Tiny Tuesday (m)

iVillage Member
Registered: 03-25-2003
Tiny Tuesday (m)
15
Tue, 08-14-2001 - 11:04am

Tiny Tuesday (m)


This week, try to write a tiny tale (less than 500 words) that begins with the line:

"Looking in the rearview mirror, I..."

Have fun,

Mac

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iVillage Member
Registered: 03-26-2003
Tue, 08-14-2001 - 7:26pm

Looking in the rearview mirror, I...


... met the astonished gaze of my ex-husband.

“Oops.” I extricated myself, wound down the window and leaned out. “Jim, what on earth are you doing?”

“More to the point, what are you doing? Going to introduce me to your new friend?”

My new friend was uncoiling himself from the car, a beatific smile on his face. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, holding out his hand.

I climbed out of the car, pulling my skirt straight. “This is Bela. He’s Hungarian. He doesn’t speak much English. You’re early.”

Jim glared at us both. “So sorry to interrupt. Where’s Hugo?”

“Around here somewhere. Call to him and he’ll come.”

“God, Helen. You are so irresponsible. You’ve let him wander off while you make out with some sleazy foreigner--”

“He’s perfectly safe here. He’s probably chasing the pigeons. And Bela is not sleazy--”

“Your country is wonderful.” Bela decided to join in the conversation.

“Yeah. Right. Thanks. Look, Helen. If you don’t have the time to look after Hugo properly--”

“Yesterday we go to Washington monument. Is big.”

“Great.” Jim muttered something under his breath.

“And Air and Space Museum. Also big.”

“For Chrissake.” Jim turned away. “Hugo! Hugo! “

“Over my dead body. He’s my baby boy.”

“I should take him home with me right now. Obviously you have other interests.” He sneered and looked around. “Hugo! Where are you, you rascal? Come to daddy.”

“Like hell you’re having him. You’ve never figured out how to get him to take his vitamins. You’ve no idea how to discipline him. You let him eat anything, and you give him beer. Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you do it.”

Bela patted my arm and beamed at Jim. “No be mad. We have drink.” He took the champagne from the car and offered a glass to Jim.

“Alcohol in the park is illegal,” Jim muttered, but drank it anyway.

“Are you seeing Declaration of Independence?” Bela asked.

“All the time.” Jim put his cup on the roof of the car. “Hugo!” His face softened as Hugo dashed towards us. “Oh, look at him. Daddy’s big boy--”

The breath was knocked out of him as Hugo enthusiastically butted his head into his crotch, smeared mud over his neatly-pressed Chino’s, and peed over with him excitement.

“I think we’ll take a stroll around the lake,” I said. “See you in a couple of hours, Jim. Don’t forget this.” I handed him the pooper scooper and a plastic bag. “He had a big dinner last night. Have fun.”

Visitor (not verified)
anonymous user
Tue, 08-14-2001 - 8:15pm

Excellent e. I love your stories. Fantastic ending. (n/t)


iVillage Member
Registered: 03-25-2003
Tue, 08-14-2001 - 8:26pm

You are on a roll, my friend (m)


This was really funny and Bela's voice was loud and clear. I enjoyed your tiny tale VERY MUCH.

Thanks for the sharing!

Mac

Visitor (not verified)
anonymous user
Tue, 08-14-2001 - 11:24pm

Hilarious, El! Can't wait to read more from you! (n/t)


Visitor (not verified)
anonymous user
Wed, 08-15-2001 - 12:44am

Looking in my rearview window, I ... (m)


...punched the accelerator and flew around the corner of fifty- second, heading west. I glanced into the mirror again and the metallic blue Mustang was right on my tail.

"Who is this madman?" I wondered as I shifted again, pushing the accelerator to the floor. My red Alero hydroplaned over the concrete as I flipped around the next corner. Just five more blocks and I'll be at the thirty-first precinct. Then I can get this nut cake off my tail! "Oh, shit!" I said as he swung past my rear fender, pulling even with me. "What is your problem?" I watched in a combination of astonishment and horror as he leaned out his window, yelling and waving a gun like a darn fool. "Oh, no you don't! Not today! This may be New York, but I ain't gonna play this game." I pushed the metal to the floor, peeling away.

Looking into my rearview mirror, I groaned as the driver of the Mustang slapped a siren onto top of his car. "Oh, shit! He's a cop? A lunatic cop!"

"Pull over..." the voice boomed out of the loud speakers. "Pull over now."

"What do I do? Pull over and God knows what will happen with this nut? Or go on to the station?"

The choice was made for me as the Mustang flew around me. His breaks squealed as he came to a stop just a few feet in front of me.

"Damn!" I said, slamming on my breaks. I slid sideways, my rear end fishtailing, just missing his unmarked car by mere inches.

"Get out of your car!" he yelled, pointing his gun at me.

I stepped out and held my hands above my head.

"I need backup..." he barked into his mike. "You, drop to the ground! Now!"

"What?" I asked. His snarl told me to do as he said and I dropped. I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting to hear the clink of the wrist bracelets. Jeesh, I thought, this is pretty severe for speeding.

"Get out of the car!"

"What? I'm out..." I opened my eyes and drew in a sharp breath when I realized that he wasn't talking to me. The wail of the approaching sirens and the scene unfolding around me held me speechless. Two more police cars screamed to a stop, then four uniforms jumped out, all pointing their guns at my car. Three stayed positioned, while one ran over and pulled me up, stashing me behind the first police car. "You okay?"

"Uh... Yeah..."

The crazy cop held his gun against the temple of a dark stranger as he slid out from behind my seat. I watched in horror as the stranger was forced face down onto the hood of my car and the hand cuffs were slapped on. I heard the clink, clink, almost as if in slow motion.

"I'm sorry I frightened you," the cop I thought was a lunatic held out his hand, helping me up. "I knew you didn't know he was back there. He's the guy who escaped from Leavonworth last week."

"Thank you," I mumbled, shivering with the realization of what could have been.

"You can really handle a car. Ever done any races?"

"No," I grinned, "but I'll think about it."

Visitor (not verified)
anonymous user
Wed, 08-15-2001 - 9:18am

My Tiny Tuesday exercise:


As the three-thirty bell rings in my ear, I am quickly aware of the day. The day had finally arrived. I promised my son, Bryce that I would drive him and a friend to the cinema in Benderville after school today.

Twelve-year-olds are so comical. He had a distressed look on his face last night when he told me “Mom, don’t talk to us on the way tomorrow!” I recalled his answer when I asked him why? “Just don’t Mom. I don’t want her to know things about my childhood.”

He sat on the passenger’s side in the back seat. Manta sat directly behind me. Looking in the rearview mirror, I see that Bryce had placed his arm around Manta’s shoulder. I clear my throat and smile into the mirror. Manta looks at me with her eyes open wide and suspicion. She does not smile back. She turns her head and whispers something into Bryce’s ear.

“Mom, will you turn on the radio?” My son yells to me.

“Sure Bryce.” I reply.

“She don’t care. I promise.” Bryce tells Manta.

My eyes peak into the mirror and watch the two twelve-year-olds chat and laugh as we travel twenty miles to the theater. I’m wondering what Bryce really knows about this girl. Manta is new to our school. Karen, a good friend of mine told me that Manta Ringer is a student in her English class. She also said that Manta seems to be a clever child. We joked about the fact that Manta’s middle name is Belle. I wonder if Bryce knows her middle name?

Looking in the rearview mirror, I see Bryce kiss Manta on the cheek. I’m so surprised and alarmed by this I loose focus and run off the road onto the shoulder. Abruptly I jerk the wheel and cause the two children to sway back and forth, bumping their heads into each other.

Bryce yells, “Mom!”

“Oh, I’m sorry honey, I tried to miss that dead squirrel in the road.”

I can’t wait until I go back to work tomorrow morning and tell Karen about this.

Visitor (not verified)
anonymous user
Wed, 08-15-2001 - 9:21am

Marvelous story Sammi. I was very surprised with the ending. Great Job. (n/t)


iVillage Member
Registered: 03-19-2003
Wed, 08-15-2001 - 9:39am

LOL e, you're sooooo bad. Loved it.(n/t)


cl-ozarker

"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." - Ernest Heminway

iVillage Member
Registered: 03-25-2003
Wed, 08-15-2001 - 9:42am

Here's mine (m)


Looking in the rearview mirror, I see Marissa's blue eyes staring back at me, begging me not to send her back to her mother. Although I know she's not there, the memory from six months ago still haunts me. Why hadn't I listened to my gut feeling? I shout, slamming the steering wheel before I shift the car into gear.

Many days and occasionally at night, I'd find myself parked in the front of the apartment building where Marissa lived with her drug-addicted mother. Even though I had followed the rule book and did what my supervisors called "the right thing to do", it didn't feel right. I might, as well had been the one who pulled the trigger, I say to myself some nights after I've downed too many Scotches. Drinking Scotch was something new I was doing these days. Looking for a job outside of social services was another.

"I refuse to make life or death decisions anymore," I'd told my boyfriend over dinner.

"Angie, how long as you going to punish yourself?" he asked. "You didn't do-"

Throwing up my hand, I said, "I know don’t remind me. There were a million things I could’ve done.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You’re hands were tied by the media’s publicity of the case,” he said.

“I could have kept her in foster care."

“Not for long. The mother had cleaned up her act.” He had a know-it-all look on his face. “The courts would’ve given Marissa back to her sooner or later.”

“You call shooting your thirteen year old in the back of head cleaning up her act?”

“I don’t need your sarcasm.” Barry motioned for the waiter to bring the check.

“Yeah and I don’t need your lecture.” I picked up my glass and down the last of my drink.

“Apparently you do. Are you just going to beat yourself up for the rest of your life?” He reached across the table and touched my hand. “You couldn’t save her. You need to quit thinking you’re God and get over it.”

I pulled away and stood up. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Barry yelled as I walked away.

Of all the people I thought would understand what I was experiencing, I thought Barry would. After all, he worked for the same state department as me; that's how we met the year before. Instead of allowing me to go through the emotions, he'd instructed me to forget it. But I couldn’t forget. There was a little blonde-headed girl whose case had been assigned to me. Who I was supposed to have protected but I had failed. The system failed and she died. And no matter how hard I tried to forgive myself I couldn’t forget it. I couldn’t stop seeing her needy eyes asking me to save her each time I looked into the rearview mirror.

iVillage Member
Registered: 03-25-2003
Wed, 08-15-2001 - 9:45am

Great tale, Sammi (m)


and I really liked that chilling twist at the end. I didn't expect that at all. I also thought you paced your story very well.

Mac

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