Bits and Pieces
A jumble of short stories
By
Nicholas antinozzi
Published By: Nicholas Antinozzi
Copyright © 2013 by Nicholas Antinozzi All rights reserved.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Table of contents
The Citation
Opting Out
The Scream
Bennie
Battleship Grey
The Cold Shoulder
Terror From Above
Dear New York
Passing the Torch
Resolution
The Citation
She lived with her three boys on a quiet little street in rural Minnesota; the same home she and Wilbur had bought when they had first married. And the same home she had returned to after Wilbur’s funeral, sixty years later. The house was beginning to show its age. Wilbur had taken great pride in their home and had stayed on top of all the little repairs that it had needed throughout the years. Wilbur had been gone five years and try as Bessie might, she was no Wilbur when it came to keeping up with these repairs.
The boys kept her company during these long years. Stan, who had been closer to Wilbur, followed Bessie around the house and was her constant companion. Oliver, who was older, spent most of his days on the old sofa watching television. Felix, who was the youngest and slightly overweight, loved to hang around the kitchen.
Helen and Vern Schmidt lived next door and had been waiting for years for Bessie to list her home on the market. After Wilbur’s death they had managed to get a promise out of the new widow that when she decided to sell, she’d give them the first opportunity to purchase her home, (at fair market value, of course.) They watched with dismay as the paint began to fade on Bessie’s home and weeds sprouted from her little flower gardens. They reminded Bessie of their generous offer each time they ran into her. Helen and Vern had a son, Howard, who rented a home in Minneapolis and Howard and his family had promised to move next door, just as soon as Bessie decided to sell. Howard was growing impatient, as were his parents. The plan was for Helen and Howard’s wife, Marge, to open a daycare center between the two homes.
Bessie had no intention of selling, not while she was healthy enough to remain in the house and retain her independence. Bessie felt that the Schmidt’s could find another house to buy; they were barely in their sixties and had their entire lives in front of them. To Bessie, they seemed to be waiting like vultures outside her door, ready to swoop down and pick at her bones the moment they had the opportunity. Bessie had correctly surmised the situation. Old as she was, Bessie knew their type and held no delusions as to how they felt about her.
Opportunity knocked when the elected officials on the City Council decided to pass a bit of legislation, aimed at helping people do their thinking for them. Good intentions aside, this group of do-gooders were on a mission to make their mark in the world. More laws were needed, along with stricter enforcement of those already on the books. And one day; sitting smugly in their council chambers, under the scrutiny of as many television cameras as possible, the City Council passed a law punishing the Bessie’s of their little city.
The Schmidt’s couldn’t have been happier.
There was one problem with the law, it would be nearly impossible to enforce without the help of vigilant neighbors. They would need to help persecute these newly minted criminals by turning them in to the police.
Helen Schmidt was on her telephone before the ink was dry on the legislation. Things move slowly in Small towns and it wasn’t until Helen’s sixth phone call that the first squad car pulled up in front of the little home. Bessie had been inside, struggling with her bills, trying to make ends meet on her little allotment from Social Security. The boys were on the couch watching television in between afternoon naps. There was a sharp rap on the door.
Officers Mike Lawrence and Gene Ostrum stood on the front porch, each hating themselves for what they were about to do. They had talked about this the entire way over here. They had enough to do without invading people’s homes like this and making them miserable. Each was seriously considering a move to another city, just because of this law. Bessie answered the door, opening it wide and smiling at the young men. She looked like anyone’s grandmother. She was short and roundish; her iron-gray hair was pulled back into a bun and she wore a house dress under a flowered robe. She smelled of lavender.
“Mrs. Bessie Grundhoffer?” asked Officer Lawrence.
“Yes,” answered Bessie, confused as to why these men were on her doorstep. The boys came out to see what the commotion was about, they stood behind Bessie and studied the men, curiously.
“Mrs. Grundhoffer, I’m terribly sorry, but we’re here to write you a citation. We don’t want to be here, you’ve got to understand that.”
Bessie was stunned, but she regained her composure and smiled. “A citation? Oh, you can’t be serious. Why on earth would you write me a citation?”
“It’s because of them,” Officer Ostrum said, pointing behind Bessie at her three boys.
Bessie turned her head and looked at Stan, Oliver, and Felix. She then began to laugh. “You’ve got to be joking. Those boys haven’t been off of this property in years. My back yard is fenced and I clean up after them every day. What the devil have they done?”
“Nothing ma’am, I’m afraid there’s a new law on the books. The city only allows you to keep two dogs on your property. We’re assuming that all three of these belong to you?”
“Why that’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard of. Yes, they’re mine, of course they are. What business is it of yours, or anyone else’s, if I decide to have three dogs? My Lord, look at them, they don’t weigh twenty pounds between the three of them.”
Ostrum looked behind Bessie and smiled sadly. The old gal was right; the two Chihuahuas were all ears and were looking at him with sad eyes, while her brindle Dachshund was struggling to get past her to greet the strangers. Ostrum wanted to crawl under a rock; he had never been more embarrassed in his entire life.
Lawrence had been thinking ahead and had the citation already written out, all he needed to do was sign it and hand it over to the offender. He felt like throwing up.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” asked Bessie, her face growing red with anger.
“I suggest you pay it,” Ostrum said, looking at his shoes.
“Pay it? I don’t have my glasses on, how much is this going to cost me?”
“One hundred dollars, I’m sorry ma’am, that’s the law. I have to inform you that you’re going to have to find a home for one of your pets, to be in compliance, that is. Otherwise, we’ll be back in a month with another citation.”
Bessie’s jaw dropped. She stood in her door and absorbed this information with complete stupefaction. They couldn’t be serious, could they?
“We’re terribly sorry,” repeated Ostrum. “Have a good day,” he added, the words sounding as hollow and empty as any he’d ever spoken.
Bessie stood there in disbelief, watching the two police officers walk back to their idling squad car and drive away. As bad as her eyes were, she caught the movement of blinds in the Schmidt house. She closed the door and turned to face her boys. “Oh dear,” she said. “Whatever are we going to do?” she asked the three little dogs who were the focal points of her lonely life. “We don’t have one hundred dollars, heavens no.”
Bessie began to cry, wondering which of her three boys would have to go, knowing she couldn’t possibly make such a decision. She wept like she had after Wilbur’s death. Bessie held her little dogs close and prayed for an answer to her predicam
ent.
Opting Out
Bits And Pieces Page 1