Long Hair by Craig J. Clark

Dermot had long hair and was fiercely proud of it. So proud, in fact, that he refused to cut it for any reason, even to get a job at the factory like his mother wanted him to.

“Those jobs pay good money,” she told him, “but they won’t hire nobody who has no long hair.”

Seizing his opportunity to be a smartass, Dermot replied, “Ah, so they’ll hire somebody who doesn’t have short hair?”

“No, that’s not what I said.”

“But it is what you didn’t say.”

“What?”

“Exactly.”

Dermot enjoyed confusing his mother in this fashion and did so frequently. Eventually he did go down to the factory to apply for a job, but first he put his long hair up under a hat. He didn’t think that would actually fool anybody for long – all they had to do was ask him to remove it and the jig would be up – but if he could make a good first impression maybe they would overlook the length of his hair.

Dermot was ushered into the HR manager’s office. Someone with tact might have called her portly or even pleasantly plump, but someone without it would have just said she was a fat cow. She extended a hand for him to shake, possibly as a test to see if he had an aversion to touching morbidly obese people. He took the hand and shook it.

“I’m Miss Cross. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Rooney.”

“Same here, Miss Cross, although I’m curious why you asked to see me right away. I didn’t even finish filling out my application.”

“There was no need. We have an immediate opening available in our packaging department and you looked like a prime candidate, so I plucked you out of the applicant pool, so to speak.”

“Isn’t that somewhat unusual?”

“It is very unusual, Mr. Rooney, but if you stick around I’m sure you’ll find we here at the factory do very few things by the book.”

“Does that mean you're offering me the job?”

She was, and she never once asked him to remove his hat. This was turning out to be a lot easier than he had anticipated.

Next thing Dermot knew he was down on the factory floor, being shown around by the foreman. He was also on the heavy side, but Dermot held his tongue in check. It would not do to get fired on his first day. He didn’t even know what he was doing yet.

“Did they tell you up in HR what your new job will entail?” the foreman asked.

“Not really,” Dermot replied. “Miss Cross said it was in the packaging department, but I’m not even 100% certain what you make at this factory.”

“Of what percentage are you certain, then?”

Dermot looked around, but couldn’t identify what anybody was making or doing at their work stations. There seemed to be some kind of assembly line, but what they were assembling was a complete mystery to him.

“Uhh… zero?”

The foreman let out a hearty laugh and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well, follow me into the back and I’ll show you a thing or two.”

When Dermot got home that evening he was visibly shaking. After he left the factory he had stopped at the nearest bar to try to calm his nerves – and get his courage up. How else was he going to tell his mother that he had quit without completing a single day’s work? A couple stiff drinks later he still didn’t know.

“Dermot, is that you?” she called out from the kitchen.

“No, Mom. It’s the Tooth Fairy.”

“Oh, always such a cut-up. I kept your dinner warm. Do you want it now?”

Dermot thought of some of the things he had seen that day and felt his gorge rise.

“Uhh, no, Mom. Thanks.”

He plopped down into the easy chair, a shattered young man. His mother walked in and, seeing the state he was in, assumed what she considered the worst.

“Oh, no. What happened? Did you get fired?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Well, what, then?”

Dermot wearily removed his hat and let his hair fall down to his shoulders. He instantly knew what to say.

“They… didn’t like my hair.”

His mother shook her head as she returned to the kitchen.

“What did I tell you? But do you ever listen to me?”

Dermot waited until she was out of earshot before replying under his breath.

“Last time I take your job advice.”

Posted by Craig at 9:09 AM Comments (4)

Creature’s Features by Craig J. Clark

Something was standing at the foot of the bed, just staring at him. He knew this despite the fact that he had not opened his eyes. He had heard it creep in while he was lying there, trying to go to sleep. Something had been troubling him and it was preventing him from dropping off, but that was nothing compared to what was troubling him now. A monster in the bedroom almost invariably meant trouble of some kind.

At first he tried pretending he was asleep in the hope that the thing would go away of its own accord, but he knew the ruse would not work when it started calling him by name.

“Daaaaavid,” it whispered in a voice that sounded both sepulchral and tentative.

David didn’t move or give any other indication that he had heard it. He even tried to control his breathing, but didn’t know how long he could keep it up.

“Daaaaaaaavid,” it repeated, a little louder this time and with more of an underlying growl.

David would have sighed if he wasn’t worried about giving himself away, but instead he braced himself for what he knew would come next. Sure enough, it laid a hairy paw on one of his feet and shook it gently. Of all nights for him to sleep on top of the covers.

“Wake up, David. Open your eyes.”

It was getting harder and harder for David to keep up the pretense that he was asleep, largely because the creature’s fur was tickling the sole of his foot. Sooner or later, the jig would be up.

“Come on, David,” it said petulantly, “I know you’re awake. I can hear your heartbeat accelerating.”

Busted! Resigning himself, David reached over and turned on his bedside lamp. He heard the creature jump back, slamming into his dresser, which must have caught it in the small of the back because he heard it yelp in pain. Giving himself a couple seconds to adjust to the brightness of the room, David opened his eyes and sat up. There cowering in the corner was one of the most hideous monsters he had ever seen.

It was large, covered in gray, matted fur, with gnarled horns, sharp-looking fangs and claws, and piercing red eyes. Actually, David didn’t know that right off the bat because its eyes were clamped shut and it was holding up one of its massive paws to block the light, but he figured it would be the case. David pushed himself back so he was leaning against the headboard. As long as he was up, he might as well be comfortable.

“Okay, who sent you?”

The creature flinched, shocked that it had been spoken to, but quickly recovered.

“What? Nobody sent me. What makes you think somebody sent me?”

“Because you called me by name and, unless I’m very mistaken, we’re never met before. Have we?”

The creature cursed under its breath.

“Stand up, let me see you.”

“Turn off the light first.”

“No, that’s staying on.” Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere by being hard, David changed tactics. “Look, I know what you’re here for. Now, how can I tell you how scary you look if I can’t see you?”

“I’m… scarier in the shadows.”

“Let me be the judge of that. Please stand up. And do put your paw down. I’m sure your eyes have adjusted to the light by now.”

Slowly the creature rose to its full height and lowered its paw. Blinking its eyes a few time, it seemed surprised that they weren’t somehow being damaged by the light that, if it was being honest with itself, was not as bright as it had first seemed. David noted with satisfaction that its eyes really were red.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it? Now, let’s have a good look at you. Walk around the room a little.”

“Actually, I’m better at stalking.”

“Very well. Stalk to your heart’s content.”

The creature did so, half hunched over and dragging one foot as if it were lame.

“Uh huh. Uh huh. Now if I could see it without all the affectations.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Just walk normally, please.”

The creature straightened up and did a couple circuits of the room while David watched appreciatively.

“Ah, yes. That’s much better. Now I can see you. Flex those claws. Oh, very nice. Those look extremely dangerous. And show off those fangs. Very scary. And I’d hate to imagine what you could do to me with those horns of yours. Okay, that’s enough. Take a seat.”

The creature stopped in its tracks, confused.

“Where?”

“The foot of my bed will be fine.”

It hesitated, not sure where this was going. “You’re not going to… try anything, are you?”

David laughed. “Please, you’re not my type. Besides, I would never jeopardize my business by getting personal. Not on first meeting, anyway.”

The creature gingerly sat down with its left leg tucked under it so it would be facing David.

“I’ve never been on a human bed before. It’s nice.”

“Thank you. Now, what’s your name? I always like to be on a first-name basis with my clientele.”

The creature shifted uneasily. “Umm, it’s Benny.”

“Benny? Somehow I doubt that’s the name your mother gave you.”

“Okay, okay. It’s Benmontpelier.”

“Not much of an improvement, is it? Let’s stick with Benny for now, but we’ll work on that.”

“We will? You mean…”

“Yes, I’ll take you on. I see a lot of potential in you that, if properly brought out, could take you far in life.”

“You really think so, David?”

David paused. “Er, yes. I think until we know each other better, you should call me Mr. Jones.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s all right, Benny. Now, what I want you to do is call my office in the morning and set up an appointment to come in during regular office hours. Here’s my card with the number.”

David produced a card from somewhere in his bedclothes – this was not an unusual occurrence for him – and proffered it to Benny, who was, at last, starting to get comfortable.

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” Benny said, taking the card and holding it between two claws.

“Now, if you would be so kind…”

The monster looked quizzical until David made shooing motions at it.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry,” it said as it rose. David saw that it left smudge marks on the bedspread where it had sat, but he was used to that sort of thing, too.

“No problem, Benny. I trust you can show yourself out.”

David lay back down and turned off the lamp. Even without the benefit of night vision, he could tell when the creature had reached the bedroom door.

“Oh, and Benny?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t encourage any of your friends to make any after-hours visits of their own. Next time I might not be so understanding.”

“Okay, Mr. Jones. You have my word.”

With that it left. David smirked to himself as he rolled onto his side. The word of a monster – that’s rich.

Posted by Craig at 8:59 AM Comments (3)

Shame to Waste the Hushpuppies by Craig J. Clark

John pushed the plate away, having reached the point where further food consumption was undesirable. He had eaten everything on the plate except for three hushpuppies, which he didn’t have room for and didn’t feel like making room for. He didn’t want to waste them, but didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter. The first couple had gone down okay, but that was because he had had fish to eat with them. Now the fish were gone and the hushpuppies remained. The bland, virtually tasteless hushpuppies.

He has substituted them for the coleslaw that usually went with his meal, but he had regretted his choice almost immediately upon making it, largely because he had no idea what hushpuppies were. Clearly in the future it would behoove him to do a little research into his side order selections. They had given him a lot, too. A lot more than he felt comfortable eating at lunchtime and more than he felt comfortable with leaving uneaten. In retrospect, he should have gotten the 2 Fish Basket Combo, which would have cost less and come with a drink. Too late for regrets, though.

Even after having eaten several, John still had no idea what hushpuppies were. He speared one of the ones that remained with his fork and split it down the middle in order to investigate. Looked like a fried bread ball. He couldn’t imagine how they had ever caught on or how people who liked to eat them were supposed to eat them in the absence of anything else. Was he supposed to dip them into his leftover ketchup or tartar sauce or was that just gauche? And was it even possible to do anything gauche with a hushpuppy? He put the fork down with half a hushpuppy still attached. No use trying to force it.

He resolved when he got back to work to look up hushpuppies on Wikipedia. Then and only then would he know what he had consumed with vague dissatisfaction that afternoon. But first, to the soda dispenser to refill his $1.49 beverage. He had to try to get his money’s work somehow.

On his way out the door, after he dumped the contents of his tray into the garbage, John spotted the bell on the wall and read the sign that accompanied it. No, he would not be ringing the Captain’s Bell today, thank you.

For further reading: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hushpuppies

Posted by Craig at 10:10 AM Comments (3)