Time for installment #2. Enjoy the new
Accumulate #6: Wound Up
Two days later and the cut still hadn’t healed. Steve had nicked himself on the lid of a can of soup, which was an incredibly stupid thing to do because the can had a warning about that very thing right on the label. He could read, he knew of the danger, and still he had cut himself.
The wound had bled at the start, but he only wore a bandage for the first day because it stopped of its own accord. Now he was worried that he should have kept the bandage on – or at least changed it after showering.
Of course, that was the problem. It wasn’t just the showering. Every time he washed his hands, he would need to change it – unless he actively avoided getting the bandaged finger wet. But then he would have one dirty finger and nine clean one. That would never do.
All this went through Steve’s mind as he sat at the lunch table. Believing he had no other choice but to get a second opinion, he thrust his finger in front of one of his co-worker’s faces.
“Does this look infected to you?” he asked.
His co-worker stared at the finger for half a minute and bit the tip off.
“I don’t think so,” he said after he swallowed. “But you might want to get that looked at anyway.”
Accumulate #7: Shun the Erect
Grog hate men who stand upright. Him think them put on airs. Just because them no walk with stoop. Grog think stoop sexy. Grog think stoop get Grog much sexy.
Grog didn’t give much thought to missionary position.
Accumulate #8: The Crazy #2
She was at it again.
“Mike, do you have a horseshoe?”
Bernard was thankful. At least she was pestering somebody else this time.
“No,” Mike replied, profoundly disinterestedly.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what if a horse comes to visit you and it’s missing a shoe. What then?”
“It’ll have a hard time getting up the stairs to see me in the first place.”
“You see, that’s why you need to install a freight elevator.”
A long pause. Mike seemingly had no reply to this. She also didn’t seem to have a follow-up. Maybe she was done.
“When you’re a Jet, are you a Jet all the way?”
Accumulate #9: Gallery Show
Gary wandered into the art gallery. There appeared to be a performance of some sort going on, but there was no one at the door to sell him a ticket – or turn him away. He found a seat at the back of the room.
There wasn’t a stage, but all of the chairs were facing in one direction. There a man and a woman were loudly talking at each other. They weren’t having a conversation because while their lines alternated, they weren’t talking about the same things. Gary figured it must have been some kind of avant garde piece. Probably about the lack of communication in modern society.
After watching the two actors declaim their lines in each other’s direction for ten minutes, Gary’s eyes wandered to the art on the walls of the gallery. That held his interest for all of 30 seconds. He spied a stray program on a nearby chair. He scooted over and thumbed through it. Apparently the show was called Let Us Waste Your Time. Gary decided to stop letting them.
Quietly, he got up and made his way to the exit. As soon as he stepped outside, he heard the audience burst into applause. Were they applauding the show or his action? He decided not to go back in and find out.
Accumulate #10: Making the Light
Curt sat in his car. He was behind nine other cars. They were all waiting for the light to change.
Okay, he thought, if I make this light, I’ll make my meeting. All I have to do is make this light.
Curt looked at the clock on his dashboard. He had five minutes. Plenty of time – if he made the light.
“Come on,” he said, not realizing that he was speaking out loud. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He stared at the red light, willing it to the turn green.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was actually 15 seconds, the light turned.
“All right, let’s go,” he said, fully aware that he was speaking out loud this time. He didn’t care if people saw him talking to himself. He was in traffic.
One by one, the cars ahead of him peeled off and accelerated through the intersection. Then it was his turn. He took his foot off the brake and applied it to the gas.
Okay, I’m going to make it.
His car lurched forward. Within seconds, he was halfway there.
I’m going to make it.
The light turned yellow. Has it always been that short? He gritted his teeth. No matter, I can still make it as long as the car in front of me doesn’t—
But it did. Curt didn’t make the light.