Little Love Stories (by Samm Bennett)
Strictly limited to 420 characters or less!
Bertrand brushed the stray bits of potato salad off his shoulder, put on his raccoon cap and squinted at the rising sun on the horizon. "Sally, I've always loved your sister" he said, as he turned the ignition on the grain harvester and drove off, slowly, toward the edge of the canyon. Sally clutched her copy of the I Ching, and, trembling, sang another verse from "How Much Is That Doggie In The Window".
"Think I wouldn't leave you?" said Bob from the kitchen to the dining room, where Dot was repairing her chainsaw. "I'd do it in a New York minute!" Dot rolled her eyes. "New York minute? God, I can't believe you just said that." But as he came in with a bowl of steamed larvae (her favorite since childhood in Borneo), she melted. "Oh, Bob, I..." He stopped her: "Shh! And tomorrow you're getting a new chainsaw, baby!"
"You'll be mine someday, you crazy little Russian!" screamed Roland from the window of the police van whisking him away. "I love the Doppler effect on your voice, Ro!", Svetlana screamed back. Then, turning the enormous knife in her hand and heading back toward the slaughterhouse, whispered to herself, "but I'm Bulgarian, you wretched bonehead."
"Whatever you do, Beatrice, don't open that trunk in the back of the closet", said Gerald, through clenched teeth. And sweating profusely, just before climbing out the window, he added, "I'll be back in two years".
"You'll never amount to anything!" said Olivia to Christof, as he carefully positioned a tiny piece of glass into the mosaic he'd been working on for the last 33 years. It had become so enormous that one had to view it at great distance to discern the subject. Christof wondered when, if ever, Olivia would look at it from far enough away to see that it was her portrait, with a railroad spike driven through her temple.
Absentmindedly stroking someone else's goatee, Eduardo stared past the framed photo of Dick Clark behind the bar, his thoughts drifting back to that day he first saw Vera, in her Viking helmet and thigh high bubblewrap boots. But his reverie was interrupted as the barkeep discharged a semi automatic rifle into the walls and ceiling. The fresh bullet hole in Dick Clark's forehead seemed a gateway to a better world.
"Gloria, if I lost you, I'd lose everything!" said Egbert, breathlessly. "Oh, c'mon, Eg, don't be batty. Hell, mostly you'd just lose my meat loaf, which you've been too lazy to learn how to make yourself." Realizing she was right, Egbert walked out the door, down the street, and onto the interstate highway ramp. He stuck out his thumb and caught a ride. The car radio was playing Bat Out of Hell by Meat Loaf.
"There's something you should know about me, Edmund", said Verna, as she sipped her martini and gazed at the burning houses in the valley below. This, and the words that followed, however, were only half heard by Edmund, distracted as he was by counting the olives in her drink. "Good god", he thought to himself, "what sort of woman puts 14 olives in a martini?" Soon both of them were engulfed in thick, black smoke.
On the way back from the party, Viv maintained a stony silence, finally blurting "Did you HAVE to tell that Hitler story again?" Dirk just looked out the taxi window, thinking to himself that she'd get over it once she saw her surprise gift, a chihuahua, waiting at home. He didn't know the dog had by now peed all over her collection of 17th century etchings. "She'll be putty in my hands", he smiled to himself.
"It's a dog eat dog world, Carlo", said Gerldine as she removed a paper clip from her vichyssoise. Carlo, arranging his peas on the plate into the shape of Lake Wisconsin, wearily replied "Oh come on, Geraldine, have you ever actually seen a dog eat another dog?" "Why yes, Carlo, yes I have." A silence descended over the dining table, only broken by the sound of Geraldine's swift, expert karate chop to Carlo's neck.
Thinking about the eggs that she'd forgotten to put in the refrigerator, Eloise boarded the plane for Uzbekistan, and clutched ever tighter the miniature Eiffel Tower that Ronaldo had placed in her soup the night before. Across town in their tiny Shanghai kitchen, Ronaldo absentmindedly tossed the eggs one by one out of the window, as he whispered to the cat, "we'll always have Paris".