Neuter. Even Poop was excited and dropped a few on the floor.
When Neuter was a year old he began to walk. Well, not so much a walk as a shamble, a shuffle, a stagger. One leg was several inches shorter than the other. The Mrs. and I were ecstatic. Poop showed his appreciation as he always does. We all knew that one day, very soon, we would hear Neuter say 'Mama' or 'Dada'. That day came on a Sunday. The Mrs. and I had just finished our breakfast of hamburgers piled high with mustard. Poop was licking Neuter's face and Neuter was licking Poop back. It was a sight that warmed our hearts. Then Neuter raised his finger in the air. He opened his mouth. The Mrs. and Poop and I all waited. The time had come for conversation with our beautiful child.
Neuter said, "Diapa Occupi Booger Chit."
We couldn't have been happier.
Chapter One
I must tell you this story. Now that I look back, it's quite funny. Actually, it changed my life–for the better. I think you'll find something amusing.
I first saw Heidi while shopping on Earthnet. I began to type Heidilau Robotics into the search engine and the damn auto-completion feature gave me Heidi Lauer. I was looking for automaton components. Instead I got this beautiful girl, her picture, her age and her Earthnet address. I just stared for some time, enjoying her smile…then realized that her mailing address was just up the street. Who knows, I might bump into her one day since I often jogged past her house. In fact, the following day I slowed to a stop in front of 247 Maple Crescent. It was a smallish bungalow with a neatly trimmed hedge, a rose garden, grass cut very short and a very red Altamoto motorcycle in the driveway. Much to my surprise, Heidi Lauer was coming out the front door. I felt a mite embarrassed, all sweaty in my jogging outfit but I was determined to begin a conversation.
"Hi there," I said. "We're neighbors and my name is…"
"If you'll excuse me," she said sweetly, "I'm in a hurry."
And she jumped onto her motorbike and was gone.
It was a week before I saw her again. I was taking a week-long break from robot fabrication and design at Global Robotics. I was a chief designer. It was a dreadful job, but it paid the bills. Buyers of our humanoid robots complained about the most absurd things: the robot's color, its height, its British or Texan or Indian accent, the robot's inability to play chess and especially an inability to cook. The lack of cooking skills was, for some reason, always a problem with many of our robots.
Of course, we had more expensive, made-to-your-specs robots, but we sold very few of them. They'd cost two year's of my salary, but they were indistinguishable from humans, with real hair, supple skin and a knowledge base that included history, geography, science and a host of book classics such as all of Norton's best sellers, they could converse in several languages and most of them did learn to cook. Most importantly, they could be fabricated based upon some individual of your choosing.
Heidi Lauer was trimming the hedge. I had googled hedges and found out the features of her boxwood hedge. I walked to her house rather than jogging, dressed in neat tan slacks and a chocolate colored turtleneck. It was hot, but I needed to look good, hence the turtleneck and well-pressed slacks.
"Hello again," I said. "I really enjoy your boxwood hedge. I understand that they like a pH of just under 7.0, is that right?"
"I wouldn't know," she said, hardly looking up.
I waited for a few minutes, hoping that she would say something, but she was intent upon trimming her hedge.
"Does your husband do the rose garden?" I asked.
She stopped trimming, looked back at the rose garden then turned to me and said, "No. I'm alone and not married, if that's what you're after. Further, I am not looking for any type of relationship. Now, if you'll excuse, me." And she quickly walked back into her house.
Well, she wasn't exactly the friendliest person in the world, but I hardly knew her. However, she was single and that was encouraging. Perhaps, if we could see each other under different circumstances, maybe dinner, then maybe she might act differently. I went back to my place and composed an Earthnet mail.
You may remember that we spoke earlier today while you tended to your hedges. I wonder if you'd like to join me for dinner at Kasem's, just at the end of the street. They have a wonderful selection of Thai dishes.
Best regards,
Mike, your neighbor
I waited the rest of the day for a response. Nothing. The next day was my last day of vacation and I kept the computer open and online, hoping for a response. That evening came the reply:
No. I am not looking for any type of relationship. Did I not say that?
I spent the evening dejected, lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. I must have fallen asleep because I vividly recall the dream. When I awoke, the next phase of this courtship was clear. I asked for time off and it was granted. I hadn't had much vacation time in years. This was going to be fun.
Chapter Two
When the doorbell rang I was placing the soiled dishes in the sonic washer. I looked out the window, praying it wasn't that annoying fellow who lived up the street. There was a white van parked in the driveway. On the side, in large green letters, it said Global Robotics. I hadn't ordered any automatons, so it must be a wrong number. I slipped on a blouse and opened the door.
"Miss Lauer?" the guy asked.
"Yes, I am Heidi Lauer," I said.
"Congratulations, Miss Lauer. I am an agent of Global Robotics," he said. "You are the lucky winner of our latest giveaway, the ML-101 super robot, unlike anything we've mad
e in the past, the most up-to-date cybernetics, the latest in cognitive…"
"I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken," I said. "I didn't enter any contest."
"No, it was not a contest. We picked addresses at random and 247 Maple Crescent popped up. You will not be disappointed in this robot, Miss Lauer. It will handle all your daily chores, provide intelligent conversation and need absolutely no maintenance."
I looked about but saw no robot. Then, out of the back of the van, somebody who looked very much like the fellow up the street jumped out and walked quickly to the door.
"This, Miss Lauer, is Michael, the ML-101. Say hello, Michael."
The robot gave a slight bow and said, "Good morning Miss Lauer. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."
'I think I recognize the face," I said. "There's a fellow up the street that…"
"Oh, no," the agent said, "Although we often base facial features on our employees, Michael is original–as far as I know. However, I just deliver our giveaways and don't have any inside information. In any case, Miss Lauer, I hope you enjoy Michael. If you have any problems, do not hesitate to call us."
Then the agent gave me a business card, backed away, climbed into his van and drove off. The robot, Michael, had a stupid smile on its face. I decided I didn't want the damn thing and would phone that robotics place to take it back. I left it on the front porch and phoned the number I found on the business card. The phone rang twice and I got an answering machine:
"This is Global Robotics. All our agents are busy at this time, but your call is important to us. Please leave your number at the tone, with a message, and we will return your call as soon as possible."
Then there was a buzzing sound and I left my number and a message about taking back the robot. I wasn't about to let that robot into my house. I peeked out the front door window. It was still standing there, with that stupid grin on its face. Well, it could stand there all day for all I cared.